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autumnleaves1991-blog · 3 years ago

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The Fight - Little Sparrow Series Oneshot

A/N: I took a much looser approach with the prompt for Writer Wednesday. :) Thank you for reading, reblogging, and commenting.

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x F! Reader x Ellaria Sand

Warnings: 18 + for language, canon typical violence, mentions of depression, wanting to die, angst with a resolution.

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“You are an absolute FOOL!” Ellaria shouts from the entrance to the training yards. Men and women scattered in all directions at the fire in her eyes. Ellaria is a fearsome woman to behold on an average day but when she is angry, beware.

Oberyn scoffs and stabs his spear into the ground, leaning on it gently. “What have I done now?” Ellaria stomps the rest of the way towards him and grabs onto his jaw harshly.

“What have you done now?! Think, you always claim to be the smartest man in the room, the most cunning, the red viper,” her words dripping with sarcasm.

“I truly do not know,” he pushes her hand away, but the viper is not quick enough, and her hand smacks across his face. The spear clatters the ground, and Oberyn reaches for his cheek, holding it and staring at her with wide eyes.

“How dare you?” she growls, “I should have hit you harder! Maybe then you would remember what you have done to our Sparrow.”

Oberyn furrows his brow for a moment before realization slowly dawns on his face. Memories of a conversation with you from the night before. His belly was still full of wine, his head a bit hazy as he spared with a newer soldier.

**********

“Oberyn, please,” you begged, standing outside the ring used for fighters. His moves were sloppy; he was going to get himself hurt. “Please, my love, come to bed.”

“Go!” he barks at you, narrowly missing a blow to the head from the other wooden sword of his opponent. “Is that all you got?!” he shouts, edging the other man on. His expression hardens, and his sword moves quicker, slashing left and right against Oberyn.

You know what day it is—the reason for his drinking to excess, calling upon everyone for a fight. The children and Ellaria had been sent away for the evening, and you wished for her soft touch around your shoulders. Oberyn had begged you to stay, claiming only to need your body to suppress the grief he wishes to drown in. “Oberyn,” you call again, quieter, the tears beginning to swell in your eyes.

He turns towards you, and that’s all the distraction his opponent needed. The other man strikes him in the chest, knocking him off balance, the spear toppling from his hand. He barrels, rolls around your prince, and picks up the spear pointing the sharp blade against his neck. “Yield,” he growls, eyes hard, and Oberyn just watches his chest panting, the steel prick of his spear against his throat.

The red viper does not lose.

“Yield,” he repeats, pressing the blade tighter to the prince’s throat, drawing a drop of blood, staining the golden robes.

Oberyn lifts his head, and more blood trickles down his neck, “never,” he growls, voice dripping with venom. “Kill me,” he orders, “strike me down, live in infamy as the man who killed the Red Viper.”

“NO!” you step forward, reaching a hand out to wrap around the spear with one hand and pushing your lover down with the other. “That is quite enough for one night.” His opponent drops the spear to the ground and stands above you, bowing his head.

“My apologies, my Lady, my Prince,” he bows to you both before turning to leave the training yard. All others have left for the night, and it’s as silent as the grave as you turn back to Oberyn.

You can feel his eyes burning on yours, and you avoid them, instead choosing to focus on the golden robe. “You’re covered in blood, my Prince,” you go to unbutton the cinch at the top, but his hand tightens around your own.

“Don’t touch me,” his voice is stern, and he throws your hand aside, standing up. You remain kneeling before him, head down; he’s never used that tone with you. The anger and malice slicing through your heart like a dagger. “How dare you.”

Your head snaps up, and you feel the strength returning as you stand, hands trembling with your anger. “How could I? Do you expect me to just stand on the sidelines and watch you die?! Hurt yourself?!”

“I had it under control,” he takes a threatening step towards you, his finger coming up to your face, “you disgraced me.”

You take a shuddering breath, “I disgraced you because I love you? Explain that to me, Oberyn. I love you with my entire heart, my soul.”

He scoffs and takes a shaky step away, his fingers fumbled with the buttons of his robe, throwing it towards you. It bounces off your chest, and you catch it in your hands, the blood staining your fingers. “You’re not my wife,” he tosses over his shoulder as he reaches for the goblet of wine, filling up his cup, “why don’t you find some other cock to fuck you tonight.”

You ball the fabric up in your hand and feel your heart shatter in two, “I don’t take other lovers beside you and Ellaria; you know that.”

He laughs, “well, it is not my cock that will fill your cunt tonight. I’ll go to the brothel and find another woman who won’t disgrace me in battle and will keep her mouth filled with my cock instead of nagging me about what I do.”

You watch him walk away out towards the front of the Palace, each step putting another nail in the coffin of your heart. Oberyn did not visit the brothels since you joined his little harem, Ellaria, and you being more than enough for him. Ellaria had warned this could happen tonight, on this day when the memory of his sister, Elia, and her children’s deaths are reawoken like gaping wounds.

“Daemon,” you call into the shadows knowing the Prince’s guard is never far, “follow him, please,” you whisper, and he nods. His footsteps retreating after Oberyn.

You walk through the quiet halls of the Water Gardens and towards the washing room near the river. And there you stay until the morning light streams through. Your hands scrubbed raw with the force you used to remove the blood from the Golden robes. The fabric still scrunched between your fingers as you lay your head in a basket of blankets ready to be washed.

“My lady,” one of the servants presses her hand gently on your arm, and you blink, sitting up suddenly, “are you alright?”

“Where’s Oberyn?” you ask, almost frightened to know.

“The Prince returned only a few hours ago; the Maester gave him something to make him sleep. He should be up in a few hours right as rain.” The young woman smiles at you, and you cringe at the kink in your neck. “My Lady, please beg pardon, but you don’t look so well, should we call the Maester?”

“No,” you reply quickly, “no, please don’t. I just need to rest.” You move towards the door, planning to lock yourself in your private room for the rest of the day.

“What about the Prince’s robe?” she probes gently, and you stiffen, glancing down at the fabric still clutched between your hands. “Would you like us to wash them?” You nod, feeling hollow, memories of the night before flashing before your eyes. She gasps when you hand the robe over and looks at your hands, clutching them. “My Lady, your hands….”

You grab them back and clutch them to your chest, “please,” you close your eyes, feeling the tears ready to flow, “please just forget about them.” When you open, she looks sad but nods.

“Your secret is safe with me,” she whispers back, and you give her a slight nod, going off to your room to rest.

The rest of the day passes uneventful, many come with offers of food and a bath, but you ignore their calls. With the last of your strength, you’d pushed the dresser against the door so no one could enter. “Sparrow?” Ellaria’s voice chimes from the other side and you tremble at the concern in her voice, “they said you had not eaten all day; what is the matter?” She tries to turn the handle, but the door is locked, and you hear her shouting orders at someone, probably to unlock it.

She twists the nob, and it turns, but the door doesn’t budge. “Sparrow! Come to the door, are you alright?!” she sounds frantic, and you want to get up, but your energy is gone. The Prince’s words playing over and over in your head doubts swimming over everything you’ve built with him.

The curtains towards the balcony sway in the breeze, and you hear footsteps coming from the window. “She’s bared the door, Mother!” Nym shouts, pushing the dresser out of the way and coming back to sit beside you, putting her hand on your cheek, “mama? Are you alright?”

“Nym, leave us,” Ellaria commands, and Nym nods, leaning down to kiss your forehead before standing and leaving quickly, pulling the door shut behind her. Ellaria lays down on the bed beside you and puts her hand to your cheek, kissing you softly. “What’s the matter, Little Sparrow?” You break down and cry, her pushing you tight to her breast and running her hand over your head as you tell her everything.

“He told me I’m not his wife. That, it’s not his cock that will fill my cunt. He’ll go to the brothel and find another woman who won’t disgrace him in battle and will keep her mouth filled with his cock instead of nagging him about what he does.”

Her hand stills, and her voice is tight, “he said that to you?” You nod, letting out a hiccup from your sobs. “Has he come and spoke to you today?” You shake your head no, and her voice drops lower, almost deadlier, “I’ll be back.” She disentangles herself from your arms, and you watch her straighten her spine, her hands clenched into fists at her side.

**********

Oberyn clutches his head and looks ashamed at the ground. “Ah, now he remembers,” Ellaria taunts, “you are lucky she is even still here! I would have let you rot before I let you talk to me that way. Now, go and make this right before you make the biggest mistake of your life.”

“I wouldn’t blame her if she never forgave me.”

“Oh no, you do not get to feel sorry for yourself.” Ellaria waggles a finger at him as he lifts his eyes to meet the fire in her gaze. “Do you love her?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want her to stay? To warm your bed? Give you children, and take care of you?”

“Yes.”

“Then go talk to her,” Ellaria crosses her arms over her chest and glares down at him, “or you will lose two paramours today.”

He stands and moves past her to your chambers, where he idles outside the door. Shame filling him at the words he hurled at you, like verbal daggers. He knocks on the door, unsurprised not to hear an answer. He twists the knob and walks inside. “Little Sparrow,” he calls out to you, hating how your body tenses up turned away from him on the bed. He closes the door behind him and comes to sit behind you on the bed, reaching a hand out to your waist.

