#even down to the universal language line ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

monabela · 4 years ago

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hello! it seems to be @aphrarepairweek2021 and I'm not one to ignore that! here's some... domestic denfin stuff for day 1, language. I've gone for a pretty liberal approach to the prompts this year, but that's mostly so that all my fics will fit into the same universe :> (it is also the same universe as two of last year's rarepairweek fics! I'll make a tag for it) (that is also the reason I had to call sve berwald and not torbjörn like I usually do ¯\_(ツ)_/¯) they will all be standalone little fics but take place in the same au, over the same sort of time period!

in major scale

pairings/characters: Denmark (Søren)/Finland (Tuomi), Estonia (Eduard), Sweden (Berwald), Hungary (Erzsébet) + past SuFin mentioned word count: 2219 summary: Tuomi admires how much Søren cares about other people. It inspires him to do the same.

A series of thumps and clomps heralds Søren’s arrival home. Tuomi looks up with amusement when the door of his little home studio in the back of their house bursts open.

“Tuomi!” Søren shouts. He brings with him the smell of recent rain and early spring blossoms.

Eduard, who is sitting behind Tuomi at his keyboard and wearing headphones, very nearly tumbles off his stool in shock.

“Søren!” Tuomi just returns, while his brother rights himself and glares. “You seem unusually excited.”

Eduard snorts, which makes Søren grin. ‘Unusually excited’ means something different when applied to him than most other people.

“Guess what!” he says, closing the door behind him and leaning against it. His socked feet are both tapping on the ground, with no rhythm to it. Tuomi is sure he couldn’t say what’s got into him; as far as he knows, Søren was just looking after his young nephews for the afternoon.

“Your brother didn’t hide the sugar well enough,” he guesses.

“No, that’s—well, he didn’t, but that’s not my point. Berwald’s gettin’ married!” Now, he waves his arms around wildly. “My brother’s gettin’ married, Tuomi! I’m so proud of him.”

Turning slightly, Tuomi exchanges an amused look with his own brother, who has taken his headphones off and is leaning forward over his keyboard, elbows planted over the keys.

“Now, Søren,” Eduard starts, using his haughtiest voice, which is very haughty. It’s an odd talent.

“Don’t you dare,” he interrupts, though he’s still grinning, “bring up the time he and Tuomi were plannin’ on gettin’ hitched, ‘cause that was ages ago and ain’t relevant anymore.”

“Alright, alright.” Eduard holds up his hands placatingly, and Tuomi just snickers. Søren’s right, he thinks; it’s been over fifteen years since then, and although the whole thing where he took up with the brother of the man who was nearly his husband was awkward at first, for all that it happened several years later, he’s since become good friends with Berwald again. It’s probably better this way.

“That’s great, Søren!” he just says. “And you’re gonna be the best man, I assume?”

“Of course!” His dark blue eyes crinkle at the corners, scrunching up his many freckles in laugh lines and dimples. Tuomi really admires how much Søren cares about other people, even if sometimes it comes at the expense of himself. Tuomi can always remedy that, after all.

“That means you’re gonna have to help with a bunch of organizing, isn’t it?”

“Don’t sound do skeptical of me, Eduard!” Pushing away from the door, Søren lightly strums the strings of an uncovered acoustic guitar sitting in its stand before taking a large step towards Tuomi and bending down to kiss him over the microphone between them, Tuomi angling his own electric guitar out of the way. He smells like sea wind and hair gel, and does taste distinctly sugary behind the smile his lips are still curved into.

Tuomi mutters, “I think you’ll do great. Berwald’s lucky to have you.”

“I hope so. Y’know, the boys are excited as anythin’.” Now, he practically melts, draping his long limbs over Tuomi and his guitar. He always does this when he as much as thinks about his nephews, Berwald’s young sons. Tuomi and Søren are very much the fun uncles. It is a title they both wear with pride.

Patting his jeans-clad ass affectionately, Tuomi pushes his nose into Søren’s wild coppery hair.

“Yeah? They’ve given their blessing, then?”

“Already fightin’ over who gets to be ringbearer.”

“Cute.”

The door of the studio opens.

“Whoa! Am I interrupting?” shouts Tuomi’s half-sister, bursting in.

Eduard, now leaning his head in his hands, says, “Please save me.”

“Berwald’s gettin’ married!” Søren shouts, into Tuomi’s ear. He gets along with Erzsébet far too well.

“Tuomi’s ex?” she yells back, and Eduard promptly loses it. He doubles over his keyboard in hiccupping laughter, shaking and pressing almost all the keys in a horrifyingly discordant tone. Søren looks betrayed in a very comical way. He crosses his arms as he turns to Erzsébet, folding his hands into the sleeves of his red knit sweater. Berwald made that one.

“She not wrong,” Tuomi tells him, holding back laughter of his own. Now even more comically betrayed, Søren turns back to him, with his dark eyebrows raised high and ready to deliver a quasi-outraged speech, but Erzsébet forestalls him.

“You need to make a song for the wedding!”

“Yes!” Tuomi perks up, almost poking Søren in the hip with the neck of his guitar.

“A song?” the man echoes, looking between all three of them. Eduard is now only playing a couple of notes at the same time, thankfully, and he straightens up fully to explain their family tradition.

“We always do it for weddings. It has to be something they’d like, and something the couple can dance to.”

“And then we give it funny lyrics,” Tuomi finishes, “about the person getting married. But we always make sure it’s good.”

“Well, I ain’t surprised about that part, ya snobs.” Søren shakes his head affectionately. He has absolutely no feel for music, but that just means that he appreciates things that most other people wouldn’t give their time of day.

It also means that he somehow considers Tuomi’s very musically inclined family to be elitist about music, which Tuomi thinks is dumb, but he’s not one to argue. He’ll leave that to his brother; it’s very amusing. As a matter of fact, Eduard is already narrowing his eyes at Søren, but doesn’t say anything before he continues.

“I don’t know if Berwald would like that, honestly. It’s not really something we do.”

“Come on, everyone likes music!” Erzsébet enthuses, walking further inside and skirting around Søren and Tuomi in the small space to lean an elbow on Eduard’s shoulder.

“Sure, he likes it, but, I mean—we ain’t like you guys, is all.”

No one is quite like his family, Tuomi thinks, but he appreciates that all the more these days. Søren is the most generous, openminded person he knows, and has broadened his worldview amazingly in the time they’ve been together. Not that his family isn’t openminded; they’re just less inclined to explore than Søren is.

Still, “Music is a universal language, isn’t it?” Tuomi asks him, bumping his shoulder into Søren’s upper arm. He inclines his head in agreement. “It doesn’t even have to have lyrics if you think Berwald wouldn’t like it. Or his fiancé, of course,” he adds, because he doesn’t know the man that well but knows he, like Berwald, doesn’t really appreciate being made fun of, even in good humor.

This is, again, unlike Søren, which is probably why it didn’t work out with his brother and does work with him.

Well, it’s part of it.

Erzsébet, the lyricist of the family, gasps dramatically at the mention of not having lyrics to go with the song, and coughs. She should really quit smoking. Eduard pats her back awkwardly, getting a face full of long brown hair for his efforts.

“And then?” Søren’s asking, but his head is still tilted thoughtfully, as if he’s considering it.

“Well, then it can be for a dance! Consider it a wedding gift from me.”

“His ex,” Erzsébet murmurs, recovered, and Eduard starts giggling again.

“His brother-in-law.” Tuomi blindly throws a guitar pick at her over his shoulder, which, going by the plink and following yelp, hits Eduard’s glasses instead.

Huh. That’s pretty impressive.

“Well, someone will have to teach him how to dance first—”

They all look away.

“—but that sounds awesome, actually! Would you guys be willing to play it?” In his excitement, Søren has leaned very close to Tuomi again, vision filling with his grin and his many, many freckles, and Tuomi can’t help but kiss the corner of his mouth.

“I’d love to.”

His siblings make agreeing noises.

“Right! Well, should I—what’re you guys workin’ on, actually?” Søren gazes around the small space as if hoping to glean clues. Which clues, Tuomi is not sure. He can’t really read music, after all.

“Just tinkering a bit,” Tuomi says. Eduard plays the first few chords of the most recent wedding song they’d written, several years ago already. Erzsébet slaps the cymbal of her drum set in apparent agreement, reaching behind her.

“Hey, I wrote some lyrics, actually,” she says. “I think they’re pretty good.”

It’s been years since they actually made original music that they deemed good enough to send out into the world, but their songs are still getting decent amounts of listeners on Spotify, which is nice; it’s mostly a hobby for all three of them, after all. Lately, though, Eduard and Tuomi have started seriously considering making some new material, and Erzsébet seems to be on board. She promises to send the lyrics to both of them. Although she, like both of her half-brothers and much to Søren’s amazement, plays several instruments, she doesn’t have much talent for composing.

Tuomi tried to teach Søren guitar once. It was fun, but very unsuccessful. He does like the drums.

That’s probably why he gets along with Erzsébet so well.

Deciding that today is probably not going to be very productive, all four of them go into the house instead, and Tuomi makes coffee while Søren hands out some cupcakes that he made yesterday, because Søren very much believes that food is a universal language. He isn’t wrong, if you ask Tuomi, but that’s mostly because Søren is very good at making food, unlike Tuomi.

They’ve all got their talents, he supposes, and it’s how they use them in combination that matters. Even if he’s been banned from using the oven for anything more than frozen pizza.

Eduard, of course, asks for the recipe, because Eduard didn’t get that memo about talents and has too many of them.

Tuomi’s siblings don’t actually stay around for very long after that, both promising to think about the wedding song for Berwald. It is mostly an empty promise on Erzsébet’s part, but that’s okay. Eduard walks away while muttering about waltzes, which Tuomi appreciates, because Berwald seems like a man—is a man, he knows this—who appreciates a bit of tradition, and he’s never tried to compose an instrumental, mostly classical song before.

“You’re adorable, you know,” he tells Søren, who’s standing behind him in the hallway of their house after having seen his siblings off. Søren just grins, rocking back on his heels, hands clasped behind his back and looking much younger than he is.

“I’m just happy for my brother.”

“I know.” Tuomi reaches up to flick some errant hair out of the way. “It’s really cute.”

He gets excited about the smallest things, Søren. Random dogs on the street and odd world records and warm coats and almost everything that’s even a little bit nice. It’d get annoying, Tuomi’s sure, if he weren’t so sincere about it all the time. He got very excited about their civil union as well, which was honestly mostly practical. Tuomi had almost wanted to get married, just to see his reaction to it, but he’d decided years before that marriage wasn’t for him, and remains glad that he stuck by that belief, in the end.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Søren suddenly asks, blue eyes searching Tuomi’s face.

“What? Oh, no, of course not. Berwald’s a good man, and he deserves to be happy.” He shrugs. “I know he’s always wanted the whole… Domestic thing.”

“Guy’s had a plan for a wedding since he was twelve or something,” Søren confirms, grinning. “Only took him thirty years and a couple kids.”

Tuomi knows; he was shown the plan, sixteen years ago, but he decides not to mention that. It’d been quite intimidating at the time; he’d only been 22 and much more interested in… Well, practically anything besides marriage.

Søren slings an arm across his shoulders, squeezing him tightly to his lanky form, and starts walking them both back to the kitchen.

“You’d know, I guess,” he muses, then pulls a face. Tuomi laughs.

“That one was your fault!”

“I know, I know. Don’t remind me.”

Tuomi stops walking, tilting his head up at Søren.

“You don’t mind, do you?” he asks. Turning back, Søren blinks at him.

“Obviously not,” he says, but he bites the inside of his cheek and furrows his dark brows, so there’s evidently something more there.

There’s another thing Tuomi had to be taught by Søren; reading body language. It’s not his fault his family is so unexpressive!

“But?” he prompts.

“I just hope I can do well for him.” Søren shrugs. “He’s my big brother, y’know, and I do kinda feel like I ruined his first chance of marriage sometimes. I know that’s dumb,” he adds hastily.

Tuomi mumbles, “Yeah, that was definitely me.” And then, “Like you say, he’s your big brother. He loves you. Speaking as someone with two older siblings, they might razz you a bit—”

“That’s just your siblings, Tuomi,” Søren interrupts, but the grin is back on his face and just as bright as before. “But I get what you’re saying. Thanks.”

Tuomi boots him with his shoulder, and he laughs, clomping ahead. Tuomi follows, quickly.

Before he eats all the other cupcakes.

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keep-it-i-resign · 3 years ago

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Fic Writer Asks

tagged by the lovely @vampcoffeegyrl23 I am soooo sorry this has taken over a week! I promise I was just busy away from my computer and using mobile is not the way to go about answering these! 😅

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

6 on AO3 and 6 on ffn.net. I haven't used the ffn.net account in years, i.e 2013 (and therefore my user name isn't even the same) so those 6 stories are different from my AO3 ones. I don't post most of what I write and now that I'm in my mid-20s with a few published papers behind me - I'm much more confident in my ability to write a cohesive and interesting story so expect more posted!

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

17,425 words which isn't bad for only 6 fics with two of those stories having additional chapters coming soon.

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

On AO3? Just 1, which is The Flash and by extension Stargate SG-1 for the crossover I did for Snowells Week this year. Counting ffn.net that's 3 more with Castle, Doctor Who, and Firefly. Over my lifetime of writing fic for myself? I think only 7 more. Stargate SG-1, Stargate Atlantis, Sanctuary, Harry Potter, Star Trek: Voyager, Star Trek: TNG, and Left 4 Dead. Left 4 Dead isn't much of a fanfic but I did use the zombie types as place holders in an original story until I developed my own.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

I'll Be Waiting (The Flash - Caitlin/Harry)

Well... This is Awkward (The Flash - Caitlin/Harry, Frost/Nash, Caitlin/Nash, and Frost/Harry)

Rewind Time (The Flash - Caitlin/Harry)

Through the Gate (The Flash/Stargate SG-1 - Caitlin/Eowells)

Harvest Season (The Flash - Caitlin/Harry)

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

I don't write angst much and I haven't posted many stories yet but of the ones posted I guess "I'll Be Waiting" is the angstiest.

