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justforbooks · 4 years ago

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The Italian publisher, editor and collector Franco Maria Ricci has died at the age of 82.

In sumptuously produced art books, and as editor of the bi-monthly art magazine FMR, Ricci published writing by Jorge Luis Borges, Italo Calvino, Umberto Eco, Roland Barthes and many others over the course of his long and distinguished career. In 2019, Susan Moore visited his estate at Fontanellato, near Parma, where in recent years Ricci had constructed the largest labyrinth in the world out of bamboo; they discussed Ricci’s notable collection of largely 18th- and 19th-century sculpture and paintings, as well as his library of books published by the great typographer Giambattista Bodoni, whose works Ricci had reprinted in his first foray into publishing. The interview is published in full below.

Collecting may be read as a form of autobiography written with works of art rather than words. In the case of Franco Maria Ricci, his is a life composed of both words and pictures. He has not only published the most lavishly produced art magazine – FMR – and art books in the world, but also spent the last 50 years amassing a peerless collection of volumes produced by the great Italian typographer, compositor and publisher Giambattista Bodoni (1740–1813) and a rich, eclectic collection of some 500 largely neoclassical and baroque paintings and sculptures. Both collections are at the heart of his most recent and extraordinary venture, the creation of the immense, star-shaped Labirinto della Masone, near Parma, the largest labyrinth in the world – and surely one of the few planted with bamboo.

There is something surreal, and slightly disturbing, about turning off the autostrada and suddenly encountering this majestic bamboo structure rising 10m or more above the plains of the Po valley. For all its elegant calligraphic stems and angular leaves, this is not the sparse specimen bamboo of Chinese ink-painting, but a forest. Here, more than 200,000 of these fast-growing bamboos arch upward in their quest for light. Once I turn into the drive of what was originally Ricci’s grandfather’s estate at Fontanellato, the brilliant azure June sky all but disappears. By the end of my two-day visit, it seems that the contrasts of light and dark are an apt metaphor for the book and art collections – and for the entire complex of maze, museum, archive and chapel, the latter built in the form of a pyramid. Ricci has always been part rationalist, part visionary.

Ricci’s story begins with the book. ‘I grew up surrounded by my father’s books. Reading Shakespeare, Homer, Joyce and Dante saved me from bad taste,’ he once said. ‘It made beauty simple, familiar and immediate in my eyes.’ It was a book, too, that transformed his life and launched a long and successful career: Bodoni’s Manuale tipografico, first published in 1818. Before his discovery of Bodoni’s works in the Biblioteca Palatina in Parma in the 1960s, a career in publishing seemed unlikely. The stylish Ricci, a racing driver and a dandy with dark cherubic curls, was best known for patterning the snow in the piazza around Parma Cathedral with the wheels of his E-type Jaguar. Even Bernardo Bertolucci remembered that car.

As a young man, Ricci had wanted to study archaeology, but an uncle in the oil world persuaded him to sign up for geology instead. After three months in Turkey spent looking for oil that was not there, he realised the oil business was not for him. Yet his education proved critical in unlikely ways. He spent weekends exploring the mysterious, labyrinthine underground tunnels and caves that are a feature of the Romagna region of Italy. He also designed posters for Parma University’s theatre festival that caught the attention of an American curator preparing a show of Italian design in New York. He became, inadvertently, a graphic artist, and went on to create striking graphics for everything from Poste Italiane to Alitalia.

Ricci has long insisted that ‘Bodoni was not only a typographer. He achieved modernity and elegance through graphic art. He was, like Canova, a champion of neoclassicism but in two dimensions. I immediately fell in love with the proportions, the concept of beauty.’ Bodoni’s genius was not simply the freshness, rigour and precision of the typefaces, with their dramatic contrasts between thick and thin line, but also his sense of how to lay out a page. Texts are set with extravagantly wide margins and with little or no decoration.

Ricci decided to reproduce the master’s Manuale tipografico, although everyone told him he was mad to do it. He bought two early offset typography machines which, he noted, were ‘as expensive as a Ferrari, which I wanted to buy but never did’, and had the highest-quality paper made exclusively for the project by Fabriano. It took a year to publish the three volumes in 900 numbered copies (1964–65). ‘So I became a publisher. It became a bestseller.’

Much to his mother’s horror, Ricci decided to continue to publish very expensive books – art books printed in Bodonian style – and later, literary editions, several series of which were edited by Jorge Luis Borges, whose presence looms large in library and labyrinth. At a time when Arte Povera dominated the Italian avant-garde, Ricci chose opulent black silk covers embossed with gold, and printed on costly pale blue Fabriano paper with handmade plates. He wanted his books to be rare – printing small editions – but also surprising. He gave Roland Barthes, Umberto Eco, Italo Calvino and Borges free rein to write accompanying texts.

His wife Laura Casalis remembers having been struck by the originality of Ricci’s 1970 book on the then little-appreciated Erté – text by Barthes – before she met the publisher himself in 1975, and soon found herself working on a book on red paper-cut portraits of Mao, accompanied by 39 of the Chairman’s own poems printed in Chinese characters. ‘Little by little I slipped into publishing with him – Franco was a workaholic and I realised that was the only way I would see him. Those Mao paper-cuts were typical of the practically unknown subjects that he would seek out all his life, and we sometimes show them between loan exhibitions in the museum. Franco has l’occhio lungo – he can see beauty in something which may take others a long time to recognise.’

It is in the library I find Ricci and, indeed, where he is to be found most mornings and afternoons. It is part of a cluster of picturesque 19th-century stone buildings surrounded by lush and increasingly exotic gardens. He had begun renovating the dilapidated stables behind his grandfather’s long-abandoned villa as a summerhouse and library in the 1970s, and its enormous hayloft still serves as an idyllic open-air dining room and entertaining space, even though the couple have now moved into the main house. Inside this romantic half-ruined folly, Ricci created the unexpected: two neoclassical library rooms lined with bookshelves and marble busts, their domed and coffered ceilings reminiscent of those in the Biblioteca Palatina.

As soon as we arrive in the inner sanctum, the Bodoni library with its more than 1,200 volumes – missing a tantalising three or four tomes but otherwise complete – Ricci is immediately up on his feet and pulling down and opening cherished volumes, eyes blazing. Despite the heat, he wears an elegant embroidered linen waistcoat but not its jacket, which hangs nearby, bearing the synthetic red flower that became in effect his iconographical device. (Tai Missoni gave him a cardigan as a present: Ricci declined the gift – he does not wear cardigans – but declared that he would always wear the red flower from its packaging thereafter, which he did. Once, when he had forgotten the flower, an officer at the Alitalia desk at Milan airport said: ‘I see you are travelling incognito today Mr Ricci.’)

Now Ricci deftly presents Bodoni’s Essai de caractères russes… of 1782, and his 1789 edition of Torquato Tasso’s pastoral play Aminta, exquisitely illuminated for the Prince of Essling. These are dear friends and the joy as he handles these pages is self-evident. This is the only significant part of the collection not to have been moved down to the museum and archive complex, a short bamboo-lined drive away. It is clear that he could never bear to live apart from these books.

The impetus to create the long-imagined labyrinth, and a museum and library to house his collections and publishing archive, was a diagnosis of Parkinson’s disease. The couple sold the publishing house in 1982, and their house in Milan, and moved to Fontanellato. There is a fierce pride in Laura Casalis’s voice as she explains: ‘Franco wanted to do it, he imagined it, and he found the right team of people to help him realise it.’ We are sitting over coffee in the Labirinto courtyard surveying the sharp-edged geometries of its rose-pink brick buildings, a place that already has the air of a lost ancient city discovered in a jungle. Laura describes the evolution of the museum collections within, and recalls the words of the late Italian publisher Valentino Bompiani, who described Ricci as a man of courage and fantasy.

‘Whenever he fell for some subject or artist, Franco would try to buy.’ Laura continues. ‘He was never concerned with what was or was not fashionable, and never bought to decorate a house. He collected pieces that he liked that were strange or unconventional.’ He began with Art Deco, first buying inexpensive little bronze and chryselephantine dancers by the likes of Demétre Chiparus (1886–1947), as well as Guiraud-Rivière’s dramatic figure of Isadora Duncan with two bears, which dominates the central space of the 20th-century gallery in the museum.

Here, too, are three paintings by the outsider artist Antonio Ligabue (1899–1965), a tormented soul who had led a tragic life, painting and wandering around the Po valley when he was not confined to a psychiatric hospital. Ricci published the first monograph on the artist in 1967, two years after his death, a work that helped catapult the artist from provincial to national and then international fame. Two years later, he bought two of the artist’s bold, visceral close-up heads of roaring tigers, painted in the 1950s, including the key work that had been selected for the book cover. A no less bright and richly impasted self-portrait in the guise of Vincent Van Gogh followed a year later.

Ricci also championed – and collected – the work of the third dominant presence in this space, Adolfo Wildt (1868–1931), often described as the last Symbolist but one whose reputation was, as Laura puts it, ‘tarnished by Fascist association’. Ricci published a monograph in 1988, the same year that he acquired the strange masterpiece that is Vir temporis acti of 1913, a virtuoso marble bust of a Greek or Roman soldier reimagined through the combined lenses of Michelangelo and the Secessionists. The expressive anguish of this head may be seen as a symbol of the nobility and redemption of sacrifice, but it is the refined and gleaming silken surface that led to Brancusi.

Ricci has a penchant not only for sculpture but also portraits, and portrait busts in particular. ‘I have hunted portraits all my life. I never get tired of looking at them,’ he confesses, ‘and in turn, I feel observed by them.’ In the 1990s, he began following the art market and collecting in earnest. Ricci had an office, bookshop and apartment in Paris and there and in Monaco he was to acquire many of his largely French 18th-century terracottas, some of the most compelling by less familiar names. A superb example is the bust of an intense, low-browed individual, signed by one A. Riffard and given the Revolutionary date of ‘9. Fructidor an 3e’, from 1794–95.

Another naturalistic tour de force is one of very few known terracottas by Francesco Orso, also known as François Orsy, a Piedmontese sculptor also active in Paris. Orso is responsible for the rarest sculptures here: the disconcerting life-size polychrome wax portrait busts of Vittorio Amadeo III of Savoy and his wife Maria Antonia Ferdinanda di Borbone, complete with painted papier-mâché clothes. The revolution destroyed the sculptor’s courtly patronage in Paris, and he diversified into the more overtly commercial world of the waxwork with a show featuring an effigy of the aristocratic revolutionary leader the Comte de Mirabeau and popular tableaux on themes such as Marat’s assassination by Charlotte Corday.

Unsurprisingly, given Ricci’s passion for Bodoni, the neoclassical looms large. At the centre of the Napoleonic gallery, lined with marble busts – Italian, English and Danish – is a model of Canova’s ideal head of Dante’s muse Beatrice, first conceived as an idealised portrait of Mme Récamier. The display offers a witty face-off between Wellington and Napoleon on opposing pedestals, but the emperor prevails with a sequence of classicising family portraits. Above hangs the second version of Francesco Hayez’s The Penitent Magdalene (1825). Here the Romantic artist has transposed the chilly perfection of Canova’s marble surfaces into pigment.

An unusual and endearing mid 18th-century Italian group portrait presents the family of Antonio Ghidini, a cloth merchant to the Bourbon court in Parma, painted by his friend, the court artist Pietro Melchiorre Ferrari (1734/5–87). In this Zoffany-style conversation piece there is no doubting Ghidini’s business, as he points to documents mentioning his association with his trading partners in Manchester and his wife sits stiffly under her salmon-pink stomacher in sprigged and striped silk finery.

Yet it would be misleading to suggest that Ricci’s ever-curious eye never ranged beyond the 18th and 19th centuries. He owns a number of 17th-century marbles, including that of the all-powerful prelate Cardinal Paluzzo Paluzzi Altieri degli Albertoni, who effectively ran the papacy under Clement X – irresistible in profile. In the 2000s Ricci also added, for example, Ludovico Carracci’s handsome three-quarter length Portrait of Lucrezia Bentivoglio Leoni (1589), executed two years before the sitter’s death. Flanking the same door is Philippe de Champaigne’s Portrait of the Duchesse d’Aiguillon (c. 1650), and viewed beyond is an unusual sensual and erotically charged work by Luca Cambiaso (1527–85), Venus Blindfolding Cupid.

Yet Ricci has also always been attracted to what he describes as the art of visionary madness, by the surreal, and by what is prosaic and popular. The museum’s cabinet of curiosities includes a narwhal horn, once thought to have belonged to the unicorn. Its walls are lined with particularly gruesome vanitas paintings and sculptures. Centre stage among the skulls is a decomposing head by Jacopo Ligozzi (1547–1627), its flesh and rotten teeth seething with maggots and flies.

Only superficially more benign are the drawings of the Codex Seraphinianus, first published in two volumes in 1981 – Ricci’s most extraordinary publication. These meticulously detailed explications of the bizarre and the fantastical illustrate an encyclopaedia of an imaginary world conceived by the artist Luigi Serafini in the 1970s and written in a language still understood only by its creator. Certainly its pages are at home in the Labirinto della Masone complex – another visionary creation, in effect a Gesamtkunstwerk, an all-embracing art work expressing the life and taste of one man.

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mayquita · 5 years ago

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Damn You For Making Me Love You (4/15) - Holding Out For a Hero

Thank you so so much, for your likes, reblogs, kudos and comments. It means the world to me.

Beta-Reader: Thank you so much, @ultraluckycatnd I couldn’t have asked for a better beta. Thank you for all your effort, your suggestions, your advice and for always being there when I needed you.

Special mention to @saraswans and @onceuponaprincessworld, thank you so much for your perpetual support and for believing in me and in the story. Thank you again to the moderators of the event, @captainswanbigbang for giving us this opportunity and making this possible. You all are the best :)

Summary: Emma Swan and Killian Jones are close friends and co-workers. And both are in love with each other. The problem? They keep their feelings secret not only to the other but also to the rest of their friends. When Elsa, Emma’s best friend and Liam, Killian’s brother and Emma’s boss find out, they decide to form an alliance and work as a team with a clear goal, to get Emma and Killian to take the next step in their relationship and confess their love for each other.

Rating: M

Word count: ~ 7500 (98k total in 15 chapters)

Also:

Tumblr: Prologue // Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3

From the beginning Ao3 / FFnet — Current chapter: Ao3 / FFnet

About this chapter: We return to Emma's point of view. Elsa and Liam begin to carry out their plan. We will see if it brings the desired consequences.

Chapter 3: Holding Out For a Hero

Emma - Some time ago

The first time the Jones brothers suggested that she accompany them for dinner after closing the bar, Emma had only been working there for three weeks. She rejected the invitation with a poor excuse.

Her refusal did not prevent them from trying again a week later. She appreciated their efforts to make her feel integrated, but she preferred to keep the distance, to keep their relationship something closer to strictly professional. Given her long history of abandonment and rejection, she simply did not make friends; she didn’t trust people enough for it. Elsa and Anna were the only exceptions in her life, and so it would remain if it depended on her.

What she hadn't counted on was that she wasn't the only one in this situation that was capable of making decisions or acting in a certain way. She might not have made any effort, but the Jones brothers, especially Killian, were stubborn by nature, so they did not give up and insisted on involving her in every little conversation, banter, or discussion that was taking place in The Kraken.

Her armor began to weaken almost without her noticing. Both Emma and Killian started sharing small details of their past between jokes and innuendos. They were nothing more than mere glimpses of their previous experiences; nothing too personal, but enough to get to know each other better and, at least on her part, allowed her to start lowering her defenses. Still, she kept rejecting their invitations.

Two months after starting work at The Kraken, Liam decided to hire a new waitress, Ruby, due to the constant increase in clientele. Unlike Emma, Ruby did accept the invitation to join them after the bar closed at the first opportunity. This time, Emma was tempted to accept as well but instead, she decided to go home, ignoring a strange sensation that had settled in her stomach; something that was definitely not jealousy. Absolutely not.

A month later, they held a themed party at the bar that proved to be a success, but the previous preparations and subsequent development for the party had drained almost all of Emma's energies.

Emma was exhausted. Not only did her feet hurt like hell due to the damn heels, but other parts of her body were also sore. She even had stiffness in her arms. How was it possible? If she had been told before that her professional career would lead her to accept a job that required that level of physical effort, she would have snorted in disbelief, especially when she had to resort to similar jobs previously in order to be able to finance her degree, the one that was supposed to offer her a whole new world of professional possibilities.

And yet here she was, raising a stool and turning it upside down on the counter to scrub the floor of The Kraken before closing the premises until the next day. Three months later, Emma still wondered sometimes what she was doing there, especially on nights like this one, with a huge crowd filling the bar from the first hours after opening and so much to do for that reason. That thought was becoming less frequent, though, if she was being honest with herself.

You should be proud of yourself. Having so many customers is a consequence of your success. You are only reaping the fruits of your hard work, she told herself in her attempt to justify that her professional achievement was worth some physical and mental exhaustion.