You push his hand away, and he gasps at the rough touch of your palm. He is quickly reaching across you to pull your hands into his own. “What happened? Who did this to you?” He would kill them.

“You did,” you whisper broken, “I tried to get the blood out of your robe you threw at me,” you raise your eyes to meet his. The warmth is missing from his brown eyes as he stares down hard at your hands.

“You washed my robe?”

“What else was I supposed to do? Find another cock to fill my cunt,” the words taste bitter on your tongue, and you rip your hands from his own, clutching them to your chest. “How was the brothel?”

“I don’t know. I woke up fully clothed there this morning, Daemon guarding the door. He said I demanded whores to be brought to me, but I sent them all away.”

“Why?”

“Because no one is you, my love.” He reaches his hand out, and you fall to your back as he hovers over you. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers, “I begged you to stay, and then I...I didn’t mean any of it. I was angry and sad.”

“You wanted to die, Oberyn.” Your words hanging in the air between you.

“I always wish I had died instead of her,” he whispers, “Every day I see Elia in my head, her voice begging me to move forward. This is the first time in two years I felt that way. It used to be every day.”

“What changed two years ago?”

“I met you.” Your heart pounds, and he moves closer, laying some of his weight down on you, “I met a Little Sparrow that took my heart and made it soar to the heavens where she flew. You,” his voice cracks with emotion, “are the love of my life. My reason for living. I’m sorry I lost my way.”

You cup his cheek and brush the stray tears, “have you found your way home to me?”

“I always know which way to fly home, Little Sparrow; you light the way.”

“I love you, Oberyn Martell. I forgive you, but please don’t leave me alone in this world.”

“Never, my love, never.”

#Little Sparrow Series #Oberyn Martell #Ellaria Sand #Female Reader #Game of Thrones #Oberyn Martell x F! Reader x Ellaria Sand #Autumn Writes #Writer Wednesday

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pearlplusau · 4 years ago

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Attack of the Multiverse!! (Pink Pearl edition)

“Presenting....a new writing series! Here’s the preview of the entire story! Enjoy and thanks for reading in advance!”

*que intense chase track

A pink pearl in her latest crystal gem form, was blindly running into the darkened beach, where everything was pitch black. She couldn’t see the water, she couldn't see the sand, heck, she couldn’t even see the giant temple that should be located somewhere in front of her without any light source!

She couldn’t remember how long she ran, but it was more than her physic could take. As she slowed down, she huffed and puffed, almost wheezing from all the running.

But her break was cut short when-

A sound of blast came from somewhere behind her, controlling whatever it touched as the torn objects such as floor boards, trash cans, and giant chunks of earth levitating around the enemy figure.

As Coral raced towards the temple, which was finally visible from the bright aura of the floating gem, another figure appeared, stretching out her ballerina leg and tripped the poor pink gem.

“Ooof-“ she exclaimed as she faceplanted into the sand.

As Coral lifted her head, she saw two figures, no wait…two identical figures!

The closest figure wore the outfit she had before the rebellion, her first ever pearl form, except it's all nastified, torned up and darkened, as if someone drenched her with the colour schemes of an arch villain. Instead of buns for her hair, two shaggy and messy side ponytails wildly danced under the blowing night wind. Under her eyes was a trail of dark ink, making her look more horrifying than she could ever imagine! (She’s abandoned pearl, but let’s go with Crazy)

The other figure looked like the first figure, except she was completely greyscaled. Her entire body radiated absolutely no colour, just the dreadful shades of black and white! Her hair, too, was in a complete mess, but in a mad scientist style, where her hair looked like it was electrocuted, but more neatly and less frizzy. Anger was radiated from her twitching eye and her frozen W pose, the twitching eye was glowing with power, as if it’s holding back the power with what’s happening next!

The two of them both bore a damaged right eye, but resembled no difference to each other, they even look like-

Coral gasped, “No way! You’re…me?” as she pointed to the two Pink pearls, getting more and more confused.

“That’s right!” Crazy Pearl spoke with a raspy voice and some crazy in her eyes. “And now that we finally got you, we’ll take our sweet time to DESTROY YOU!!”

The pearl brought out a wand from her gem, and it immediately extended and sprung into a deadly, pink, glowing rejuvenator. “Once you’re rejuvenated, you can join my little army, and we’ll destroy the worlds together! Mwahhahahhahahahaha!!”

Coral was only able to whimper out, “worlds?” as the crazy gem wasted no time and brought down her pink glowing scythe!

As Coral braced for rejuvenation, a pink ribbon lashed out and gripped on Crazy pearl’s arm. The scythe was frozen in place, but it was flung aside as Crazy was yanked out of her spot! As the ribbon retreated, another figure slowly came out of its hiding.

“You won’t be destroying anything once I’m done with you!” It’s the same voice as Coral herself, but more confident and sure. The figure had Coral’s face, her hair, her gift from Pink diamond. The more obvious significance was the green dress and the placement of the gem on her forehead. The gem in green shouted, “Earl! You take that freak while I take care of crazy here!”

As soon as she ordered, the sound of a gem retrieving their weapon echoed, “SHING!” with the sound of pistol fire not long after!

Bullets were shot, all flying towards freak pearl, but a metal trash can flew out of nowhere and acted as a shield against the attack.

Coral saw the shooter come out with angered expression, as if she was annoyed of the constant blockage of her attacks. The shooter looked almost exactly like freak pearl, the only difference was one of them is a bleached floating freak while the other wore a long sleeved silk shirt with a diamond shaped cut around her gem, bright pink shorts with huge pink splatters and spots all over her body. Her grey hair buns had little strays of hair at the end, with far less cracks on her face. Earl also had the same cracked eye, but she’s looking a lot less freaky than her counterpart.

As the two pearls fought as ballerinas, assassins and shooters simultaneously, the confident pearl grabbed on to Coral and ordered, “Come on! We need to get out of here! That ribbon wont hold her for long!!”

The said ribbon was wrapping up crazy pearl with a neat bow on top, however, she looked like she could break free any moment!

“Hurry!” Coral got up and they both went to help Earl. The confident pearl pointed to the levitating gem and ordered, “Use your lance and take her down!”

“What!?” Coral questioned in surprise, “isn’t that a bit too much?”

“Trust me, it's not!”

Coral summoned and gripped her lance, aimed at the freaky pearl and threw.

The weapon was barely slapped away with the metal trash can, but that little distraction was able to give Earl the chance to finally strike and take her down!

Earl leaped into the air and performed a 10/10 somersault, she gracefully kicked freak pearl as far as she could! “Smack!”

The knocked pearl made no sound, just the sound of her SPLASH landing into the dark ocean.

Coral immediately took the chance and demanded answers from the two, “Can someone explain what is going on!?”

She looked at Earl, who, instead of speaking, did hand gestures that were clearly sign language, but Coral didn’t get the chance to study them unfortunately…

Confident pink pearl translated, “She’s saying we don’t have much time! Come one, this way!” she pointed to the side of the crystal gem temple. “There's a portal there that should lead us straight to her!”

Coral demanded as they ran, “Her who?!?”

“Coral, do you believe in alternate universes?!” Confident pearl asked.

“I do now! Seeing all of you here! Being literally alternate versions of…ME!”

“Well actually, we’re all alternative versions of the OG Pink Pearl, The original! I’m from a diamond swap universe where White Diamond and Pink diamond swapped places, I’m one of original crystal gems, without White diamonds old pearl.” C!Pearl said as Earl nodded at the side.

Earl made more hand gestures to say something, pointing to herself along with more sign language. C!Pearl translated, “That’s Earl, she’s from another timeline where she… you know what, it’s a long story, all you need to know is that we can trust her!”

“But what about the two we just fought?” Coral demanded.

“Those two? I call them freaky and crazy! They’ve been after us ever since we started portal jumping! I’m not sure where they’re from, but I’m pretty sure Crazy is from an AU where SHE was abandoned in Pink diamond’s garden instead of Spinel! As for freak pearl, really not sure here. Maybe she’s an interpretation of how powerful she could get under a diamond’s complete influence and power?”

Coral gave another quick question, “How do we know who the original Pink pearl is if we’re all from different timelines?”

“Simple,” C!Pearl said, “she’s the pinkpearl that followed the Canon timeline, where she got controlled by White Diamond and spent 6000 years as her mindless servant! Us, however, were created to avoid that specific timeline, so she’s the root of all Pink Pearl. The most important thing to do right now is to look for the first Pink Pearl!! She’s the only one that can help us get deal with our...situation right now.”

“How are we gonna get there with these two on our tail!??” Coral said as she notices more rubble floating behind her as well as a maniacal laugh echoing louder and louder!

“All we need is to get through that portal! Those two wont be able to catch up! Come one!”

The portal, swirling in pink and white star dust, finally became visible behind one of the temple palms. Within the right distance, all three pearls leaped into the portal as it closed behind them!

Shooooofwop!

End of part ???