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

"Well...This is Awkward" has a pretty happy ending with everyone alive and together. Or maybe "Twilight of the Gods" because ReverseSnow/ReverseFrost happens and there is hope of bringing everything lost back and balance the universe again. I guess it depends on your definition of what constitutes as a happy ending. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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

I've only written one - The Flash/Stargate SG-1 crossover. I don't normally think about crossovers just because the shows I watch are so vastly different they can't really work or they are already in the same universe with the canon crossovers. I'm also not always a fan of reading them because they can get chaotic quick and characterization takes a dive in order to fit characters into other universes/situations. I admire anyone who can write it well though!

As a side note: I did have a thought about a Snowells into the Arkham universe fic just because I have been replaying the Batman Arkham video games which I might give a shot at.

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

👀I wrote one smutty story years ago and it's terrible because I was young and naïve. I haven't tried recently but I'm not opposed to giving it a shot now. I have a few ideas on a prompt list I have for Snowells already so it's really a matter of when will I get to it!

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

I do when I can! I like to get feedback from my readers and having an open dialogue of what they liked or disliked is important for me! I want to know what my audience enjoyed and what to improve on! Responding to them also shows them I saw that they said and appreciate what they had to say! 🥰

10. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Surprisingly - no, even on my old and terribly written stuff. I'm perfectly open to criticism but hate? If you don't like it, you don't like it but others might. Why spend the time spreading negativity when the world has enough of it?

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

As far as I know - no.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No but given enough time I could probably translate mine. It would be grammatically atrocious because I rarely translate from English into any of the languages I know. It's normally the other way around! I'd definitely need a Beta who is fluent to correct my mistakes.

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

No but it's definitely something I'd try! I co-wrote an original story with a few friends of mine years ago in high school and enjoyed it. I like the idea of getting to talk and bounce ideas off of someone who enjoys the same fandoms and character as me! I haven't really done that since I grew apart from one of my friends from high school who I did that with.

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

What kind of question is this? Do people actually have an ultimate ship? Is that even possible? I have ships from several fandoms and sometimes multiple ships within a fandom. Most of the time I have a main ship from a fandom but that doesn't mean I discount any of the other ones that I or others enjoy as well. I'll throw out a few that I still got out and read for in order of what I read most often (either new stuff or re-reads) to what I read occasionally, at least according to my AO3 favorite tags.

Snowells (all variations) - The Flash

Jack O'Neill/Sam Carter - Stargate SG-1

Helen Magnus/Nikola Tesla - Sanctuary

Harry/Hermione - Harry Potter

William Murdoch/Julia Ogden - Murdoch Mysteries

Phil/ Melinda - Agents of SHIELD

Kathryn Janeway/Tom Paris - Star Trek: Voyager

Kate Fleming/Steve Arnott - Line of Duty

I will occasionally go check what kind of fics the fandom writes when I start a show just out of curiosity. Sometimes you can tell if there is fandom hate between ships by doing so and I know to steer clear, especially if I ship a lesser ship/non-canon ship. Also - the number of canon-divergence or rewrites will tell you if the shows writers start being ridiculous *cough* The Flash *cough* and whether it's worth getting attached at all.

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

Hoo boy. I have a drive full of them. Most of which aren't even close to being posted. My biggest one right now is a complete re-write of The Flash dealing with a what if scenario of Earth-1 Tess Morgan being pregnant the night that Thawne kills them both and he chooses to birth the kid rather than let it die with her. It's set a few years earlier (so 18/19 years stuck in the past rather than the original 15 that the show has it) so the kid isn't Jesse but it changes how season 1 plays out and definitely how season 2 plays out when Harry finds out about the kid while dealing with the Jesse/Zoom issue. Plus it's Snowells too and I want to deal with Barry's mistakes and the consequences of them better than the show did since the show just kind of brushes them off? For some reason? I wanted things to have a little more consequence because some of the mistakes made are egregious and then they acted like it never happened which bothers me. It's a beast of a project and I'm - unfortunately- a perfectionist and a completionist. I'm thinking an episode per chapter rewrite but right now it's in bits and pieces and a lot of notes on how episodes would play out differently with an added character and dynamic.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue and scene positioning. I can write out the dialogue for a story quickly with the bare bones of the scene and movements playing out. After that, it takes me ages to expand the scene and fill in the bits between speaking lines because I can see the piece play out in my head and putting that to paper accurately and engagingly without being overwhelming is a multi-layered process.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Some of this is normal, you know, like grammar and spelling. My brain moves faster than I type so words or bit of phrases end up missing and I later have to fix it. I'm also a Southerner who grew up watching a ton of British shows so a lot of the way I phrase things isn't commonly used anywhere. I have to spend a lot of time double checking things like that. I think my biggest one is not knowing how to end stories satisfactorily. I haven't posted many fics because it's hard to post them when you don't know how to wrap everything up.

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

It depends on whether it's an established part of a character or story and whether or not I'm comfortable with the language. Like with Sherloque - it's established he'll say something in French and then repeat it in English. I took 3 years of French so I'm comfortable writing it and it fits the character and situation. But take Cisco, we know he speaks Spanish, but it's never really shown in the show. So fics that I've read where he breaks into Spanish can be distracting as we've never seen him do it - even in dire circumstances. I also never took Spanish in school and I only know rudimentary pieces (I took Mandarin and Latin instead), so I'm unlikely to use it in any fic I write unless the circumstances warrant it (say - Cisco is talking to a grandparent or a meta struggling with English).

But again, it depends on the situation, what we know of the character, and how comfortable I am with the language enough to get it correct and in character. Any fic writer who can get the situation and character down while using a secondary language, and not make it distracting deserves applause!

19. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Hit me with a hard one why don't you? 🤣 I think it was Stargate SG-1 or maybe it was Stargate Atlantis. You're asking me to think back over a decade and a half ago to when I started reading and writing fic at the tender age of 7 or 8. I'm fairly certain it was one of those two fandoms and it might've been a crossover. I do remember writing part of it on an old Gateway computer running Windows '98 with a glass monitor that was mine and my sisters. The other half was written on an electric type-writer that I owned because this was before laptops were widely available and affordable.

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

It's a tie between "Twilight of the Gods" and "I'll Be Waiting". "Twilight of the Gods" because I got to show off a few of my degrees (History and Classics, I couldn't shoehorn in my others but they are science related and that doesn't quite fit that story). "I'll Be Waiting" is a favorite because it's a big middle finger to whoever / collective group wrote The Flash season 7. I'm still pissed off at how the Wells plotline was dealt with and let's not get started on the whole Chillblaine/Kramer/Forces as kids of WA plots (ewwwwwww 🤢). I'd need a whole new post to talk about how tired I am of the WA kids showing up (because screw how that'll effect the timeline, right?) and the reliance on the future to drive what decisions are made (because, again, screw how bad that would be for the timeline - it's not like we have seen how much that effects things before right?) 😒

Phew.....That was longer than I expected, honestly, but a lot of fun!

Tagging whoever wants to talk about their works because you are all wonderful people who should get a chance to share!

#20 questions #writer asks #fandom things #fanfic #Snowells

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anastasiyaigorevnadobrodevskaya · 4 years ago

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Savior (Series 81) - Erik Černák

(This GIF is mine, but feel free to share his beautiful smile. *wink*)

I whish you a wonderful day. I decided to finally post this thing. It is the very first part of a little project of mine. I named it Series 81 (yes very creative of me, sue me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ) and it is a serie of oneshots, which should make sense without reading the other parts. I am creating a new universe for this serie and all of the Series 81 oneshots will be from the same AU. Does that make sense? No? Too bad. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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Part 1 of Series 81

Word count: 2577

Noise, lights, people and alcohol.

Loud music bouncing off of the isolated underground walls, to prevent the noise complaints from coming, is blending together with the voices of dancers. Dancers, who would stubbornly claim, that the sound was actually singing. If you asked anyone else, they would tell you the exact opposite.

Flashing lights could cause more than one seizure to an epileptic, but make no worries to the tipsy dancers. The dance floor is flooded by not the smallest amount of bodies per say. Only one spot remains almost empty. In the very corner, next to the DJ booth. Just a few seconds prior it was occupied by a group of young girls, dancing their night away. Gradually they slipped away to go god knows where. Safe for one.

Little blond girl is suddenly left all alone, her friends excusing themselves with a promise to be right back. They aren't. But the creepy looking guy, who's been eyeing her the entire night, is. Now he is trying to get closer to her, but she's not having any of that. She makes the bee-line for their table. However, the table is now claimed by some strangers with drinks in hands. She huffs and turns on her heel. He's still looking. More like staring.

She fidgets with her phone and clicks the contact icon. No signal. Is this some kind of a sick joke or bad karma? She thinks. She runs up the stairs and next to the very entrance, the signal is back.

The number is dialed and it rings.

She doesn't pick up.

"Why the hell can't she pick up the damn phone when I need her?" she mumbles desperately under her breath. Suddenly she remembers. Her jacket. It was left forgotten in the booth filled with strangers. She goes back. Speed-walking by the pair of eyes making her skin crawl. She asks for her jacket. When she is handed the jacket she makes a run for the bathroom. In the tiny space she splashes her face with water. It’s times like these she is really grateful for not wearing any make up at all.

She stays there for a little longer than necessary, hoping that by the time she leaves her friends will have returned already.

When she emerges and walks over to the dance floor she is met only with the disgusting stare again. She turns on her heel to leave, but is met with a hard surface she is pretty sure wasn't here couple of seconds ago. A yelp escapes her mouth and she takes a step back.

"I'm sorry, are you alright?"

The hard surface is in fact a broad chest of a tall man standing in front of her. She takes in his features. Light hair, or so she assumes since it is pretty dark in the club, besides the flashing lights. His shoulders are wide and that face...

Recognition flashes in her eyes. Her lips form an "o".

The voice speaks again. This time in English instead of her native language.

"I am fine." She finally responds, in Slovak. "I'm sorry I didn't see you I was... " she trails off. Trying to get away from that creepy dude over here. She thinks.

"Which one?" he looks around.

"What?"

"That creepy guy. Is that him?" he jabs his chin behind her. She looks over her shoulder briefly.

"Yeah," she nods.

"I'm Erik, by the way." says the not so mysterious man and extends his hand to her.

"Lucia," she accepts his hand.

"So, you want some help getting rid of him?"

"I- yeah, actually yes." She mentally face palms for tripping over her own words. He only smiles.

"Would you like to dance?" He offers. She gives him a small nod. She is led towards the dance floor with her hand in his, which makes her heart rate quicken. But not the same way like when she was followed by the creepy gaze. The blaring music pulses trough her veins while she does her best to forget the weird guy. Having Erik as a distraction right in front of her helps a lot, though. The way his eyes stay glued on her face makes her insides warm. His gaze flicks behind her and he reaches for her. He grabs her waist and leans in.

"He's looking." He talks over the music.

"So you're doing it only because he is watching us and you are definitely not using the situation to your advantage." She muses.

"I might be." A smirk stretches on his lips.

Her hands wrap around his neck and her smirk mirrors his own. The roaring noise makes her almost deaf, yet she swears she can hear her heart beating in her ears. That's what his cocky little smirk and touch do to her. She might have just met him, but she's realised one thing the moment she met his gaze. She's fucked and under his spell. She might be a little shy, but she sure as hell ain't giving up that easily. Two can play this game.

Her palm slides down his chest and back up to his arm. She traces the muscles on his arm all the way down towards his wrist. She grabs it and brings it in the air. She makes him twirl like men do to women while they dance. Erik laughs, but plays along. A smile makes its way on her features. He takes her hands. He turns her in his arms, with her arms crossed over her chest. He leans down to her ear.

"Why are you here alone?" his breath fans her neck, making a shiver run down her back.

"I am not alone," she turns and pushes his chest. His hand reaches for her wrist before she can get too far.

He spins her and brings her back to him. Putting his hands on her waist she places her small ones on his broad shoulders.

"I take it there is no boyfriend to worry about."

"If I had a boyfriend, I wouldn't need you in the first place," she answers confidently.

He squeezes her hips dragging her closer. His lips grazing the delicate skin of her exposed neck while he speaks his next words."You sure do run your mouth."

The breath gets caught in her throat. "But you like it," he doesn't miss the teasing in her words. A deep groan rumbles in his chest. She might not hear it, but she does feel it under her fingers.

A familiar song comes through the speakers and she pulls away a bit. She grabs his hands and smiles big. She starts waving around their conjoined hands like a mad person. Apparently this is her dance style.

When his gaze falls upon her moving figure he smiles just as wide. He's just gotten back home from Tampa and decided to blow off some steam in a club with his friends. It's been a long season and corona delaying the playoffs sure as hell made this summer different. Thank goodness for having the bars and clubs open, with limited capacity of course. Tonight he won't be thinking about hockey, though.

Who would have thought that after everything that is happening around him he would quite literally stumble upon a woman like Lucia.

Behind Erik she spots her friends coming back in. They haven't noticed her yet, but are looking around. She slips away from his grip.

"I have to go." She looks away from his piercing gaze and makes a move to step around him.

"Wait," he catches her arm gently. "Don't run away from me. Even Cinderella left a shoe behind," he smiles.

"Smooth." The corner of her lips tugs up into a devilish smirk. "Give me your best pick-up line and I just might leave something behind."

He pauses, thinking. Then he opens his mouth as he speaks. "I've got one, but it's in English," he rubs the back of his neck. Suddenly seeming out of place.

"Try me."

"Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?"

This one is her favourite. If it's finished correctly, that is.

"No, I actually crawled from hell," she gives him an innocent smile. This is the part where she tests him.

"So that's why you're so damn hot." If it wasn't his words, then it was the smirk what did it for her. Lucia motions for Erik to hand her his phone. He happily obliges. She goes to his apps and adds herself on snapchat. He didn't think he would get her number that easily, did he?

"Here," she pushes the small box into his palm. She stands on her tiptoes and leans on his shoulder. She quickly presses a kiss to his cheek and disappears as if she's never been there. But she was. And the proof is now in his phone.

"There you are. Where were you?" one of her friends, a short brunette, asks her as soon as she approaches their group.

"Me? All of you disappeared and left me here alone. Which reminds me. Where the fuck were you?" She jumps into the defence mode immediately.