"Swan, how many times do I have to tell you that you don't need to do that task?" Emma's head turned automatically when she heard Killian's voice behind her while a warm feeling pooled low in her belly and a reluctant smile pulled at her lips.

Her first impression of Killian had been right and hadn't changed over the months. He was trouble, no doubt, with his innuendos and banter, combined with his undeniable good looks. She had learned to handle him soon enough, though, ignoring how her body reacted to his presence —or even just to his voice, as on this occasion — or how her mind betrayed her when her thoughts were occupied by those enigmatic blue eyes more often than what she would like.

She had also soon learned that the Jones brothers were two decent guys, so beyond her undeniable sexual attraction towards the little — younger — brother, she felt comfortable working around them.

"He's right, Emma. You've done enough today helping us behind the bar." Liam approached her, grabbing the stool she was holding while gently pushing her toward the counter area where she had left her laptop and her camera.

Just when she had finished collecting her belongings and was about to head towards the exit, the inevitable dinner invitation arrived.

"Where are you running off to, Emma?" This time it was Ruby who addressed her, her arms crossing over her chest and an eyebrow arched in question.

"I'm going home," she replied slowly. Ruby raised her eyebrow further while the guys remained silent, Robin included, watching the scene. "My feet are killing me," she felt compelled to add as an excuse.

"Oh come on!" Ruby rolled her eyes as she threw her arms in the air. "Just put on the sneakers you came with." Emma's eyes widened in surprise at Ruby's authoritative tone. "This time there are no excuses. The party has been a success thanks to you. We should celebrate it."

"We're going just around the corner, love. It's just pizza, no big deal," Killian added. He had used those same words on previous occasions, but for some reason, perhaps because of Ruby's insistence, or perhaps because he looked hopeful, she found that her decision to refuse the invitation was severely weakened this time.

Before answering, Emma looked at the four people in front of her. They all had the same expectant expression on their faces, as if they really wanted her to accompany them. "Okay, I'll go with you." The words came out of her mouth without her having time to process them, but she did not regret her decision, especially when Emma was rewarded with bright smiles and even clapping from Ruby.

Needless to say, that wasn't the last night Emma accompanied them. She felt so comfortable sharing talks, laughter, and good food until the wee hours of the morning that all her arguments to continue isolating herself ended up fading away. She couldn't be more grateful to these four people, who hadn't given up on her until she had left her armor behind. At least in part. Her battered heart would still be protected at all costs.

A month later, just after Killian's first performance, was the first time Emma went out after work with only the two Jones brothers. Ruby had a date with her girlfriend Mulan, and Robin's babysitter couldn't take care of his son Roland too late that night. So there were only three of them left.

She was about to decline as well, since she wasn't sure she could handle her growing feelings towards Killian when they were just the two of them (plus his brother), but his performance had been a success and they were so euphoric that she got carried away, once again, remarking that she could not miss the opportunity to eat pizza in her favorite place.

From there they established a kind of routine where food was always present in one way or another. Either all the coworkers went out for a late dinner after work, or they met for lunch. Other times, they were just the three of them alone. Over the following months, they not only spent time together in restaurants or cafes, but also chose to meet at one of their apartments.

A year and a half after starting work at the bar, Emma and Killian had their first encounter alone, although this one was quite fortuitous. They had gathered in the Jones apartment for a pizza and Netflix session, as per usual on Mondays, which was the only night that The Kraken was closed. Liam retired to sleep quite early and suddenly they were both alone. What transpired in this unusual situation? They got drunk and revealed between shots (rum for Killian and tequila for Emma) their most traumatic experiences of the past, their secrets, and their fears.

She told him about her past as a foster kid, and the betrayal of her first love, who had not only abandoned her but had allowed her to go to prison for a crime he had committed. She also confessed the reasons why she had returned to Boston after another asshole had broken her heart. He, in turn, confessed his sad past after becoming an orphan and how his heart had also been broken after losing his fiancee in a car accident.

It was a cathartic night, one where Emma felt closer than ever to Killian. But at the same time, she was more frightened. She had never connected this well with anyone else in her life, and she would never do anything to risk losing this powerful connection between them.

Emma had been working at The Kraken for two years when the realization of her true feelings towards Killian appeared suddenly in the least expected way, although Emma shouldn't be surprised that food was somewhat involved.

It was the Monday before Christmas and she had gone to the bar, despite being closed, because she needed to finalize the details for the big party that they would be throwing that upcoming weekend. She had been so focused on her task that she even lost track of time. For that reason, when she heard that someone was trying to open the door of the place, she was startled to the point that she almost dropped her laptop.

"Holy shit Killian, I almost had a heart attack!" she blurted while holding a hand to her chest, ignoring the little flutter in her belly when she realized his presence there.

"My apologies, love." His head made a slight bow as he approached her with a wide grin on his face. Only then did she realize that he was holding a large pizza box.

"How did you know I was here?"

"Well, it wasn't hard to deduce, since you didn't answer your phone, and Elsa informed me that you weren't in your apartment. So I put two and two together and... here I am."

"I guess you haven't come to help, have you?" The delicious aroma coming from the box was too distracting and caused her mouth to start to water while her stomach growled. Killian, as perceptive as ever, noticed it, of course.

"When was the last time you ate, Swan?" There was no accusatory tone in his voice, but rather a hint of concern. Emma had to admit that she couldn’t even remember when she had had a bite last; probably at breakfast. She didn't know what time it was, but the sunlight had long since disappeared. She wasn't going to confess, though, so she simply shrugged while looking sideways at the box.

"I think I took a granola bar a while ago," she lied, reluctant to admit that she had been so focused on her work that she had forgotten even the basics, such as feeding herself. She already had enough with Liam's constant lectures. She didn't want Killian to give her another speech.

Killian let out a heavy sigh while holding her gaze, implying, without words, that he was not buying it. After a slight shake of his head, he placed the box on the counter, so close to her that she had to suppress a moan.

"Luckily for you, I have come to your rescue."

"Eh! I don't need anyone to r..." The words died in her mouth when he uncovered the lid of the box, revealing a delicious and still steaming pizza. Her favorite, to be exact.

She certainly didn't need anyone to rescue her, but just this once, she would consider him as her particular hero. The mere idea of Killian as a hero brought to her mind the reminder of a specific song while she took a mental note to add it to his repertoire, an involuntary smile pulling at her lips as she repressed the urge to start humming.

I need a hero

I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light

He's gotta be sure

And it's gotta be soon

And he's gotta be larger than life!

Larger than life

Another thought crossed her mind at that moment as a wave of gratitude toward him washed over her. The growl of her stomach was suddenly replaced by a strange tug as the fluttering from earlier became more intense. She needed only a few seconds to look him in the eye to realize the meaning of that overwhelming emotion.

She was in love with Killian. She had fallen in love with him probably a long time ago, but a simple pizza with her favorite ingredients had been enough to accept that feeling for the first time.

Contrary to what it might seem, that realization was not good news at all, but rather the opposite. What the hell was she going to do with that intense feeling bubbling inside her? She pressed her lips together holding back another moan, but this time the smell of the pizza had nothing to do with it; rather the fact that falling in love with her best friend and co-worker was only going to lead them to disaster. Especially because, despite his gestures of affection towards her, nothing made him indicate that her feelings were requited.

Damn you for making me love you, she thought in frustration when he offered her a slice of pizza, a wide grin adorning his lips.

Emma - December 2019

It's getting late, Emma thought nervously as she applied the last touches of makeup. She had spent so much time deciding on the outfit she’d wear to the dinner that now she had run out of time.

Emma blamed Elsa, of course. She had arrived the day before with a last-minute plan. The mother of one of the girls Elsa trained had offered her the chance to get a table reservation in one of the most successful restaurants in the city since she had an unforeseen event and couldn't attend. Since the table was for four people, you could take advantage and invite your two boys to eat something different than pizza or grilled cheese —Elsa's words.

Elsa was right, of course. Food delivery, take-out, or grilled cheese with onion rings at her favorite diner restaurant were her usual food sources. And pizza.

She could almost assure that her daily routine basically revolved between the bar, her apartment or the Joneses, and her favorite pizza shop. It was almost as if they had established their relationship based on their eating habits, to the point that the food had been involved in some way in most of her best experiences since she had moved back to Boston.

What she wasn't used to was going to this kind of fancy restaurant, let alone with her favorite person in the world as a companion.

That's why it took her an eternity to choose the right outfit. Her jeans and red leather jacket were totally discarded, of course. Although she contemplated that possibility for a moment, just to see Elsa's reaction. She would scream bloody murder if she saw her appear that way…

While searching through her closet for a more appropriate outfit, she kept thinking about Elsa's unexpected plan, wondering why she would have suggested that the Jones brothers accompany them instead of her own sister, who would be delighted to go to this kind of place.

Although Killian had dismissed the idea that Elsa and Liam could be seeing each other in secret, she still had some hope. This kind of double date contributed to increasing her suspicions since it was an ideal way to spend time together in a romantic setting while using her and Killian as an excuse. Maybe she was being influenced by the numerous rom-com movies she was watching lately because of the holiday season, or maybe it was just a way to project onto that possible relationship what she would like to have with Killian. Whatever it was, she was enjoying the possibility of the two of them ending together. If they aren't already, that is.

She couldn't wait to see the reaction of her two favorite boys when they set their eyes on herself and Elsa. But for that to happen, she had to choose a damn outfit.

She had tried on all the dresses in her closet, with unsatisfactory results. Too sloppy, too casual, too short, too long... Such was her degree of frustration that she was reconsidering the possibility of her jeans and leather jacket. It was then that she took one last look inside her wardrobe and saw it. The dress was hidden, hanging between two of her leather jackets, which is why she hadn’t noticed it in her first check. But once she found it, the choice was made.

She must admit that she looked pretty damn good in that dress. It was an ivory-colored dress, a little longer than mid-thigh in length. The neckline plunged low between the swell of her breasts and it gathered just below them, creating folds in the front of the dress. The loose-fitting sleeves fell at the elbows. There was also another aspect that had led her to choose that outfit. It was the same one she wore two months ago when her unexpected encounter with Killian took place.

Despite the awkwardness of the moment, she hadn’t missed Killian’s initial reaction when he approached her that night. His pupils had dilated, his eyes had skimmed her body discreetly up and down. She had also noticed how he had tried unsuccessfully to focus his gaze on her face instead of on her breasts. This was, of course, until everything was ruined by the strange behavior of the two of them.

The physical attraction between her and Killian was undeniable. It had been that way from the beginning, but she wasn’t going to ruin their relationship just by relieving the sexual tension between them. He meant infinitely more to her than any one-night stand.

That didn't mean she couldn't perform a certain seduction game, though. The idea of causing a similar effect on Killian was too attractive to dismiss it, so it was decided. She was going to wear that damn dress.

Once the choice of attire was made she had to hurry. She lightly applied mascara so that it was subtle enough to make it appear natural but it allowed her to highlight her eyes. Finally, she combed her hair so that it fell in soft curls over her shoulders. After a final glance at her reflection, she gave her approval to the image in the mirror.

Although they were out of time, Elsa wasn’t in sight when Emma reached the living room. Just then, her friend came out of her bedroom wearing her pajamas and looking downright awful.

"What's wrong, Elsa?"

Elsa almost crawled to the couch and collapsed there. "I feel like shit. My nose is like a spring and my throat hurts a lot," she whispered hoarsely.

This was unexpected. "Oh, then about dinner tonight..."

Her friend sat up a little. "Dinner plan continues, you guys can still go. This is just a cold, I'll be better tomorrow."

Despite her words, Emma was reluctant to leave Elsa alone in her condition. She really looked pretty sick and, after all, this had been her idea. "We can put it off for another time when you're feeling better," she suggested offering her a comforting smile.

"No way! This is the perfect excuse to spend more time with Killian. Don’t miss this opportunity because of me." In spite of her discomfort, Elsa sounded so convincing that Emma had no choice but to accept. She felt a pull of disappointment, though, since the veiled romantic encounter she had imagined for Elsa and Liam would no longer take place. Still, she really wanted to get out of her routine and do new things with both Killian and Liam. A change of scenery would always be welcomed.

"Okay, but if you find yourself worse, promise me you'll call me or Anna, okay?" She couldn't help feeling worried about her friend.

Elsa gave her a small smile with watery eyes from the cold, and before she laid back on the couch, she gestured toward the door. "Now go and have fun. Ah! You look beautiful in that dress by the way. Killian won't know what hit him." Elsa winked at her as her smile grew wider. Emma had no choice but to smirk in response because her friend was right. She couldn't wait to see Killian's reaction.

// When Emma reached the entrance of the restaurant, the two Jones brothers were already there waiting for her. She was greeted with smiles and each of them also kissed her cheek. The almost imperceptible gesture of appreciation on Killian's part did not go unnoticed by her.

Apparently, Elsa had previously informed them via text of her condition. Emma could barely contain her excitement upon learning that her friend had decided to personally inform Liam of her absence. Emma also didn't miss a hint of concern in her boss's expression as they talked about Elsa's state.

A few minutes later, they were at a table, located in one of the coziest corners of the restaurant. Emma allowed herself a moment to appreciate the room, which was decorated somberly, with both an intimate and elegant touch at the same time. Their table was adorned with a blue gerbera daisy inside a sophisticated and transparent glass vase. Three small candles placed in glasses with the same design as that of the vase completed the decoration.

The two brothers sat in front of her. Emma still wore a smile of triumph that had appeared on her face when, a few seconds earlier, she had taken off her coat, revealing her dress. Killian had dropped his jaw slightly as his eyes darkened.

She, for her part, couldn’t take her eyes off him either. The bastard had chosen for the occasion a new shirt she hadn’t seen before. Its top buttons, as always, were unbuttoned, and the blue color of the fabric matched his eyes, enhancing their brightness. Liam, on the other hand, looked somewhat more classic, wearing an American jacket over a white shirt.

Once they had passed the first impression, they began one of their usual talks. However, a few minutes later, even before they had ordered their dishes, Liam's phone began to ring.

Liam's casual expression changed the moment he answered the phone. His brow furrowed, showing concern at first, but as the conversation went on, his brow deepened and his voice was filled with annoyance. “I can't believe it. I can't take a break, not even one day. No! Don't do anything else!” They were some of the expressions he let loose. It seemed obvious that something was going on at The Kraken.

As the conversation unfolded, Emma and Killian exchanged glances of concern since they also felt responsible for everything that happened in the business. Wednesday used to be a very quiet day, but perhaps it had not been a good idea that none of them were present or available at that particular time of the day.

"Okay, I'll be there in a minute." With that, Liam hung up the phone and got up from his seat. "I'm sorry guys, there's been a mishap at The Kraken. I have to leave."

"What happened?" Killian was the first to speak, his tone of concern evident.

"Do you want us to accompany you?" she volunteered. Since half of the members had retired, it didn't make much sense to continue this dinner, right?

Before he spoke, Liam swallowed while scratching behind his ear; a gesture so characteristic of both brothers that they both did it when they were nervous. Emma tilted her head slightly as she narrowed her eyes. Something was happening here.

"No, it's not necessary." Liam cleared his throat before continuing. "Something has happened to the electric current and Robin doesn’t know how to fix it. I hope I can come back soon."

"But..."

"I'll keep you informed, enjoy the dinner." Without any more words, Liam waved at them and hurried out of the room.

Emma's eyebrows knitted together as she stared blankly at Killian, his expression mirroring hers.

"What the hell just happened?"

Killian shook his head in response as if trying to assimilate what had happened. Meanwhile, a thought had begun to settle in her head. Liam's departure had been too hasty, as had Elsa's illness. Her frown deepened as the idea drifted through her mind. What if...?

"Oh my God!" She hit the table with one hand, suddenly excited about a certain possibility. "Everything makes sense! Your brother just lied to our faces. I knew it!"

Killian tilted his head slightly to the side, raising an eyebrow and looking at her skeptically. "I must admit that his departure has been quite unexpected, but why would he lie to us?"

"Isn't it obvious? He has gone to take care of Elsa, of course!"

Killian's eyebrow rose even more, while he wore an amused expression. "I thought we had already established that the secret dating thing wasn't a possibility, love."

She rolled her eyes and then offered him an unimpressed expression. "You had established it, Jones, not me." A wide grin pulled at her lips as her idea took shape. "Think about it for a moment. You really think that Robin, who has been working for longer than me at The Kraken, wasn't going to be able to solve an electrical problem? It was just a poor excuse, I'm telling you. Those two are up to something."

Killian did not respond immediately. He spent a few seconds with a thoughtful expression on his face as he stroked the scruff on his chin. "I admit that Liam's behavior has been a bit strange. But you know that my brother is a weird guy. I think it's just a coincidence." Before she could reply, he continued talking. "Still, in case you were right, that doesn't stop us from enjoying dinner and this fancy place, right?"

"Okaaay. Although maybe I should call Elsa, you know, to find out if she feels better or needs something..."

