#charmsfly

[sadlittletiger]

Permafrost Heart, Ch. 2

The Medic

“I shall possess this woman... I will even dare ravish her from the God whom she adores. What delight, to be in turns the object and the victor of her remorse!”

 - Dangerous Liaisons

______

It was just after 9:30 AM, and she was on her fourth cup of coffee.

He’d watched her every time she made her way to the little kitchenette. She used a white mug with a pattern of pale pink roses around the base. She filled it halfway with coffee, then to the brim with half-and-half. She grabbed a handful of sugar packets, tearing them open and pouring them in two at a time.

She reminded him of a little field mouse - quick and plain and skittish. Her hands fluttered over the countertop, sweeping away grains of sugar. She shifted her weight from one leg to the other. She sniffed. Rubbed her nose. Bounced on the balls of her feet, stirring the coffee, spoon clattering noisily against the ceramic.

She never stopped fidgeting.

He could see every last twitch from where he sat. His desk was made of pale maple, scuffed and worn, and the RPD had been generous enough to put the monstrosity just beside the coffee station.

Not that it mattered. Wall to wall, the office was nothing but a dusty hellhole.

He leaned back in his chair. The leather creaked and the springs groaned. The phone to his left beeped, red light blinking with an incoming call, and behind him, the copier let out a terrible grinding noise.

“Shit,” someone muttered.

He linked his hands behind his head, gaze still firmly fixed on Rebecca Chambers. She fit in well here - scrawny, simple, forgettable.

Dull, he thought, watching as she popped the spoon into her mouth, sucking it clean - an entirely sexual action that she somehow made entirely plain and dull. As dull as the rest of them.

The fact that Alex had selected her as a target was almost disappointing. It could barely be called a game at all. She might be a little shy, yes, but that was nothing. He’d wear her down in a matter of days. She’d protest, of course...blush at his advances, lower her eyes...tuck a strand of her nondescript hair behind her ear…bite her lip to keep from smiling…

“Captain?”

Redfield hovered beside him, casting a hulking shadow across his desk.

Wesker turned his chair a fraction of an inch.

“Here’s, uh...here’s what Irons needs on the McPeters case.” Redfield leafed through the file in his hand, shuffling papers. “No...hang on. Not that one…”

Wesker watched Chambers’s face crack into a bright, gleaming smile. She said something, the barest squeak of her voice carrying over the din of the office, to Officer Valentine. She offered Valentine a carton of creamer.

“I had it a second ago.” A sheet of paper brushed Wesker’s arm. Then another. Redfield had opened the file across the corner of his desk, shuffling through a messy pile of forms.  Wesker ignored it, his dark stare still locked on the girl who leaned against the countertop, whose face lit up almost cartoonishly at her coworker.

“It was a 9.2...no...yeah, 9.2.10, or maybe --”  

“That will be all, Redfield.  Thank you,” Wesker said, pushing the file away without so much as looking at it.

“Uh…,” Redfield trailed off, sounding confused as usual.

“Actually --” Wesker narrowed his eyes.  He turned sharply towards his subordinate, his chair squealing in protest.  “What do you know… about that girl?”

Redfield blinked. He glanced in the direction of the kitchenette, frowning. “Ji-- Valentine? I...I dunno. We haven’t really...talked.”

They had fucked, Redfield and Valentine.  Were currently fucking.  Absolutely, without a doubt. It was obvious and disgusting and insufferable. If he had to witness the two of them exchange longing stares over their respective desks one more time...

Redfield’s face contorted into a grimace as he droned on. “I mean, we talk. We work. A lot. Together. She’s...easy to work...with…”

“Not her.”  Wesker interrupted, rolling his eyes.  “The medic.”

“Oh,” Redfield’s shoulders dropped.  He stammered for a moment, regaining his composure.  “She’s… really young.  I think.”

Wesker stared blankly up at him.

“Eighteen?” Redfield croaked, shifted uneasily. “Maybe?”