"I told you I went out to buy cigarettes. Calm down," the girl resists to roll her eyes.

"Wanna dance?" a tall equally brown-haired girl asks.

"Sure," all of them answer as one. The girls make their way to the dance floor. From the very center where they managed to squeeze in, Lucia catches a familiar par of eyes. And then another, one she would rather forget. She fixes him with a glare and resumes her dance moves. Her favourite song comes up and she squeals. She leans toward her friends. "This is my song." She yells over the loud music. They all laugh, but scream the lyrics on the top of their lungs with her.

Suddenly Lucia feels a presence behind her. She tenses, her eyes crying for help. But her friends are too busy to actually notice that. Hands settling on her waist finally get a reaction out of her. She spins pushing his chest. She is in the middle of the process of raising her hand when she realises who it is.

"Do riti Erik! You scared me!"

"I'm sorry, but that guy was getting close again so I thought I'd give you a hand, " he smiles innocently.

"Or two hands on my waist, right?" she raises her brows, a smirk stretching on her lips.

"Didn't think you'd mind,"mirroring her expression he extends his arm towards her. "Shall we dance?"

Before she has the chance to grab his outstretched hand her friends are dragging her away. She grimaces kind of apologetically.

"I'll see you,"she mouths. Yeah, in the friking TV. She thinks bitterly.

After a rather long walk through the town they finally get to the bus stop. Maybe and maybe not four police cars go by and maybe and maybe not one of them actually stops to ask if everything is okay. Because maybe and maybe not some of the girls were dancing on the bus stop.

When Lucia finally gets on the bus she fishes her phone out of her purse. She takes a pic of the darkness behind the bus window and posts it on snapchat.

Erik.Cernak

Are you going by bus?

Lucyy

Yes?

Erik.Cernak

Are you alone in a bus at night??

Lucyy

I mean, there are some people in the bus...

Erik.Cernak

What bus are you on?

Lucyy

N1 why?

Erik.Cernak

Do you get off on the terminus?

Lucyy

Yes?

Erik.Cernak

If anything happens during the bus ride text me okay?

Lucyy

Okay.

He is worried about me?

Why, yes. Erik is indeed worried about Lucia. Finding out a pretty girl from the club is going home alone in the dark, sure does make one feel unsettling to say the least.

The bus ride goes rather smoothly. It's just the fact that the guy sitting a few rows in front of Lucia on a seat facing her keeps looking at her. To say it makes her stomach bubble with uneasiness would be an understatement. The closer to the terminus the bus gets the emptier the bus is.

When it's time to get off it's only her and another older lady sitting in the very back. She steps outside into the dark of the night and looks around to make sure no danger is waiting around.

A tall male figure is standing near the lamp post. His hair is indeed blond, just like she assumed before. She approaches him with a rather quiet "ahoj".

"Hi. Where to?" he asks.

She rises her eyebrows with an amused smile playing on her lips. "At least ask me out first."

"I might. If you are nice." He smirks.

"Too bad. I am a very mean person." She shrugs.

"Are you now?" He lifts his brow.

"Yeah." She moves her shoulders again. "Come on it's kinda cold." She gestures with her hand and starts walking.

"Is that an invitation?" He follows.

"Don't push your luck Erik."

After a minute or so Erik's deep voice cuts through the quiet air of Košice. "Watcha doin' next week?"

She smirks."I am going out with this hot guy I met recently." She answers nonchalantly.

"Really? And who that might be?"He catches on her intentions quickly.

"You see he lives in Florida, you probably don't know him." She shakes her head. Just as the chilly breeze wraps its arms around her a shiver runs through her body. Soon a denim-like hoodie is placed on her shoulders.

"I though he was some local or something." He states as if he didn't just give her the only layer of his clothing other than the tight T-shirt.

"He's a Košice born guy actually." She shrugs. "Won't you be cold?" She looks up at him, but pulls the hoodie tighter.

"Nah, I can hear your teeth clattering. Keep it." He shakes his head. "So when are the two of you going out?"

"Monday at two I guess." She shrugs again. She sure does shrug a lot.

"Good." He nods.

They stop in front of an old flat and she turns around to face him."Thanks for walking me home and making sure and I didn't die along the way."She laughs. He likes her laugh. He really does.

"Mom would be ashamed of me if I let a pretty lady go home alone at night. "She chuckles again. A shiver runs down his spine when the wind blows again. She makes a move to return him the hoodie, but he extends his hand and shakes his head lightly.

"I'll get it back later."

She laughs shaking her head."You guys always let us have your clothes just to see us again."

He smirks. "You caught me."

"Just try not to freeze to death."

"I'll try to stay alive till Monday. Your smile will keep me warm." He winks.

"Gosh you're cheesy." She couldn't help, but roll her eyes.

He takes a step closer."I am glad I met you."

Lucia's confident facade wavers for a second."Same here."

They just stand there looking at each other not letting out a single tone slip past their lips. Erik leans closer, his hot breath fanning over her cold cheeks. Lucia inches towards him, but not connecting their lips yet. She wants him to take the last step. And so he does, slightly leaning in meeting the pink lips of the girl he quite literally ran into.

#series 81 #series81 #erik cernak imagine #tampa bay lightning imagine #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #hockey fanfiction #oc #slovakia #erik cernak #tampa bay lightning #nhl #hockey

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starlightsearches · 5 years ago

Note

Please try to write hux x reader! 💖❤️ anything would do 💕

Something to Live For Pt. 3

Here’s the final part of the Hux x Reader Soulmate! AU. I’ve been thinking about this story for a long time and I’m glad to finally finish it 💖

Part 1 / Part 2

Armitage Hux x Resistance Pilot! Reader Soulmate AU Pt. 3

Warnings: Angst, violence against the reader, and language (also TROS spoilers? And canon divergence if anybody still cares about that ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

You don’t even bother to turn around when the door opens. It doesn’t matter that he’s here much earlier than you expected him, a first, or even that he doesn’t bother to close the door after him, which never happens. Of course it’s the general. You believe it’s the general because he told you from the very beginning that no one else had access to you here on the Steadfast, and you trusted him. You still trust him, even now.

“I wasn’t expecting you until later,” you say, “I thought-” the blow comes hard to the back of your neck, harder still because you did not anticipate it, and your head snaps forward, throwing your momentum. Your shins slam against the slab you’d been sleeping on since you’d arrived and you brace your hand on the wall in front of you, trying to recover from the pain: twin flashes at the base of your neck and in your legs, radiating outward and sending your body into a panic.

“What are you talking about?” You don’t recognize the voice. Fear slips in, like water flooding the room, gathering around your ankles, and your mind reels. You’re not alone with the general like you’d thought. You’re not with the general at all.

You turn to face the visitor—visitors—you learn: two troopers in your cell with you, both carrying blasters. You swallow, your tongue suddenly desert-dry. One grabs you by the arm, and you struggle against him, trying to pull yourself out of his grasp, but you’re unsuccessful, and your other arm is secured by his partner, who begins to pull you to the door.

“Where are you taking me?” you ask, planting your feet against the durasteel floor, searching hopelessly for purchase, for resistance.

“You’ve been scheduled for execution, rebel scum,” one says, but you can’t tell which, your terror and their voice modulators making it impossible to sense the source of the sound. There must be some mistake. The general would never let this happen. You form a haphazard lie, hoping to stall for time.

“The general has granted me immunity based on the information I gave him about the First Order spy,” you say, but your voice shakes, and you curse yourself silently. You have to make this believable. You have to give the general a chance to get to you, to stop this, “I want to speak to General Hux.” The troopers laugh, a cold, cruel sound made colder by the apparatuses covering their faces, and they share a glance over your head—some wicked joke and you don’t know the punchline.

“The general was the one who ordered your execution.”

He can hear your screams from down the hall. Loud cries for help that bounce off the walls, refracting down the corridor and turning into a chorus of fear, chipping away at his heart. If this doesn’t end quickly, he’ll die. He can’t exist in the same world as your sadness. He can’t live knowing that he’s the cause.

It’s the same word, repeated over and over again, ripping through your vocal chords and shattering his resolve. Please. Over and over. You don’t say his name, but he knows without question that you’re calling for him, even now.

One of the men in front of him, the pilot, struggles against another trooper’s hold, turning to the source of your screams, trying to see.

“Who is that?” he asks no one in particular, turning to his companion, the traitor. There’s panic in his eyes, and he fights harder, almost escaping from the trooper’s grasp, repeating louder this time, “who is that?” The blow delivered to the back of his head silences him, but his eyes stay on the door, still searching. You’re pulled into the room by two troopers, and the fight leaves you for a moment when you recognize the others.

“Poe! Finn!” their names come out strangled, and they return your cries, their voices overlapping in a rough flurry of questions. You’re not looking at them anymore, though, your attention has been seized by his own presence. Your eyes are locked on General Hux, and when he looks at you, he can’t look away.

Your face is tear-stained and wild, pieces of hair sticking to your skin, and you freeze when you see him, but your expression is a locked door. Did you really believe that he’d protect you for this long only to have you killed? He can’t know for sure, but he hopes against hope that you find some way to trust him.

Your companions are quieted with a rough slap from the other troopers, who step back to form a firing squad, blasters raised. Your back is turned to him, and you’re shaking, but he watches as you reach out one uncuffed hand, gripping the pilot’s arm and holding it tight in a gesture of comfort.

“Actually, I’d like to do this myself,” Hux finds himself speaking the words he had planned, and he’s grateful that he sounds more in control than he feels. The trooper hands him the blaster, and he raises it, breathing deeply. There would be no going back after this. There’d be no time to plan any contingencies, no way to change his mind. He curses the arrival of your friends, the slipshod plan he was forced to throw together. It was foolish, worse than foolish. It was reckless.

The stormtroopers don’t have a chance to react before they’re on the ground, and Hux doesn’t have time to react before he’s almost knocked over as well, your body colliding with his like a durasteel wall. You run at him, meeting him with such force that he’s thrown off balance, barely able to keep on his feet. He waits stupidly for you to knock him over, to punish him for the pain he caused, but you stay standing, your arms wrapped around his neck. It’s an embrace, he realizes when your grasp tightens, holding him closer. No one has ever hugged him before. He drops the blaster, but leaves his hands at his sides, bewildered.

“I was so afraid!” You’re chattering into his ear as you hold him, the fear and surprise pouring out of your mouth in a stream of words, “when they told me that you had ordered—I mean I never believed it—but I was still so scared,” you pull away from him, trying to get a good look at his face, and your hand comes down from his shoulder, stopping above his heart, which stutters under your fingers. Your brow furrows as you trace the line down his chest, and you look up at him with a question in your eyes. You can tell that he’s not wearing a blaster vest; you know he lied to you. You open your mouth to ask him about it when you’re interrupted by the others.

“Uh, hi. Would one of you tell us what’s going on here?” the pilot, Dameron, asks, his eyes flashing between the two of you expectantly.

“There’s no time to explain,” you say, moving to help them with their cuffs, “but the general is going to help us get out of here.”

“Armitage,” Hux says, stupidly. He’s still thinking about the hug, and it’s made him gummy, unable to filter his thoughts.

“What?” You ask without looking at him, dropping the cuffs to the ground and picking up a blaster off of one of the troopers. Dameron and the traitor share a glance, and the pilot shrugs.

“My name is Armitage,” he says again, unable to turn back now, and you look at him, your face lighting up with a smirk.

“Tell you what, General,” you say, “when you get us off this damn ship, I’ll call you whatever you want.”

The five of you race down the hallways, following his lead. You hang back, with the pilot, and though Hux is sure they have questions, they recognize that now is not the time to voice them. Apparently you don’t feel the same.

“So, when were you guys going to tell me I looked this bad in orange?” you ask the two of them casually, and they stop, shocked.

“Wait a second …” Dameron says, pulling you to a halt, and you shrug. His eyes flash to the general again.

“Him?” the traitor—Finn—cries, pointing at Hux, and he balls his fists at his sides, uncomfortable with the attention you’ve drawn to him.

“Oh I’m sorry,“ you say, voiced laced with sarcasm, “not all of us can be soulmates with Poe fucking Dameron.” Poe smirks, and Finn finds it in himself to smile as well.

“You’re right about that,” he says, and the two men take off again, having accepted the information. You stay for a moment, and Hux waits with you.

“They’re soulmates?” He asks, and you nod. Hux lets out a derisive snort in response. Figures. It’s just more evidence that the universe is determined to fuck him over. You reach out, grabbing his hand, and pull him further down the corridor.

Hux is breathing hard as he shuts down the impeeders, and opens the door for the others. Finn and the pilot run through, headed for the ship. He’s running out of time. He doesn’t want to say goodbye.

“Let’s go,” you say, pulling him to the door, but he holds back. He’d like for this to be different. He’d like to hold you again, to see you smile. To sit in the dark with you, and know that you trust him. But he’ll have to satisfy himself with this instead: your hand in his and your brows furrowed. He hopes it will be enough to strengthen him through what is to come.

“Shoot me in the arm,” he says, dropping your hand and gesturing to your blaster, “I’ll tell them you forced my hand.”

“What are you talking about?” you ask, reaching for him again, but he pulls away. “If you go back there, they’ll kill you.” The hard set of your eyes is lost as realization dawns on you, as you connect the pieces of his plan.

“It has to be this way,” he says, dropping his gaze and you pull it back with your hand on his jaw. There’s determination in your eyes, a look he’s grown to recognize. A look that makes him weak.

“Then I’ll go with you,” you say, and you raise your blaster. He’s crushed under your gaze. He always knew this would be difficult, but now he thinks that it will break him. Your loyalty is misplaced. He’s bound to disappoint you.

“Please,” he’s begging now, trying to will you through the door and out of harm’s way. Your friends are waiting, he can see the ship still, but you’re all running out of time. “I can’t,” he doesn’t want to say it, but he knows he must if he’s going to convince you, “I can’t be good for you … I don’t know if I can be a good man,” you pull him closer, your eyes boring into his, trying to sway him, and he has to brace himself, his hand finding your waist like it’s meant to be there.