“No, you shouldn’t.” Killian shot her a meaningful look before replying. "According to your theory, Liam would already be in charge of her well-being, so..." He pointed at the menu so she had no choice but to let out an exaggerated sigh and kept her inquiries for another time. “And now that we've established that it's just going to be you and me, can we continue with dinner? I don't know about you, but I'm hungry and thirsty." He punctuated the last words, bringing Emma back to reality. Once the initial surprise was over, it seemed that Killian had decided to take advantage of the opportunity offered. “Shall I order us some drinks?" he asked with a flirtatious voice.

His tone had an immediate effect on her. Emma noticed a blush crawling up her neck to her cheeks as she glanced at him from beneath her eyelashes. He was exaggerating his expression — or so she believed— with his arched eyebrows, his sultry gaze, and a seductive smile on his lips, but that didn't stop the butterflies in her stomach from fluttering furiously. This was not a good idea. Even acting, this man was too sexy for his own good.

This place was too romantic and he was especially handsome tonight, and they were together, enjoying a dinner... Stop! This is not a date. This was just something unexpected. She forced herself to keep a straight face, deliberately ignoring her body's reactions and decided to continue on the sure path, the banter.

"Uhm, I'm not sure. You and I know that if it's hard enough to put up with you when you're sober, it's even harder when you're tipsy."

He leaned a little toward her, his gaze even more piercing and voice more hoarse. "Or maybe you're a bit worried you'll find me even more irresistible after a few libations?"

"Seriously, Jones?" She rolled her eyes exaggeratedly as she tossed what was closest to her, which luckily was her napkin. Her reaction, of course, made him chuckle.

Okay, he wanted to play? They were going to play. She leaned slightly forward, her crossed arms resting on the table and her breasts on them, the posture making her neckline even more evident. "You already know that your seduction game doesn't work with me." Now it was her turn to utilize a seductive voice. "So maybe you're the one who would find me even more irresistible. Do you think you could handle it, buddy?"

Killian's smile disappeared completely from his face, giving way to a clenched jaw as he tried to prevent, without success, his gaze drifting towards her cleavage. Emma, in turn, couldn’t stop her lips from curving into a proud smile, totally self-satisfied for the right choice of dress.

Just as he was about to say something, they heard someone shouting her name.

"Emma!!"

Both turned their heads looking for the origin of the voice. Anna, Elsa's sister, waved at them as she walked towards them. Kristoff, her boyfriend, was walking a few steps behind her. They came to their table in an instant, without giving them any time to react.

"Oh, how lucky we are to have found you!" Anna sat in the empty chair next to Emma, as she gestured to Kristoff to sit next to Killian.

"My sis told me about the reservation. I was dying to come to this place, but Elsa told me it was too late to include us. Luck is on our side today, though. When I talked to her and I found out that she was sick, I thought, yes, why don't we try it? I'm sure they can make room for one more at the table." The words spilled out of her mouth, giving no time to the others to process them. "By the way, where's Liam?" Before anyone could respond, she continued. "It's better if he is not here, though, so we both can join you. You see, Kriss, I told you it was a good idea to come." Anna's mouth finally closed, her lips drawing a smile of satisfaction.

Emma shook her head slightly, dropping her jaw a little, trying to process what had just happened. Her gaze shifted to Killian, who had the same confused look on his face, though she could also detect a hint of annoyance in his gaze.

"Wait a moment, we haven't interrupted anything, have we?" Her eyes widened as she pointed to the two of them.

Emma blushed as she realized that her posture was the same as before the interruption, so she quickly sat up, keeping her back straight and moving her hands to her lap. "Of course not."

"So I guess that means we can join you, can't we?"

Again Emma’s gaze shifted toward Killian, who shrugged and nodded almost imperceptibly. "Uhm, yeah, we haven’t even ordered yet."

In this unexpected way, like everything that happened during the night, dinner became again a dinner for four. Emma couldn’t deny that she was relieved in some way by Anna's appearance. The game she started with Killian was dangerous, so cutting it off with the help of her friend was probably the most convenient. That didn’t stop her from being disappointed as well. That kind of no-date would have been a good opportunity to hang out with Killian away from the places they usually did. Oddly enough, occasionally getting out of their comfort zone gave them many interesting possibilities, and as long as they didn’t cross a certain line, everything would be fine.

In spite of everything, the evening was quite pleasant. Anna delighted them with her insatiable verbiage, only slowing down when she had to eat, but the talk was nice and she felt in good company. Besides, Emma didn’t miss the sideways glances Killian threw at her from time to time. The hours passed without her hardly realizing and suddenly they found themselves paying the bill and leaving the restaurant.

The cold of the December night welcomed them as soon as they left the restaurant. Emma felt a shiver run through her body as a gust of freezing wind hit her. Still, she wasn’t yet ready to return to the warmth of her apartment. Just when she was about to suggest going to have some drinks, Anna overtook her.

"Well, it's been a great night, but now it's time to take care of my sister. I'm coming home with you, Emma."

Elsa's mention caused a tug of regret in Emma’s stomach since she had completely forgotten her friend's condition. The reminder also brought back her suspicions regarding Liam, while she wondered if Anna would know anything about her sister's supposed love life and if it would be necessary to inform Elsa in any way that they were already coming home, just in case.

She would have preferred to extend the date a little more, but the truth was that there was no way she would reject Anna's idea. Although she actually only wanted to spend more time with Killian, regardless of the place or the reason, she couldn’t use any excuse not to accompany Anna to her own apartment.

As Anna and Kristoff stepped away from them to say goodbye to each other, she cast a sideways glance toward Killian, who stood just a few steps away. Though his face was impassive, his eyes were fixed on her. Emma gave him a small smile that seemed to activate something in him, because at that moment he approached her, invading without preamble her personal space.

"Although it's a shame that I miss the sight of your lovely attire, I care more about your well-being, Swan." He grabbed the lapels of her coat, pulling her slightly toward him, causing her heart to skip and her stomach to flutter. "Do you need help to fasten your coat?" His suggestive voice did nothing to placate her sudden agitation. He was too close and his gaze was so intense she wasn’t sure that her brain was able to give the order to her fingers to button up the damn coat.

"Says the man who spends all winter wearing only a leather jacket," she managed to say in a hint of lucidity as she rolled her eyes. Killian cocked his head slightly, arching an eyebrow, and his chin pointed toward her coat, without removing his hands from its lapels. Her trembling fingers —because of the cold, of course — began to slowly button up all the buttons, while her eyes stayed fixed on him, giving him a defiant glance.

"Are you happy now?" The words came out of her mouth between puffs of mist. She hated to give him the reason but the truth was that despite the momentary heat that had invaded her space by Killian’s proximity, the air was chilly around her, so she thanked the warmth offered by the coat.

Although Killian had dropped his arms the moment she finished her task, he continued to stare at her, the tip of his tongue peeking out at the corner of his mouth. "Not yet, love." He walked away a couple of steps and she cursed to herself when the cold surrounded her again as she lost the protection of his body. A flash of a smile began to form on his face anticipating his new crazy idea. "I'm sure you've brought with you one of those lovely beanies of yours." The previous hint of a smile quickly transformed into a wide smirk as he approached her again invading once more her personal space. She wasn't going to complain, not if that meant she would feel his warmth radiating back to her.

"Seriously? Do you want me to wear a beanie with this dress?" As she spoke she made a gesture with her hand pointing her body up and down. She didn’t lose sight of the fact that the movements of her hand were followed by Killian's glance accompanied by a gesture of appreciation.

"As I told you before, love, I care about your well-being. Besides, you look pretty adorable with one of those framing your face."

"Adorable..." She echoed his words mockingly as her gaze moved unconsciously to where Anna and Kristoff were. The two of them had finished saying goodbye and they were staring at the scene side by side with amused expressions on their faces.

For a few seconds, she had completely forgotten that the two of them were not alone, so by the time she realized Anna and Kristoff were both watching, she cleared her throat, noticing how her cheeks flushed angrily. After rolling her eyes, she pulled the damn beanie from her coat pocket and put it on. "Happy now?" She repeated her own words with a bit of annoyance.

By all answer, he lifted his arms as he adjusted the beanie on her head, completely ignoring the presence of witnesses. She stood still, watching him from beneath her lashes as her heart hammered in her chest at his closeness. Once satisfied with the result, he leaned slightly toward her and brushed his lips almost imperceptibly against her cheek, sending a chill running all over her body from head to toe. This time the cold wasn't the cause at all.

"Aye, love. See you tomorrow."

For a moment, she froze, unable to react. They kissed each other continuously —cheek kisses of course — but this time she had felt the simple touch of his lips against her skin with much more intensity. The expression on Killian's face certainly didn't help, either. Fortunately, Anna came to her rescue, approaching her and hanging her arm from hers.

"Ah, one more thing." Just as they were about to turn to walk to the cab spot, Killian spoke again, "remember that we have a rehearsal tomorrow."

In fact, their performance as a duo had been a success, so they had contemplated the possibility of repeating it on more occasions if that was okay with her. Of course, it was. What she had experienced on stage was something magical and she was more than willing to repeat it.

"Sure, have you already chosen the song?"

"You'll have to wait until tomorrow, love." Killian winked at her as he offered her one of his adorable smiles, a flash of white teeth and curved lips, causing her to have an almost irrepressible need to wipe it out with her own lips against his.

Killian waved his hand before turning and walking away with Kristoff. She watched them for a few seconds, reluctant to lose sight of him yet. Just when she was going to give up, he turned his head, his eyes looking for her. She gave him one last smile before starting walking beside Anna in the opposite direction.

Surprisingly, Anna seemed thoughtful, so Emma's lips remained sealed, a quiet silence fell over them as they walked. That allowed her to lose herself in her own thoughts.

Her mind led her to the kiss they had shared a moment before. Their kisses on the cheeks were one of the public displays of affection they were accustomed to. Because friends kiss each other, right? Perhaps these displays of affection weren't convenient at all considering her feelings toward him, but she felt selfish in that regard. She was unable to offer him much more and wasn't sure he was interested either, honestly. But at least she could have these little indulgences. And he seemed not to complain at all.

This time the kiss hadn't been different from other occasions, but she had been much more affected by it. She could still feel the tingling on her cheek. Perhaps the cause was the exceptional situation in which they had been involved or maybe their previous banter. Whatever the reason was, the need to feel his lips on her skin again grew more and more.

The silence did not last long. Just as they reached the taxi rank, Anna gave her a narrow-eyed glance as she asked, taking her out of her thoughts, "So, is there something you have to tell me about you and Killian?"

Dammit! She should have known better before flirting blatantly with him in front of Anna. Emma already had enough with one of the two sisters being aware of her secret. The last thing she needed was Anna and her inability to remain silent for more than two minutes in a row knowing it as well. So she did what she did best, that is, feign confusion and/or divert attention. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh please!" Anna rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. It was clear that it wasn’t going to be that easy. "I'm very insightful, you know. There’s something here you're not telling me about, and I'm dying to know some good gossip. So tell me, have you two finally decided to be together?"

Finally? Luck was on her side that night, despite the circumstances. Just then a cab came in, so Emma hurried to stop it and get into the car, but not before muttering, "There is nothing between us, we are just friends."

"Whatever you say," Anna snorted as she murmured under her breath.

Once inside, the cards were still on her side, as the taxi driver turned out to be a talkative man and Anna was soon caught up in a conversation with him about Christmas traditions or something similar. Not that Emma was listening really, since her phone began to buzz shortly after beginning the drive. The moment she found out that Killian was sending her a message, everything else ceased to exist.

Hey, beautiful. I don’t think I had the opportunity to tell you before. But you looked stunning in that dress, Swan. - KJ

Her lips curled into a wide smile as she read the message while a pleasant thought settled in her memory. Two months ago she had received a similar message, from the same person, praising the same dress.

Uhm, that sounds familiar to me. Don't you think? - ES

What? That you did look stunning? It’s likely because it’s a fact that you look stunning on most occasions. - KJ

Emma blushed. Apparently, the flirtation was not over tonight. She couldn’t deny that she was flattered by this new closeness of Killian. And even though this might make things more difficult, she was unable to get rid of any gesture of affection from him, even in the form of a simple compliment.

You were not so bad yourself :) - ES

You were right, Swan, I'm now having a sense of deja-vu, but I'm not going to complain. I wouldn't mind recalling this kind of situation over and over again - KJ

Before she had time to answer, she received another text, causing her to almost melt in her seat.

It's always a pleasure to have dinner with you, Swan, no matter if it's in our favorite pizza shop, in one of our apartments, or in one of these fancy restaurants. - KJ

Or in The Kraken when I'm so busy that I forget to eat and you have to come to save me from starvation? - ES

Oh, I especially enjoy those occasions, when you allow me to perform my role as a knight in shining armor ;) - KJ

But I'm not a damsel in distress - ES

I'm perfectly aware of this, believe me, that's why I enjoy those rare moments when you allow me to do something for you, even if it's to offer you a slide of your favorite pizza - KJ

"Who are you talking to?" Anna's unexpected voice caused Emma to almost drop her phone. She felt her cheeks blush as she quickly locked the screen and put the phone in her purse. She cast a sidelong glance at her friend, who was looking at her with an amused expression on her face.

"Liam," she lied shamelessly, as she turned her head and directed her gaze toward the window, ignoring the curious glow in Anna's gaze.

Her heart was still pounding in her chest after her brief but somehow intimate conversation with Killian. For the first time in four years, she had begun to consider giving her heart a new chance. Even so, the fear of losing Killian was still too paralyzing. But little by little, a ray of hope had begun to seep through the cracks. This time, she felt unable to seal those cracks back up.

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Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think :)

What to expect in the next chapter? So their plan has been ruined ... but Elsa doesn't give up and soon comes up with a new plan. Will they succeed this time?

Also, I would like to ask you something. If any of you read the original version, what do you think about this new version? Do you like the flashbacks I've included so far and that didn't appear in the previous version? Thanks in advance :)

#cs ff #csrt #damn you for making me love you #captain swan #cs au #captain swan rewrite a thon #cs au ff #mayquita writes #my cs writings

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bigfan-fanfic · 5 years ago

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Making Bad Look Good Part 2

A second part! Featuring... Two-Face, Deathstroke, Deadshot, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, Mr. Freeze, Mad Hatter, Hush, Zsasz, Klarion the Witch Boy, and the Court of Owls!

I got a ton of requests for these, and you’ve all been so helpful! This one’s for you!

Making Bad Look Good part 2 - a.k.a. another 6 Degrees of Evil Bacon

Warning: Long post ahead.

Two-Face - Harvey Dent

You met Two-Face back when he was District Attorney for Gotham.

He was no “Ce-SEAL-Your-Fate” Horton from Central City, but he was doing a bang-up job putting criminals behind bars, cracking their insanity pleas.

So you went to meet him after a case where he got the Penguin sentenced to Blackgate instead of Arkham.

Sure, he’ll probably escape, but the precedent the case sets is important.

“Mr. Wayne! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Just came to meet our amazing new D.A.”

You make small talk, until you decide to ask him to lunch to congratulate him on the case.

He grins. “Okay. But we’ll flip a coin for the check. Heads, you pay. Tails, my treat.”

You shrug.

He flips a strange coin that he tells you is his lucky charm.

It comes up heads, on the side that looks like it’s been corroded.

You smirk. “That’s a double-headed coin, isn’t it?”

He laughs. “Yup. Most people don’t get it so quick.”

He shakes your hand and offers to pay anyway since you were such a good sport.

After he becomes Two-Face, it’s this moment you choose to remember...

Deathstroke and Deadshot - Slade Wilson and Floyd Lawton

There have been quite a few times when you were targeted by an assassin or two.

But that particular time, you were the prize for a competition between them.

Slade and Lawton had been hired to take you out, but only the actual killer would get the other half of the payment.

So one day, Deadshot is setting up the hit, angling a crazy shot to hit you through the back of the skull and bamboozle all ballistics tests. You come into range, and he shoots -

-only to see you get shoved out of the way by the eyepatch-ed Slade Wilson.

Bruce wants to sequester you in the Batcave, but instead, you tell him to set up a meeting as Batman.

It’s fun to throw money at problems.

On a rooftop, the Bat behind you, you offer Slade and Lawton double the total for your contract to give you the name of their employer and void the hit.

It’s technically against whatever assassin code there is, but you know, money tends to grease the wheels of any machine.

Deadshot takes the money and tells you it was some crackpot billionaire trying to get at Bruce. He also chuckles and says that he’s available if you ever have more money to throw and a grudge for him to carry out.

Deathstroke also takes the money and nods at you before leaving.

And while Slade comes back to torment you and your sons time and again, Floyd is actually quite pleasant. You sometimes hire him when you need security, which he calls easy money, and from that point, your husband almost never encounters him on the job...

Harley Quinn - Dr. Harleen Frances Quinzel

“Paging Dr. Quinzel. Dr. Quinzel, to the front desk.”

You and some other Gotham big shots were invited to Arkham for a publicity tour. Reporters are there, too, including Clark, so you feel pretty safe.

A surprisingly young woman comes to play tour guide, her hair in slight pigtails.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Quinzel. Currently I’m junior psychologist here at Arkham Asylum.” She has a bit of a New York accent, though you can tell she’s worked hard to soften it.