“I’m aware.  What else can you tell me about her?” He pressed through nearly clenched teeth.

Redfield took a deep breath, furrowing his brow in a nearly thoughtful way.  “She goes to that Pentecostal church up on Ennerdale.  The big one in the warehouse.  It’s all she talks about.”

Wesker hummed in agreement.  “And?  Anything else?”

“She’s really smart.  She has a full ride to Raccoon University.”  Redfield shrugged.  He seemed to be searching around the office then, looking for an escape from the strained conversation.

“What could she possibly be studying?” Wesker snapped.  

She hadn’t mentioned being a student during the hiring process. Had it been a throw-away line in her profile? Something “insignificant” to Umbrella’s incompetent fucking management? A damned student, at the only college in Raccoon.  So many connections she would have made, so many more people to notice her missing; it was sloppy, extremely sloppy, almost amateur.  How could they have missed it?

“Internal medicine, I think?” Redfield stepped back, tapping the spine of the manila folder against his thigh.

“Internal medicine, you think,” Wesker mocked, glaring.  She hadn’t said a word about it.  Not one word.  How dare she--

“Yeah.  She’s pre-med or whatever.  You know, like E.R.”

Wesker glowered at him, silent.

Redfield licked his lips, slowly inching away.  “The TV show?  E.R.? It’s about a hosp-”

“I know what it’s about, Redfield.” Wesker pushed away from his desk, the drawers rattling and the chair creaking with the sudden movement.  He stood, tugging hard at his tactical vest.  He hooked a finger into his collar and undid the first button of his dress shirt. “Take the file to Marini. He’ll give you the form. Don’t bother me with anything so trivial again.”

Wesker shouldered past him, not bothering to wait for Redfield’s response. He leveled his sights squarely on Chambers.

Pentacostal. Pre-med. Barely legal. Alex might as well have offered the girl up on a silver platter. An overworked, overwhelmed, infuriatingly modest prodigy.

Rebecca Chambers laughed - giggled - at something Valentine said. She raised her steaming mug to her lips, smiling behind it, eyes bright and wide and deliciously, utterly, perfectly vapid.

He crossed the space to the coffee station in four long strides.

[troublewiththetrolleyeh]

it’s the year 2018 and just reading your tumblr username/title makes me break into a cold sweat

Thanks XD I take any reaction to my oh so humble blog’s URL as a compliment ;3 

[thelexhex]

Rules: Post the last line you wrote and tag as many people as there are words.

I was tagged by @sadlittletiger “PTSD was a hell of a drug.” @indydelarge @holyfuckabear @maliwarm @vodkakilledthesadness @griffinwriting @charmsfly @ramblingsofanemotionaljess

[damadisangue]

“When you receive this, list 5 things that make you happy and send this to 10 of the people in your notifications!”

Tagged by @sadlittletiger ❤️

1) achive my goals.

2) sex. Good sex.

3) money. A LOT.

4) a good (very good and complex) story.

5) my cat.

Tag @madbedlam @charmsfly @umbrellaagent @iridaceaee @dirtygoroapologist @liviari @madamewesker @noiirees @kuruccha @strawberryrevenge-blog

[ao3feed-sansan]

Set My Teeth in the Silver of the Moon

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2O9epI9

by charmsfly

It should take her a month to get home. It takes much, much longer. (In which Sansa accepts The Hound's offer.)

Words: 2163, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Game of Thrones (TV)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/M

Characters: Sandor Clegane, Sansa Stark

Relationships: Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark

Additional Tags: Canon Divergence - The Battle of the Blackwater

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2O9epI9

[cobyblue]

FAIR WARNING: Now that I’ve got @charmsfly watching this show, there’s going to be a lot more of this cutie in your feed’s future.