Multiverse Pink pearl series! Next chapter coming in-

The two rogue pink pearls stopped their tracks when they found...no portal, nor any of the pearls they were fighting.

The two antagonists turned to the camera, made little chuckles and pointed at you, the reader. Crazy teased, “Look what we got here freak pearl, someone that thinks this ISNT an April Fool’s special.”

Freak pearl rotated her floating junk around her until they got to a trash can. She set the trash can on the sand and tapped three times.

Knock

There was a moment of silence and snoring, sounds like someone fell asleep.

Crazy summoned a speaker phone from her gem, placed it at the side of the can, and screamed, “HEY PEARLPLUSAU WRITER! ITS YOUR QUE!”

The writer groggily woke up rubbing his eyes, “Yawnnnn….”

He fell off into the sand.

“Heyyy there fellow readers, yes this IS an April fool’s special, a friend of mine was curious if i would write one of these and sure enough, once the idea got developed, i got straight to the writing process.”

“What was surprising is using us AU characters into his little joke writing, where are the credits you punk?!” Crazy asked in a rather annoyed tone.

"Oh that? ” The writer continued," Credits of the characters are below! You can see the images, as well as the title of the AUs. Some of the characters are linked back to the creators tumblr account, while other creators who dont have tumblr accounts are linked to original posts, like from Instagram!! ”

Freak pearl snapped her fingers for the writer’s attention and pointed to herself, asking for her origin.

“Oh freak pearl? I just thought it would be cool if there’s more than one antagonist for this special, so i kinda created you myself. The idea was, how dangerous can pinkpearl be with a diamond’s ability, and there you are! Telekinesis and mega white laser beams! Pretty cool huh?”

Freak pearl did not respond...well.

“Anyways,” the writer proceeded, “writing this was a pretty fun 1.5 hours of the time i have, not including reviewing and editing tho. If theres anyone out there that wishes to continue the story in their own way, be my guest. Just let me know so i can read it myself lol, im very interested in your take of the situation! “

April fools! And thanks for reading!

Characters (even though they’re not drawn)

Coral/Pink pearl from Pearlplusau - Original design by Tripixle!!

Crystal gem Pink pearl from Diamond swap au - Credit to @dreambigstars

Earl from WD steven au - AU character from @ask-whitepearl-and-steven

Crazy pearl (Despair pink pearl), Design from Shrimp.face (Link to their post)

Freak Pearl, no specific au named, nor from any creator. So i guess she’s my AU character?

A/N: Hope you guys had fun reading as much as i had fun writing it!

Also the real new chapter coming in probs two weeks from now.

Slightly unrelated, there might not be as much visuals as there was last chapter. The drawing pen is a bit busted.

Till then! Bye!

#suau #pinkpearl #Coral #WD!steven #Spinelpinkpearlswap #diamondswap #stevenuniverse #ohwait #iforgotsmth #april fools #happyapril1st

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sillydg · 3 years ago

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Unexpected partners in crime

Book: Open Heart, book 2 (Chapter 8, baseball game.)

Ratings : 18+

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x MC (Elisabeth Sarah Hughes (Liz))

Word count: 1700

Summary: During the break of the baseball game, Liz decides it’s time to play a bit dirty and teams up with Tobias while doing so.

A/N: I always loved this scene! But i thought it was missing something. I love the dynamics between Tobias and Liz (My MC) and I hope I did it some justice.

A/N: I'm sorry in advantage for my dirty mind! You will probably see it in al my writings.

A/N: First time ever sharing some fanfiction with the world, so super nervous and if you might read this. Thank you! Thank You! Thank you! You're the best and please share your thoughts.

A/N: So English is NOT my first language. I did the best I could do and used some grammar programs. So forgive me. I’m still learning! Please feedback is always welcome!

A/N: Special thanks to @jerzwriter who inspired me to start writing again. Thanks for all the tips and for being patient with answering my many questions and weird thoughts. Thank you for being such an amazing writer. You are such an inspiration and such a warm soul.

A/N: Please keep in mind that Ethan and Liz know each other's likes and dislikes. Neither of them feels obligated or is afraid to speak his/her mind.

Warnings for this short: Some dirty words, flirting with implied sexual motivations, it gets just a bit rough at the end, a bit implied smut, (Please, if I forget a warning, please do warn me! I’m not really familiar with all the terms yet). Do not read this if you’re under 18.

A/N: Characters and some dialogue owned by Pixelberry.

Unexpected partners in crime.

The Umpire blows her whistle. “Well time for a break, everyone! We’ll start again in thirty minutes.”

Elisabeth walks towards the coolers, stalled out at the edge of the field. They are filled with some cold beers and bottles of water. Even though she definitely could use a cold one right now, she decides to play it safe.

She grabs a bottle of water and gulps it down, before grabbing seconds. Opening her bottle she sits down onto one of the benches in the dug-out and relaxes a bit.

She let her gaze drift over the field and thought about how happy she was that she was able to practice a little bit last night with the guys, because, damn she just pitched the shit out of Kenmore.

Her gaze drifts off to Ethan, who is talking to Naveen and she feels a pang in her chest. The fact that he was here to play, just because she asked, gave her heart a sparkle of hope. She sighs. Maybe she was reading into it too much, though.

“Keeping your head in the game, huh? I can get behind that.”

Elisabeth snaps out of her thoughts and looks straight into the eyes of Tobias.

“Huh, what?”

Tobias bumps his waterbottle into hers. ‘Cheers, dear. So, may I sit down, Liz? Or should I leave you and you’re thoughts alone?”

She starts to chuckle “Since when do you need my permission to do anything, Carrick?”

He moves his hand to his heart. “Ooh, just my last name. That stings a little. So severe.”

“Well, I’m not making the mistake of getting cocky or sloppy around you again, Carrick. So you’re surname and water it is.”

“Well, then it is a good thing that I’m open for suggestions when it comes to other mistakes you could make around me. Or with me. Or under me. Or..”

Liz lets out a snort. “I get the idea, Carrick. Wasn’t that position already filled in by June, anyway?”

A surprising look appears on Tobias's face. “She told you about that?”

Liz shrugs casually. “Nah, I suspected it. But it's good to know that my observant skills are spot on as usual. Which means you need to up you’re game if you want to hide things from me, Carrick.”

And she gives his leg a playful smack.

Tobias starts to laughs; “Ouch" He rubs his hand dramatically over his leg.

"I thought this was merely a mental fight, Liz. Don't get me wrong, I love a good spank, but maybe we should do that in a more private setting next time. So, you getting psychical with me is strike two. Strike three is out.”

Liz cocks up an eyebrow and she laughs.

“Well, you know better than anyone else what happens when you reach strike three right? It was about thirty minutes ago when I heard a certain umpire say 'Three strikes, you're out', followed by a pissed-off look on that handsome face of yours. God, I kicked your ass so hard."

Tobias bounces his shoulder into hers. “Aaaaand that’s strike three, miss. Kicking a man when he is down. Damn, that’s low. Though I like the fact that you just called me handsome. I wonder what Ethan would think of that.”

Liz frowns her brow. “Ethan?” And she follows Tobias's gaze towards the field. Ethan was still talking to Naveen but was clearly distracted at the sight of them sitting together. Even from this distance, she could see the annoyance on his face.

Tobias smirks and moves his head back towards Liz “So, I guess the position of making mistakes with you, is also taken?”

Liz starts to laugh. A little bit surprised by her own reaction, she bumps her shoulder into Tobias's.

“That wasn’t an answer to my question, dear.”

“Well, maybe I’m the smart one of the two of us, Carrick. I like to play my cards close to my chest.”

Tobias starts laughing. “That might be so, dear, but I don’t think Ethan is going to be that smart when he looks all flustered like that.” He nods towards the field and she sees Ethan stomping towards them.

Liz, not sure what to do, stands up and Tobias follows her example with the biggest smirk she has ever seen. She takes a good look at him, captivated by his smile as she notices a mischief twinkle in his eyes. He leans forward and whispers in her ear. “Let’s see how far we can take this, shall we?”

Liz starts smiling. This was such a bad idea. But was it that bad though? When Ethan returned from the Amazon, he made it very clear that they could never be anything more than a boss and his employee.

But his pushing and pulling over the past few months showed otherwise. He is not fighting fair, so why should she? This could be her chance to stir things up a little. And Tobias might be just the right person to push his buttons with.

Ethan's pace was quick and firm as he was clearly not amused.

Tobias puts on a broad smile. “Ethan, how nice of you to join us.” He drapes his arm casually overLiz's shoulders. "We were just talking about you."

Ethan moves his attention directly to Liz. “Are you all right? Is this man bothering you? Because I’m happy to show him the door.”

His gaze flickers between her face and the arm of Tobias still resting on her shoulders.

Liz feels her heart pounding. Is she really going to do this?

“Actually, I think I just showed everyone, including Tobias here, that I can kick his ass very well myself. So,no need to rescue me, Dr. Ramsey.”

Tobias grins at her words. “Still ouch, Liz.”

Liz gives him a shove with her elbow.