One reporter asks just how “junior” she is, and she gives an indulgent chuckle. “Yes, I graduated med school early, so I’m a bit young for a specialized doctor. But I’m also one of the only medical professionals still willing to work at Arkham, so I think that’s what counts, right?”

The tour goes well enough, until you raise your hand. “You’re the psychologist in charge of the Joker, right?”

Dr. Quinzel smiles in a strange way. “Yes, that I am.”

You frown. “And do you think, as a junior psychologist, you’re adequately prepared for him?”

“I know that I am a medical professional, Mr. Wayne, and I am certainly qualified to examine my patients.”

But Dr. Quinzel, just for a moment, looks fractured, torn. Like there’s some sort of internal war raging in her soul. But it gets absorbed in her too-wide smile.

You put it down to nerves about meeting the press, and let it go.

You always wonder if there was something you could’ve done for the woman, prevented it from all going wrong, prevented her from becoming Harley Quinn...

Poison Ivy - Dr. Pamela Isley

Pamela was going to college at about the same time you were.

You weren’t friends, exactly, although you did both share a class in Professor Crane’s Intro Psych course (an elective for both of you).

There were a lot of rumors about her. You chose not to engage in the gossip, especially as it was a lot about her sleeping with her Biology professor for a better grade.

You had to do a project with her for your final grade, and she invited you to her apartment to work on it together.

It was full of plants. She mentions it before you have a chance to even think about bringing them up.

“They’re my babies.” she jokes. “So much easier to take care of than pets.”

You smile. “All the oxygen probably helps you work better, right?”

She nods. “Yeah. Yeah, it does.”

She talks about how she’s going to be a botanist when she graduates, and she’s going to work for the EPA. She’s very self-interested, but genuine, and you have fun while working on the project.

But only a few weeks after you turn in the project, she disappears. Rumors abound about how she ran off with the Bio professor. Some say they were having an affair. Others are kinder and say they’re on a botanical conservation mission in some swamp somewhere.

Either way, you never see Pamela again.

At least, until Poison Ivy shows up in town...

(Side note: Drew Barrymore as Poison Ivy? Thoughts?)

Mr. Freeze - Dr. Victor Fries

Fries shows up one day out of nowhere

Just shooting with that cold gun.

He attacks a gala event for the Wayne Foundation and holds it up for jewelry and the cash being raised for the underprivileged of Gotham..

You glare at him. “You know you’re just taking money right out of the pocket of needy kids, right?”

“It’s for a good cause.” He says darkly.

“And what cause would that be?”

He sneers at you. “Disease research, mainly.”

The phrase surprises you.

Later, Bruce is doing research at the Batcave. “He goes by Mr. Freeze. Born: Victor Fries. Wife Nora suffers from Stage Four of a rare pneumonia-like condition known as MacGregor Syndrome. He had her cryogenically frozen, and now it seems like he’s turned to crime to fund his research into a cure.”

You hesitate. “Well... is there something we can do to help him?”

“Help him? May I remind you that he held hundreds of people hostage?”

“Well...” you shrug. “I just figure that maybe he wouldn’t be so... crime-y if his wife was being taken care of. I don’t know what I’d do if I was so close to losing you.”

Bruce softens slightly. “Look, Freeze committed a crime - several crimes, and he has to go to jail. But if it makes you feel better, we can have Wayne Enterprise’s medical division look into studying her disease. Judging from what I see here, MacGregor Syndrome has similarities with many other diseases. It might be a key in finding lots more cures.”

You smile and hug him. “Lead with that. Tell Fries that we’re willing to do that.”

Of course, Fries’ future crimes are due to the cost of maintaining his portable cryogenic suit, but you hear a lot less about it than you expect, especially since Nora is being taken care of...

Mad Hatter - Jervis Tetch

You were meeting a couple of old school friends at a tea parlor one day. It’s nice to escape the stress of your life and reminisce.

Roland and Alicia are a cute couple, and they tell you they have a baby on the way.

But the day is marred by a strange incident in which a small man in a top hat and tails (tuxedo tails) comes up to your table and starts babbling at Alicia, calling her “Alice” and trying to touch her blond hair, despite her attempts to shove him away..

Roland gets angry and punches the man, but before he can go any further, you pull him back.

The strange man glances at you. “The Dormouse...” he mutters, and walks away.

“What a creep.” Alicia shudders.

You’ve already figured it out. The man is deluded, thinking he’s the Mad Hatter, and he seems to be trying to fit everything into his Wonderland-inspired delusions. You tell Bruce about this, and he immediately agrees that Alicia is in danger.

You go to their hotel room to see them, warn them, but Roland answers the door wearing a bowler hat and Alicia is nowhere to be found.

Roland attacks you, knocking you out and kidnapping you.

Thankfully Bruce has been watching as Batman and follows.

You wake up tied to a chair around a tea table. Alicia is tied to another chair in an Alice-in-Wonderland costume, looking terrified.

Jervis Tetch reveals himself and points out his minions, enslaved with his mind control headwear.

“Very spiffy, if I do say so myself.” you say cheerily. “Quite the milliner you are, my good sir.” (Alicia looks at you like you’re crazy)

Jervis loves the flattery, and it distracts him long enough for Batman to smash through the glass ceiling and knock the hat off his head, disabling the control.

Sure, no one was hurt much, but needless to say you would have to visit Alicia and Roland in the future instead of ever having them come to Gotham...

Hush - Dr. Tommy Elliot

“We’re having lunch with an old friend of mine.” Bruce announces.

You raise an eyebrow. “Wait a minute. Why don’t I know who this is? We have pretty much all the same old friends. I mean, we were together, like, all the time.”

“You remember Tommy, right?”

“Tommy? No, Tommy doesn’t ring a bell, hon.”

Bruce sighs, and you laugh. This is as animated as you’ve seen him in a while. “Come on, Tommy Elliot! Back when we were little! We used to play Robin Hood together in the park, and you two always fought over who got to be the Sheriff of Nottingham?”

“Yeah, nope. No memory of that.”

He sighs, but you go with him anyway. It hits you when you see the man at the restaurant. He was that kid! His parents were friends with Bruce’s parents. They had almost died in an accident when Bruce’s dad saved them.

He’d always try to play this strategy game thing with you and Bruce. It was only two players, and while he’d always beat Bruce (your husband wasn’t always the tactician he was now), he’d get really frustrated playing against you.

Tommy liked to try and get inside your head to beat you, figure out what you were going to do and then planning for it.

But you could tell what he was doing, and kept doing random moves you wouldn’t normally play, throwing him off and winning.

You didn’t like him much, and you kinda got the feeling he didn’t like Bruce that much either.

“Oh. That Tommy.”

Bruce looks at your worried face. “What’s wrong? If you really don’t want to, we can cancel.”

“Oh, hush. We’re already here. Least we can do is have a nice lunch...”

Zsasz - Victor Zsasz

It’s never a good sign when a payphone rings. So many bad reasons...

Not the least of which is that barely anyone even uses payphones anymore.

Let alone to call another payphone. I mean, how does that even work?

So it startles you when you’re walking Gotham (during the day, of course), and a payphone rings. No one else is around to answer it.

You start to walk away, and then the next payphone rings when you reach it.

The other guy near it jumps like fifty feet in the air, but then goes to answer it.

He looks scared. “It’s... it’s for you.”

You sigh and take the phone

“Ignoring my calls? Naughty...”

“Um... wrong number. This is a payphone, not, uh, whoever you were calling.”

“This isn’t Y/N Wayne?”

“Yeah, no, it isn’t. May I ask who’s calling, though?”

“I know it’s you, Y/N. You don’t know me. Yet.”

“Look, I know Halloween’s coming up, but I’m not in the mood for Scream right now, okay?”

“This isn’t a scary movie, it’s real. My name is Zsasz.”

“Z- zsa... okay, how is that spelled?”

“Z. S. A. S. Z.”

“Oh, that’s beautiful. If you don’t mind me asking, is that Polish?”

“...What?”

“Sorry, I have to run, but it was nice talking to you!”

You run home and immediately tell Bruce you talked to Zsasz. Luckily you were running a trace with your phone - a little extra Tim developed for you. Within the hour, Batman has Zsasz in custody, saving the poor people he had kidnapped to add to his tally...

Klarion the Witch Boy

“Oh, hello! Who are you, little guy?”

The orange tabby glares at you with utter hate. It flicks its tail, but surprisingly, comes closer and curls around your legs.

It allows you to pick it up, and it purrs.

“Teekl! My word!” a boy comes running up to you, wearing a tailored suit and a newsboy cap.

The boy snatches the tabby from you and pets it, despite how it looks like it wants to go back to you. “What were you doing with Teekl?”

“That’s its name? He’s a cute little guy. Uh, he just wandered in front of me and basically asked me to pet him.”

The boy glares at the cat. “You TALKED to him?”

The cat looks at him and rolls its eyes.

“Um, who are you, kid?”

He looks at you incredulously. “Seriously, mortal? You haven’t heard of me? I am Klarion! Klarion the Witch Boy! And this is my familiar, Teekl.”

You nod seriously. “Good for you, kid.”

He seems about to throw a tantrum, so you wave and leave the boy dumbfounded...

The Court of Owls

“Beware the Court of Owls, that watches all the time,

Ruling Gotham from a shadowed perch, behind granite and lime.

They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed,

Speak not a whispered word of them

Or they’ll send the Talon for your head...”

“That’s a stupid poem. It doesn’t even keep time.”

“It’s free verse.”

“Yeah, free ‘cause no one would pay for it.”

You and Bruce were only kids when you heard the old rhyme. Bruce was trying to scare you as a Halloween season joke, but it wasn’t working.

“Come on, Y/N! At least pretend to play along!”

Thomas Wayne enters the living room, and pretends to scold Bruce. “Now, Bruce, be hospitable to your guest. What’s the argument about?”

You smirk. “Bruce says that there’s a Court of Owls who eat limes and put talons on people’s heads.”

Thomas hunches down, making a spooky face. “Well, Y/N, it’s an old Gotham story. It’s a very bad thing that Bruce told you. You’ll have to be very careful now.”

He looks dead serious, and now you’re scared. “Really? What should I do, Mr. Wayne?”

He puts a hand on your shoulder. “You’ll have to be a very good kid all your life, Y/N. Never go out after dark without your parents’ permission. Don’t ever cheat on a test. Don’t lie. And if you ever see someone in an Owl mask, look the other way and forget you saw it.”

He grins, dropping the facade. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I just couldn’t help it. Hope I didn’t scare you too badly.”

Being a stubborn child, you insist he didn’t. After all, you’re old enough not to be scared by that stuff anymore.

But on the way home, after your parents pick you up, you notice something.

A tall figure in an alley, wearing a stylized white Owl mask.

You quickly look away, trying to put it out of your head, mumbling the rhyme to yourself.

“Beware the Court of Owls...”

You forget about this until far later in life, after you, as Y/N Wayne, have become an enemy of the dreaded Court...

#batdad reader #male reader #batman x male reader #batman headcanons #dc headcanons #headcanon

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thehandsomeasshole · 4 years ago

Text

@starttheanarchy from X

"Then why use them for a job they are not meant for, just keep them to their original purpose and make something new that works for what you need. And because quality work will save in the long term with less repairs, replacements, and malfunctions over all. And your welcome." The wide grin could be heard in her last three words. She was raised to have some manners after all. "And DT could probably do it as long as the load weight isn't over hmmm..." She drifts off as fingers tap together, mental math being calculated. "Eight tonne? Maybe less. I'm not exactly sure on that front since I actually haven't tested his limits on that front. Hmm something to test another day." Her eyes drifted over the floating form of her robot as it stayed ever vigilant of her surroundings. She knew it could do some heavy lifting since she had used previous versions to move things in the junk yard.

Eyes roll at yet another reason on why to avoid corporations, and another as he seems to enjoy being a pest.

"Actually last thing I did was fix up several things that were in disrepair in Overlook, since too much of the population of that poor town have the skull-shivers and had no access to the medicine. Something about repair tickets being ignored or something like that. And I didn't come here for the shallow reason of becoming rich, I'm opening the vault to try and prevent a very clearly corrupt corporation from monopolization on something that might be a blessing or a curse." If she had it her way, she would keep it locked forever since no one has a full understanding of the capabilities and issues of Eridium that began to spawn after the first one opened. To many variables and yet everyone wanting to just add more into the chaos.

"Yes, yes. The definition fits, but you seem to think I am on the same level of depravity like the Fleshrippers or the Bloodshots. To which all I can say is, rude and incorrect. And princess? Really?" That got her to shoot a glare back at the space station.

"Not everyone. Yes there are people who still deserve a chance to be treated like a decent human because they are. But you seem to be hard at work for making it so those people are just as dead as the rest. And you are right, no one has used an army of robots to lay siege on a planet in the name of their own ideals. They used armies of people, and all of them were considered like a plague upon humanity in the context of history. Dictators, tyrants, oppressors, authoritarians, monsters. Wonder how will you be written down."

At the laughter, and how it grew as she talked about what started this whole hot mess off for her on planet side, it made her skin itch with irritation. Out of everything on this fucking disaster hellscape, it was Hyperion that tried to kill her first. Sure others might have had to deal with bandits at other stops, but she went from off the inter-space shuttle to the train with no issues.

It was fair to say Jack was the first person to try to actually kill her. Even when escaping Eden-5 they were aiming for capture to make her life a living hell instead of a death sentience. It was one of the reasons she was trying so damn hard to keep surviving at this point, out of spite for the asshole who tried to kill them after using some shitty signs to inform them of their supposed doom.

Hands were clenched into fists and she could feel a chill roll through her body. It was like the ice never left at times.

A deep breath as she turns her face to the sun that burns the landscape, she is fine and alive. And she isn't going to follow his script and get pissed. She isn't going to scream like everyone else on this planet. The Mechromancer is going to do what she always does, go against what is expected.

"How about you tell me something else instead. You worked with the Crimson Raiders? What happened? What is the full story, from beginning to end?" Her voice is calm and even, one that seems to hold no judgment and wanting to listen. And she does, after all there isn't much information on the group. Gaige had no plans to jump ship, but she honestly had as much trust for them as she did for most anyone on this planet that wasn't shooting at her. Eden-5 taught her that the only person she could ever trust was her father and the friends she created with her own two hands.

"No bullshit, no propaganda. Just your side of the story. I have time."

Jack did smile at the little sass she threw his way, despite himself. "Well, empty, those things weigh nearly five tonnes. So, nice try. I guess." He chose to ignore her initial comment about using the loaders for their designed purpose. There was not enough patience in Jack's body to unpack all of that right now.

"Oh, the vaults are definitely a curse. But, once you get the ball rolling around here, there's not really anything anyone can do to stop it." Jack shrugged lightly, scanning through the first four pages while he spoke, "You just… gotta do what you can before another idiot comes along and screws everything up even worse than you did."

"Nah, you're right. Princess made me feel a little icky. How about… I- I'll get back to you, I'll think of something real good." he laughed lightly, beginning to scribble down some notes on the papers before he continued.

"You sure as hell act like 'em, you and your bandit buddies. Just exactly how many things or people have you killed since you got to Pandora? Hey, look, I'll even give wildlife a pass cause- Well, you could kill a hundred skags one day and the next day there'd be two hundred more. Let's just focus on people. Maybe you're not running around screaming about meat bicycles, and maybe it is a little rude of me, but it's also correct. You just don't wanna admit it."

"The people who are still decent in this universe are few and far, kid. In my entire life, I've only met two people who were truly selfless." One's dead and the other’s… worse. "But, you do realise that if it wasn't me up here, it'd just be someone else? Hell, Dahl and Atlas would still be plowing through planets like they're big balls of paper and slaughtering everyone in their way while going off about fighting for those planets' freedoms and peace."

"Ooh, I love tyrant! Has a nice ring to it, don't you think? Always considered myself more notorious, than anything else." The sharp, almost humorous-sounding edge to his voice gave the impression he was teasing her, "Kid, it's nothin' I haven't heard before. You really think I'm gonna be kicking it anytime soon, anyway? Nah. Nope, not happening! I got way too much to do."

Jack's brows knitted together and slowly raised in a mixture of surprise and confusion. Sure, maybe she didn't care, he'd just never had a person who hated him ask for his side of the story before.

He decided not to express his shock.

"So, I'd been working on Helios since it launched, I was, uh-... A- a programming and engineering specialist for Hyperion for ten, fifteen years, maybe. I was in charge of most of the construction, getting together schematic proposals to give to my bosses, all that kinda shit."

"The first time I met Lilith and Roland was when Dahl decided they wanted to massacre all the workers on Helios and take it over. They… They didn't discriminate. If you worked for Hyperion, they'd gun you down without even batting an eye. They killed so many of the workers up here, I knew them all personally. We- we didn't even have a real military then, for God's sake! They shot workers out of the sky when they were trying to evacuate. That was the level of murderous psychopaths we were trying to deal with. We defended as best as we could, but even the freaking loaders weren't weaponised yet, I had like… Six hours to get them into a position to defend themselves, and you bet your ass I did it. I guess that actually answers your earlier question, too. I used them for a job they weren't made for out of necessity, the damn Lost Legion shot at them when they were running away, too. Assholes."