#Let’s never forget that Sylvia Tilly really did That™

[mintywolf]

I have a bit of a random ffx question, I hope that's okay! Also you might have answered this before so feel free to ignore it, for real. but do you have a specific build you tend to stick to for kimahri? I know you've been trying the rearranged sphere grid deal in your LP (SUB-QUESTION: I MISS THAT A LOT is it still in progress?) but what path do you tend to think he's best suited for, when you aren't trying something different?

I do! I like Kimahri to be a Mighty Warrior so I usually send him through Wakka’s part of the sphere grid until the place where he can break into Auron’s with a couple of Level 2 key spheres, and then follow Auron’s path from there. That way he ends up strong but still pretty agile and picks up all the buster skills along the way too. :)

Which is actually I think what I ended up doing with Lulu this time . . .? Haha it has been a while since I’ve gone back to my LP file, I’m sorry. I want to get back to that eventually but I’ve been really busy recently. And last time I kept getting messages from people saying “Update the thing!” so I took time out from Guardian to update the thing only to have everyone pretty much ignore the thing. So honestly it’s just been more rewarding to spend that time and energy on the project that people are engaged with.

[cobyblue]

@charmsfly

me: i love all the shows, nxt, 205 live, smackdown…*looks at smudged writing on hand* rew???

[sadlittletiger]

Fucking 7 Days To Die.

[sadlittletiger]

Permafrost Heart

Hey guys.  This story is cancelled.  You can thank my haters.

Just kidding.  I’m an actual adult.  Enjoy!

Ch. 3 - A Proverbial Fire

“You are a genuinely wicked woman.”

 - Dangerous Liaisons

The screen door slammed shut behind him.  Sweaty and miserable, his jog through the old farmhouse slowed, his heart pounded hard in his chest.  He wiped his face with the front of his gray t-shirt, cringing when he realized it was drenched as well.  

He’d run nearly five miles in just under thirty-two minutes. It was a hard push - one he would pay for later. But for thirty-two glorious minutes, his mind had gone quiet, nearly silent, and the thoughts that had nagged him throughout the day had loosened their grip.

Passing through the kitchen, he snatched the cordless phone from its charger and dialed the number without looking.  The line on the other end rang twice before he heard the telltale click of someone picking up.

“Where have you been?” he growled before she could greet him.

There was a disembodied sigh.  “Around.”

“You know, I’ve called several --”

“Five times.  You’ve called five times in two days.”  She sounded so very bored.  

He held the receiver away from his face and glared at it for a moment before returning to the conversation.  “Well, answer then.”  He yanked open the refrigerator door.

“I was busy.”

He paused, his unblinking stare on the sterile, barren shelves in front of him.  There was an unopened jar of pickles pushed to the back of the fridge, and a half-drunk bottle of Coca-cola - flat and syrupy by now, no doubt.  “You were busy?  For two entire days?”

“Yes,” she said.

His jaw clenched.  He tossed the door shut with a muffled thud.  “You want me to ask, don’t you?  You want me to ask what you’ve been doing.  So that you can rub it in my face.”

“No.”

“Don’t be a cunt, Alex,” he snarled.

Her inflammatory laughter tinkled like bells in his ear.  “Is it going so badly with that poor girl, little brother?”

“Oh, fuck you.  Truly.”

“Such language tonight…”

He took a deep breath, on the verge of hanging up.  His grip on the phone tightened.  Sweat beaded and dripped down his back.  “She is... unresponsive.”

“Unresponsive?  To your charms? Surely you haven’t lost that magic...”

“Of course not,” he snapped. “I’d like to see your magic under these circumstances. I can’t even work up a mild interest in that dumb slut, virgin or not.”

Alex clicked her tongue. He leaned against the countertop, sighing into the receiver.

“She’s so...so banal and insipid, and...colorless,” he lamented.

Colorless. Always dressed in muted browns and dull greens. Hair chopped off in a blunt, sexless bob. Narrow hips, jutting shoulders, a body like a boy who’s voice had just begun to crack...

“That should make the game all the easier,” Alex said, her simmering tone like a cat’s purr. “She should be mesmerized by you. The bored little Czarina to your intoxicating Rasputin, yes?”