Ethan was clearly not pleased with this little gesture of teasing and she sees his fists clenching.

Gaining some confidence, she looks him straight in the eye and bats her eyelashes innocently at him.

“Actually, Tobias and I were just talking about a position that’s going to be available very soon. And to be honest, it sounds very appealing.”

Tobias tries to keep a straight face, but it's getting harder and harder as the look on Ethan's face grows sterner with every word she says. Where has this woman been all his life?

Ethan eyes both of them suspiciously. “Right. A position? Rookie. Are you thinking about leaving Edenbrook?”

She felt a shiver running down her spine at the strict tone of his voice. She recognizes it as a clear warning. One she usually listens to. Usually.

“Well, no. It’s not the kind of position that would compromise my work at Edenbrook. It going to be easy to combine with the diagnostic team. So, as my boss, and only my boss, there is nothing to worry about.”

His brow furrowed, head-turning even more red, when the real meaning of her words downs on him.

Ethan deepens his voice. “So I see, Elisabeth, it’s going to be some late-night research. At Kenmore's.”

Tobias is still eying both oft hem. He smirks and enjoys the show. Damn, this woman got some balls.

Liz catches Ethan’s eyesand she sees his jaw tighten. He never calls her by her full first name. This was clearly his last warning.

She tries to ignore the weak feeling in her knees. It’s too late to back out now. She straightens her back and tries to answer as casually as possible.

“Well yeah, you know how these things work. It might take a few all-nighters to figure out what kind of techniques we can use for the best results, maybe some adjusting here and there. Later on, maybe extend the research a little bit to other areas. Fine-tuning is important, but it’s always exciting to experiment a bit, you know? But let's not get ahead of ourselves, right Tobias?”

She keeps ahold of Ethan's gaze. Doctor 'always calm and collected' is clearly having a hard time keeping his actual cool.

Is he jealous?

Is he seriously jealous right now?

Tobias, who also notices the struggle on Ethan’s face, decides to give the last push. He pulls Liz close and moves her face towards his with a finger. “Actually, Liz, if you got the time, I would like to discuss some terms with you. We have still twenty minutes before the game starts and I know a quiet place where we can..”

At that moment Liz feels a hand tighten around her wrist, pulling her out of the embrace of Tobias. Her eyes meet Ethans again and she can see a fire burning.

“Not going to happen,Carrick.” His voice is low and strict.

He now grabs Liz’s hand and drags her away from the duck-out.

“Ehm, Ethan?”

“You’re not listening to me, Elisabeth Sarah Hughes.”

Oh, I’m in trouble alright.

She looks back at Tobias whose smirking and sticking up his thumb.

Ethan leads her towards the clubhouse, which is practically abandoned until the game is over, and moves her towards the dressing room.

He starts to undress and even though Liz enjoys the show, she is still not sure what’s going on.

“Ethan?”

He pulls his shirt over his head and throws it in the corner.

“Uhm Ethan?”

He drops his pants onto the floor.

“Dr. Ethan Jonah Ramsey.”

Ethan freezes with his hands on his underwear, ready to take them off.

His eyes snap up and he drops his boxer. Then he turns around disappears into the shower area.

“You coming, Rookie? We only have ten minutes left and I believe I have a position to apply for. "

Liz is stunned.

What just happened?

The sound of running water breaks the silence.

Liz snaps out of her thoughts and she starts to undress.

“I hope you’ve came prepared, I’m known for my high demands.”

“Rookie. I can only show you if you get in here! And believe me. I have no intention of leaving you unsatisfied.”

Her head snaps up at his last comment.

“Coming!”

And with a smirk, she disappears into the shower.

----------------------

Permatag: @jerzwriter @openheartfanfics @choicesficwriterscreations

#ethan x mc #ethan ramsey #tobias carrick #open heart #choices

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akatsuki-shin · 4 years ago

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There’s this “MXTX Big Bang” event being held in Twitter for fan-artists and fic-writers in the MXTX fandom, and after thinking it over, I finally decided to join it - which means I have to commit myself to writing a minimum of 50k fic. xD

So I thought I’d write a HuaLian Pirate AU story based in this small headcanon idea that I’ve posted before.

The end product may or may be different from that headcanon, but hopefully I can make it on time. Please wish me luck. ^^

In the mean time, here is a sneak peak to the story’s prologue. Hope you guys will like it. :)

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“Mermaids are the temptresses of death”, some say. To sing the most alluring songs for the unguarded seafarers, to present their unparalleled beauty to these men slaving day and night during the voyage… They care not for a person’s heart, be it righteous or crooked, be it young marines serving their emperor, tradesmen making a living, or marauders roaming the water for prey. How many ships have been led to their end, sinking under the rocks towards eternal slumber at the bottom of the ocean? How many lives have been lost, seeking for charming belles only to find themselves deceived by wicked enchantresses? Truly a vicious creature, the heralds of demise for men of the sea.

But who could really testify of the truth, if all those who chanced upon an encounter with these nefarious beauties ended up falling to their fatal trap?

“Mermaids are graceful sea creatures”, others say. Waving soft Dragon Silk, pure white as ice and frost. Once in a blue moon, a lucky few may find a mirage cast by these beings, an opportunity to get their hands on the mystical fabric said to never become moist even when soaked in deep water. Beautiful and gentle, when they weep, their tears will turn into shiny pearls. They have ways to heal incurable disease, and the kindest ones are willing to grant wishes, even giving their heart to love a mortal.

But who could attest to this truth, if even the storytellers have no way of proving whether the words they speak comes from experience or mere hearsay?

The sky that night was blackened as if heavens had chosen to abandon the mortal world, thunder striking like the wrath of a mighty god. Dark clouds agglomerated into thick, massive wisps, sending ruthless rainfall down onto the earth. The tides were violent; the calm surface of the sea during the day was nowhere to be seen. For sailors exposed to this weather in the open, they could only pray that nature would still have some mercy on them. There was no use trying to escape; it was already good enough that their ship remained afloat and they were tied safely up there, not thrown into the raging water.

Somewhere on the chaotic water, sharp rocks of various sizes stood still amidst the splashes and crashes of the dreadful waves. The tallest ones were no bigger than the size of a standing grown man, while the rest looked more like fragments of broken big chunks of stones. Whether there was a titan of a mountain hidden beneath the surface, one could only try to guess.

Atop this cluster of rocks, on a slightly slanted, flat crag near the center, there was an unexpected object lying motionless, something so out of place that no one would ever imagine to see in the middle of the open sea. A human, a young boy in his early adolescence, was sprawled there alone under the fierce thunderstorm. His clothes were torn and dirty, rags that could no longer be discerned what color they originally were. His face was deadly pale, with the black strands of his wet, unkempt hair sticking to his face. The only visible sign of life was his unstable breathing, causing his scrawny frame to faintly convulsed every few seconds or so.

Would someone find him in this stranded place? Even if he could survive the storm, what means could he use to return to land with nothing but rocks and water around him? The boy was shifting in and out of consciousness. He had swallowed and breathed in too much sea water, and he had vomited a lot of it, as well, until his internal organs were churning. It was painful to breathe; the heavy drops of rainwater kept hitting his face, choking his nostrils. His skinny limbs trembled from the cold, but this gale did not seem like it was going to end so soon, much less pitying an insignificant existence such as him.

At this moment, it appears that death would be the kindest gift he could receive, lest he would suffer even more. However, although his life was fleeting away, the dying boy felt something holding onto his soul, keeping it chained to the world of the living. He heard a song; the most beautiful song he had ever listened to in his short, inexperienced life. The voice was soft and gentle, he could not tell whether it belonged to a man or a woman.

One thought arose in his mind: “Is this how the mermaids’ singing sounds like?” After all, who else but these half human-half fish sirens would be chanting melodies in the middle of the briny deep? Yet he could not sense any malice from it, not even the slightest hint of seduction intending to lead him into harm. It was simply pleasant to hear, like a soothing lullaby, and he did not know since when someone had been placing a hand on his forehead, sending warmth flowing into his numb, freezing senses.

His body was weakened, but somehow, there was a tiny fire newly lit aflame in his heart. With much difficulty, the boy forced his eyes open to see just who it was staying by his side in this godforsaken place.

A beautiful visage.

Dark eyes as bright as the clearest sky. Even when the night was shrouded in this savage tempest, the two spheres that were a pair of eyes were like stars twinkling down from heaven. This person was fair, so fair that the boy was afraid his filthy self would stain their existence. Long black hair fell from this person’s shoulders, down to the surface of the crag where he lied. The boy involuntarily followed the raven strands, and it was then that he realized something was not quite right.

Under this person’s torso, the part that was supposed to be a pair of legs was replaced with something else.

Glimmering silver so pure it was almost translucent, what this person had was none other than the tail of a fish.

#Tian Guan Ci Fu #TGCF #Heaven Officials Blessing #HuaLian #Hua Cheng #Xie Lian #HuaLian Pirate AU #Mo Xiang Tong Xiu #MXTX

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strangenessbooks · 3 years ago

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The Bat-Man Recap #9

Welcome to Detective Comic issue 35, where we are reminded that Batman is indeed Bruce Wayne despite this being the 9th straight appearance of him. It's funny to think of a time where you would have to explain to a random eight-year-old who Batman was or that they would care that his birth name was Bruce Wayne...