"I managed to get the vault hunter's I'd hired down to Elpis in a moonshot, think you've met a couple of them. They got to Concordia thanks to-" Shit. He hadn't actually thought about Janey in a while. He'd ask Athena how they were both doing, but she'd probably curb stop his head before he could even say hello. "-uh, this mechanic. They asked Lilith and Roland to help cause, y'know, Dahl had stuck a jamming signal somewhere on that moon and I couldn't work Helios's defences until it was shut off. They knew people on Helios were dying, and they said no."

"They only started to help when their lives were in immediate danger and Dahl got control of the moonshot laser and start firing away at Elpis. I really did trust 'em to help us, y'know? Like they promised they would."

"I guess they kinda did. We managed to get control of the laser again and… They blew it up. They nearly took the whole space station down just because they didn't want Hyperion having it. That stupid laser could've saved Pandora, you know. It could've- The blasts were so concentrated we could've wiped out an entire bandit settlement and their nice neighbours next door would've barely felt the ground tremble. I'd worked so hard on that laser. You have any idea how hard it was to make? How much progress they destroyed when they blew that damn thing up? A lot! A whole, freaking lot and-... Sorry. Off topic. Uh…"

He made a small noise, "Oh, yeah. Anyway, after that it was just a rush trying to get to the vault before anyone else did. Dahl was already there, but after what happened with those two I wouldn't have been surprised if they got to the vault first just so we couldn't."

"But, we did. My vault hunters took care of the- The Empyrean Sentinel, I think they called it. Big bastard, more human than the other vault monsters. Freaky stuff."

"So, the Sentinel was dead, and we finally got to the vault relic. It looked like… Nothing. Very underwhelming. Just a weird little floating vault symbol. I decided to touch it and-..." Jack went quiet for a while, his knuckles growing white with how tightly he was gripping the armrests of his chair, "And I saw… everything."

He felt sick even talking about it. The pit in his stomach growing deeper and he knew if he didn't stop soon he'd fall into a full blown breakdown. So, he took a shaky breath in and continued.

"Wasn't long after that when Lilith made her grand entrance. She destroyed the relic and- blasted the fuck out of my face. You ever had your face branded by some freaky eridian technology? It sucks. Real bad."

He let his head drop back, and he rubbed his eyes, "So, there's my side. Think I can quit my day job and become a professional story teller?" Though he tried to make a joke, the fire in his voice seemed to have dissipated. He just sounded… tired.

#jack was not expecting that either hsndkdkd #and also i do see what you mean about this turning into a whole ass novel hahaha #it could've been paradise // borderlands 2

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ironundcrneath · 4 years ago

Photo

✦ ▓ AND WHO GOES THERE? oh, it’s just [ ROSALINE PEAKE ]. some say [ HER ] resemblance to [ HOLLIDAY GRAINGER ] is almost uncanny, but the [ TWENTY-NINE ] year old has been in the capital for [ TWENTY-NINE YEARS ]. many suspect that they are the notorious [ SURGEON ] of the [ BARATHEON ] family: perhaps that has made them [ BITTER ] && [ SUSPICIOUS ] of late, when they used to be so [ RESILIENT ] && [ TENDER ]. during the daylight hours, [ ROSALINE ] can be found working as a [ ER & TRAUMA NURSE ], but when night falls over king’s landing, they are best remembered listening to [ BLACK HOLE SUN BY SOUNDGARDEN ]. may the gods be with them in these dark streets.

A B O U T ;

Long ago the Peake name carried weight, they were the family that people answered to before the Tyrells came rolling in. Any crime in the Upper West Side was done by the Peakes or in their name, and nothing happened without their say so. It was practically a century ago, but her family still talks of it as if it were yesterday, as if any of them had a part in the so called glory days of the Peake name. They didn’t and they refused to let it go.

Many relatives had tried ‘taking it to the man’, attempting ill planned coups (could it even be called that if it had no chance of succeeding?) against the Citadel since they took over some 50 years ago, where the only the only thing overthrown were their bodies over the bridge and into the river. For every failed attempt or drunken rant in a pub about the Peake name being restored, the Peakes fell further and further from grace. By the time Rosaline was born, the Peake name was a joke, they were dirt poor, and on the Tyrell shit list (not a place one wants to be).

Titus and Margot (née Lannister, a far flung cousin of the noteworthy ones) Peake were not in a happy marriage. They had gotten married when she had gotten knocked up with their first child, Roland, and never bothered to divorce, no matter how unhappy either were. By the time Rosaline came into the picture, their house was one of hostility, broken promises, and fragility. All the emotional labor Titus had put on his wife, she put on Rosaline as soon as she was old enough to carry it. Many have told Rosaline she was a natural born caretaker, but sometimes she wonders whether it was nature or nurture.

Despite her family no longer being a ‘crime family’ they were still a family drowning in crime. None of them seemed to be able to hold a job that wasn’t in somehow illegal, and preferred fast, get-rich-quick schemes and easy money from a night’s work (after all, it only takes, what, an hour to knock over a liquor store?). Much of her youth was spent patching up her brother, her father, cousins and uncles. Her 16th birthday was spent minting her brand new junior’s driving license by driving her bleeding father to a hospital, with a wound she couldn’t take care of herself, and left the back seat a grisly mess.

But Rosaline’s father, Titus, was different than most Peake’s. While he desired to return the Peake name to one of status and greatness, he was no fool, and knew trying to usurp the Tyrells was a stupid idea if there ever was one. He strongly believed in the saying of ‘if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em’. Very much the patriarch of their family of misfits, extended or otherwise, he instructed that the family’s new goal was to find greatness within the Citadel syndicate itself, to gain entry into it’s ranks and become important members. But with many of their names on the Tyrell shit list, this was no easy task, so many of the Peake family members found themselves pulling increasingly difficult and noticeable jobs (crimes) in hopes of gaining the attention of the Tyrells, in hopes that some of them would be allowed to join their ranks as initiates.

And despite being surrounded by crimes and the fast money way of life, Rosaline never felt the pull and refused to be involved in anything more than stitching people back up. They had tried to convince her (’we just need you to drive, that’s it’), they had tried tricking her (which promptly got their asses left with bag in hand standing outside of the gas station), but she refused to budge. Cruel words and rude jokes were made at her expense (‘what, do you think you’re actually gonna go to school? who’s going to take you?’). Despite being a hard worker who, if she put her mind to something, generally succeeded at it, she was constantly told she wouldn’t amount to much.

So, it came as a surprise to her family when she was accepted into King’s Way. It was unsurprising that she chose to attend their nursing program, though. She was put on a fast tracked course, and found herself graduating in three years rather than four. The entire time, her new found knowledge was put to work, patching up family members more and more often as they continued their quest in gaining the attention and possible favor of the Tyrells and the Citadel.

Eventually, and inevitably, they did go too far. Her brother, cousin and uncle made the mistake of going after a shipment of guns. And made the mistake of not finding out who those guns belonged to. They were Stag guns. The trio were lucky enough to get pulled over by police amidst their getaway, and were brought into custody. Because if they hadn’t, they most definitely would’ve ended up losing their lives. Ours is the fury, after all. And while getting arrested saved their lives, it also in a way, cost Rosaline hers.

With the guns and perpatrators in law enforcement custody, the Stags had no way of retrieving stolen merchandise, and had to find another way to recoup costs. They also somehow had to make an example, and that is how they ended up on Rosaline’s door step. To make a long story short, having already been working at North Wall as an ER and Trauma nurse for some years, Rosaline had run ins with members of many different syndicates, including the Stags, and had treated all of them with skill and care. So when the connection was made between the perpetrators of the heist and herself, Rosaline wasn’t so much recruited as forced to be a Baratheon surgeon.

She has been such for 2 years, they keep telling her that she’s close to paying off her family’s debts to the Stags, but she was never given any definite details of how long she’d have to work it off. And to be frank, she has no idea how much longer she can keep it up. No one outside of her immediate family knows of her new affiliation with the Stags, and she’s scared for anyone to find out, unsure of what that would mean for her or her family’s safety. Both the Stags and the Citadel have far reach, and she’s growing more and more paranoid by the day. Her life in the past years has completely fallen apart due to holding this secret. Rare nights off from the hospital are spent traveling to dark parts of the city to patch Stag men up, family and neighborhood gatherings are avoided due to the fear of running into Citadel men and associates (as her father had gotten his wish and despite son, brother and nephew in prison for a crime committed in pursuit of his goal, he did accomplish gaining the attention of the Citadel, and some family members had been taken in as associates). Her engagement had been ruined as she couldn’t explain where she was rushing off to in the middle of the night (he had accused her of cheating, and too scared to tell him the truth, she lied and said he was right). Leaving her completely and utterly isolated from loved ones and friends, with her only interactions coming from co-workers and Stags that she interacts with.

While she has not lost her gentle touch, her sunny disposition has begun to wane as clouds of paranoia and bitterness over her situation have rolled in. Surrounded by powerful people who treat her life as no more than a pawn to be played, Rosaline is starting to realize she needs to take control of her own life, to turn her backbone into one of iron, and to replace her soft curves with sharp edges.

W A N T E D C O N N E C T I O N S ;

THE STAGS ; Members or associates of the Stag syndicate that she has gotten to known over the past two years. Perhaps they like each other, or perhaps they don’t. They could have also been one of the people who had a hand in forcing her to become a Stag surgeon. This is a super open connection that we can either just use as a superficial way of the two knowing each other or could plot out something deeper.

THE CITADEL ; Growing up in Tyrell/Citadel territory, and now with some of her family members either associates or initiates into the syndicate, I picture Rosaline having lots of connections to current members/associates or those adjacent to the syndicate. Childhood and high school friends, ex boyfriends, etc. As of right now, no one but family knows she’s working for the Stags, so these two would have probably drifted apart in the two years since she has started, if they had been close at the time. Once again we can either play this as superficial way of knowing each other, or could develop it into something deeper (they’re suspicious of her allegiances, or she tries to use them in some way to hide her current situation, etc).

EX-FIANCE ; Within the past two years, Rosaline’s engagement ended. He was rightfully paranoid when she would sneak out in the middle of the night or wouldn’t return phone calls for hours on end when he knew she was off shift, and when questioned had no real explanation or ones that didn’t make sense. Finally he got the guts to accuse and ask her if she was cheating. Knowing that him knowing the truth would only put him in danger, Rosaline took the out and told him she was. She’d rather see them both in pain than dead. (could be a neutral party or really anyone from any syndicate, as prior to being forced to work for the Stags, she didn’t care much about ‘party lines’ so to speak)

CO-WORKERS ; Anyone who would work within the hospital or as a first responder that she could interact with on a fairly regular basis. At this point, Rosaline pretty much only interacts with patients, co-workers and members of the Stags, far too paranoid to have a life of her own at this point. While she is a very friendly and bubbly personality, she’s starting to master the art of knowing much about people, but people not knowing much about her. The only exceptions would probably be people she’s known for more than two years, before her working for the Stags. And while she’s infinitely more comfortable with them, she does clam up when talking about her life currently.

BEST FRIEND ; We can decide if the best friend knows or not, but if the latter it was probably one of those situations where they said ‘i get you can’t tell me, but i’m gonna be here for you anyways’. I’m completely open to plotting pretty much any and everything about these two out: how long they’ve known each other, just how tight they are, etc. Could also fill the connection below!

ROOMMATE ; Could also fill the connection above. But pretty much, what’s on the tin. We can plot out if they’re close or not, or whatever. They probably notice her coming and goings at odd hours (unless they also keep odd hours 👀), and either mind their own business or after getting BS answers enough times have stopped asking. Could also be really interesting to do someone in a syndicate opposed to the Stags or in the Citadel, but neither of them knowing of each other’s affiliations!

#( me? using a lyanna quote for an unrelated semi-oc? more likely than you think. )#vixere:intro

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janiedean · 6 years ago

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Mood lightener ask, I am intrigued by book recs from you since you mentioned something about a dinosaur series a bit ago? Color me intrigued so top five books you'd recommend for people who enjoy ASoIaF?

OH GOD THANK YOU XDDD

okay so, I’m taking the dinosaurs out first because... well. hahah.

the dinosaur lords is ABSOLUTELY a thing you might wanna try out if you like asoiaf for reasons, BUT I’m warning you, the author died before finishing it (unless he wrote the last three but didn’t have publishing contract for the second part of the six-books plan but no one quite knows and no idea) so most likely you’ll never get a conclusion, warning you beforehand so that’s why I’m putting it outside the top five. BUT IF YOU LIKE ASOIAF YOU SHOULD STILL TRY IT because:

the author was a friend of grrm’s and it shows;

it’s literally asoiaf except people go around on dinosaurs;

NO, REALLY;

there’s at least a couple characters who are totally asoiaf homages (there’s a dude named jaume who’s basically jaime and loras’s lovechild I SWEAR HE IS HE’S EVEN THE HEAD OF THE LOCAL KINGSGUARD) but not in a way that makes it look like plagiarism;

admittedly it takes a bit to find its rhythm, but when it does it’s really good because the worldbuilding is amazing and like... it’s basically fictional medieval europe with dinosaurs but to a really good degree and the representation is a+++, in the sense that idk one of the main four is obv. irish romani (or what irish romani are in that universe), a few are def. catalan, the french guy is really so french you wanna die, the italian dude actually comes from the oldest university in the realm, there’s people from russia/greece and the protagonist is basically some three eastern europeans countries thrown in one character but not stereotypically, like the guy is obv. a mix of russian/polish/mongol and he’s really a good character in that sense, there’s germans too, spanish ofc, like it’s really good in that sense

DINOSAURS FIGHTING DINOSAURS WHILE THEIR KNIGHTS RIDE THEM

there’s an entire supernatural angle with ARCHANGELS WHO MIGHT BE ROBOTS which is honestly intriguing and a+ and I just wish the books hadn’t finished just before going deep into it

if you also want lgbt+ rep............. well, two out of the three supposedly straight characters are irish romani dude and the protagonist and I can 100% assure you that everyone I dragged into reading those books agreed with me that in each single scene they have together (ie: most of them) they’re gayer than Actual Gay People in these books, but other than them half of the cast is bi, the gay sex is better written than the straight sex (forreal there’s one of the few actually.... sexy m/m oral sex scenes I read in published fiction???), their sexuality is not the whole of their personality but it’s fairly stated that most of them are Really Not Straight and it’s really done well;

actually THE ENTIRE KINGSGUARD IS GUYS WHO FIGHT VERY WELL BUT LOVE ARTS AS WELL AND THEY ALL SLEEP WITH EACH OTHER EXCEPT THE TOKEN STRAIGHT FRENCH CHARACTER THAT THE JAIME AND LORAS LOVECHILD HAS A CRUSH ON and ngl I thought they would end up fucking at some point if the books went on so... XDDD anyway a+++ kingsguard >>> the one in asoiaf;

ngl at some points there’s some badly written sex scenes (the straight ones lmao I’m 99,9% sure milàn was not that straight himself) and it’s not half as complex as asoiaf and doesn’t have as many characters but it has the same scheme except with dinosaurs, archangels being robots and three people are straight and two of them are in love anyway;

so tldr I greatly recommend the dinosaur lords if you want something similar to asoiaf, don’t expect an ending, enjoy dinosaurs and a lot of nice rep for everyone. also Y’ALL HAVE TO SHIP ROB AND KARYL WITH ME BECAUSE THEY’RE RIDICULOUS.