“I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care,” you repeat yourself, desperate. He can almost feel it, when he’s this close—the influence pulling you together. He has to believe it, the truth of soulmates, when he has you in his arms. He wants to stay with you, he wants it more than he can stand, and you see it. After all his planning, after anticipating this from the beginning, his resolve is crumbling under your touch.

“If you leave me,” you say, in a final attempt to tip the scales, “who will stop me from being so reckless?” Damn you.

He gives in; what choice does he have? You see it and you smile, pulling him through the hangar and onto the waiting ship. He looks back, taking it in for the last time. This was all he had ever known. He was leaving it behind. For a moment, the uncertainty overwhelms him, and he forces himself to focus on the feeling of your hand in his. He doesn’t have a plan. He doesn’t know what will happen next, and yet, he’s never felt better. Maybe there are benefits to being reckless.

#armitage hux x reader #armitage hux x you #armitage hux fanfiction #armitage hux #soulmate au #my writing #requests #long post

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theircrazyfandoms · 5 years ago

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Well, I guess I was right about having read a bunch of johnlock fic. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Though, I only read a couple at the beginning of the week before straying into other fandoms and then coming back and reading a ton more. My finals are coming up and I have been really busy between work and school so I’ve been destressing and relaxing by reading fic late at night when I get off work.

BBC’s SHERLOCK

🔹️ 𝙒𝙄𝙏𝙃𝙊𝙐𝙏 𝙆𝙉𝙊𝙒𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙃𝙊𝙒 [AO3] by 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙡𝙤𝙘𝙠 [AO3]

𝘗𝘈𝘐𝘙𝘐𝘕𝘎: Sherlock Holmes x John Waton 𝘛𝘈𝘎𝘚: Complete | Explicit | 1 Chapter | 13.6K Words

𝘚𝘜𝘔𝘔𝘈𝘙𝘠: John grows up reading about a fictional detective named Sherlock Holmes but, after nearly dying in Afghanistan, finds himself in a world where Sherlock Holmes is very much real.

𝘊𝘖𝘔𝘔𝘌𝘕𝘛𝘚: This was a unique story where John ends up reading about Sherlock like many of us before being thrown into a fictional world (altinate universe?). Definitely something I haven’t read before.

🔹️ 𝙎𝙃𝘼𝘿𝙊𝙒𝙎 𝙊𝙉 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙒𝘼𝙇𝙇 [AO3] by 𝘼𝙧𝙖𝙎𝙞𝙜𝙮𝙧𝙣 [AO3]

𝘗𝘈𝘐𝘙𝘐𝘕𝘎: Sherlock Holmes x John Watson 𝘛𝘈𝘎𝘚: Complete | Teen | 1 Chapter | 18.2K Words | Psychic!John

𝘚𝘜𝘔𝘔𝘈𝘙𝘠: John comes back from Afghanistan psychic. Spoilers to The Great Game.

𝘊𝘖𝘔𝘔𝘌𝘕𝘛𝘚: This is where I started to become obsessed with psychic!John. It’s really interesting to read about how how John’s abilities work and how he interprets the world around him. Especially how it alters the canon storyline.

🔹️ 𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙔 𝙏𝙀𝙇𝙇 𝙈𝙀 𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙄𝙍 𝙎𝙀𝘾𝙍𝙀𝙏𝙎 (𝙒𝙄𝙇𝙇 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙏𝙀𝙇𝙇 𝙈𝙀 𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙍𝙎 𝙏𝙊𝙊) [AO3] by 𝙚𝙩𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙥𝙞𝙞 [AO3]

𝘗𝘈𝘐𝘙𝘐𝘕𝘎: Sherlock Holmes x John Watson 𝘛𝘈𝘎𝘚: Complete | Teen | 1 Chapter | 2.3K Words

𝘚𝘜𝘔𝘔𝘈𝘙𝘠: In Afghanistan, the supplies tell him when they’re running low, and the cars always, always tell him when strangers have touched them, and John gets known as having a knack (paranoia, his men call it, but he’s never missed a single car bomb) for keeping his men safe.

🔹️ 𝙃𝙀'𝙎 𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝙋𝘼𝙄𝘿 𝙀𝙉𝙊𝙐𝙂𝙃 𝙏𝙊 𝘿𝙀𝘼𝙇 𝙒𝙄𝙏𝙃 𝙏𝙃𝙄𝙎 𝙎𝙃𝙄𝙏 [AO3] by 𝙖𝙬𝙚𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙞𝙘𝙚𝙨 [Tumblr] 𝙟𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙮 [AO3]

𝘗𝘈𝘐𝘙𝘐𝘕𝘎: Sherlock Holmes x John Watson 𝘛𝘈𝘎𝘚: Complete | Teen | 1 Chapter | 9.8K Words

𝘚𝘜𝘔𝘔𝘈𝘙𝘠: One of the first things John did was to write up step-by-step instructions on how to conduct a proper job interview before handling it over to Mycroft for his perusal. There were no kidnapping, deserted car parks or stolen therapy notes anywhere on that list.

(Or the one where John returned from the war and ended up working for Mycroft as his personal assistant slash doctor on retainer. Everything was fine, until he was sent to post bail for one Sherlock Holmes.)

𝘊𝘖𝘔𝘔𝘌𝘕𝘛𝘚: I’ve never thought about Mycroft employing John before but I adored this! I love how John doesn’t take a bunch of Mycroft’s bill while making Sherlock intrigued.

🔹️ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘿𝙀𝙏𝙀𝘾𝙏𝙄𝙑𝙀 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘿𝙀𝙈𝙊𝙉 [AO3] by 𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙘𝙩 [Tumblr] [Instagram] 𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙖 [AO3]

𝘗𝘈𝘐𝘙𝘐𝘕𝘎: Sherlock Holmes x John Wason 𝘛𝘈𝘎𝘚: Complete | General | 1 Chapter | 2.4K Words | Demon!John

𝘚𝘜𝘔𝘔𝘈𝘙𝘠: “Every demon on record is described as either monstrously terrifying or breathtakingly beautiful,” Sherlock says. “I have never heard of a demon with a forgettable face and a propensity for ugly jumpers.”

The demon looks down at his jumper. Okay, so it might not be the most flattering article of clothing in the world, but it sure looks a hell of a lot more comfortable than Sherlock’s two-sizes-too-small shirt.

🔹️ 𝙀𝘾𝙃𝙊��𝙎 𝙏𝙃𝙍𝙊𝙐𝙂𝙃 𝙏𝙄𝙈𝙀 [AO3] by 𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙛𝙞𝙘 [AO3]

𝘗𝘈𝘐𝘙𝘐𝘕𝘎: Sherlock Holmes x John Watson 𝘛𝘈𝘎𝘚: Complete | Explicit | 1 Chapter | 21.6K Words

𝘚𝘜𝘔𝘔𝘈𝘙𝘠: Mummy sends a trunk from the Holmes cottage in Sussex to 221B. Its contents alter the way John and Sherlock see themselves and one another.

𝘊𝘖𝘔𝘔𝘌𝘕𝘛𝘚: THIS was an amazing fic that I am going to put on my favorites list. The author managed to combine classical johnlock with the BBC version and was simply amazing to read. It was like a fic within a fic.

🔹️ 𝙎𝙋𝙀𝘼𝙆𝙀𝙍 𝙁𝙊𝙍 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘽𝙀𝙀𝙎 [AO3] by 𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙢𝙛𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙨 [AO3]

𝘗𝘈𝘐𝘙𝘐𝘕𝘎: Sherlock Holmes x John Watson 𝘛𝘈𝘎𝘚: Complete | Mature | 3 Chapters | 14.6K Words | Deaf!Sherlock

𝘚𝘜𝘔𝘔𝘈𝘙𝘠: It isn’t always easy assisting a deaf detective. Luckily for John, they make a pretty good team.

𝘊𝘖𝘔𝘔𝘌𝘕𝘛𝘚: Loved this AU and need to read more like it! One of my favorite things was how much John worries about Sherlock because in their line of work it can ocassionally be really dangerous (as we learn). I think I also really enjoyed it because I’ve always been fascinated with sign language and want to learn it eventually.

🔹️ 𝙄 𝙐𝙎𝙀𝘿 𝙏𝙊 𝙇𝙄𝙑𝙀 𝘼𝙇𝙊𝙉𝙀 𝘽𝙀𝙁𝙊𝙍𝙀 𝙄 𝙆𝙉𝙀𝙒 𝙔𝙊𝙐 [AO3] by 𝙚𝙩𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙥𝙞𝙞 [AO3]

𝘗𝘈𝘐𝘙𝘐𝘕𝘎: Sherlock Holmes x John Watson 𝘛𝘈𝘎𝘚: Complete | Teen | 1 Chapter | 11K Words | Demon!Sherlock

𝘚𝘜𝘔𝘔𝘈𝘙𝘠: Where Mycrfot is an angel, Sherlock is a demon, and John is still John.

𝘊𝘖𝘔𝘔𝘌𝘕𝘛𝘚: This was a fantastic fic that I’m fairly sure was inspired a bit by Good Omens (yet another amazing series). I really love the relationship Sherlock and Mycroft have and learning about how they deal with the world and people around them as an angel/demon.

🔹️ 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝘼𝙍𝙀 𝘼 𝙋𝘼𝙍𝘼𝘿𝙄𝙂𝙈 [AO3] by 1𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙥𝙞𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙚 [AO3]

𝘚𝘜𝘔𝘔𝘈𝘙𝘠: Sometimes, only sometimes, when Sherlock is very far away and absolutely guaranteed not to return for at least three hours, John sits on the sofa and let's the tea make itself.

In which John is (reluctantly a wizard, Mycroft is (apparently) omniscient, and Sherlock is (surprisingly) oblivious.

𝘊𝘖𝘔𝘔𝘌𝘕𝘛𝘚: I have found that I really love fics with psychic/wizard!John and not only read this fic but the other two stories in the series which are HERE and HERE. It’s a Harry Potter crossover that somehow blend really well together. I love reading about how fascinated Sherlock is with this whole other world.

🔹️ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙎𝙐𝙈 𝙊𝙁 𝙐𝙎 (𝙈𝙊𝙎𝙏𝙇𝙔 𝘾𝘼𝙇𝘾𝙐𝙇𝘼𝙏𝙀𝘿 𝘽𝙔 𝙀𝙑𝙀𝙍𝙔𝘽𝙊𝘿𝙔 𝙀𝙇𝙎𝙀) [AO3] by 𝙇𝙞𝙣𝙥𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙤𝙩𝙞𝙚 [AO3]

𝘗𝘈𝘐𝘙𝘐𝘕𝘎: Sherlock Holmes x John Watson 𝘛𝘈𝘎𝘚: Complete | Teen | 1 Chapter | 9.2K Words | Heartmark AU

𝘚𝘜𝘔𝘔𝘈𝘙𝘠: John decides to come out. More or less. Not that he’s gay or anything. He’s just bumming his flatmate.

GOOD OMENS:

🔹️ 𝙊𝙉𝙀 𝙏𝙃𝙊𝙐𝙎𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝙇𝙊𝙉𝙀𝙇𝙔 𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙍𝙎 [AO3] by 𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙩𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙙𝙮𝙟𝙤𝙠𝙚𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 [AO3]

𝘗𝘈𝘐𝘙𝘐𝘕𝘎: Aziraphale x Crowley 𝘛𝘈𝘎𝘚: Complete | Mature | 1 Chapter | 22.7K Words | Amnesia!Aziraphale

𝘚𝘜𝘔𝘔𝘈𝘙𝘠: Heaven finally finds the perfect punishment for Aziraphale: to rip every shred of Crowley from his mind. Each meeting, each conversation, each glance they shared--erased. As each memory is lost to him, Aziraphale loses a part of himself, loses moments that formed his very nature. At the beginning, it was Crowley who showed him there is more to creation than good and bad. That it’s more complicated than black and white. With that forgotten, Aziraphale becomes exactly what Heaven wanted him to be in the first place: unattached, blind with loyalty, unquestioning. The perfect soldier. And, as if the last 6000 years had never happened, Crowley becomes the enemy.

𝘊𝘖𝘔𝘔𝘌𝘕𝘛𝘚: This was heartbreaking. They finally think everything is alright and in their own kind of world before Heaven interfere and messes everything up. The worst part is learning about what happened before Crowley fell.

🔹️ 𝙄𝙉 𝙏𝙃𝙀 (𝙎𝙀𝘾𝙊𝙉𝘿) 𝘽𝙀𝙂𝙄𝙉𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂 [AO3] by 𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙧𝙮𝙛𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 [AO3]

𝘗𝘈𝘐𝘙𝘐𝘕𝘎: Aziraphale x Crowley 𝘛𝘈𝘎𝘚: Complete | Mature | 1 Chapter | 2.6K Words

𝘚𝘜𝘔𝘔𝘈𝘙𝘠: As their lunch stretches on Aziraphale slowly comes to realize that Crowley is---enjoying him. Enjoying Aziraphale’s cnversation, and company, far more openly than he has in most of Aziraphale’s memory. And Aziraphale know that he himself is just chattering on, letting conversation tangents carry him along, and---it’s definitely relief, for him, knowing for the first time in a long time that they aren’t being watched, that no one is keeping score for now.

Airaphale realizes that Crowley’s been saying something rather loudly for a week.

🔹️ 𝙎𝙐𝘾𝙃 𝙎𝙐𝙍𝙋𝘼𝙎𝙎𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝘽𝙍𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏𝙉𝙀𝙎𝙎 [AO3] by 𝙃𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙛𝙪𝙡_𝙤𝙛_𝙎𝙞𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 [AO3]

𝘗𝘈𝘐𝘙𝘐𝘕𝘎: Aziraphale x Crowley 𝘛𝘈𝘎𝘚: Complete | General | 1 Chapter | 7.7K Words

𝘚𝘜𝘔𝘔𝘈𝘙𝘠: The relevation that Aziraphale might have been in love with him for thousands of years is surprising. The fact that literal books have been written on the subject comes as even more of a shock.

𝘊𝘖𝘔𝘔𝘌𝘕𝘛𝘚: My favorite Good Omens fics are the ones where they don’t realize that they have literally been in love with each other for thousands of years before realizing the truth. This definitely didn’t disappoint.