We should explaining to them why Jim Gordon should be fired.

Anyway, James Gordon is talking to Bruce Wayne about how much he wants to catch that damn Batman. As we have talked about several times, The Batman does indeed have quite the death count and will be facing the death penalty if ever caught (okay, I wrote that on a whim and then looked it up to see if it was true, based on him probably doing this all in New York).

This is just a set up for the plot.

This is meant to be a Hindu god, looks like a Christian Devil, and not any of the Hindu gods I've seen. This was before Google, but libraries always existed. Also, maybe just don't use something from a religion you have no clue about. So this "Kila, god of destruction" according to this comic.

Okay, we have had threats of some unchecked Racism and it's finally here. Brown men kidnapping a white one. He's fucking thief who deserves it but these characters are shirtless. This comic is definitely racist towards Asian people, South and East. It's not mean but ignorance can still do damage. Batman is always going to be questionable, due to one of his big villains having an Arabic name and being the head of a terrorist group. If only they had made him Irish so we could make jokes about it now.

To the lighter side, random bits of lore being added that go no way.

Bruce Wayne is a writer?...A reporter. What nonsense is this? This has literally never been established. I thought Bruce was just insanely rich and therefore doing whatever he wants. Is this just them stealing from Superman? because this really goes no way. It would give him a reason to visit crime scenes, instead of it just appearing that Bruce is just down to relive his childhood trauma.

What a waste of tax player's money, protecting this guy's giant ruby, Not in a museum where British school children can gawk at them.

Now for a panel that I will be editing.

Batman hitting a cop is funny and I know he's hit cops after this but this was the first (at least where a whole panel was dedicated to it). As soon as I can think of something funny to edit the dialogue to.

I have commented on the red Batmobile several times and it's now a less striking colour. It's also a convertible. Not sure why he made that choice. At least it has the choice of roof unlike some other Batmobiles. Turns out Batman's pellets are more than just gas.

He cure Mustand Gas, if only he had been there for World I. You think Gas mask, which will become a staple of the unity belt but then we wouldn't get that beautiful smile. Maybe he's in heaven, but as we all know racism doesn't exist in heaven.

That's right, Yellow-face. Makes me wonder if the earlier part was Brown-face. It's not established as that.

This is a skippable comic. The only notable thing is how brutal the detail is in which Bruce's latest kill is shown.

Four panels were dedicated to this man's death. He was shooting at Batman so it's self-defence but still. One of the reasons, Batman stopped killing was because parents complained when a certain Boy Wonder appeared and so far I can kinda understand if these are being marketed at children. I still think comics encouraging violence is bullshit but I would still be like WTF is my six-year-old reading.

He was a murdering racist who did yellowface...but I don't think that was the moral they were trying to give to the reader. Adding it to the kill count I've been collecting and moving on.

Join us next time, because we will be getting lore that matters in the long run of Batman.

#The Bat-Man Recap #Batman #TW: racism #Jim Gordon

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twinkleton · 4 years ago

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a broken promise - married!douxie x reader

Bring on the angstt! This fic was inspired by @alovesongshewrote‘s imagine called Pick Who Dies, linked here. She’s such a lovely writer and part of the reason why I even starting writing fics to begin with! This fic is my interpretation of the final battle with the Arcane Order. It’s also an alternate end with my Married!Douxie, where him and the reader don’t get their happily ever after. Please enjoy!

tw:blood

tags: @clarencebells @purplesinnerw

Bellroc sneaks up behind Douxie, the man being too focused on helping Y/N with Skrael to notice. They send a blazing fire towards Douxie, hitting him in the back and knocking him down. They take the advantage and grab him, kicking his leg in a weak spot so he can’t get up.

“NO! LET GO OF HIM!” Y/N roars, taking her eye off Skrael, wondering what on Earth was taking Archie so long with finding the Trollhunters. Skrael takes notice of Y/N’s lack of attention towards them, and seizes the opportunity. They skulk behind her, taking their staff with two hands and aiming at her lower back.

Douxie notices what they’re doing a second too late.

“Y/N, LOOK OUT!!”

An immense amount of pain pierces through her as Skrael rams their staff through her abdomen. Y/N kneels to the floor, face contorted in horror as she looks down to witness the weapon be wrenched out of her. Her ears are ringing - unable to produce any sound as she collapses to the floor.

Douxie can’t think. He can’t breathe. It feels as if his lungs were malfunctioning, no supply of air to be found. They’re still working, for if it weren’t for them he wouldn’t have been able to let out such a harrowing scream. His throat feels on fire and his wrists are definitely bruised from struggling, but it’s nothing compared to the agony in his heart. He’s desperate for any sign of life from his beloved, but she remains on the ground terrifyingly still.

“Y/N! Y/N! YOU’RE GONNA BE FINE! JUST ANSWER ME!”

Skrael’s relishing in the chaos, shamelessly cackling at the scene before him. Bellroc joins in too, their voices shifting in and out. Douxie is still fighting against them, trying to reach for his staff.

“LET GO OF ME! Y/N! PLEASE!”

Bellroc strikes him down with their left fist, cursing at him while they slam their foot onto his back.

“Look at you, you’re as pathetic as an earthworm. Why don’t you shut up and we can watch her die together,” Bellroc sneers as they yank Douxie’s head up by the hair. A pool of blood is starting to surround the girl’s body.

Y/N can hear faint calls of her name, but her mind refuses to respond. Her body is freezing, a clear warning sign of death looming over her. She almost wants to give in to it. To be free of all this pain. Yet, her eyes reluctantly open, and she sees Jim, Claire, Toby, and Archie hiding behind a wall. They’re waiting for an opening. It’s time to give it to them.

After what seemed like an eternity, Douxie finally notices a small sign of hope. Y/N’s left hand raises off the ground. The two demigods cease their laughing. Their curiosity lets the witch try to get up, as she slowly picks up her head from the floor, the ends of her hair caked in blood.

The hall is deathly silent, which is a good thing as Douxie would not had otherwise been able to hear his wife croak out, “I’m okay, Douxie. We said for forever remember?”

It’s debatable whether Douxie was laughing or crying. However, the real answer was that it was a bit of both.

“Yeah, we did love.”

Her hands begin to glow. She smiles warmly at him. Nine hundred years wasn’t enough.

“Time to end this, darling.”

With every last bit of her strength, she twists behind herself, and blasts Skrael in the face with a blinding fire. They’re sent flying across the room. Gritting her teeth - she rolls back onto her stomach, pushing herself off the floor onto her knees. Bellroc attempts to kill Douxie, but is interrupted by a ray of Y/N’s magic, thrown to the opposite side of the room as well. Her final move is throwing up shields around the kids as they charge in. When she thinks she’s done enough, she topples to the floor once more. I’m so sorry, Douxie.

Douxie is torn, wanting so badly to sprint over to Y/N, pull her into his arms, and escape out of there. But, in order for all of this to be truly over, he has to help his friends. So, regretfully, he picks up his staff, turns towards them and joins the battle.

Y/N’s blows to the demigods had weakened them to the point that they had become rag dolls to the heroes. Toby swung his Warhammer, colliding it into Skrael’s stomach, knocking the wind out of them. They stumbled back, only to be knocked down by a swift kick from Jim. He jumped on top of him, pummeling him with his fists before raising Excalibur high above them.

Being too weak to move, Skrael uncharacteristically begins to panic. “No, no, we’re Gods, We’re supposed to bring this world back to order!”

“The world has no order, that’s what makes it so incredible. What it does need is peace. And it will achieve it, without you.”

Jim strikes his blade down, finally bringing the immortal to their end.

Bellroc witnesses their siblings end and is enraged. They no longer care for their mission and just want to see everyone burn. They lift their staff up high, creating an inferno storm above them. Luckily, before they can make use of it, Claire opens a portal right beneath them, and they fall into it. The storm evaporates. She opens the next portal high above them, the sorcerer plunging towards the ground.

Once they hit the ground, Douxie draws up a sigil below them, a gravity spell that keeps Bellroc glued to the floor. They let out a maddened roar.

“This is for Merlin,” Douxie vows, eyes glowing that familiar blue again. He rises up into the air, charging an attack. Then, he slams his staff down, a gust of magic slicing through the air and into Bellroc, sending them to their doom. Douxie descends back down, and they listen to the final member of Arcane Order’s pathetic wheezing.

They hear Bellroc’s final breath, and the group doesn’t know how to respond. However, Douxie wastes no time in rushing over to Y/N’s body. She had not moved a muscle since the last time he saw her and it horrified him. The puddle of blood had only grown wider, and her skin was paler than ever before.

The rest of the group follows him, circling around Y/N while Douxie kneels down to pick her up. He brings her into his lap, pressing his head against her chest. He hears a single faint beat, and cries in relief.