.... wow, and you asked me the top five. lmaaaaao. anyway, given that the dinosaur lords will not be in the top five, I’ll go and advise you to read:

IAN TREGILLIS’S ALCHEMY WARS, which is not like **fantasy** but it’s alternate history where the netherlands win the colonial wars in the 16th century because they figure out how to make brass androids and they use it to basically destroy the british and drive the french to canada while they conquer the US instead of the british. it’s a trilogy, it’s completed, it’s flawless and features: FRENCH CATHOLICS VS DUTCH CALVINISTS WITH THE FRENCH WANTING TO TAKE BACK PARIS, PREDESTINATION VS FREE WILL IN THE ANDROIDS DISCOURSE, REHASH OF 16TH/17TH CENTURY PHILOSOPHY DONE GREATLY, the greatest female character of genre literature since grrm (berenice GUYS BERENICE IS THE BEST GOD I LOVE HER SFM), the evil antagonist who’s a gal cersei wishes she was (like she’s terrible but she’s competent), the davos-like french general who knits in his spare time and the protagonist is the cinnamon roll-est android ever I love him sfm OH and the one time I cried because of a catholic fictional priest. guys tregillis is an a+++ top notch writer who has no time to waste with fillers and knows how to write a story even if HE HATES ME AND HE WANTS ME TO SUFFER and like... alchemy wars is really really good give it a go k?1,5. tregillis also wrote another alternate history trilogy, the milkweed tryptich, which is basically ‘the nazis create the x-men to win the war and so the british counteract by evoking ctuhulu and it goes exactly as it promises’. now: I have a love-hate rship with that one because the last book is narratively working but I hate everything it chose to be for reasons also i wanna punch the protagonist in the face, but thesuperevilgirl is totes the cersei of the situation and her brother has.... some srs jaime moments lmao he’s also my favorite ofc god klaus ily so much, and it has... some... well... ENGAGING choices lol I mean i loved book one and two and the third I did reluctantly but it could be an option? anyway ian tregillis is amazing and y’all should read him bye

the curse of chalion by lois mcmaster bujold has, as the amazing soul who recommended it to me pointed out, a protagonist that manages to be jaime and theon and partially sandor put into one. IT AMAZINGLY WORKS. the plot is kiiiinda more straightforward if you know spanish history bc the moment you figure out it’s the fantasy version of how castille and aragona united you know where it heads, but it has a lot of nice twists, also some a+ lgbt+ rep tho not as much as the dinosaur lords and the protagonist is.... really great I love him XD also ngl the fact that it ends fairly nicely is a balm so I’d try it, there’s other books in the same verse but I haven’t gotten around to read them yet

... guys stephen king’s dark tower is my fantasy favorite series EVER like ever, I love asoiaf and brienne is in my heart and she’s my true rep but nothing will top TDT for me ever for reasons and while it’s a completely different thing I still recommend it. caveat: I hate the last book with a vengeance and I think king fucked up the last two thirds real bad, but..... hey, it’s finished and the rest is 100% worth it. also jaime is totally the lovechild of the male protagonist and the other male-coprotagonist who are also my #1 ship ever in history so I’d give it a go ;) ;) ;) also while eddie’s my fave roland deschain is honestly the kind of character that you can only bow in front of like if I ever made an oc one hundredth as good as roland is in conception and execution and everything I’d feel like I accomplished everything I need in life. IT’S WORTH IT. TRY IT.

terry pratchett’s discworld: yes, it’s 41 books. yes it’s a lot. but you can read them by cycle which makes it a lot easier, they’re fun (the first three are a bit meh but the rest is all top notch I swear), they’re sarcastic and witty and delightful and it’s a++++ fantasy and I’ve been wanting to do the asoiaf au for ages sigh but anyway if you don’t want dark and grim but also want a+++ narrative, good satire about how our world sucks and a lot of fun at the expense of our pop culture (guys the book about their version of australia is a hoot and there’s a leonardo da vinci!!) GO FOR IT. IT’S AMAZING. also your life isn’t complete until you read about sam vimes and the local version of death speaking in capslock and being a cat person. also charles dance plays one of the mains in one of the tv adaptations and he was delightful xD

this is going to gain me rotten tomatoes, but....... grrm’s shared series wild cards. that he has going on with fifteen other writers including the aforementioned tregillis and milàn.yes, it’s like 28 books by now. no, it’s not perfect by all means and certain arcs are a total wtf and you don’t even have to read all of it, but especially grrm’s characters in it are obvious templates for asoiaf people (the powerful and amazing turtle is dark sam tarly and jay ackroyd is basically jaime without the incest and the extra good looks while lohengrin is brienne’s spiritual twin except for the looks), the shared worldbuilding is great, the alternate history story where buddy holly didn’t die and some of the protagonists organized a concert for him bc he was poor as hell was genius, and while a lot of the older stuff is dated and most likely was progressive for the eighties and would read a bit wonky now they always were super-inclusive, it has a bunch of nonwhite/nonstraight characters (esp. in the last books but there were also in the old ones, and the longest-standing gay dude since the eighties got a husband in the last trilogy!!! it was so ;_;), the alternate history is really good imvho and if you enjoy asoiaf you probably would like most of wild cards. if you want a reading order I made one here. xD

here you go sorry it took me one hour to answer it but IT GOT LONG XDD

#the dinosaur lords #alchemy wars #wild cards #discworld for ts #the dark tower for ts #book recs #john-childerass #ask post

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apenitentialprayer · 5 years ago

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Muslim converts to Christianity

Ubaydallah ibn Jahsh: (d. 627) the first cousin and brother-in-law of the Muslim prophet Muhammad, Ubaydallah was one of the four ḥunafā', a group of friends who rejected idol worship and followed a form of philosophical monotheism in the years before Muhammad’s declaration of prophethood. Ubaydallah was an early convert to Islam, which resonated with his own ideas about God; during the early persecution of the movement, he and a group of other Muslims moved to the Christian kingdom of Aksum, which gave the community asylum. While he lived in Aksum, he encountered Christianity and converted to the faith, which created friction in the refugee community, ultimately resulting in his wife Ramla leaving him because of his apostasy. He died in Aksum, and his wife would later marry Muhammad. Ṣurḥān of Dwin: (d. 703-705) Ṣurḥān was an Arab soldier stationed in Armenia in the late 650s. Armenia represented the very border of the Islamic Empire, a border that ultimately could not be controlled in the wake of the civil war that broke out in Syria. As Arab troops were recalled to fight the Umayyads, Ṣurḥān took advantage of the chaos in order to stay, having grow attached to the Armenian community. He was baptized, got married to a local woman, and had several kids with her. About forty years later, the Islamic Empire (now controlled by the Umayyads) decided to end Armenian semi-independent rule and sent a new governor to control the region. As an example for others against apostasy from Islam, the governor ordered the crucifixion of Ṣurḥān, who was forced to face southward (the direction of Mecca) as a symbolic act of submission. It is said that this cross miraculously turned eastward, the traditional direction of Christian prayer, before he died. Anthony al-Qurayshi: (d. 799) Rawḥ was a member of the Quraysh tribe, the same one that Muhammad was born into, and a possible former Umayyad who defected to the ‘Abbasid dynasty. Like many Muslim aristocrats, he lived in a monastery-palace, where he was known to harass the priest, remove the crosses, and even eat the Host from the tabernacle. One day, he decided to use an icon of Saint Theodore for target practice, but when he fired his arrow, it miraculously turned on him and shot him through the hand. This, compounded with a vision a few days later in which the Eucharist became a lamb during Mass, and an appearance by Saint Theodore himself to chastise him, Rawḥ decided to convert to Christianity. Patriarch Elias II was afraid that his conversion would cause controversy, so sent him to the River Jordan to be baptized and given the name Anthony. From there, he wandered the desert for a few years as an ascetic before returning home to Damascus; his family mocked him and demanded he revert, but he would not; he was taken before the Caliph; he was beheaded on Christmas of 799, a fate he gladly accepted in atonement for previous raids he had committed against Byzantine settlements. Renouard of Toulouse: (fl. late 8th Century) A lieutenant of Saint William Fièrebrace, who was a duke know for his conflicts with the Umayyad Emirate. Renouard was apparently a Spanish Muslim who converted to Christianity and defected to William’s side. Both figures were immortalized in the chansons de geste that circulated in 12th and 13th century France. Saint Casilda of Toledo: (fl. early 11th Century) the daughter of the ruler of Islamic Toledo, Casilda was especially known for her compassion for prisoners. She would often sneak extra bread to them. When she became ill, she made a pilgrimage to the well of Saint Vincent in Burgos, presumably at the suggestion of some of the Christian prisoners. When she was cured, she chose to be baptized and lived to be 100 while living a solitary life of prayer near the well. Zayda of Seville: (fl. late 11th Century) the daughter-in-law of King al-Mu’tamid, the last Abbadid ruler of Seville. When the Almoravids, a Moroccan reform movement known for its strict interpretations of Islam, overthrew the more lenient Muslim kingdoms of Iberia, Zayda fled to Castille, where she became the mistress of Alfonso IV. She was eventually baptized as ‘Isabel’. After this, events become a little more murky; she gave birth to Alfonso’s only son, an illegitimate child named Sancho. She may have died giving birth to him, or she may have died giving birth to another child. If the latter is the case, it is possible that Zayda and Alfonso’s wife, Queen Isabel, are the same person. If that is the case, she gave birth to two more children. Fátima of Portugal: (d. mid 12th Century) a ‘Moorish princess’ according to oral tradition, probably a member of lesser nobility. In the year 1158, she and a group of other Muslims were captured while picnicking at a river by al-Qaşr. While in captivity, Fátima is said to have fallen in love with the leader of the Christian war band, Gonçalo Hermingues. She converted to Christianity in order to marry him, taking on Oureanna (‘Golden-One’) as her baptismal name. Tragically, she died shortly thereafter, and the heartbroken knight named a town after her. Centuries later, in 1917, the Virgin Mary is said to have appeared to three shepherd children in this town. Saint ‘Bersabei’: (d. 1480) the name given to an Ottoman officer by later Christian chroniclers. Bersabei was a member of the Ottoman force that conquered Otranto in 1480, under the command of Mehmet II the Conqueror. When the city fell in August of that year, the inhabitants were variously killed, sold into slavery, or forcibly converted to Islam. A group of 813 men who were commanded to convert refused; they were led up to a mountain now known as the Hill of Martyrs, where executioners (including Bersabei) killed them. During the mass martyrdom, the devotion of these Christians (and a miracle in which one of the martyred Christians continued to stand upright after his decapitation) caused this officer to declare his belief in their faith. He was subsequently impaled, dying alongside the martyrs of Otranto. These martyrs were canonized as saints in 2013. Omar ibn Said: (1770-1864) Born in the Imamate of Futa Toro, Omar ibn Said was captured and ‘sold into the hands of the Christians’ in 1807. He died a slave, in North Carolina. Omar ibn Said was an intelligent man who had grown up learning a variety of subjects from prominent scholars in his home region; he became famous in America for his literacy in Arabic, especially after writing on the walls of a jail cell after having been caught in an escape attempt. After being sold to the brother of the governor of North Carolina, he was supplied with both an Arabic Bible and an English Qur’an. Though he practiced Christianity, this seems to have been less a ‘conversion’ in a modern sense and more a simultaneous practicing of both Christianity and Islam (a sociological phenomenon that has a name, but I can’t remember it right now). His own Arabic writings reveal both a gratitude to the Owens family for his conversion to Christianity, as well as many invocations of blessings upon Jesus and Muhammad and quotations of the Qur’an from memory. In 1991, a mosque in North Carolina was named after him. Imaduddin Lahiz: (1830-1900) a fourth generation maulvi living in what was then Punjab, known for translating the Qur’an into Urdu and attacking the Ahmadi movement from a Sunni perspective. He converted to Christianity in 1866, along with his wife and nine children. This conversion was extremely controversial; like many converts during the colonial period, his intentions were seen as suspect and driven more by desire for material gain and affluence than a genuine faith. It reached the point where he felt the need to specify in his autobiography that he had converted ‘simply for the sake of attaining salvation’. He wrote several Biblical commentaries. Bonus: Bramimonde (Possibly 8th Century, possibly completely fictional) depicted in The Song of Roland as the wife of the ruler of Zaragoza, the city which Charlemagne attempted to seize from the Umayyad Emirate in 778. Historically, this campaign ended in a failure, with Charlemagne never again entering Iberia after the catastrophe of the Battle of Roncevaux Pass. The poet of The Song of Roland, however, wrote a different ending. In this ending, Charlemagne attacks Zaragoza a second time to avenge the death of his friend Roland, in which both Bramimonde’s husband Marsile and son Jurfaleu the Blonde are ultimately killed. Bramimonde is taken captive, and whereas most of the other captives are forcibly converted to Christianity, Bramimonde’s special status as widow to a king causes her to be catechized first; she is baptized when she decides she believes, taking on the name Juliana.

#Christianity #Islam #figures of note #saints

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hitchell-mope · 6 years ago

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What I think they’re dark one personalities and appearances would have (and should have) looked like

Would have

David: basically like James. Cocky confident womaniser. Lots of leather. Guyliner. Very much like rumple in that he became the dark one to save Emma and becomes a massively overprotective father. Targets Albert Spencer.

Snow White: think umbridge from Harry Potter. Very motherly. But poisonous on the inside. Targets Regina for ruining her first chance at a family. Soft spoken sadist. Very much wants to carve Regina with the dagger. Slicked back hair. Hand knitted cardigans. Wedge heels. Will invite you to tea and cut your throat in the same sentence

Regina: evil queen amplified. Has the scales. Determined to make Emma pay. Just for existing. Won’t let anyone near Roland but robin and Henry. Enslaves a pregnant Zelena. Threatened the unborn child’s life trots put her old EQ dresses bottom halves but with the top halves of her mayor clothes. Keeps the dagger in a bloodstained birkin bag.

Belle: turn people who annoy her into books. The terrified faces on the covering their names in gilt lettering above. Dresses the same. Targets anyone who has an opinion on what she shoul do. Swiftly becomes drunk with power enough to see rumples point of view and begs him to kill her. And that why they go to the underworld this time

Robin: wrenched the dagger from Emma’s hand and took on the darkness to save Regina. His first act is to kill zelena for what she did to him. Until he’s reminded of the baby. Doesn’t change out of the robes he got in the vault. And they start to smell like forest. His only plan is to treat Roland like royalty with Regina and Henry and their side.

Zelena: full on wicked witch. Wants to kill anyone who poses a threat to her happiness. Starting with Regina and Robin. Poofy dresses. Dark one powers/insanity coupled with pregnancy hormones equals a highly potent threat.

Lily: psychopathic woman child. Throws tantrums at a moments notice (read. Turns in to a dragon). Pulls a Maleficent and sends Killian Snow White and Regina to sleep Very nearly does the same to Henry and Roland until robin gets the dagger. Enslaved Emma. So they can be friends. Quite literally forever and ever

Neal: immediately gives Emma the dagger. Repeatedly fights hallucinations rumples needling to kill Hook. Double cuffs himself and book a cell in the asylum. Finally understands his father. Stays in the khakis and hoodie keeps trying to pick at the scales on his skin. Begs Emma to kill him. Only for Henry to do it

Henry: likes to toy with his family especially Regina and Zelena. Fiercely protective of Roland baby Neal and Roland’s sister. Hell bent on not letting his family screw them up. Leather jacket. Dark red like dried blood. Still the author. Fashioned his hair to look like Danny Zuko from grease. Always gives his boyfriend an out. As he puts it. He’s the god and the devil in one body. Wants his father back. Develops psychotic rage when he’s told it can’t be done.

Should have been

Emma: hair in a double back fishtail braid with four strands loose on each side of her face. SHE HAS THE SCALES ON HER FACE AND ARMS. Burgundy version of of her bandit outfit from operation mongoose. Essentially she looks a little like a pirate. Targets Regina for making her an orphan. When Regina protests Emma pulls a Cora and bunds her in tree vines. Kind of regresses a little bit. Becomes a bit child like. Positively giddy when she remembers Killian is her boyfriend. Says she always loved pirates. Gets very upset when he pulls away from her when she tries to kiss him. He doesn’t want to take advantage. She doesn’t understand and cries until David hugs her and calms her down. Snow White tried but she got teleported to the diner. Emma says snow chose the baby. He goal is to create her perfect family. A mom (Snow White) a dad (David) a grandfather (rumple) a daughter (herself) a brother (Henry and baby Neal). And Regina doesn’t fit into the equation

Killian: mr gold style suit. Black jacket. Red shirt. Purple tie. Has both hands. Hair combed down in front of face. Given himself a gold tooth. Let’s Emma go. Not wanting her to be saddled with a “monster”. She finds it intriguing. Offers to teach Henry magic. Goal is to eradicate rumplestiltskin and Regina. Develops a rapport with Roland. Much to robin and reginas horror. Out for rumples blood. Gives the dagger to Henry. Who writes it into a void where no one can find it.

#once upon a time #david nolan #mary margaret blanchard #regina mills #belle french #robin hood once upon a time #anti swan queen #outlaw queen #captain swan #snowing ouat #zelena mills #lily page #bisexual henry mills #bi henry mills #nicholas zimmer #breadcrumb believer #bi!dark!henry #roland hood

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ritacaroline · 5 years ago

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Starshine Ch. 11 Jimmy Page Fan Fiction

Sequel to “In The Light”

Linda had been on and off the phone all morning at Jimmy and Jill’s place. She was setting up arrangements for a new place she could stay, since she’d be vacating her residence at Rob’s. The possibility of staying at her sister, Carla’s place seemed to be coming to fruition. It would be temporary only, since she

would first need to find her own flat in London, a bachelorette flat. Carla was a sweet younger sister, who adored Linda. They held quite a resemblance to each other, and people often wondered if they were twins at times, when together. Also, their personalities were nicely compatible and Carla welcomed

the chance to spend time with her older sister. Linda felt a secure feeling of love with Carla and a freshly received feeling of freedom. A new beginning. The sadness of separating from her love, Rob still stung like a scorpion sting. But, the idea of moving forward, pulling things together anew, suited her quite a bit. Linda did love Jill, but, the idea of sharing Jimmy’s home, seemed distasteful to her, since the studio incident. Jill had not gone to the trouble of sharing her personal business with Linda, regarding the incident she’d observed with Jimmy. Jill didn’t feel that the details of her talk with Jim was of any consequence of Linda’s. Simply wasn’t her business. And Jill didn’t care if Jimmy was “forgiven” by Linda. It wasn’t her concern and Jimmy could not care less either.