GRANDMASTER OF DEMONIC CULTIVATION (MO DAO ZU SHI)

🔹️ 𝙒𝙀 𝘽𝙐𝙄𝙇𝙏 𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝙊𝙒𝙉 𝙃𝙊𝙐𝙎𝙀 (𝙊𝙐𝙏 𝙊𝙁 𝙎𝙒𝙀𝘼𝙏 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝘿𝙐𝙎𝙏) [AO3] by 𝙩𝙤𝙪𝙘𝙝𝙢𝙮𝙘𝙤𝙖𝙩 [Tumblr] 𝙞𝙧𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙫𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙮-𝙮 [Tumblr] 𝙄𝙧𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙫𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙮 [AO3]

𝘗𝘈𝘐𝘙𝘐𝘕𝘎: Song Lan/Song Zichen x Xiao Xingchen 𝘛𝘈𝘎𝘚: Complete | Mature | 5 Chapters | 38.7K Words | Yi City Fix-it

𝘚𝘜𝘔𝘔𝘈𝘙𝘠: Days turned to weeks turned to months, and one morning Xiao XingChen woke up in a flood of vicious, furious guilt. These weren’t feelings he would every truly birth to the world, he knew, but they still had to be felt. Se feel them he did. He felt them like a spray of neurotic blood.

You’ve started a family without him.

Song Lan gets to Yi City just a bit earlier, and A-Qing asks her Daozhang some very pressing questions about the Stranger. This changed everything.

𝘊𝘖𝘔𝘔𝘌𝘕𝘛𝘚: THE FIX-IT I NEEDED!!! I know I constantly say I have new favorites and I’m gonna say it yet again because there are simply so many amazing fic and authors out there. The Yi City arc is one of the most heartbreaking parts and I ry about it everytime about how tragic it is. This feels like it could have easily been Canon and I’m already feeling the need to reread it.

🔹️ 𝙏𝙃𝙍𝙊𝙐𝙂𝙃 𝘾𝘼𝙍𝙍𝙄𝙊𝙉 𝙂𝙇𝘼𝙎𝙎, 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙍𝙎 [AO3] by 𝙩𝙤𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙣𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝_𝙖𝙣𝙙_𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙣𝙩 [AO3]

𝘗𝘈𝘐𝘙𝘐𝘕𝘎: Song Lan/Song Zichen x Xiao Xingchen 𝘛𝘈𝘎𝘚: Complete | Teen | 1 Chapter | 13K Words | Demon Cultivator!Xingchen

𝘚𝘜𝘔𝘔𝘈𝘙𝘠: Wei Wuxian does not walk out of the Burial Mounds after three months.

Instead, Xiao Xingchen does.

𝘊𝘖𝘔𝘔𝘌𝘕𝘛𝘚: An interesting AU. I never thought about Xingchen as practicing demonic cultivation and even though he only does it because it’s kinda forced on him its an interesting story line.

STAR TREK (TOS/AOS)

🔹️ 𝙏𝙍𝙀𝘼𝙎𝙐𝙍𝙀𝙎 [AO3] by 𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙠𝙖 [AO3]

𝘗𝘈𝘐𝘙𝘐𝘕𝘎: James ‘Jim’ Kirk x Spock 𝘛𝘈𝘎𝘚: Complete | Explicit | 4 Chapters | 17.7K Words

𝘚𝘜𝘔𝘔𝘈𝘙𝘠: Sometimes the other Vulcans wonder how Spock managed to obtain such an exotic bondmate, and sometime Spock wonders himself.

𝘊𝘖𝘔𝘔𝘌𝘕𝘛𝘚: I’ve seen posts about Kirk on an all Vulcan ship and this type of reality could not have turned out better than this fic! It’s really enjoyable reading about Kirk interacting with all these other Vulcans and how exotic they think he is. Especially when Spock starts acting a little wild as well.

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ollieisms-blog · 6 years ago

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hi guys !!! i’m vic and im super pumped to get things rolling. i’ve played wayyy too many hockey muses that haven’t gone anywhere and i’m siked to finally have the perfect place to play one. unfortunately, i’m a fan of the blue and gold shitshow (the sabres) so i’m definitely going to be guessin a lot of the time abt the wild here. but anyway here’s ollie !!

LEXINGTON OLIVERS is 23, BISEXUAL, MALE. he plays DEFENSE for the MINNESOTA WILD. their resemblance to ALEX SAXON is uncanny. they currently reside in ST. PAUL, MN. in the media they come off as EASY-GOING however they can be AGGRESSIVE. we wish them well this season. [vic, 20, est, she/they]

➤ BASIC INFORMATION

NAME: Lexington Olivers NICKNAMES: Ollie, Ollzsy, Olls, Lex OCCUPATION: defenseman for the Minnesota Wild AGE: 23 DATE OF BIRTH: October 21st ORIENTATION: bisexual GENDER & PRONOUNS: male; he/him

➤ PHYSICAL INFORMATION

HEIGHT: 6′3″ WEIGHT: 209 DOMINANT HAND: left TATTOO(S): none SCAR(S): most notably a long scar over his left cheekbone ( sustained from a wayward skate blade he was sixteen ) PIERCING(S): none FACE CLAIM: Alex Saxon

➤ PERSONALITY INFORMATION

TRAITS (+): loyal, easy going, laid-back TRAITS (-): aggressive, self-critical

➤ BACKGROUND INFORMATION

HOMETOWN: Saginaw, MN CURRENT RESIDENCE: apartment in St. Paul, MN LANGUAGE(S): English BASIC EDUCATION: high school COLLEGE EDUCATION: University of Minnesota - Duluth (business and finance)

➤ FAMILY

PARENTS: tyler olivers (father), michelle waters ( mother ) SIBLINGS: denver olivers - older brother + 4 yrs ( yes, their parents named them after cities )

➤ THE STORY

--- this story starts the same way a lot of stories in minnesota start: with cold, snow, ice, and hockey. lexington olivers was born when the cold air first comes rushing in, when the temperatures drop and the world outside comes alive as it only can in places that get cold enough to steal your breath.

--- lexington called ollie by almost all those except those closest to him grew up as many do in the state of hockey : loving the long, cold winters, embracing the snow and ice and learning how to melt with a smile alone. he played hockey and shared those pipedreams so many who lace up the skates have but few ever reach : win the state championship, win the frozen four, play in the nhl.

--- he never did win the state championship after four years of getting close but never quite taking it. from there, he was scouted by several universities but ultimate ended up at the one 20 minutes down the road with the college team he grew up watching ; none other than the university of minnesota - duluth.

--- they missed the tournament completely his first year, but even all darkest things have a silver lining, and ollie’s came a few months later when he was drafted in the second round of the 2014 nhl draft. and just like that, the most impossible pipedream became just a little more possible.

--- he returned to umd more determined and fit than ever the next fall. he put in the work, added the needed weight to his tall frame, and left everything on the ice and then some. it payed off. there was no sophomore slump for lexington olivers, just a break-out season.

--- they’d wanted to sign him after that, the team that had drafted him. sign him, get him in a few games at the end of the season, develop him in the A the next year... and yet, despite all he wanted, he declined to stay one last year at umd. he’d grown close to his teammates and had wanted to give one last shot for the title. they wouldn’t make it: just another regional final loss, no closer than the prior year, just as far as ever.

--- ollie put pen to paper not long after that and looked to his next dream : the NHL. he played a handful of nhl games at the end of their season and then played in the A with a few emergency recalls to the NHL the season after. the transition was a bit rough for him, and for once, he struggled.

--- the greatest SHOCK of it all came that summer after when the news of him being traded broke. being traded is always full of emotion, but ollie hadn’t been traded just anywhere : he’d been traded HOME to minnesota, to the team he’d grown up watching with the stars in his eyes. and that made something flip inside him.

--- the next season he spent half the season in the A before being called up and he was never sent back down. that summer after that was the hardest he’d ever worked in his life and it paid off with the roster spot in october and lexington olivers in the minnesota wild’s opening night lineup. welcome home, ollie.

➤ MISC

--- no one, no one calls him lexington, most call him ollie, a very select few are allowed to call him lex.

--- PLAYING STYLE: he’s a defenseman, kinda like, ristolainen and montour-like? solid 2nd - 3rd pair rn with the definite potential to move up in the future. has an offensive upside but is quite physical, isn’t afraid to get in players’ faces or under their skin, has gotten into more than his fair share of scrapes, adds that “grit” to a lineup. the kind to be a menace on the ice but invaluable in the locker room ; loyal to a fault, willing to protect anyone on the team despite being young ( his size definitely helps tho ).

--- ollie wears 4 in homage of his brother who can’t play hockey anymore due to an injury his freshman year of college. because of this he also feels a great motivation to live out the dream his brother won’t be able to.

--- off the ice he’s nothing like what he is on the ice : he’s laid-back and chill, honestly pretty gentle guy though if someone threatens someone he cares for hands can and will be thrown.

--- honestly just a minnesota boy living out his dream, lads ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

➤ SOCIAL MEDIA

INSTAGRAM: lollivers ; 42.2k followers TWITTER: lollivers4 ; 41.6k followers SNAPCHAT: lollszyyy ( private )

➤ CONNECTIONS

--- ISAAC KEATING ( close friend ), @isaackeating : the two met during the eye-rolling mess that was orientation at UMD. ollie had pretty much grown up with the university while isaac had landed some sarcastic and funny one-liners and after that, they just clicked. ollie stole isaac’s coffee, dragged him to post-game parties, isaac convinced him to show up on his vlog and remained a loyal spectator at games despite not understanding most of it. while ollie lives and breathes hockey, he won’t deny it is very refreshing to have a friend outside of it all ; it’s helped all those time things have gone south --- which a couple season ago, had been often. isaac is the one person outside of family he lets call him lex.

--- HOCKEY : if following hockey has taught me anything, it’s that it’s a very small community and everyone has connections everywhere. i’d love to see people ollie played with in college, some from his brief stint with the team he was drafted with ( i left that vague on purpose, tho i do imagine he went somewhere between 39 - 45 in the draft that year ).

--- EX - GIRLFRIEND(S) : ollie has dated ; maybe he broke up with this person during college, maybe she couldn’t handle constantly playing second fiddle to hockey and wanted more attention, maybe she was only there because she thought he’d make it but after that disastrous first season in the AHL / NHL she decided he wasn’t it.

--- OTHER : ollie is bi af, but that’s something he keeps under very tight wraps. i am totally down to plot past connections down that route if anyone is interested ( please ).

--- if anyone wants to plot feel free to message me here, but i’m a lil more reachable on my discord olofsson#5730

➤ PINTEREST BOARD

#intro #bta.intro #im so bad at wc im so sorry #bta.task001 #me writing this intro: wwcmd #(what would casey mittel / stadt do)#god alex saxon's hair #i can't #im so shook #now That is a flow

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lazarettta · 2 years ago

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Be Alright

Summary: After 'Bad Idea', Charlotte and Sasha find themselves together again to discuss their night together with some drama and confusion in between it all. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Word count: 4.1k

Warnings: Language, mild hurt/comfort, fluff...

It's been about two weeks since Sasha somewhat publicly told Bayley to go fuck herself, and that they were over, and since she's spent the night with Charlotte in the older woman's hotel room. Ever since then, Sasha has been avoiding everyone and everything if it didn't have anything to do with work or her money. Sasha wasn't ashamed of anything, she owned what she's done but she still needed time to process everything that has happened. It was a lot and Sasha needed time to herself but with her line of work—it was hard to get five minutes to herself. She was one of the most sought out WWE Champions, and FOX were promoting the shit out of her. So, who was Sasha to turn down the money and publicity?

So she laughed, she smiled and she faked like she was alright but when she looked down at her phone after getting another message from Bayley and another one from Charlotte, she would have cried. Bayley...she still wasn't getting it, she was still begging Sasha to take her back. Begging her to listen to her so they could work everything out. That she could forgive Sasha for sleeping with Charlotte because everyone makes mistakes. Not once did Bayley think to apologize for anything that she's done and automatically placed all the blame on Sasha's shoulders. Sasha was truly confused on why she didn't just block the other woman yet—Sasha wished that she could block Bayley out of her life completely but they were on the same brand and as far as the WWE universe was concerned they were best friends, inseparable and so Sasha's tactics on avoiding Bayley was a little bit more difficult than she thought.

And if management didn't do something about it soon, Sasha knew that she was going to have to do it herself.

At least with Charlotte being that one half of the tag team, she wasn't always on the Smackdown brand so avoiding her was easier—but it also helped Sasha a lot that Charlotte was willing to give Sasha the space that she silently asked for. Though Sasha could always feel Charlotte's eyes on her every time they were on the same brand. This European tour couldn't be over fast enough because Sasha was quite frankly, ready to explode.

“Hey, champ. You're, uh, you're looking a little down there.”

Sasha sighed heavily, dropping her spoon that she was using to eat her yogurt that she was half heartedly interested in, but now? Now, Sasha has completely lost her appetite. The Smackdown champion leaned back in her chair and looked up to see Nia Jax standing by her chair, looking down at her as if she were better than Sasha. And considering how Nia was walking around and talking to everyone, and screaming at the backstage help—she thought she was a bag of chips and some dip.

“Can I help you?”

“Rumor has it that you're giving it up to just everyone these days. Gotta say Banks, I thought you were classier than that.”

Sasha was out of her chair faster than Nia could actually blink but someone else was faster. Before Sasha could even land a blow to Nia's smug and stupid face, there was a strong arm around her waist and holding her back from starting a backstage brawl. And instinctively Sasha began trying to fight the person having the nerve to put their hands on her until she managed to get a good look at the person holding her and she immediately stopped, eyes comically wide because the last time she checked this woman wasn't supposed to be here tonight.

Nia laughed, clapping her hands together uncaring of the eyes that were on them now and the unfolding drama, “Why am I not surprised that you need other people to fight your battles for you, Banks?”

“Aye!” Becky stepped up, arms folded, “Say what ya came to say, lard ass and keep it movin'!”

Nia sneered at Becky, looking her up and down like she was a bug at the bottom of her shoe, “Don't make me break your face again, Lynch. I'm not here for you.”

Sasha scoffed, breaking away from Charlotte's hold and moving to stand next to Becky, “What do you want, Jax? Just spit it out already before I lose my patience.”