“Y/N, wake up. We did it,” his voice sounds cracked and hoarse, body shaking with overwhelming nerves. He caresses her face, wishing she would just open her eyes!

“Douxie...” Claire whispers, holding Jim’s hand firmly and willing herself not to cry yet, holding out hope for Y/N. The same can’t be said for Toby however, who’s letting his tears fall freely.

Douxie’s breathing becomes erratic as he gently starts shaking her, “She said she was okay, she’s okay, she’s- oh God please, wake up!” He lays his forehead to hers, pleading for her. Then, he hears her voice, faint as a mouse, “I can’t, I can’t.” He snaps his head back up. Y/N’s eyes are half-lidded and unfocused. Eventually, she gazes towards Douxie, and he clutches her face, full of worry. She gives a weak half grin, not strong enough for anything more. Tears shed down the sides of her face. She doesn’t want to break his heart, but her time has been cut off.

“I can’t, love. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I love you. So much.” Despite her best efforts, her eyes slowly shut, head relaxing in his hands as her soul leaves her body.

Somewhere out there, Nari feels an empty spot in the world once more.

Archie cautiously walks towards her, jumping onto her chest to listen for a heartbeat. Nothing. He looks up at Douxie, reluctantly shaking his head, eyes glistening. “She’s...she’s gone.” He can’t bear to look at his old friend - lost in his own grief as well.

“No, no she can’t be gone! She can’t!” Douxie squeezes her body, hot rivulets of tears spilling down his face, rocking back and forth. However, just like his Master, she turns to dust, leaving behind the ring her made her so long ago.

Claire latches onto Jim, wrapping her arms around him, letting herself cry now having confirmation their friend is dead. The Trollhunter hugs her tightly, frustration and sorrow clouding his mind. Toby throws off his helmet in anger. None of this felt like a victory.

Douxie sobs at the sight of the ring, grasping it in his hand and bringing it to his heart. She left him. He’s never going to wake up to her smile again, or hear her comforting words of wisdom again, or feel her soft hand against his cheek ever again. He’s spent the majority of his everlasting life with her. Continuing without her was never something he thought he’d ever have to do.

“Doux...I’m so sorry,” Jim calls out to him. He empathizes with the wizard, knowing he’d feel the exact same if Claire was in Y/N’s place.

Douxie doesn’t have the motivation to look up at them, still hopelessly bent over where she used to be. “I’ve lost her. She’s supposed to be here with me. I can’t-I can’t live without her!”

Archie makes the first move, rushing to Douxie so he can nuzzle his head against his. Douxie fervently embraces him, hugging him so tightly while he weeps. Claire joins them, followed by Jim, then Toby. They mourn the loss of their friend together. The weights on their chest slightly lift, healing each other.

Y/N watches the scene, thankful that her husband has their friends to take care of him. Morgana lays a hand on her shoulder, telling her it’s time to go. It’s full circle as Morgana leads her to her new home, where this time, she’ll be waiting for him.

#toa douxie #hisirdoux x reader #hisirdoux casperan #hisirdoux casperan x reader #douxie casperan #toa #tales of arcadia #trollhunters #married!douxie #douxie #douxie x reader #douxie imagine

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henryholmesacademia · 4 years ago

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Predilection Chapter One

A/N: ahhhhh....I’m so nervous and excited! This isn’t my first time writing and publishing something on tumblr, but it is the first time I write for this guy. Hope you like it, and hope you stick around but please don’t feel obligated too. I don’t like doing synopsis or previews because I feel like it gives the story away, so you’ll just have to feel this one out. Enjoy! Or not, I can’t tell you how to live your life <3

beta reader, co-writer, motivator, and all around love of my life: @lost-aesthetic-of-past

This isn’t a special story.

Might not even be a story at all.

But rather a telling of events that happened in a certain order and have been strung together to create a tale that could cure the boredom of the mind and indulge the land of fantasy.

We won’t start from the beginning. I’ll spare you the boring details and let you come to your own conclusions.

We’ll start our telling of tales in a humble tearoom.

The famous detective Sherlock Holmes had just finished having a somewhat futile conversation with Edith in the search for his younger sister. Come to think of it, it was not much of a conversation as much as it was a reprimanding of sorts. It might even be considered educating him on a subject he knew nothing of and needed a good slap into reality.

“You said she was traveling with a boy?” Sherlock inquired as she was making her exit from the room.

She stops at the doorway. “A useless boy, she called him. I couldn’t help but be reminded of a woman who traveled through here yesterday. We were about to close when she came in. She was wet from rain, but she didn’t seem to mind it at all.” She turns to look at him. “She said you would be here today, and it seems her assumption was correct. She told me that she would be waiting for you at 6 o'clock, Mr. Holmes, and that you had better dress nicely.”

“She left no name?” He raises an eyebrow.

Edith shrugged. “She was very certain that you would know who she was and that you would know exactly where she wanted you.”

Sherlock Holmes has always been talented at keeping his cool. Demonstrating no emotion. His face, some compared it to the likeness of a statue with how unmoved he was in situations.

This would be no different. It had been years since he had last seen the woman who was beckoning him.

And yet, she was always able to pique his curiosity.

“I see you received my message, Mr. Holmes.” Her voice was only accompanied by the sound of her heels. It had seemed that all sound in the bustle of society had come to a stop. No clinking of glass. No servers rushing passed them. It was just her. “And you dressed for the occasion.” Her eyes zero in on his attire. “I do love a man in a tie, as I’m sure you are aware." Oh, how she loved to tease him.

The detective knew basic manners, he was taught right from wrong, how to be respectful toward women, not to mention he had observed enough of the body language and cues of people. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to stand up and pull out a chair for her.

"I thought sending you a message would better prepare you for this, but I see it made no difference.” She sets her bag on the table and sits down on her own accord. She both loved and hated etiquette. There were so many rules and guidelines to follow. However, it did work to her advantage at times. “Tell me, Mr. Holmes, what adventure are you on right at this moment?”

“When did you return from overseas?” He manages to find his voice, though he never meant to lose it.

“I’ve been told that you are looking for someone. Could it be that marquee from the papers?” She stirs the spoon of the tea that a server had set down in front of her.

“You are avoiding my question. Mycroft is not aware that you are back, is he?” He lets out a deep breath. There was never a chance of getting a straight answer from her. She only knew how to respond in teasing and quick wit. Every smile devious, and every word was calculated.

“And you are very rudely avoiding mine.” Her smile, that teasing smile of hers. “Would you like help with the case of the marquee? If you ask nicely, I’ll go with you. Finding people who don’t want to be found is a specialty of mine.” She lifts the teacup from the saucer to her mouth innocently enough, but he knew better.

“But dealing with the damage you leave in your wake isn’t?” His words stop her drink and she places the cup back on the saucer.

“What a pity.” Her face forms a small pout. “I was rather liking our game.”

“You always think of things as some kind of game. There is going to be a day when you will find not everyone wants to join in. Not everyone is a toy who is vying for your attention in hope that you will play with them.”

“I will learn that the day you learn that people are more than answers to riddles.” She challenges. “Indulge me for a moment, why did you come here? You knew it was me who sent for you. You remembered my favorite restaurant, my favorite tea, and if they did not give you this table, I will forever assume that you were the one who asked for the table that was in the farthest corner of the room.”

“You do not want Mycroft to know you are here.” He tries to gauge her reaction and steer the conversation. Like always, she gives a grin. A true Cheshire cat smile.

“No. And you forget, Mr. Holmes, nobody knows anything until I want them to know.” She gathers her purse and stands up from the chair. “Here I was, hoping that we would have a nice dinner. It’s been…” she trails off as she looks for the right word. “Refreshing to see you, Mr. Holmes.”

“Why waste your time having dinner with me?” He can’t help but ask her. Just from observing her, he remembered how she would do nothing if it did not have a motive that she would find useful.

She pauses for a moment as she considers his question and gives him a genuine smile. A rare, but beautiful sight. “Is it so hard to believe that your company might be missed?” As she walks past him, she leans down close to his ear. “As for earlier, this isn’t a game to me, Mr. Holmes. But if it was…you were always my favorite player.” She whispers and leaves him to dwell with the aroma of sugar and spice in the air.

The great detective takes to his pipe that night as he stares into the fire. If you were to see him, you would think that he would be calculating his next move or contemplating his own life. That he would be entirely concerned for the welfare of his sister or mother that has vanished into thin air.

No.

He was thinking about his encounter with that woman. Not even the one from this evening, but all the previous ones he had with her. Each one is more memorable than the last. But none shall ever haunt his memory as much as when he first met her.

He never expected such a woman of high society to be standing in the same room with Lestrade right next to a crime scene. Her voice floated melodiously through the room as he walked through the front door. The smell of spice and sugar leads him to where a woman had her back turned to him while answering the Scotland Yard inspector’s questions.

“Ah, Mr. Holmes this is-” Lestrade begins.

The woman turns to see him, the ensemble on her hat was grand and elegant, but her striking eyes that hide the mischief behind them and her smile, which seemed to match the sentiment, was not hidden or dimmed. They were…quite beautifully complemented by it, as he recalled the words his mother said to him once as a child. She extends her gloved hand. “Miss Harrison.” She finishes for Lestrade with a pearly white smile. “And you are?” She inquires.