“You don’t understand.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut against the glaring kitchen lights. “There’s nothing for her to be mesmerized by. Nothing happened. Nothing could have happened.”

Rebecca Chambers wasn’t bored at all, from the look of her during their conversation that morning. God only knew how that wasn’t the case. She had smiled and chirped and fidgeted all through the brief talk, unbelievably breezy.

Unbelievably simple.

“Oh, come now.” He could almost hear Alex examining her nails, as dispassionate as ever. “You make her sound about as delectable as primordial slime. She is a living, breathing woman, isn’t she? Plain, perhaps… but not grotesquely deformed.”

“In theory, I suppose.  The practice is lacking though.”

“Tell me what you’ve been doing to seduce our little angel,” she goaded.  “Tell me everything.”

“Uncomfortably long eye contact. Forays into her personal space. Direct conversation, disarming smiles...”  He paused, reflecting for a moment.  “Asking questions, hoping she’ll think I actually give a damn.”

“Questions about what, exactly?”

“Her position. Her thoughts on the direction of S.T.A.R.S.,” he admitted, exasperated.

Alex was silent for a beat. He heard her heavy exhalation before she spoke, clearly disappointed. “That’s all?  Oh, Albert.”

“It’s always been enough,” he snapped, bristling at the saccharine pity in her tone.

“I think...you’ve gotten fat and lazy on this steady diet of flavorless midwestern women. That’s what it is.” She hmmed softly. “Raccoon City has ruined you.  My god, you don’t even know how to flirt anymore.”

He clenched his jaw, forcing his voice to stay flat and impassive. “What can I say?  They breed them fast and loose in Ohio.”

Not tonight. He wasn’t about to let her claw her way beneath his skin. The city was a shithole, the people were unforgivably dim, but he was just who he’d always been. Brilliant. Untouchable. Relentless.

“Let’s up the ante,” she said. He could hear the curve of her wicked smile beneath her words.

“No.”

“Yes,” she insisted, louder, sharper.  “I can see your motivation to finish our challenge is quickly flagging. I’d say it’s time to light a proverbial fire beneath you.”

“Alex--”

“No orgasms.”

“What?” he cried, his voice nearly breaking.

“You heard correctly. Don’t you dare cum. Don’t touch yourself. Don’t fuck any of your usual floozies,” she said derisively.  “Not one petit mort until you’re nestled between her sweet, silly thighs.”

“For Christ’s sake, this is ridicu--”

“Now, now. No arguing. Just get to it. The sooner you break in that little filly, the sooner you can claim your reward.”

He heard a pop in the background, the soft fizz of something pouring into a glass.  It sounded very much like money - his money - going down a drain.  

“What was that?” he asked, nearly breathless.

She swallowed something, loudly.  “Oh, I have no idea.  You know me and alcohol - I’ll drink any old thing that I find laying around.”  There was a terrible silence, and then: “It’s the rose one, if that helps.”

“The fucking Armand de Brignac?”  His heart pounded against his ribs.  “I bought that for us, Alex!  For us!  I had to bid on that bottle!”

“Ah yes… I seem to remember that now,” she murmured.  “Do you know what would have been scrumptious?  Having you here with me, in this great big bed… sharing this exquisite --”

He didn’t wait to hear the end of her sentence. With a roar, he hurled the receiver at the wall.

[sadlittletiger]

Permafrost Heart, Ch. 4

“Uncomfortable”

“Love, hatred, you have only to choose; they all sleep under the same roof; you can double your existence, caress with one hand and strike with the other.”

 - Dangerous Liaisons

Six thirty-four.

He heard her typing furiously across the room as he watched the clock.  Every few moments, a weary sigh floated up from her desk.  He rolled his eyes at her back.

Six thirty-five.

The incessant clacking of her keyboard was one of the few sounds in the office that evening. The air vent above his desk rattled. Footsteps echoed down the hall as officers changed shifts. An old car engine spluttered to life in the lot outside.  His teeth ground in his head.