Nia laughed, stepping closer and Sasha matched her step—refusing to be punked by Nia Jax of all people. “Is that right, Banks? How about you say that to my face in the ring tonight?” Sasha's jaw clenched, she knew that was coming and dreaded it, “I heard this tour is open season for you and that big mouth of yours. Unless...you're too scared.”

Sasha's fist clenched at her sides, “I'll see you later tonight.”

Nia's eyes narrowed into slits, she'd be making Sasha pay for that later no doubt, “Make sure that you do, Banks, and come alone.” Nia shot Becky and Charlotte dirty looks before stalking off to prepare for her match later tonight, no doubt determined that she was going to be walking away the new Smackdown women's champion.

Sasha took a deep breath and left the catering area as well without turning around, there were too many eyes on her and she had to get away before she ended up cussing everyone out for not knowing how to mind their own business. She was sure Becky and Charlotte coming to back her up (not that she really needed them to) was going to fuel the rumor mill. Sasha wasn't surprised that Becky and Charlotte followed her all the way to her private locker room, their heavy breathing behind her gave them away.

Becky closed the door behind them just as Sasha plopped down on the sofa with a heavy sigh and Charlotte was right next to her, and Becky ended up taking the chair. The TV was on, currently showing Roman and Corbin going at it in the ring.

“Sasha, why do you keep taking these challenges?”

Sasha shrugged at Charlotte's question, pride? She didn't know, but she wasn't about to say that out loud either, instead she answered with a question of her own, “What are you doing here, Charlotte? I thought you two were going to be on NXT tonight?”

“Eh, we were 'posed to have a match but it got rescheduled, so we got here early.” Becky shrugged, slouching in her chair with her eyes glued to her phone that she held in both hands. Her position looked both uncomfortable and comfortable, and Sasha couldn't understand how Becky managed without back problems.

Charlotte set her arm on the spine of the sofa, directly behind Sasha—and Sasha gave her a look that clearly told Charlotte that she wasn't slick at all, and Charlotte just smirked, looking into Sasha's eyes to make sure that she had her attention, “How have you been, Sasha? Really?”

Sasha considered the question for what it was—Charlotte was asking her if she was done running away, if she figured her shit out yet. It honestly scared Sasha how well she could read Charlotte, and how well she could read her. Even after all this time...it was like nothing had changed. Sasha had an answer for Charlotte but she wasn't ready to open that can of worms just yet.

“Ask me after my match, okay?”

Charlotte thought about it for a second then nodded, “Over dinner then? My treat...”

Becky looked up briefly, and she saw how close Charlotte was leaning in to Sasha and smirked slightly, “Uh, do the lovebirds need the room?”

Sasha tried to look away from Charlotte because of the butterflies fluttering around in stomach and smiled softly, “I—”

“Sasha!” The locker room door burst open and Bayley walked in wearing her ring gear as if she owned the damn place, but she stopped short when she saw that Sasha wasn't alone. Bayley frowned when she saw just who Sasha was keeping company with, and how close she and Charlotte were on the sofa. “Um...what are you two doing here?”

“I invited them,” Sasha said, rolling her eyes, “I didn't invite you, Bayley. What do you want?”

“I—”

“I don't care, get out.”

“Damn.” Becky snorted while Charlotte chuckled as she brought her arm down around Sasha's shoulders, her hand dangling over her breasts. Eyes meeting Bayley's angry gaze, daring Bayley to challenge her. Bayley decided to just ignore her two former friends and stable mates, and focused on Sasha.

“Sasha can we talk? Privately, please?”

“Bayley,” Sasha started, face neutral, “You don't have anything to say to me that can't be said in front of them.”

“Sasha,” Bayley licked her lips, refusing to look at either Charlotte or Becky—but she didn't have time to argue with Sasha about anything going on in their personal life, hell Bayley could barely look at Charlotte and not remember what she heard on the phone. To this day, Bayley couldn't understand why she didn't hang up—maybe she just didn't want it to be real.

“Sasha,” Bayley started again, “You can't go out there and face Nia tonight. Not after the hell you went through last Friday with Lacey. Like, I don't even know how you kicked out after those two Women's Right but—”

Becky scoffed, rolling her eyes, “Those weak punches, lass? Puhlease. My dog can kick outta that shit.”

“Besides, Sasha being attacked like this is your fault Bayley.”

“I didn't ask either of you—”

“Bayley,” Sasha said, leaning forward out of the blanket of warmth that was Charlotte and leveled Bayley with her best glare, “You don't have the right to be worried about me, you weren't before.”

“I think it's time for you to get going now, Bayley.” Charlotte drawled, her Carolina accent slipping through and Sasha thought it was hot.

Bayley looked between Becky and Charlotte, thinking about her odds but she made a wise decision to just leave and find Sasha another time when she was alone because Bayley knew that she wasn't going to get through to her with these two hanging around like a pair of vultures. Bayley “Good luck tonight.”

“I don't need luck, sweetheart, I'm The Boss. And I always come out on top. No matter what.”

Sasha, Becky and Charlotte stayed in her private locker room for half an hour, just watching the clock counting down until it was time for Sasha to go out there and defend her title belt against Nia and the closer the time got, the more jittery Sasha was becoming. She'd beaten Nia time and time again before but there was always a bout of doubt when go up against the other woman. She was bigger and she was stronger, but Sasha had speed and agility on her side. But from past experiences she knew that it was going to take more than being lightning fast to come out victorious against Nia Jax. Rule number one was to never ever allow Nia to get a firm grip on her to toss her around the ring like a rag doll.

Rule number two was to make Nia do cardio and tire herself out chasing after her.

Sasha stepped out of the locker room bathroom area now dressed for her match and Charlotte was standing there holding Sasha's jacket but Becky was nowhere in sight, “Becky went down to catering to get us some food when we watch your match in a few...feeling okay?”

Sasha nodded, quietly turning around and letting Charlotte help her put it on her, standing completely smooth as Charlotte straightened it out for her. Sasha tried not to think about how incredibly intimate this moment was between them. When Charlotte was done, Sasha slowly turned around and Charlotte's arms fell at her sides, unsure if she was allowed to keep touching Sasha. She didn't want to make her uncomfortable.

There were so many unspoken questions between them but there simply wasn't enough time, and Sasha couldn't afford any distractions right now. Charlotte understood that all too well, “Good luck tonight, Sasha.”

“Thank you.” Sasha pulled out her Boss shades and carefully slipped them on and flipped her hair before slipping on her rings, “How do I look?”

Charlotte slipped Sasha's title from her shoulder and carefully set it on Sasha's, slowly drinking her in and Charlotte nodded, “Damn good, Boss. You okay with Italian tonight?”

Sasha nodded, “Yeah, are we eating in or out?”

“Definitely eating out,” Charlotte breathed, placing her hand on Sasha's waist and bringing her closer.

Sasha rolled her eyes though her blush gave her dead away, “I meant—”

“I know what you meant.”

“Oi! Hey!” Becky shouted as she walked back into the room, knowing exactly what she was walking in on but Sasha had a match soon, “Back away from the snack, Charlotte!”

Charlotte glared at her best friend playfully but let a giggling Sasha slip past her. Sasha gave Becky a high five on her way out, “Don't go through my shit, Lynch.”

“Yeah, yeah, go kick some ass, will ya?” Becky called before the door shut and she looked at Charlotte and held up the box of pizza, “Took this when they weren't lookin'.”

Sasha was getting into her head space as she walked down to the gorilla stage. She could hear Nia's music starting up and took a deep breath. Sasha was passing through catering when she was approached by the leader of the Riott squad and she rolled her eyes behind her shades.

Ruby smirked at Sasha, her tattooed arms crossed over her chest, “You're not gonna make it—”

“Ain't got time to talk.” Sasha held up her hand in Ruby's face with a care in the world, not breaking her strut, “Hi and bye, bitch.”

Ruby said something behind her, but Sasha would never allow herself to stoop down to such a level of pettiness. Whatever Ruby wanted, well, it was above Sasha now.

By the time Sasha got down to the gorilla stage, it was her turn to go out. She could hear the WWE universe cheering, knowing that she was coming out next. They were cheering, and booing, for her. They were there to see her. They came to see The Boss win. And that was exactly what Sasha was going to do, against all the odds. Sasha had five seconds to center herself before her music hit.

It's Boss Time!

Sasha clutched her title belt to her chest with both hands as she more or less limped her way back up the ramp with her jacket stuffed in her arms as well. Sasha knew that it was going to be a war in that ring tonight with Nia but damn it if she nearly broke her back out there. Sasha had the match under control until she tried to jump on Nia and got caught mid-air and tossed into the barricade as if she weighed nothing at all. And compared to Nia, Sasha didn't. The match almost ended in a count out but Nia was too wise to let that happen. Sasha had more rope breaks during a pin fall than she'd like to admit.

She wasn't sure how sure she was able to lock in that standing guillotine feeling as weak as she did out there, but Nia had passed out after a minute when Sasha got her arm under her chin. The referee called the match and Sasha quickly gathered her stuff and got the hell out of there before Nia came and figured out that she lost. That woman had a nasty temper than not even Sasha wanted to trifle with.

When Sasha got back to her locker room she wasn't surprised to see that it was empty, though she was a little disappointed. But Sasha quickly shook that thought aside, it wasn't as if she and Charlotte were a couple or anything. Hell, neither were she and Bayley and Sasha wasn't too keen on making that mistake twice. Sasha closed the door to her locker room and flipped the lock, she wasn't in the mood to be bothered anyway.

Sasha dumped her jacket and title belt on the sofa as she went to her luggage. She knew that she should've gone to the trainers first to get checked out but Sasha was just too tired and all she wanted to do was get the hell out of the arena ahead of traffic, and into the bed at the hotel that was calling her name. Sasha hesitated momentarily, biting her bottom lip thoughtfully. Sasha picked up her phone and quickly sent Charlotte a text before silencing her phone for the rest of the night.

It was for the best anyway. One night was all that it could ever be—Sasha's learned her lesson. It wasn't a date anyway, Sasha knew exactly what it was, it was a dinner to discuss boundaries. And she's had plenty of those talks with Bayley to know that she'd end up hurting in the end so Sasha was just going to save herself the trouble. She could afford to lose another friend.

Thirty minutes later...

Freshly showered and in her street clothes, Sasha managed to get out of the arena undetected thankfully. Opting to keep her phone tucked away, Sasha typed into the address of her hotel into the rental truck's navigation system and she was off into the night. Sasha had arrived at the hotel with only one wrong turn to be ashamed about that got her all sorts of lost in a foreign place but she made it fine.

Now the exhausted champion was laying in the middle of her bed snuggled beneath the heavy sheets and comforters surrounded by a bunch of plush pillows. Her blue hair was fanned out and Sasha was channel surfing to find something to fall asleep to.

Knock knock knock...

Sasha frowned, eyes darting towards the hotel door and she winced slightly as she slid out of the high bed and crept towards the door.

Knock knock knock...

Sasha gently leaned against the door and peeked through the peephole. She wasn't sure who she was expecting but seeing Charlotte on the other side of the door holding a large white bag surprised her for two reasons. Sasha never told Charlotte which floor she was on or the room number, and two...Sasha canceled their dinner then ghosted her for the rest of the night. Sasha watched as Charlotte frowned, checked her watch and knocked once again.

Sasha swallowed anxiously, but before she could second guess herself, she was unlocking the deadbolt and opening the door. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

Charlotte took in Sasha's tank top and shorts, not surprised that the woman was already prepared for bed. It almost made Charlotte feel bad for disturbing her. Almost.

“Can I come in?” Charlotte held up the bag of food, “Italian, like I promised.”

Sasha rolled her eyes, “I canceled.”

“I heard.”

“How did you get my room number?”

“Wasn't easy.”

“Still doesn't answer my question, Flair.”

“Let me in, Banks, and I'll tell you.”

Sasha looked at Charlotte wearily, but she stepped aside anyway against her better judgment and allowed the taller woman into her hotel room. Sasha flipped the deadbolt again and followed Charlotte further into the room by the table where she was setting down all of the food. Sasha sat in one of the chairs and watched quietly as Charlotte set everything up for them. It all smelled so delicious and Sasha didn't really realize just how hungry she was until her stomach nearly caved in on itself. Charlotte, thankfully and wisely, didn't comment on it but she did chuckle a little bit. When she was finished, Charlotte set the bag aside and sat in the second chair.

Sasha looked between Charlotte and the food, she was sure she must've looked confused and Charlotte raised an eyebrow, “I know you're hungry, so eat, Sasha. After the night you had, you need to replenish what you lost.”

Sasha blinked, shaking her head, “I canceled on you, Charlotte.”

“Yeah, I know, so you've told me... twice.”

“So? Why the hell are you here?” as hungry as Sasha was, she wasn't going to touch anything until she figured out what Charlotte's angle was. Sasha needed to know what Charlotte wanted from all of this before Sasha even considered sharing a dinner with this woman, her longest friend and most recent lover.

“I just told you, you need to—”

“What do you want, Charlotte? From me? What do you want from me?” Sasha was tired, all she wanted to do was sleep and not think about how complicated her personal life was. Yet, here she was...sitting across from her biggest complication with mouth watering food between them that she couldn't even bring herself to enjoy. Life was so cruel to her. For every blessing, there was always a curse waiting around the corner.

Charlotte took another bite from her pasta dish, carefully thinking over her words because she knew that Sasha was a walking time bomb just waiting to go off. “I just want you, Sasha.”

Sasha laughed dryly, rolling her eyes, “Oh yeah? You've had me. Now what?”

“No, not like...I...no, Sasha. I meant you. I just want you. ”

Sasha brought her hands to her lap, fingers locked as she stared at Charlotte across the small table impassively, “Yeah, that's what Bayley said too. Look how that turned out.”

“I'm not Bayley.”

“So, what? Huh, Charlotte? You fuck me, you liked it, now you wanna date me? I don't buy it. It's not that simple, and I'm not buying any of this.” Sasha gestured towards the table full of food, “I...Charlotte, you're my friend...you're my longest lasting friend. Hell, you're my first best friend! And I don't know if that means shit to you, but it means a lot to me! And what happened two weeks ago was—”

“Please don't say that it was a mistake.” Charlotte interjected quietly, eyes uncharacteristically downcast, poking at her food.