He was shocked for a moment as her hand was extended toward him. Society would not have allowed it to happen as a young woman should never extend her hand, and she did not seem to be married. Her glove did not have an outdent from a wedding ring.

“This is Sherlock Holmes, we ask him for consultation, and he comes when he’s bothered to read a telegram from us,” Lestrade adds when Sherlock remains stoic and silent.

The corners of her mouth seemed to turn up even higher at that. “My oh my, Mr. Holmes, the papers do not do you justice.” She looks straight at his eyes when she speaks again. “Tell me, has anybody ever told you how incredibly blue your eyes are? Why, I keep finding myself stopping to admire them.”

“No, miss, I can not say that I have.” He releases her hand and clears his throat while stepping forward to examine what Lestrade had originally summoned him for a routine theft. But from what he could tell, the jewelry stolen was not the woman’s jewelry. For she seemed to not wear any. Women who could afford such jewelry never left their households without displaying a few pieces and any fortune she might have clearly was being spent and invested in their extravagant garments and perfumes.

“I apologize. He’s not - well he does tend to act like that sometimes.” Lestrade finds himself in a very awkward position at the moment.

She turns to see him examining a table, observing his side profile. “There is no need for an apology, inspector Lestrade. He’s exactly as I imagined him to be. He’ll do nicely for this case. My employer would be pleased.”

“Who is your employer again? I never caught the name.”

“Oh, I didn’t say. They would prefer it if they were not associated with what happened at all.” She pauses for a moment. “Is that any problem, Mr. Holmes?” Her voice is a little louder to get his attention.

He ignores her question.

Just as the inspector is about to apologize again, she gives him a grin. “I quite like him, Lestrade. I might just keep him on.”

And keep him she did.

Sherlock takes out her handkerchief that she had slipped into his pocket when she was whispering in his ear, embroidered with her initials and the outline of her lipstick. A color that was almost as bold as she was. He held it up to his nose and, sure enough, it was the scent of sugar and spice.

#henry cavill!sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #henry cavill x reader #henryholmesacademia

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x--daughters-of-darkness--x · 3 years ago

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Cristina Scabbia x Diablo: Inside metal and gaming’s most devilish crossover yet

Outstanding hack-and-slash remaster Diablo II: Resurrected isn’t just about polishing up the beloved original’s relentless fire and brimstone. In a striking collaboration with Lacuna Coil songstress Cristina Scabbia and bizarro YouTube star Mark The Hammer, it’s inspired the latest crossover between video games and heavy music, too…

When Cristina Scabbia first picked up the joypad, she had no idea she was steering herself onto a path that would still be throwing up juicy side-missions three decades down the line. A young teenager in northern Italy during the mid-’80s first generation video game boom, the future Lacuna Coil frontwoman didn’t have the spare cash for the cutting-edge equipment of the time, whose 128-colour palettes and blocky two-dimensional sprites felt utterly futuristic. When a local friend powered up David Crane’s 1982 masterpiece Pitfall! on their Atari 2600, however, it opened the doors to another world.

“I’ve been a gamer for quite a while,” her eyes light up at the memory. “I love video games. I love what you can learn from them. I love the stories they tell…”

Few games are as darkly compelling as Blizzard Entertainment’s legendary Diablo series. Bringing to life the dark fantasy realm of Sanctuary – a midpoint between the High Heavens and Burning Hells – its trio of classic titles chronicle the eternal conflict between mankind and the demonic legions led by Diablo, fearsome Destroyer Of Souls. When David Brevik’s original landed in 1996, it was a literal game-changer for the industry, raising the bar in terms of depth and detail, storytelling and character-building. 2000’s Diablo II raised it again, still revered by hardcore gamers as the greatest action-RPG of all, while 2012’s Diablo III brought the franchise into the modern era.

Fittingly, it’s against that shadowy backdrop that Cristina joins us today, to discuss Start Again, her musical collaboration with the minds behind thrilling 3D, HD remaster Diablo II: Resurrected.

Speaking from her high-backed gaming chair in front of an impressive PC set-up this morning, she looks ready for battle. A laid-back, dressed-down counterpart to her imposing onstage alter-ego, she is surrounded by stacks of proudly-displayed paraphernalia, from a plushie of Gremlins’ Gizmo and photos of her band, to figurines of her favourite virtual characters, spare controllers, and the ubiquitous energy drink refrigerator.

Anyone familiar with Cristina’s Twitch streams wondering if this might be a carefully-arranged studio space should think again. “It’s actually part of my living room,” she laughs. “There’s this big table that was supposed to be for dinners with friends, but as we would go out to eat instead, I decided to use it for something that I like, and filled it with computers, monitors and consoles.

“It’s where I play. It’s where I stream from. It’s the safe space.”

Diablo’s heroes work best when joining forces, and 30 minutes further north, in the town of Saronno, we meet Marco Arata – AKA YouTube sensation Mark The Hammer – Cristina’s collaborator on Start Again, and a playful like mind. “I was three years old when I first played on a Game Boy,” he smiles into the light of a bank of monitors, “and I never stopped.”

For readers not in the know, Mark is the uber-talented multi-instrumentalist who’s gained a reputation for uploading incisive, tongue-in-cheek videos to YouTube like Irritating Guitar Lessons and How To Create A Black Metal Song… Without Any Talent. Learning piano aged eight, he quickly graduated to electric guitar, bass and drums. He’s since been picked up as the live guitarist/keyboardist for Italian pop-hip-hop icon J‑Ax. The main Mark The Hammer YouTube channel has more than half a million subscribers, while its English-language alternative boasts close to 100,000.

Both accomplished, analytical, artistic minds, it feels key to Start Again’s success that the duo see gaming as a chance to switch off – less interested in graphics and game engines than narrative drive and world-building.

“Whenever you listen to a song as a musician, you have your brain working, thinking about what exactly is going on,” explains Mark. “I’m a big fan of acting and drama, too, and the same thing applies when you watch a movie. But when you pick up that game pad, you’re able to relax and [switch that part of your brain off]. It’s the only thing in my life that I can really say is completely relaxing.”

“I know that some people prefer creating groups or being part of a competition,” agrees Cristina, noting that Diablo, in particular, fits her play style “but I’m more of a selfish, solitary player. I don’t want to feel that competition while I play. I want to be able to relax and do things at my own pace, to have my own rhythm. I don’t necessarily think of games as an escape. For me, it’s a different world that I want to be part of, [parallel to] the real world. It’s not that I want to [run away and] live in the video game world. But when I’m playing, I want to stay there, I want to focus on what’s happening – I want to absorb all the vibes. It’s not just something that you’re watching: you’re part of it. You can choose your character. You can increase your power. You can pick your path and select your sides.

“There are things about this world that non-gamers could never really understand…”

Like all the best quests, it began with a message from out of the blue. Mark recalls the sense of absurdity, watching an email drop into his inbox that he couldn’t quite believe was real. “I remember opening the message and seeing that it was an opportunity to write [a song inspired by Diablo II] for the release of Diablo II: Resurrected. Oh, yeah, and you’ll have Cristina Scabbia from Lacuna Coil doing vocals. I was just like ‘What?!’”

Having dropped video game soundtrack cover albums Hammer Games Vols 1 and 0 in 2015 and 2016 respectively, Mark had pedigree in the field, but he struggled to comprehend the opportunity for such a high-profile collaboration.

“This is the game that I bought as a 14-year-old when it first came out back in the year 2000,” he fishes out his original CD-ROM jewel case for an unsubtle flex, “and you’re asking me to write an official song to go with it? That in itself is mind-blowing. But to be able to do that with the greatest singer in Italian metal?! I thought it was some sort of strange spam at first. When I realised that it wasn’t, it became amazing on so many levels.”

Not a huge fan of YouTube (nor, presumably, of the hack-and-slash sub-genre), Cristina’s manager didn’t quite know what to make of the invitation. Fortunately, having followed one of Lacuna Coil’s old guitarists through a laptop screen and into Sanctuary all those years ago, and already a fan of Mark’s videos, she didn’t take much convincing.

“I was just like, ‘Mark The Hammer? I follow him!’” she grins. “Then, when they told me the project was to write a song for Diablo II: Resurrected, I immediately said yes. If you look back at interviews that I did years ago, whenever they asked me what dream I had or what is missing from my body of work, I’ve always said that I’d like to write something for a video game. When this came along, it was like, ‘Hello…’”

Cristina admits that she struggled with writer’s block over lockdown. Having watched her native Italy become one of the first countries crippled by the spread of COVID-19, she was unwilling to create music with the power to transport her back to those most troubled of times. Compared to the glacial pace of the music industry over the last 18 months, however, dropping in at crunch time in a massive game’s release schedule came as an invigorating change of pace. The first message exchanged between Cristina and Mark was on August 23, with the song due online to coincide with Diablo II: Resurrected’s launch exactly a month later.