Carla lived maybe 10 minutes away from Jill and Jimmy, and also was located close to Linda’s work. So, many things were now in motion.

At Robert’s place, the phone rang, and Robert personally picked up. It was a moving company, telling him that they needed to schedule a pick up of Linda’s things within the week. He was astounded at the quickness of Linda’s departure. He was also hurt inside. He’d not realized Linda could be so independent so abruptly. He had expected maybe more of a longer discussion of what had happened. He felt he deserved another chance, but Linda sure didn’t.

Later that evening, Jill and Jimmy were soon to step out for the practice. Linda took that opportunity to approach Jill, saying “Oh, Jill, I’m in your debt, for treating me so wonderfully yesterday and today. And always, in fact ! I’m off to Carla’s now, and you can reach me there anytime, or at my work place, you’ve got the number. So thank you so very much for your caring and hospitality.” And they hugged extremely tightly and lovingly. Linda put her hand out to Jim, as well, and he took her hand and squeezed it. And out the door she went and took off in her car. Roland waited in the larger car for Jim and Jill, and then the three of them headed out toward the studio in town.

Once arrived, they encountered Robert immediately. He’d been awaiting their presence. Rob walked directly to Jimmy and grabbed his arm, saying, “I need to speak with you.“ As Rob pulled him away to a room off the center for privacy, Jimmy called out to Jill, “Excuse me babe, Rob has an important conversation he must have with me, this very instant ! But I’ll be back to you, honey. Grab a drink.”

Jill laughed a bit, at Jim’s silly remark, but she soon got comfortable with her favorite buddy, Clare, who was already there with Bonz.

In the side room, Rob spoke, “So what the hell, Page ? What happened ? Is she still there ? At your place ?“

“Who ?” asked Jimmy, being obnoxious.

“You God damn know very well who, you git.”

“Oh, you mean Linda ? Woman who nearly had me at the point of losing Jill, due to her tattling tales ? Luckily her tales were off kilter and I’ve now been redeemed. And luckily, my woman trusts me. But with no thanks to Lin, or to you.” said Jim.

“Awww, poor Jim, poor, poor, pour me a vodka, why don’t you. Your sad story has me bored and indifferent, mate. So, where is she now ?” answered Rob.

“How should I know ? Why don’t you ask her ?” Jim asked.

“Because, I don’t know where to find her, and she’s not speaking with me, apparently, that’s why.” said Rob.

“Well, I wonder who’s fault that is ? Don’t ask me, it’s not me she’s confiding in, bloke. By the way, I told you by phone, I’m not involved, or getting involved. You’re responsible to take care of your own catastrophes, alright ?”

Rob continued, “C'mon, there, Jim. Jimmy Jim. Don’t be like this, I need you right now. I’m in peril here, my friend.”

“Alright. Well, you can feel free to talk it over with me. But, don’t expect me to get between the two of you. I'm not a double agent.”

At the same time, Jill and Clare were chatting too. Jill had the same philosophy as Jim did, though. She wasn’t sharing personal details regarding Linda and Rob. Not offering any information to Clare about it. It wasn’t her place, not her story to tell. Anything Linda had shared with her would go no further. A great way to keep friends as friends. Clare had not heard about the incident at all, so Jill was leaving it that way, even though Clare was her very close friend.

The music practice began, and it was incredible. They were all four at the top of their game this night. Maureen Baldwin was in attendance as well. The ladies adored having her sweet company along that night. After the practice was completed, all headed to the local pub. All were having drinks and laughing, except Rob, who was a little subdued. Rob spent some time telling Jimmy his tales of woe. To which Jimmy nodded and listened intently. But said nearly nothing nor did he offer any advice. His ear was really all he chose to offer. After awhile, seating situations changed and Jimmy ended up in a corner, on the

bench in their deep booth. He pulled Jill into his lap and had one arm holding her thigh. The other arm was tenderly around her back, holding her against himself. A very cozy position. She loved the arrangement. His affection was poured onto her most every moment and she was in bliss feeling so adored by him. After having quite a few drinks and shots, the tipsy group began to disband and head homewards. Luckily Roland came to collect up Jimmy and Jill, bringing them back safely. John Paul did not overdo, so was fine to drive. Bonz’s driver brought Rob home also, so all found their way home in one piece.

Next Ch. (12) : https://ritacaroline.tumblr.com/post/185214806896/starshine-ch-12-jimmy

Chapter Index for “Starshine” is located at bottom section of Ch.1, click here : https://ritacaroline.tumblr.com/post/184383708541/starshine-ch-1-jimmy-page-fan

Link to “In The Light” - original fan fic - https://ritacaroline.tumblr.com/Fan%20Fiction

JimJam Mistresses @tremble-and-shake @ledoftherings @gimmeeshelter @adonna1964 @justanotherzosofangirl @starchild0985 @girlofthemoon75 @bonscottintheimpala @12909168 @jullz @cherryfloyd @tenementcrazylittlefruitcake @save-me-from-the-gallows-pole @soy-laprincessa @marauderofworlds @ultrabitchystudentperfectionus @satanspizzadeliveryguy @misspenylane @zi-zidane @catherine0627 @pagingpage-the-original @amythesticon @strangerspassinginthestreet @ thezeppelinbeatles @pour-some-sugar-on-mee @carryfire18 @j-james-thlk @70shoney @strange-broo @page-daddy @nadianad1337 @yerawizardjimmeh @jimmyypagey @magnetacuddles84 @rock6880 @ledxzeppelin @kinkyspice @thelandofnevermore @my-golden-lion @itsblackbetty @magnetacuddles84 @luvejimmy @palenickelsaladparty @jennmarieetn @honeydewgroupie @how-many-more-times-blog @loveinher-eyess @rocknrollababes-blog @princesssofpeace @frauweide @dontyouhearmecallingyou

*Please advise if you would like to be tagged or untagged.

#Fan Fiction #submission #jimmy page fanfiction #jimmy page fan fic #jimmy page fan fiction led zeppelin

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artbydip · 5 years ago

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I first painted Sophie three years ago. She’s my most popular painting. She died young trying to protect people that needed to be protected. This painting is a two stencil piece on glass. Read below for more information on Sophie. Sophia Magdalena Scholl (9 May 1921 – 22 February 1943) was a German student and anti-Nazi political activist, active within the White Rose non-violent resistance group in Nazi Germany. She was convicted of high treason after having been found distributing anti-war leaflets at the University of Munich (LMU) with her brother, Hans. As a result, she was executed by guillotine. Since the 1970s, Scholl has been extensively commemorated for her anti-Nazi resistance work. Scholl was brought up in the Lutheran church. She entered junior or grade school at the age of seven, learned easily, and had a carefree childhood. In 1930, the family moved to Ludwigsburg and then two years later to Ulmwhere her father had a business consulting office. In 1932, Scholl started attending a secondary school for girls. At the age of twelve, she chose to join the Bund Deutscher Mädel (League of German Girls), as did most of her classmates. Her initial enthusiasm gradually gave way to criticism. She was aware of the dissenting political views of her father, friends, and some teachers. Even her own brother Hans, who once eagerly participated in the Hitler Youth program, became entirely disillusioned with the Nazi Party.Political attitude had become an essential criterion in her choice of friends. The arrest of her brothers and friends in 1937 for participating in the German Youth Movement left a strong impression on her. She had a talent for drawing and painting and for the first time, came into contact with a few so-called “degenerate” artists. An avid reader, she developed a growing interest in philosophy and theology. In spring 1940, she graduated from secondary school, where the subject of her essay was “The Hand that Moved the Cradle, Moved the World.” Scholl nearly did not graduate, having lost any desire to participate in the classes which had largely become Nazi indoctrination. Being fond of children, she became a kindergarten teacher at the Fröbel Institute in Ulm. She had also chosen this job hoping that it would be recognized as an alternative service to Reichsarbeitsdienst (National Labor Service), a prerequisite to be admitted to the university. This was not the case, though, and in spring 1941 she began a six-month stint in the auxiliary war service as a nursery teacher in Blumberg. The military-like regimen of the Labor Service caused her to think very hard about the political situation and to begin practicing passive resistance. After her six months in the National Labor Service, in May 1942, she enrolled at the University of Munich as a student of biology and philosophy. Her brother Hans, who was studying medicine there, introduced her to his friends. Although this group of friends eventually was known for their political views, they initially were drawn together by a shared love of art, music, literature, philosophy, and theology. Hiking in the mountains, skiing and swimming were also of importance to them. They often attended concerts, plays, and lectures together. In Munich, Scholl met a number of artists, writers, and philosophers, particularly Carl Muth and Theodor Haecker, who were important contacts for her. The question they pondered the most was how the individual must act under a dictatorship. During the summer vacation in 1942, Scholl had to do war service in a metallurgical plant in Ulm. At the same time, her father was serving time in prison for having made a critical remark to an employee about Hitler. Between 1940 and 1941, Scholl’s brother, Hans Scholl, a former member of the Hitler Youth, began questioning the principles and policies of the Nazi regime. As a student at the University of Munich, Hans Scholl met two Roman Catholic men of letters who redirected his life, inspiring him to turn from studying medicine and pursue religion, philosophy, and the arts. Gathering around him like-minded friends, Alexander Schmorell, Wil Graff, and Jurgen Wittenstein, they eventually adopted a strategy of passive resistance towards the Nazis by writing and publishing leaflets that called for democracy and social justice, calling themselves the White Rose. In the summer of 1942, four leaflets were written and distributed throughout the school and central Germany. Based upon letters between Scholl and her boyfriend, Fritz Hartnagel (reported and analyzed by Gunter Biemer and Jakob Knab in the journal Newman Studien), she had given two volumes of Cardinal John Henry Newman’s sermons to Hartnagel when he was deployed to the eastern front in May 1942. This discovery by Jakob Knab shows the importance of religion in Scholl’s life and was highlighted in an article in the Catholic Herald in the UK. Scholl learned of the White Rose pamphlet when she found one at her university. Realizing her brother helped write the pamphlet, Scholl herself began to work on the White Rose. The group of authors had been horrified by Hartnagel’s reports of German war crimes on the Eastern Front where Hartnagel witnessed Soviet POWs being shot in a mass grave and learned of the mass killings of Jews. Her correspondence with Hartnagel deeply discussed the “theology of conscience” developed in Newman’s writings. This is seen as her primary defense in her transcribed interrogations leading to her “trial” and execution. Those transcripts became the basis for a 2005 film treatment, Sophie Scholl – The Final Days. With six core members, three more White Rose pamphlets were created and circulated over the summer of 1942. he core members initially included Hans Scholl (Sophie’s brother), Willi Graf, Christoph Probst and Alexander Schmorell (Schmorell was canonized by the Russian Orthodox Church in 2012). Initially her brother had been keen to keep her unaware of their activities, but once she discovered them she joined him and proved valuable to the group because, as a woman, her chances of being randomly stopped by the SS were much smaller. Calling themselves the White Rose, they instructed Germans to passively resist the Nazi government. The pamphlet used both Biblical and philosophical support for an intellectual argument of resistance. In addition to authorship and protection, Scholl helped copy, distribute and mail pamphlets while also managing the group’s finances. She and the rest of the White Rose were arrested for distributing the sixth leaflet at the University of Munich on 18 February 1943. In the People’s Court before Judge Roland Freisler on 21 February 1943, Scholl was recorded as saying these words: Somebody, after all, had to make a start. What we wrote and said is also believed by many others. They just don’t dare express themselves as we did. No testimony was allowed for the defendants; this was their only defense. On 22 February 1943, Scholl, her brother, Hans, and their friend, Christoph Probst, were found guilty of treason and condemned to death. They were all beheaded by a guillotine by executioner Johann Reichhart in Munich’s Stadelheim Prison only a few hours later, at 17:00 hrs. The execution was supervised by Walter Roemer, the enforcement chief of the Munich district court. Prison officials, in later describing the scene, emphasized the courage with which she walked to her execution. Her last words were: “How can we expect righteousness to prevail when there is hardly anyone willing to give himself up individually to a righteous cause? Such a fine, sunny day, and I have to go, but what does my death matter, if through us, thousands of people are awakened and stirred to action?” Fritz Hartnagel was evacuated from Stalingrad in January 1943, but did not return to Germany before Sophie was executed. In October 1945, he married Sophie’s sister Elisabeth. Following her death, a copy of the sixth leaflet was smuggled out of Germany through Scandinavia to the UK by German jurist Helmuth James Graf von Moltke, where it was used by the Allied Forces. In mid-1943, they dropped over Germany millions of propaganda copies of the tract, now retitled The Manifesto of the Students of Munich. In a historical context, the White Rose’s legacy has significance for many commentators, both as a demonstration of exemplary spiritual courage, and as a well-documented case of social dissent in a society of violent repression, censorship, and conformist pressure. Playwright Lillian Garrett-Groag stated in Newsday on 22 February 1993, that “It is possibly the most spectacular moment of resistance that I can think of in the twentieth century … The fact that five little kids, in the mouth of the wolf, where it really counted, had the tremendous courage to do what they did, is spectacular to me. I know that the world is better for them having been there, but I do not know why.” In the same issue of Newsday, Holocaust historian Jud Newborn noted that “You cannot really measure the effect of this kind of resistance in whether or not X number of bridges were blown up or a regime fell … The White Rose really has a more symbolic value, but that’s a very important value.” Else Gebel shared Sophie Scholl’s cell and recorded her last words before being taken away to be executed. “It is such a splendid sunny day, and I have to go. But how many have to die on the battlefield in these days, how many young, promising lives. What does my death matter if by our acts thousands are warned and alerted. Among the student body there will certainly be a revolt.”

#sophie scholl #art #painting of sophie #painting

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gray-autumn-sky · 6 years ago

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The Litmus Test - Wild Card- Happy Ending Week Day 4 (Thursday)

I decided to use a wild card for today’s theme, and chose to write a fic where Roland and Henry meet for the first time. This fic is set in my Affair to Remember verse, and takes place about a month and a half after the story ends.

Henry rolls his eyes as Regina eases her car into a tight parking space in front of a mound of snow. This wasn’t usually the sort of day she’d choose to travel and since they left home late that morning, traveling slowly into a snow storm. Her stomach had been fluttering with nerves and over and over again, she debated whether or not she should cancel--but then, by the time she’d made up her mind to do it, the snow had lightened up significantly and the plows and salt trucks were out, clearing the roads and invalidating her flimsy excuse.

And it was only after she couldn’t cancel that she realized she hadn’t really wanted to.

Finally, she and Robin were bringing Henry and Roland on a date--and this would be the true litmus test of their relationship.

Up until this point, they’d kept things just between the two of them--and though their relationship started as a whirlwind love affair, real life had slowed it down. For the most part, she thinks she’s glad for the slow down. It gave her time to process it, and even though she was mostly certain that Robin Locksley was the man she was meant to grow old with, she needed to be sure that the flame that was so quick to spark between them didn’t fizzle out when the excitement wore off.

So, for the past two months, they’d dated--sort of.

There was still the better part of a state between them, and for the foreseeable future, that wasn’t going to change. They saw each other on weekends and once on a random Wednesday when he’d surprised her for lunch on his way to pick up Roland from Marian’s. They talked constantly though, through texts and skype. He always texted her Good Morning before her alarm had the chance to go off and sent her funny pictures when she was in meetings that she struggled not to laugh at; and she’d set him up on her office desktop as she had lunch and he’d tell her about his day, stopping every now and then to assist a customer who’d wandered into his store. When she got home he was with her--be it on Skype of an actual phone call-- through her dinner routine and once Henry had been fed and was working on homework or a playing a video game, their conversation would usually pick up again--and usually would turn a bit naughtier as nighttime neared--until it was finally time to say goodnight. And then, the next morning, it started all over again.

It’d been her idea to bring the boys together, and they’d decided to meet halfway.

Robin picked a park that had a skating rink and a hot cocoa stand, and she’d found a little diner nearby it where they could eat--and then, if things went well, there was a movie theatre and an arcade not far away.

“Okay,” Regina breathes out as she pushes the shifter into park. “You remember--”

“Mom!” Henry cuts in. “We’ve been over this a hundred times.”

“Not a hundred.”

Henry’s brow arches as he looks over at her. “Fine. Ninety-nine.”

“I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable or--”

“I suffered through years of Graham trying to be my friend.”

“He liked you,” she says, her voice piquing in weak defense. “He really tried--”

“He was boring.”

“And what if Robin’s boring?”

“He’s not.”

“You seem awfully sure of that,” she says, undoing her seatbelt and turning herself to look at Henry. “How would you know that? You’ve never met him.”

Henry blinks as his eyebrows arch. “You skype with him all the time.”

“But you’re not--”

“He’s funny,” Henry cuts in. “And his voice is cool.”

“I do like his voice,” she admits, grinning. “You know his son is a bit younger than you.”

“I know,” Henry says, nodding. “As long as he’s not a baby...”