“No,” Sasha said slowly, eyes narrowed slightly, “No, it wasn't a mistake...it was fun.. but Charlotte...” Sasha, unsure on how to continue, trailed off and sat quietly for a while, “My heart has had enough of the give and take, Charlotte.”

Charlotte sighed heavily, knowing that her next words would probably set Sasha off but Charlotte was going to try, “You were my best friend too Sasha...hell you still are. And if I could do what we did two weeks ago, I would. I would've done it two years ago too.” Sasha's eyes snapped up and Charlotte forced herself to keep going under that sharp scrutinizing gaze, “When...we moved up to the main roster, we lost touch a little and we were busy trailblazing. But I never stopped regretting not asking you to dinner that night we flew to New York to meet with Vince. You remember?”

Sasha rolled her eyes, but she was smiling too, “I do, yeah. We were both a mess.”

“Yeah,” Charlotte chuckled, looking down at her food, “I'm not...I'm not confessing my long lost love here, Sasha, but despite our circumstances of getting here, to this point, I don't regret anything. Do you?”

Sasha looked away, shaking her head, “No.” if anything, she couldn't stop thinking about that night.

Charlotte nodded, “I'm not gonna try to ask you anything tonight, but I just wanted you to know, okay?”

Sasha waved her hand in Charlotte's direction, towards her sweats and t-shirt, “Were you also planning on getting a thank you for bringing me food? You're not getting your dick wet tonight, Charlotte. I'm telling you this now.”

Charlotte laughed loudly , not surprised and she picked up her fork again, “I didn't think I was, I saw your match with Nia. I know better than to ask, Boss. But I was hoping to spend the night still...if you didn't mind?”

Sasha playfully rolled her eyes, “I mean, I guess. You're already here. ”

“Does this mean that you can start eating before your food gets cold?”

Sasha slowly picked up her fork, and opened her container and practically drooled, “Thank you, Charlie. For what it's worth...I wish you would've asked me to that dinner too.”

Charlotte considered that statement with a twinge of regret—briefly thinking of the what if's but she wouldn't allow herself to go down that line of thinking, “No time better than the present, right?”

Sasha smiled softly and began to eat her food and that was all the answer that Charlotte needed.

FIN

#wwe superstars #wwe imagines #charsha fanfic #charsha imagines #charlotte flair x sasha banks #charlotte flair #sasha banks

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johnathonolyon · 8 years ago

Text

Time to Make the Comics, Part 16: Don’t Pitch. Make.

This post’s creation was fueled by coffee donations from Super Duper Generous Peeps (Like yourself! Potentially!) through ko-fi.com/roselyon! Thanks, cool, cool people!!!

Good evening. I’m Johnathon O. Rose-Lyon. You of course know me from my work on such literary classics as “Cosmic-Fantasy Comic Pitch That Was Shot Down Because It Doesn’t Mesh Well With Our Third-Quarter Line-Up”, and “Sci-Fi Comic Pitch That Didn’t Get A Greenlight Because We Did That Other Sci-Fi Comic Three Years Ago”, and the beloved “Murder Mystery Comic That We Actually Dug A Lot But You Don’t Have Enough Twitter Followers, Sooooooo”.

Wait, huh, wha? You haven’t read... like, any of those massive-critical-and-financial-and-cultural-I-am-assuming successes?! And only literally five people on the face of the literal planet have? Even though I’ve dumped also-very-literal months of hard work into them? And my whole life and all of my intellectual pursuits up to this point are doomed to become the historical equivalent of an Audible monthly subscription gifted unto post-hearing-loss Ludwig van Beethoven, you say??

Well, fuck. Okay.

Anyway, I’m here today to talk to you about NEVER PITCHING ANYTHING EVER and I’m certainly not going to go back on that at all and mean it very literally. (I don’t.) (But it’s sorta true.) (Just keep reading, jeez.)

Here are some stats (that’s Comic Industry Lingo for “statistics” you’re welcome) for your consideration:

•Started this tumblr blog. Started talking ‘bout comic books and ‘bout making ‘em and junk. Got over 500 followers. Made some way-too-cool-for-me-tbh friends. Maybe helped some people out I don’t know.

•Made Neon Noir with Michael Kennedy. Like... we just made it. Put that shit up online for free, straight commie-style. Got another good 500 followers from it. Sold a good chunk of comics, somehow. Got a few publishers’ attention. Made more seriously-way-too-cool-what-the-actual-fuck friends.

•Made Super Human with Stephen Morrow and boy Roland. Again, no permission. No greenlight. Just made. Tossed them shits on the internets, free-o-charge. Got 1k followers jesus christ. Sold a couple hundred copies (even though that was non-profit because I’m a good person aka a little bit dumb). GOT ON FUCKING TELEVISION FROM IT. Received – and I’m ballparking this somewhat – eight billion emails and messages about what that comic meant to people that all made me cry and I am now a fine, dehydrated dust pile. And now I have so many friends that, if I want to make a new friend, I must pick one of my older friends and abandon them forever to make room because I have hit the Legal Friend Maximum that is just how many friends I have now ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

•Spent a total of 10 months(!) researching for and assembling 14 different pitches(!!) for 14 different projects(!!!). Some editors said they were cool or whatever. Maybe the next pitch will be the one. That’s it. The end.

Now I’m no mathmagician, but...

Point is, it’s so, so easy to fall in a pitch hole. Especially if someone asks you to start pitching to them. Throwing two-page summary after two-page summary after 5 pages of lettered sample art after “It’s like Dragonball Z meets Star Trek!” at publishers. Your entire creative life submitting to that “submit” button. Screaming into the void and waiting for the void to be all, “Hey, I really pick up what you’re putting down, man, let’s make this thing.” And then the infinite void gives you a thumbs-up that’s literally beyond the quantum descriptive capacity of any mortal language.

K, so here’s where I totally go back on what I said before: I’m not saying to never pitch. I’m just saying Have something to show for it for the love of god.

Those are ten months I’m not getting back. And weeks of hard-ass work my collaborators won’t get back, either. And all we have to show for it are half-stories and ending-less pages and sad-tears.

Heck, I’m pitching a project right now. That’s right, I’m a hypocritical, clickbait-y little shit, so what, fucking fight me. But the difference is I’m making a finished product. And if the infinite void doesn’t dig what we’re doing, then guess what? We now have a dope-ass comic to give to the masses directly. Whether it’s through kickstarter or self-publishing or, in classic commie-style fashion, just straight free-on-the-internet. The void’s loss is the universe’s gain.

So what I’m sayin’ is GO OUT THERE AND MAKE SOME COOL SHIT AND FINISH SAID COOL SHIT. JUST MAKE. And if no one wants to throw money at you for it (the odds of which are, I’m v. sorry to say, up there), hey look! Non-publisher human beings still dig what you’re doing with your life and it might even make their life better and it turns out that’s rewarding too even though you can’t pay the rent with it or eat it or whatever!

And then you just join a site where people straight-up give you money cuz they think you’re dope and what you do is dope. Pro strats.

NOW GO ART ALREADY JEEZ.

#Time to Make the Comics #making comics #comics #indie comics #TtMtC #This Post Was Made Possible By My Fine Supporters Via Ko-Fi Dot Com

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moritzstiefelwiki · 8 years ago

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Yooo for the detailed headcanon meme would u mind doing like... all the ones ure able to for Hanschen? Like feel free to skip as many as u want but itd be cool to hear ur thoughts on my Best Boy

Um? Little Hansy Rilow? Jackass Extraordinaire? Love of my life? Ofc I’ll do as many as I can!! Thanks so much for sending these! I hope you like them and I’m sorry they took me so long! (Also I answered these out of order and towards the end I was running a bit low on steam so there are some answers that are Not So Good mixed in there, sorry)

Under the cut or on Ao3 here :)

1. What does their bedroom look like?

I think for the most part it would be tidy. Bed made, desk (mostly) clear, etc. He’s got some laundry on the floor, a couple of books lying about, and his jacket as well as his school things are never put away but everything else is in it’s place.

His desk is by the window so he can make good use of natural light and It’s usually got assignments for school on it as well as whatever books might go along with them when he’s not using it.

He keeps a small collection of books in his room- his favourites. Whatever he’s currently reading is kept on his bedside table and everything else is stacked by his desk but they should be on the shelf in the living room.

He’s a nerd.

2. Do they have any daily rituals?

I don’t think he would, not outside what he needs to do (school). Not unless you count him monologuing while he masturbates as a ritual, I have a feeling that’s a daily thing.

3. Do they exercise, and if so, what do they do? How often?

He does not, he would much rather lounge somewhere comfy with something he finds enjoyable. A book, a person, a puzzle, etc.

4. What would they do if they needed to make dinner but the kitchen was busy?

I can see him being like “Everybody, get out of my way” (This is meant to be read in John Mulaney’s voice from the thing where he followed this with something like “I’m just here to feed my birds”) but I can also see him just clearing enough space for himself and getting to work. I guess it depends on who’s in the kitchen making what and what he’s going to be making. He’s not going to be interrupting someone that’s making cake or pastries just so he can cut vegetables in peace.

5. Cleanliness habits (personal, workspace, etc.)

His parents/governess were somewhat strict about cleanliness when he was a child so he makes an effort to keep himself well groomed, especially when adults are present. No dirt under his fingernails, his clothes and hair are neat etc. He’s less concerned about it when he’s with the other boys and even less when he’s relaxing, either by himself or with Ernst, but he still somewhat pays attention to how much dirt he’s getting on himself or how much work it will take him to make himself look properly presentable before he finds himself around adults again.

I think I got into workspace okay with his bedroom? He’s mostly tidy because he has to be, any disorder in his room can easily be taken care of.

6. Eating habits and sample daily menu

I think he would love sweet things (candy, fruit, berries, etc) and he’s always a slut for baked goods. I have no idea what kind of things ppl usually ate in 1890′s Germany.

7. Favorite way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time

He only really considers time wasted if he’s not spending it on something he likes to do or needs to do. So he has no favourite way to waste time, he only feels as though he’s wasting time if he’s bored out of his mind for no good reason.

8. Favorite indulgence and feelings surrounding indulging

Ernst. It really isn’t safe for him to be smooshing booties in a vineyard with another boy but? He’s doing it. And being all poetic about it too ofc, he really likes Ernst.

If he can indulge he will, he loves it. Life’s too short to deny himself pleasure, so long as said pleasure doesn’t harm him and/or get in the way of him becoming a millionaire.

9. Makeup?

None. I can see him maybe trying, or at least wanting to try makeup at some point? Never with anyone around or if there was a chance of someone catching him though. (I’m a sucker for boys in makeup tho and I think modern Hanschen would enjoy makeup. If u want to hear a bit more abt that u know how 2 contact me)

10. Neuroses? Do they recognize them as such?

Neurotypical Hans™

11. Intellectual pursuits?

Literature and languages. He loves reading, loves diving into a book and analyzing characters, plot, symbolism, all of it. He loves talking about them as well, he could talk for hours about his favourites. He’s fascinated by other languages and speaks a handful rather fluently as an adult. He probably also enjoys reading the same book but translated into different languages because no translation is exact and it’s always interesting to see a slightly different take on things.

I can also see him having interest in biology? Because science is fascinating and it’s amazing how diverse and intricately designed living things can be.

12. Favorite book genre?

He talks about the books he likes when he’s jerking off so I don’t think I really need to get into that lmao

13. Sexual Orientation? And, regardless of own orientation, thoughts on sexual orientation in general?

Multisexual. Bi/pan/ply/whatever. A pretty person is a pretty person & all that.

I think he might see the idea of sexual orientation as a little silly or perhaps performative? He understands that he’s expected to only like women and knows that once he’s older he’ll be expected to marry one, to have children etc etc. So for the most part he keeps his attraction to men to himself (Ernst being a very obvious exception, likely not the only one but it’s not something he would ever reveal lightly) and he thinks that most people are doing the same in order to avoid being judged negatively by their community.

Something along the lines of “everyone is only acting like they’re exclusively attracted to the opposite sex because it’s what’s seen as normal. They don’t want everyone else to point fingers at them calling them sinners and sexual deviants and condemning them to hell so they deny themselves half the beauty the world has to offer. For this same reason, they’re quick to attack anyone around them who might be revealed as queer. They’re so focused on keeping their own secret safe that they never realize everyone around them is keeping exactly the same one.”

14. Physical abnormalities? (Both visible and not, including injuries/disabilities, long-term illnesses, food-intolerances, etc.)

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

15. Biggest and smallest short term goal?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

16. Biggest and smallest long term goal?

Biggest: “When I am amillionaire”Smallest: I don’t think he has any small goals tbh ?

17. Preferred mode of dress and rituals surrounding dress

I’m not rly sure what this one’s asking tbh?? He likes looking nice tho.

18. Favorite beverage?

Hot chocolate

19. What do they think about before falling asleep at night?

Have you prayed tonight, Desdemona?

(I think a recurring theme would be his future- what he wants, what he can get, how he can get it etc.)

20. Childhood illnesses? Any interesting stories behind them?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

21. Turn-ons? Turn-offs?

I’m stickin 2 sex ones bc otherwise it’s Too Vague and stresses me tf out tbh

Turn-ons: hair pulling, necking (he loves hickies but he’s strict about not having any that might be visible), being straddled, nice thighs, a good ass, little gasps and moans, begging

Turn-offs: bad kissing, poor hygiene, not listening to/paying attention to his feedback, going too fast (Mr. “half-closed eyes, half-open mouths, and turkish draperies” would Def love foreplay and teasing,, trying to skip right over it is? A no.)

22. Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

23. How organized are they? How does this organization/disorganization manifest in their everyday life?

See 1

24. Is there one subject of study that they excel at? Or do they even care about intellectual pursuits at all?

See 11 (he’s pretty good at everything tho)

25. How do they see themselves 5 years from today?

Long dead because it’s 2017, but 5 years from the show he probably sees himself in university.