Six thirty-six.

She hadn’t glanced up from her monitor for at least half an hour. She only typed, practically pounding on the damned keys, mumbling notes to herself.  What could she possibly have taken so many notes about?  On her busiest day, her job consisted of putting band-aids on Redfield’s perpetually scraped knees and performing exemplar chest compressions on a doll.

He checked his watch again, and then the clock on the back wall for confirmation.

The last of her colleagues had left ages ago.  It was Friday, after all.  Did Little Miss Church Mouse have nowhere else to be?

Rocking back in his creaky leather chair, he looked down at the same police report he’d read over eight or nine times already, his eyes unblinking, unseeing. It wasn’t of any consequence, thankfully...not that anything crossing his desk ever seemed to be.

The world felt terribly dull. Raccoon City was practically comatose. He’d abandoned the illicit bet with his sister; the chance of luring her or the stupid young medic to his bed this weekend was highly unlikely. He would have to make do with his own company for a while. Or perhaps not...Alex would surely come around before leaving again.  

Certainly.

Probably.

Hopefully.

The chime of Windows shutting down started him to attention.  Finally.  He cleared his throat, pretending to straighten a haphazard pile of reports, tossing a bottle of White-Out into a drawer and slamming it shut with a crack.  He ran a quick hand over the desk calendar - dog-earred, stained with rings of pale brown coffee - as if checking it for a nonexistent appointment, and he stood.

“Have a restful weekend, Miss Chambers,” he said briskly, collecting his coat from the hook behind his workspace.

When he turned back around, shoving his arm through a stubborn sleeve, he saw her.  Standing there. Just standing, glaring at him expectantly, her arms crossed over her flat chest.  Her throat worked as she swallowed.

He fixed the collar of his jacket, and then the cuffs, almost leisurely.  “Yes?” he asked, masking his agitation with a bored, impassive tone.

She took a quick, sharp breath, the start of a sentence, eyes narrowing into something that might have been shrewd in her mind...then she pursed her lips tightly, nothing but a pitifully strangled noise slipping out.

He pushed his chair back, tucking it into the desk, while a condescending smile spread across his face.  “Well, if you do think of whatever it is… you can tell me on Monday morning, hmm?”

“Sir, I’m uncomfortable.”

He blinked.  “Pardon?”

Her narrow shoulders squared defiantly.  “I’ve been trying to ignore it all week.  I kept thinking maybe I was… wrong.  But I’m not wrong, and I’m uncomfortable with the way you look at me, and I shouldn’t have to… feel this way, at work. I want you to stop looking at me,” she said in a nearly resolute voice.  “Like that.”

He fished in his pocket for his keys, grinning to himself.  “You want me to stop looking at you… like that,” he repeated, disbelieving.

“Yes, sir,” she said, suddenly very sure of herself. And then, a bit more quietly, “please.”

“Miss Chambers…” He shook his head, feigning disappointment. “I assure you that I have no idea what you’re talking about… but by all means, I will make a concerted effort to stop looking at you all together.” He brushed by her, pausing at the door, gesturing impatiently for her to join him.  “Now if you wouldn’t mind, I need to get home, because I don’t live in this office.  And I’m sure you’ve got something… Jesusy to do this evening, right?”

——

“I think she teared up then.  I didn’t wait around to watch the theatrics,” he drawled.  The microwave beeped twice behind him.  “I’m so tired of fucking take-out.  When are you going to call an end to this moratorium?  You know Ciarelli’s opened up again downtown.  You always liked their prime rib.”

“Uncomfortable,” Alex said for what must have been the seventeenth time, her voice a mixture of delight and curiosity as she ignored his attempts to draw her in. “And she said it just like that?”

He sighed into the phone, cradling it against his shoulder. He picked at the steaming carton of lo mein, plucking out one long, oily noodle and a shred of limp cabbage. “I don’t see what you find so fascinating about this.”