“He’s not,” she tells him, chuckling softly to herself, glad that she’s more nervous than her son is. “I think he plays hockey. Robin’s been teaching him, but his mom--”

“Can I play hockey? Like, on a team.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean--” Regina feels her grin fade and she regrets sharing that detail--a detail that’s been a sore spot between her and Henry since October. “No.”

“Mom--”

“You’ll break something.”

“You let me play--”

“At the park and only in your sneakers… and that’s bad enough.”

“Emma lets me play on roller blades.”

Her eyes widen. “She’s not allowed to babysit you anymore.”

Henry’s eyes roll. “Maybe you’ll get married and he’ll let me.” At that, her heart beats a little faster, and she watches as Henry gets out of the car, rounding to the back of it and tapping against the trunk. “Come on, mom,” he calls. “They’re probably waiting.”

Releasing a breath, she nods and grabs her gloves before roughly pushing the door open. She pops the trunk and Henry grabs his skates, drops them down over his shoulder as he reaches for his bag, grumbling about wishing she’d said something earlier about Roland liking hockey because he’d have brought his stick. Rolling her eyes, she drapes her arm over her son’s shoulder and turns him toward the park.

As they round a bend toward the rink, she spots Robin, crouched down in front of Roland, lacing up a pair of skates--and when he spots her, he stands and waves.

Her heart flutters as she smiles and waves back, hugging Henry a bit closer into her side.

“He looks nice.”

“You’ve seen him before.”

“But not in person,” Henry tells her. “Just on your computer screen.”

Robin lifts up Roland, holding him on his hip as they near, and when she reaches their bench, Robin leans in and presses a kiss to her cheek as Roland giggles a bit--and by the time Robin pulls away, Henry has already wiggled free from her.

“Henry,” Robin begins, watching as Henry sits down on the edge of the bench and drops his skates down beside himself. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” He extends his hand and her heart flutters again as Henry takes it, shaking his hand and telling him that he’s glad to finally meet him, too--and her cheeks flush as Henry adds that she talks about him all of the time. Robin grins as he looks up at her, winking before turning his attention back to Henry. “And this, is my son, Roland.”

“Hi,” the little boy says, almost shyly as he grins.

“Hi,” Henry returns, grinning.

“And this,” Robin says as he turns Roland back to Regina. “This is Regina. She’s daddy’s…”

“Girlfriend,” Roland supplies.

“Oh--” Robin’s eyes widen as he looks between her and Roland. “You know that?”

Roland giggles as Robin looks between her and his son. “That’s what mommy and Mulan said she was when they said I was gonna meet her and needed to mind my manners.”

“Mulan?” Henry asks, looking up from his skates. “You know someone named Mulan?”

Roland nods. “My mommy’s girlfriend.”

“She’s named after the warrior.”

“That’s cool.”

Roland nods, proudly--and a little giggle escapes her as he starts to wiggle in Robin’s arms, ready to be set down and clearly far more interested in talking to Henry than her. “Do you like superheros?”

“Yeah,” Henry says, as he works off his boot. “I like the Avengers, mostly. And Spider--”

“YOU LIKE SPIDERMAN?”

Regina laughs. “I think Roland is in love.”

“Oh, I know it,” Robin chuckles as Roland points out the Spiderman laces on his skates. “He’s been so excited about meeting Henry--and Henry just delivered big time.” Regina grins as Robin’s arm slips around her waist--and though the four of them had only spent a few minutes together, just like it’d been with just the two of them, she couldn’t help but feel that this was exactly where she was meant to be and they were exactly the people she was meant to be with.

#oq ff #outlaw queen #oq qu #affair to remember verse #hood mills family #robin howard #regina mills

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gokul2181 · 4 years ago

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Pint-sized Schwartzman growing in stature at Roland Garros | Tennis News

New Post has been published on https://jordarnews.in/pint-sized-schwartzman-growing-in-stature-at-roland-garros-tennis-news/

Pint-sized Schwartzman growing in stature at Roland Garros | Tennis News

PARIS: Diego Schwartzman is one of the shortest tennis players on the men’s tour, but like the famous footballer he was named after the Argentine has made a point not to be defined by his size. Affectionately known as “El Peque” (“shorty”), Schwartzman is a mere 5ft 7in (1.70m) and the smallest player in the world’s top 50, but he is scaling new heights at the French Open. The 28-year-old reached the last four of a major for the first time on Tuesday, defeating US Open champion and close friend Dominic Thiem in a five-hour epic. “I’m still in the tournament and I really want to keep winning,” said Schwartzman, having won his first Grand Slam quarter-final after three previous failures. “This win is very important for me. In the second and third sets, I was going a little crazy and I was screaming at myself because I had so many chances.” Schwartzman accepts he will never be blessed with the serve of towering giants John Isner or Ivo Karlovic, but is quick to put his shortcomings into perspective. His Polish maternal great-grandfather escaped a train heading for a Nazi concentration camp during the Holocaust when a coupling broke apart, leaving a section of the train behind as the other carried on to its destination. After fleeing he brought his family to Argentina by boat, arriving speaking Yiddish but no Spanish. His father’s ancestors took a similar route as they emigrated from Russia. “I don’t know 100% of the history,” said Schwartzman. “(But) they escaped from the war. That is the story, the big story. “That’s how the Schwartzman and the Dykes family, surname of my mum, started in Argentina.” His parents suffered travails of their own around the time he was born, as a once thriving family business reliant on imported goods was badly hit by economic reforms. Schwartzman, named after 1986 World Cup hero Diego Maradona, played football as a child and is fan of Buenos Aires giants Boca Juniors but chose to prioritise tennis. He and his mother sold rubber bracelets left over from their clothing and jewellery company with the names and logos of popular football teams to help pay for travel expenses, competing to see who could sell the most. Trips to Colombia, Venezuela and Ecuador for regional events often left a teenage Schwartzman, travelling alone, in tears on the plane but ultimately strengthened his resolve. He was far from a touted youngster, his only junior Grand Slam appearance in qualifying at the 2010 US Open ended in the first round and left him riddled with self-doubt. But Schwartzman has steadily built himself into a quiet contender through years of graft and determination, quashing any reservations about his ability to compete with the best. He lists his favourite surface as clay, and favourite tournament as Roland Garros, but faces the tallest of orders against a man who has made the French Open his own, his idol Rafael Nadal. “Rafa is the legend here, is the owner of this place almost,” Schwartzman said of his semi-final showdown with 12-time champion Nadal. While the odds will be stacked against him, Schwartzman knows Nadal is not entirely invincible having beaten the Spaniard last month when he made the final of the Italian Open in Rome. “If I see the history, I’m 10-1 down. I’m not sure if I’m going to have a lot of confidence. But, yeah, I know this week that I can beat him. That’s the important thing.”

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lala-kate · 7 years ago

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Game On: Part 2

Here’s my Day 3 entry for the @oqpromptparty. I chose the prompt “It’s Cold and OQ share a blanket”, and I decided to make it a continuation of my Day 1 entry--Game On. Feel free to read it here or on ff.net. And as always--thanks for reading!

“Madame Mayor.”

She looks up to see him, Mr. Sexy-as-hell silver fox, grinning down at her while holding two cups of what looks to be concession stand hot chocolate. They’d exchanged texts during the week, texts that have made her feel lighter than she has in years, texts she’s kept to herself, hidden away like a secret treasure she’s afraid might disappear into thin air.

“Mr. Locksley,” she returns, sliding over a bit even though there’s plenty of room for him to sit beside her on the bleacher. He takes her up on her offer and sits down, warming her left side instantly as he extends the steaming cup towards her. She smiles as she reaches out from underneath her stadium blanket, allowing her fingers to brush against his as she takes the cup from his hand.

“You looked cold,” he muses as the football team wraps up their warm-ups on the field.

“I’m always cold,” she says with a shrug. “Henry sometimes accuses me of having no heart--says that’s the only way my circulation could be this bad.”

Robin chuckles, unleashing those dimples she’d like to nibble like popcorn.

“I’m sure your heart is of top-notch quality,” he states. “After all, you did invite this pathetic, besotted single dad over to your place for dinner tomorrow night.”

Besotted? With her? Her insides tickle at his pronouncement. God, when was the last time anyone had even been remotely interested, much less besotted?

“My motives are purely selfish,” she states, wishing he’d put his arm around her, silently chiding herself for being this desperate for a man’s touch. “I figure if you’re around, I won’t have to do the dishes afterwards.”

“So I’m manual labor,” he states with a nod. “I guess I can accept that if I’m getting a free home cooked meal.”

“One that will knock your socks off,” she boasts, quirking her brow in his direction.

“Feel free to knock other parts of my clothing off, as well,” he retorts, making her grin like a cat inspecting fresh cream. The thought of him in his skivvies leaves her mouth too dry for comfort.

“Maybe I’ll make you clean the kitchen in the nude,” she murmurs, careful not to let the people sitting nearby overhear. “Dinner and a show.”

His face turns bright red, making him all the more appealing.

“Remind me to work on my exotic dancing skills before I come over,” he says, sliding just a bit closer than he’d been before. “It’s been a while since anyone’s been interested in seeing me in my birthday suit.”

She inhales chilled air, allowing it to cool cheeks that are now over-heated.

“If you’re good, I might just tip you,” she hums, pressing her lips together to keep from grinning as he crosses his legs. She loves seeing just how worked up he gets over her, how the smallest gesture or teasing remark can give the poor man a nearly instant hard-on. “After all, I did just recently have a birthday.”

“Birthday suit for the birthday girl, is it?” he grins. “With an incentive like that, I might just strip and dance for you here. Although my kids would most assuredly disown me for the rest of their lives if I pulled a stunt like that.”

She chuckles, enjoying the tingling in her nether regions she’s been lacking for longer than she cares to remember.

“I’d have to have you arrested, you know,” she says, drawing the cup of cocoa towards her lips. “For indecent exposure.”

“You won’t know whether my exposure is indecent or not until you inspect me for yourself,” he hums, making her warm in all the wrong places. “And if there are going to be handcuffs involved...”

She swallows hard, feeling drops of sweat actually form beneath her breasts.

“Down, boy,” she breathes, earning herself a flash of dimples and a few inches of extra space. The first she welcomes. The second, not so much.

Archie, the school’s guidance counsellor, waves as he walks past them, and she grimaces, fully aware that people have been talking about the fact that she sat with the new guy at last week’s game. Mary Margaret in particular has been driving her bonkers all week with questions and words of encouragement, and the fact that she and Robin are sitting together again will only add fuel to her younger cousin’s fire.

Shit. Mary Margaret has spotted them and is grinning like the proverbial Cheshire Cat.

Regina ignores the inevitable text that buzzes in her pocket.

“Sorry if the quality’s a bit shoddy,” Robin states, pulling her out of her reverie and indicating their cups. “Not sure exactly how good the band booster hot chocolate is.”

She dares as sip, nearly scalding her tongue in the process.

“It’s hot,” she says, setting the cup on the empty space to her right, hoping the bleacher will cool it off enough to actually drink.

He takes a cautious sip for himself, wincing as he puts his cup down as well.

“I think I may have singed off a few taste buds,” he muses, settling in more comfortably beside her. God, he smells good--Polo, she thinks, and she leans in a bit closer to get another whiff, her insides melting at his understated masculinity. She wants him closer--as close as she can get him in public, so she unwraps herself from her blanket and extends one end in his direction, Mary Margaret and the rest of Storybrooke’s busybodies be damned.

“Would you care to share?” she questions, feeling like a teenager as her pulse trips over itself. He stares right at her, giving her a soft smile that slides all over her like warm butter.

“I’d love to share,” he says, scooting over until their hips are touching.

“You’re not remotely cold,” she observes as a warm hand slides around her back to pull her even closer.

“You can just say I’m hot,” he quips. “I promise I won’t mind.”

She shakes her head and grins as the band begins to tune, ignoring Mary Margaret’s enthusiastic thumbs up aimed right at them.

“Where’s Abby?” she asks, scanning the area near the cheerleaders where Robin’s ten year old daughter had hung out last week.

“With her friends Ella and Ripley,” he replies, pointing towards the far left corner of the bleachers. “They’re eating nachos and discussing boys, I imagine.”

Abby’s hair is in a high ponytail, a blue and white bow expertly clipped into her brown hair.

“Do you do her hair, or does she?” Regina asks.

“It depends on the day,” he shrugs. “I’ve become quite adept at braids and ponytails over the past four years, but she’s now at an age where she wants to do more things for herself.” He pauses, looking towards his daughter with unmistakable adoration. “I’m not sure whether I should be thrilled or despondent.”

She glances towards the band, spotting Henry laughing with Violet, a sight she’s not certain how to take.

“It’s hard,” she states. “Letting them grow up.”

“That it is,” Robin agrees. Abby stands up and waves at Roland, bringing a smile to Robin’s face as her big brother waves back. “We almost didn’t have her, you know,” Robin continues, his tone low and private. “She’s a bit of a miracle.”

“Rough pregnancy?” she asks. He sighs, his breath visible in the cool, autumn air.

“Rough time getting pregnant,” he says, looking back at her. “We had fertility issues after Roland’s birth. He was a preemie--healthy, thank God, but his delivery was really hard on Marian. So for many years we were a happy family of three.”

He pauses, his gaze fixed on his ten-year-old daughter.

“But things changed?” Regina asks, smarting at the familiar pang of infertility.

“Right after Marian’s thirty-eighth birthday,” he returns. “She decided that she wanted another child, and that if we were going to have one, we’d better not wait much longer.” He pauses, rubbing his thumb along the side of her arm. “After a lot of research and discussion, we opted to try ivf. It took three tries, and we nearly gave up, but we finally got pregnant with Abby.” He clears his throat, the weight of his emotions enticing her even closer. “She was worth it, you know. Every failed attempt, every agonizing discussion, every judgmental jackass’s comments on how we should just be happy with the child we already had…”

She reaches over to him from under the blanket and squeezes his thigh.

“She’s beautiful,” Regina says, earning herself a gentle squeeze in return.

“I think so,” Robin agrees. “Not that I’m biased or anything.” He looks at her quizzically, breathing in as if he’s trying to work up the courage to ask her something. “You said last week that you adopted your son.”

Just then the announcer states that it’s time for the National Anthem, so they stand, the blanket falling to the bleachers as the band begins to play. They applaud when it’s over, wrapping back up in their blue and white cocoon as they take their seat and the players take the field for the coin toss.

“I know what it’s like to want a baby and not be able to conceive one,” she begins, sparing him the embarrassment of having to ask. “After reviewing all of my options as a single woman, I decided to adopt.”

He nods, reaching for her hand under the privacy of the blanket. She lets him take it within his.

“Great choice,” he states, gazing over to the band who is now playing the school fight song. “Henry seems to be a fine young man.”

“He is,” she says, watching her son lean back as he proudly plays his trumpet. “He’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Did it take a long time?” Robin asks. “Adopting him, I mean.”

“Nearly three years,” she replies, welcoming the warmth creeping up her spine as his thumb caresses her knuckles. “But like you said, he was worth it. Every dashed hope, every referral gone wrong, every snide remark from my mother asking why I just didn’t get married already and have a baby the way God intended...”

He flips a curious brow her way.

“She didn’t know you were infertile?”

Regina laughs through her nose.

“I never told her,” she answers. “It would have just been one more disappointment on a list of many, so I decided, why bother?”

“As if infertility is something to be ashamed of,” he scoffs, shaking his head. “As if it makes someone less of a person.”

“I know,” she breathes, loving the feel of just enough muscle beneath his jacket as he sits up a bit straighter. “Trust me.” He smiles and squeezes her hand, and they sit in a comfortable silence as she leans into him, breathing in the mixed scents of fall, football and Polo, closing her eyes just a moment to take it all in.

“I can’t regret it, you know,” she says. “My infertility. Because without that diagnosis, I might never have adopted Henry, and Henry’s…”

She pauses as her son stands and plays “Charge” on his trumpet.

“He’s everything, isn’t he?” he breathes, looking from Henry back to her, those blue eyes of his a bit misty, prompting a piece of her heart to melt into him. “My children are to me, as well, you know.”

“Yes,” she answers, linking her fingers within his. “I can tell.”

He nods and clears his throat.

“As much as I love them, is it wrong that I now find myself wanting more?” he asks, his tone fractured. “More than just being a dad, I mean? That I’d like to possibly find a companion to enjoy my children with, someone who’ll actually laugh at my corny jokes and might possibly want to see me in my birthday suit from time to time, despite the mileage its seen?”

She squeezes his hand and takes a deep breath.

“I hope not,” she confesses. “Because I find myself craving the same thing, for the first time in a long time.”

A noisemaker sounds from behind them, and they wince together, laughing at their shared response as their team forces the fourth down and takes possession of the ball.

“I’m glad I met you, Regina Mills,” he says, his thumb doing things to her palm that make her want to crawl into his lap and kiss him senseless. “And I’m really looking forward to dinner tomorrow night.”

“So am I,” she says, purposefully ignoring Mary Margaret as she tosses them an exaggerated wink from over her shoulder.

#Outlaw Queen #oq prompt party #Regina Mills #Robin Hood #Game On #trigger warning: discussion of infertility #Laura writes

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