26. Do they have any plans for the future? Any contingency plans if things don’t workout?

I don’t know what his plans would be but I’m sure he’s got some cushy career in mind that he wants to work towards. He’s a Rilow, he doesn’t need a backup plan.

27. What is their biggest regret?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

28. Who do they see as their best friend? Their worst enemy?

Ernst. His worst enemy is probably whoever is second in the class rankings, if you go by the play. Melchior in the musical. Little Hans is In It To Win It.

29. Reaction to sudden extrapersonal disaster (eg The house is on fire! What do they do?)

His brain shuts down for a minute and then he realizes that yes, this is happening and oh dear god I need to get out of here. He tries (and fails) to give the impression that he is calm, cool, and collected but he’s doing pretty good for someone who is screaming internally as loudly as he is.

30. Reaction to sudden intrapersonal disaster (eg close family member suddenly dies)

He just keeps going. He tries to act like everything is fine, to show that he’s strong. The second he’s alone he deflates. He’s depressed af but does everything he can to hide it.

31. Most prized possession?

I’m not sure what exactly, but it’s something fancy and adult that makes him feel sophisticated. He won’t admit how much he loves it though.

32. Thoughts on material possessions in general?

👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀 good shit go౦ԁ sHit👌 thats ✔ some good👌👌shit right👌👌there👌👌👌 right✔there ✔✔if i do ƽaү so my self 💯 i say so 💯 thats what im talking about right there right there (chorus: ʳᶦᵍʰᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ) mMMMMᎷМ💯 👌👌 👌НO0ОଠOOOOOОଠଠOoooᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒ👌 👌👌 👌 💯 👌 👀 👀 👀 👌👌Good shit

33. Concept of home and family?

He thinks of it as faintly ridiculous.

“Why are these people somehow more important than others simply because you share blood? Shouldn’t the value of your relationship with someone have more to do with how well you get along and care for each other? What’s the point of marriage, you put on a show so you can have children as you’re expected to and this absurd cycle repeats with your children and so on.”

34. Thoughts on privacy? (Are they a private person, or are they prone to ‘TMI’?)

He greatly values his privacy, he usually only shares exactly as much information as is necessary. Unless he trusts you, in which case he doesn’t s hut the fu ck u p

35. What activities do they enjoy, but consider to be a waste of time?

See 7

36. What makes them feel guilty?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

37. Are they more analytical or more emotional in their decision-making?

Analytical for the most part. He knows what he wants out of life and what he needs to do to put him on the path to getting it. I feel like he operates with a mindset a bit like “people can leave you but things are forever” and so he’s pretty okay with making decisions that hurt people (himself included) if it will benefit him financially, academically, raise his social status etc.

38. Would they consider themselves a Type A or Type B personality?

A? I don’t know tbh, my knowledge about this is limited to the 30 seconds I spent skimming the wiki article

39. What recharges them when they’re feeling drained?

Peace and quiet, being alone. Bonus points if he’s somewhere pretty and/or rly comfortable.

40. Would you say that they have a superiority-complex? Inferiority-complex? Neither?

I don’t feel I know enough about either to say lmao

41. How misanthropic are they?

He thinks people are ridiculous, h

ryan sent me a post abt dragon dicks which got me rambling abt this one furry i follow and. lowkey shattered my train of thought, I don’t remember what i was planing 2 say here and I’m too tired to start the Thought Translation Process over again lmao

42. Hobbies?

Reading, puzzles, Ernst, calligraphy,

43. How far did they get in formal education? What are their views on formal education vs self-education?

He completed university. The only real difference between formal education and self-education is if you have a diploma people will believe you when you say you know what you’re talking about.

44. Religion?

He’s whatever everyone else is. I don’t what religion everyone is in the show,, I don’t know shit abt religion tbh. But he believes in god, though he’s not as devout as everyone else.

45. Superstitions or views on the occult?

Foolish. Ridiculous. Absurd. Childish. He believes in them.

46. Do they express their thoughts through words or deeds?

Words mostly. He’s excellent with them and loves to talk and talk and talk.

47. If they were to fall in love, who (or what) is their ideal?

Ernst, probably. I don’t doubt that Hans loves him dearly but I don’t think he’s in love.

48. How do they express love?

He talks about milk.

I can’t think of anything lmao

49. If this person were to get into a fist fight, what is their fighting style like?

Tbh I can’t imagine him fighting. He probably just says something that pisses someone off and then gets knocked flat on his ass.

50. Is this person afraid of dying? Why or why not?

I don’t think so, I think he feels almost like. I don’t think invincible would be the right word, but he sees no reason to fear it at his age. Yes, Wendla and Moritz died, but he has no plans to kill himself and he can’t get pregnant so a botched abortion isn’t a threat to him. He’s in good health and he’s got his wits about him. What is there for him to be afraid of? He can worry about dying later.

#anon #answered #hc #hanschen #my writing #also tell me if i left something blank or dropped off mid sentence somewhere i think i finished all of them but im rly tired #but i might have missed something

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binarytinker-a-blog · 8 years ago

Text

really LONG CHARACTER SURVEY. RULES. repost , don’t reblog ! tag 10 ! good luck ! TAGGED. @vrepit-sa TAGGING. @shurimanisms, @flareforged, @greenestxpaladin and tbh i can’t be arsed to tag more after all th a t

BASICS.

FULL NAME : Katie Holt / Pidge Gunderson NICKNAME : Katie / Pidge AGE : fourteen BIRTHDAY : unknown ETHNIC GROUP : caucasian (the holts are probably some complete disaster of lineage lbrh) NATIONALITY : american. LANGUAGE / S : english, morse, binary if she thought about it, a scattering of several different programming languages (nothing low-level like assembly languages though), a smattering of altean quite literally scared into her SEXUAL ORIENTATION : asexual. ROMANTIC ORIENTATION : might be aro? tbh she’d be happy with just someone to sit and do tech/geek things with so yeah, aro makes perfect sense. RELATIONSHIP STATUS : nope HOME TOWN / AREA : is central northern america a thing because that’s the feeling i got from the little we saw of the holt’s plae. CURRENT HOME : the castle of lions PROFESSION : general technologist? of the paladins, stealth and infiltration

PHYSICAL.

SKIN: very pale, easy to sunburn but still a healthy shade despite how much time she spends indoors/out of sunlight EYES : highkey amber, gold in the sunlight and almost brown along the inner edges. FACE : it’s round and soft, but also thinly lined, easy enough for her to be mistaken as a boy (and used very well against the Garrison) LIPS : they’re the kind that don’t reveal their curves until she grins, cheshire in manner in that they don’t draw attention away from her face. they’re thin but not to the point of not existing. COMPLEXION : surprisingly, given her age and habits, pidge’s face remains pretty clean and clear. BLEMISHES : any birthmarks she has are tiny and hard to notice unless you’re looking for them. for the longest time, she’d had one on the arch of her foot, but it faded away at some point during her childhood and almost none of her others have. SCARS : she’s got a couple fine lines on her hands (old motherboards were notorious for having sharp solder points on the underside and pidge has torn her hands up on quite a few during disassembly). from taking apart tech on earth. she’s thus far managed to avoid collecting new ones since becoming the green paladin. TATTOOS : n/a. HEIGHT : 5′2 ? i think WEIGHT : she probably weighs 110lbs soaking wet. BUILD : her build is slim, very nondescript. the curve to her waist and hips are easily hidden in clothing and any curve to her upper body disappears once she’s geared up. FEATURES : glasses. round ones that perch on the tip of her nose and manage to serve as a way she can look severely at someone without being blind. ALLERGIES : greening the cube doesn’t give any details, but i imagine pidge deals with quite a few allergies to outdoors environments; pollen from multiple sources, making it difficult, if not impossible, for there to be a season that affects her less than normal USUAL HAIR STYLE : she brushes her hair, but otherwise leaves it be, letting it be a slightly messy mop that hangs around her face. USUAL FACE LOOK : n/a USUAL CLOTHING : if not in her armor, pidge prefers loosely fitting clothing for ease of movement, but doesn’t have much preference for the colors of such.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR / S : she doesn’t have specific fears, mostly, but at this point in time, she’s scared to death of not being able to find her father and brother. scared of finding out that they died. scared of not being able to put her family together. scared of losing the family she’s made in the castle. ASPIRATION / S : she wants to find her father and brother, yes, she wants to go home, but... she also wants to see the universe. she wants to explore. she wants to see what’s out there. POSITIVE TRAITS : intelligent | excitable | quick-witted NEGATIVE TRAITS : stubborn | irritable | insensitive MBTI : Logician (INTP-A) ZODIAC : gemini? i think? it fits, anyway, so i’ll keep it for now TEMPEREMENT : melancholic. SOUL TYPE / S : thinkier | hunter | helper ANIMALS : beaver. VICE HABIT / S : picking her fingernails, chewing on the ends of pens while thinking, absently picking at scabs or new calluses. FAITH : theistic but not ascribing to a religion? GHOSTS ? : until there’s proof, nope AFTERLIFE ? : ^ see above. REINCARNATION ? : maybe there is, maybe there isn’t, no one knows yet ALIENS ? : voltron is literally an alien weapon piloted by five. POLITICAL ALIGNMENT : not the galran empire. EDUCATION LEVEL : probably took some college level courses for kicks and grins before getting into the garrison. probably lied about her age for the garrison; definitely dealt with college level classes there.

FAMILY.

FATHER : samuel holt MOTHER : colleen holt SIBLINGS : matt holt EXTENDED FAMILY : unknown NAME MEANING / S : katie is diminutive of kate/katherine, most commonly means pure. holt comes from wold/wald, and means a small forest or forested upland. pidge is likely a borrowed slang word short for “pigeon hole”, a place for messages to be left for later/a home for a pigeon. gunderson is a patronymic name derived from several different sources, but “son of "gondri" or "gundric", a once common old French personal name from the germanic elements "gund", battle and "ric", poser” is the commonly accepted meaning. HISTORICAL CONNECTION ? : old english for katie holt, norwegian/german/french for gunderson

FAVORITES.

BOOK : she can’t just pick one. pidge had a library of books she left behind at home. it’s a combination of scifi, fantasy, and textbooks. she has a handful of in-depth guides for common linux/unix distros and for android in general. MOVIE : again, she can’t just pick one. while her movies are as varied in interest as her books, katie didn’t keep nearly as much of a collection. 5 SONGS : considering her music library spans several tens of gb, there’s no way to pick five to be favorites. it varies from month to month DEITY : n/a. HOLIDAY : she’s always loved christmas. snow outside, the windows frosted over, hot chocolate in hands. she and matt deep in concentration over some project or another MONTH : december SEASON : if she had to pick, she didn’t mind fall and early spring. her allergies kicked up a mighty fuss, but the weather was nice. PLACE : green’s hangar. WEATHER : even though pidge didn’t mind typical fall/spring weather, she much prefers the dark clouds and heavy rains. it’s soothing to ear the rain pouring down while she curls up with her newest project. SOUND : rain on the roof over her head, the gentle hum of a computer well functioning, that single solitary bios confirmation beep. SCENT / S : you know that smell when you first open a package of electronics? it’s crisp and almost burns the nose, but not quite, and quickly fades as you maneuver it into a system. a book freshly opened after being on a shelf for years, the dust, aging paper, and ink. petrichor. TASTE / S : fresh strawberries, just red and not quite overly sweet yet, milk chocolate FEEL / S : smooth and cold, machined metals emblazoned with coppers and plastics, faint vibrations under fingertips as a fan whirls to speed or a motor settles into a steady rotation. ANIMAL / S : cats. felines in general. NUMBER : she likes too many numbers, but to fall back on anything would be ones and zeros. COLORS : golds and greens, dusk meeting a forest as the sky fades from orange to dark blue-violet. the stars shining in the sky.

EXTRA.

TALENTS : hand to hand combat, computers and their defenses, stealth, understanding the gist of unfamiliar systems in moments. BAD AT : being sensitive of other people’s feelings, being tactful. TURN ONS : lmao what TURN OFFS : see above HOBBIES : writing programs, modifying green, dissecting altean and galra tech to find out how they work, find out if she can make them work for her, and reassembling them to find out if she can make them work again TROPES : deadpan snarker, hollywood hacking (something i’ll try not to overboard on bc i actually Hate it), motor mouth, military brat, teen genius QUOTES : “I know.”, “That’s me.”, “Nice work, Tailor.”, “I got him! [beat] I don’t got him!”

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1 : if you could write your character your way in their own movie , what would it be called , what style would it be filmed in , and what would it be about ? A1 : honestly? it wouldn’t be chronological. it’d be bits of life, scenes you’d see in passing. moments of bonding between her and her teammates, moments of family time, little background things. i love just seeing a peek into lives. not the whole life, just.... bits and pieces, parts of the whole that make the whole easier to understand. Q2 : what would their soundtrack / score sound like ? A2 : it probably wouldn’t make much sense put together. a mishmash of anything and everything under the sun, from enigma to icon for hire to linkin park i guess Q3 : why did you start writing this character ? A3 : i got hooked on voltron. binged the first season. binged the second the day it came out. started rewatching it with the bf, decided to take the plunge Q4 : what first attracted you to this character ? A4 : a tech geek. a tech geek that was, yes, still somewhat stereotypical but not made fun of. mostly just a tech geek. and then the girl bomb right as i decided ‘ok so pidge is a really girly looking guy’ and that was it it was over i was caught Q5 : describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse. A5 : i actually.... like pidge just fine the way she is Q6 : what do you have in common with your muse ? A6 : too much. though she’s probably smarter than i am (i can bs a lot of her basic knowledge though..... soon. ) Q7 : how does your muse feel about you ? A7 : ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Q8 : what characters does your muse have interesting interactions with ? A8 : almost any character. pidge will run her mouth if talking with fellow tech geeks, probably still will with people who aren’t tech geeks, tends to ask too many questions even of people she probably shouldn’t be too friendly with (sendak). Q9 : what gives you inspiration to write your muse ? A9 : right now? everything. engima’s ‘the gate’ is what kickstarted it all, so there’s a lot of that in her specific writing playlist. Q10 : how long did this take you to complete ? A10 : two hours lm a o i get easily sidetracked.

#pidge.txt #(( good gOD that took forever ))

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