It had to be the final nail in the coffin of her absurd game. Rebecca Chambers was, perhaps, the one challenge he would never conquer...and only because she was so infuriatingly, maddeningly goddamned simple.  He had accepted this defeat, come to terms with it, digested it entirely, and he needed, more than anything, for his sister to do the same.

“Of course you don’t see it. You’re an idiot,” Alex answered. She let out a sad, wistful hum. “The poor baby’s inching closer to you, and you can’t even be bothered…”

“No.” He punctuated the word by stabbing the reheated slop with cheap wooden chopsticks. “I can’t. Because this is insane.”

“You’ve captured her attention, clearly. You’ve just got to hold onto it… and the rest of her will follow.”

“Right.” He twisted up a clump of rubbery noodles. “I’m sure she’ll be very receptive to yet another conversation come Monday morning…”

“You cannot possibly wait until Monday.  Strike while the iron is hot, while her blood is up.  Women adore being thoroughly upset once in a while.”

“Do they?” he laughed, wincing as he bit into a scalding-hot carrot.  “I’d love to hear how you think I should offend her further. Follow her to her place of worship, perhaps?  Just me and Miss Chambers?  Bonding over the sacrament?”  He snorted at his own cruel joke.

But Alex was dangerously silent on the other end of the phone.

Silent for far too long.

He dropped the lo mein on the counter, dark gelatinous sauce sloshing over the sides of the carton.  

“No.”  He clenched his jaw tight, his eyes wide.  “Absolutely not. This is too far, even for you --”

“I’m impressed, Albert,” she said quietly, as if she was mulling over every word.  “I think you might still have it in you.”

“No. No, no, no --”

“Be sure to wear something extra nice.  God will be watching.”

[sadlittletiger]

Not gonna lie... kind of my thing. Thanks for finding this for me, @charmsfly

[sadlittletiger]

“When you receive this, list 5 things that make you happy and send this to 10 of the people in your notifications!”

I really hate stuff like this. No one is ever truthful. But anyways, I was tagged by @uroborus69, enjoy!

Things That Make Me Happy (the honest version):

Money

Good sex

Good nails

Good food

Praise and Adoration

I’m tagging @thelexhex @fortamol @charmsfly @dirtygoroapologist @justwandering-neverlost @mrsalbertweskers @damadisangue @jaguatirica-assustada @novus-ordo-seclorem @kneesofthebee

[sadlittletiger]

Rules: Post the last line you wrote and tag as many people as there are words.

I was tagged by @kneesofthebee

“It was the least I could do.”

@charmsfly, @dirtygoroapologist, @damadisangue, @fortamol, @thelexhex, @justwandering-neverlost, @sparkie96

[sadlittletiger]

Hey. So I’m finding it really hard to write any of the stories we’ve already got going. Naturally, I believe this means I need a New Story.

So... if, in theory, Charmsfly and I wrote a Jill/Nikolai story... would you prefer to read Extreme Dub-Con, or Enemies To Brief Lovers?

Edit: We’re not looking for some insanely long fic bullshit. So keep in mind the idea is to keep it short, if that impacts your preference.

@madamewesker, @dirtygoroapologist, @clicheantagonist, @goldencharlotte, @damadisangue, @thelexhex, @jaguatirica-assustada, @pinacoladaranger, @javacripp

[sadlittletiger]

I heard some entertaining misconceptions about myself tonight during a live stream. I’m gonna clear it up for the 4.7 people who read this.

1) the majority of my work is NOT Weskertine.

2) people forget I’ve had a co-author for the past 3 or so years, and they credit me for all of the more recent work entirely, which sucks for @charmsfly.

3) I have actually put down many more words for Nice Wesker than for Torture Porn Wesker, but I’ll always be (unfairly) known for Torture Porn Wesker.

4) Wesker only had a barbed penis in one (1) of my fanfics, which hasn’t seen the light of day since about 2013.

Thanks. Bye.