“When you have a deadline, it can either throw you down or really speed everything up and add an excitement,” Cristina muses. “For us, it was definitely the latter. We were perhaps a little bit tense about not knowing each other. Any time you’re working with someone new, you ask yourself these questions: ‘Is he going to be nice? Is he going to be an asshole? Is he going to have the same ideas that I have? The same creativity? The same speed?’

“As soon as we started to text, though, I realised that Mark was really relaxed, really funny. He’s like me. We would send and receive messages in the middle of the night, and get immediate replies. It was like we’d opened the floodgates on an ocean of ideas.”

A high level of fandom was pivotal. Diablo’s angels and monsters – Greater and Lesser Evils – seem like characters lifted from metal album covers to begin with, and the chaotic action that spills from the streets of Tristram and the slopes of Mount Arreat that go down into the depths of Hell could hardly be better suited to metalheads who’re never happier than when throwing down in the pit. Cristina and Mark’s preferred player classes – Sorceress and Barbarian, respectively – even mirror their onstage personas. To simply phone in the sort of crowd-pleasing banger either of these musicians could write in their sleep would be to do the project a deep disservice.

Cristina reckons that if Diablo were a band, it would be either Judas Priest – all OTT outfits, pointy edges and demonic imagery – or Rammstein, spewing sheer pyrotechnic bombast. Mark contends that the larger-than-life, battle-obsessed aesthetic of Iron Maiden might be a better match, pointing out that many of the most monstrous iterations of Ed The Head wouldn’t look out of place in its deepest dungeons. We’d argue that the ominous, folky atmospherics of peak Opeth even more closely evoke the playing experience, echoing Matt Uleman’s iconic original score.

In the same way that Diablo II: Resurrected marks an upgrade for players in 2021 while maintaining the original’s dark heart – dynamic lighting, three-dimensional rendering and high-definition presentation bringing the action sharply up to date – this song needed to pay respect while still packing enough heft to make an impact on metal fans in 2021.

“Diablo is such an iconic game,” nods Mark. “I knew the original score. I knew the original atmosphere. I knew where it had to go, more or less. But it was a challenge to make something new while paying respect to the original. There were parts where I wasn’t sure where I was going, but as soon as Cristina got really into the project and added her vocals, it felt like everything [clicked].”

“Mark’s involvement was crucial,” Cristina presses. “Looking at that original soundtrack, I was thinking, ‘This is such a classic – it’s so iconic – but it’s not singable.’ It felt like putting a voice over the top would ruin it. But as soon as I heard the music that Mark had written, it changed everything. He made it singable. He created so many different parts, that offered so many different scenes, so many different moods. There are atmospheric parts, but there are also heavier parts. It’s like a journey, from beginning to end…”

Part sweeping re-score, part fan’s perspective love letter, part limb-swinging metal banger, the finished track feels like a striking bridge between worlds. Is the aim for fans who’ve yet to discover the pleasures of metal or gaming to be able to walk across it?

“The worlds of metal and gaming have always been strongly connected,” reckons Cristina, highlighting the fact that they’re both tightly-knit outsider communities fascinated by the dark and fantastical, which can appear intimidating to outsiders looking in. Although she and Mark will happily welcome new fans, the main priority was to write a great song, hopefully tightening the bond between communities that already exists. “It’s a lifestyle,” she gestures. “If you see a metalhead, there’s a strong chance you’ll be able to talk about games – or vice-versa.”

Indeed, the lines have increasingly blurred over the last couple of decades. Countless rockers found their way into the world via the legendary Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater soundtracks. The Guitar Hero franchise brought songs as unusual DragonForce’s Through The Fire And The Flames, Lamb Of God’s Laid To Rest and Slayer’s Raining Blood – not to forget Lacuna Coil’s Closer – into the non-metalhead sphere. Celebrities as high profile as Tenacious D’s Jack Black have spearheaded their own digital-metal crossovers, while Avenged Sevenfold’s M. Shadows cropped up as a playable character in Call Of Duty: Black Ops 4. Gamers have even increasingly taken to wearing branded T‑shirts a la those of their favourite bands, enabling them to recognise each other on the street.

On the other side of the coin, bleeding-edge artists like The Armed, Refused and Run The Jewels have recently been inspired to write specifically for games. Svalbard’s Serena Cherry just started a one-woman black metal side-project called Noctule, dedicated to her favourite epic RPG. Hell, Cristina even tells us that pounding compositions by djent-influenced video game soundtrack maestro Mick Gordon are amongst the most listened on her personal playlist.

It’s down to a change in perspective, Cristina reckons, where intelligent eye for detail is now considered every bit as cool as a debauched hell-raiser attitude. Games’ intricate storytelling and epic design are recognised as on par with the finest parts of cinema, and e‑sports competitions regularly boast larger prize pots than those of their athletic counterparts.

“I was always part of the nerd world,” she says, with more than a hint of vindication. “A few years ago, it felt like it was almost something to be ashamed of to admit that you’re a nerd, as if you had this weird, ridiculous aura. But now, everybody – all these people who were never interested – seem to want to be involved in this world. I [sometimes think], ‘Nah, you need to prove you’re really into it…’”

She’s not kidding. As if that massive cache of gaming equipment – from the original PlayStation to countless Game Boys and computer components – wasn’t proof enough, Cristina has even appeared as playable character The Shadow Sorceress in Iron Maiden’s ever-evolving Legacy Of The Beast mobile game. “It was such an honour, such a pleasure to create my own character and give all the directions for the outfit, which was basically the outfit I was wearing on the last Lacuna Coil tour before lockdown,” she grins.

Going even geekier, Lacuna Coil also just launched their own Horns Up tabletop card game, where players must fight their way to the front of the stage. “It’s something we’re all really interested in, but particularly our bassist Maki [Coti Zelati],” Cristina continues. “Every card is related to metal clichés. We even gave our fans the opportunity to see themselves on one of the cards…”

Although Lacuna Coil maintained their high-drama presence with September 2020’s Black Anima: Live From The Apocalypse stream and June 2021’s live album of the same name, Cristina was keen to use the time off to introduce fans to her character away from the band, emboldened to set up her own channel on Twitch.

“I just wanted to learn new things which could enrich my baggage of knowledge,” she enthuses. “I’m already singing, already writing, but I don’t want to fixate on those. Life is made up of so many different things that can enrich my music and my creativity. I was already a Twitch user, watching other people play games, but I didn’t know what my purpose was. I almost felt scared at first. I am a singer. I am somehow an entertainer. I like to talk, which is clear. But it’s different when you’re talking to a lot of people for a couple of hours – or more!

“Eventually, I decided to keep it as informal as I could so that people could see how Cristina is at home. Cristina isn’t just the singer of Lacuna Coil: I have a house, I have a life, I have passions, I have my own personality. I just wanted people to discover that. Luckily they also like this quirky side of me, which feels like the opposite that dark goth lady that so many people know. As much as I didn’t have purpose in the beginning, there’s now such a strong community every time I go online – such a clean place to exchange good vibes!”

Even the persistent undertones of sexism and misogyny that have plagued gaming, she pushes, are a speed bump to be put in the rearview, comparable to what she experienced when first making her name in heavy music.

“In metal, I encountered the same problem,” she explains, bluntly. “[Women becoming a major presence in the community] was something new, and when something is new, people have suspicions and doubts. They don’t know how to deal with it. But there are a lot of female gamers now, and a lot of females in metal. It’s been normalised, which it should be, because games and metal are for everyone.”

As the world comes back up to speed, hectic schedules mean that attention is turning away from screens, and back towards studio and stage. Mark is churning out more and more top-class YouTube content. Cristina has a packed diary, with a tribute concert for late collaborator Franco Battiato at the spectacular Arena di Verona this week, and another secretive collaboration in the works, not to mention writing for Lacuna Coil’s 10th LP, which has just begun – her creative fires reignited by bringing Start Again to life.

Having dipped toes in the video game world, though, they’re both keen to return.

“I really hope we do,” Cristina says. “As a fan of video games, it’s such a great chance to bring together these different passions in your life. There are so many different things I’d like to do, and places I’d like to explore in this world, but time is limited!”

“I loved the challenge here, and the process of collaboration,” nods Mark. “If we could work together again when it comes time to make Diablo IV, that would be amazing. I’d love the opportunity to have my own playable character in an Iron Maiden video game, too, but I’m not sure that’s achievable!”

“I thought the same thing,” grins Cristina, ever adventurous, as we wave farewell. “Never say never!”

Diablo II: Resurrected is out now on Nintendo Switch, PS4, PS5, Xbox One, Xbox X/S and PC.

#Cristina Scabbia #DoD collaborations #2021 interviews #diablo ii resurrected

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galvanizedfriend · 3 years ago

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I have been lurking in the shadows and secretly stanning your fics since I joined the fandom recently and GOD! I truly wish I could say YOKAN when ppl ask me about my favourite author but sigh! fanfiction is not mainstream. I am not good at fic analysis at all (just give me Caroline being a BAMF and showing Klaus his place and all is well in life) and therefore is very shy about leaving reviews for fandom legends like yourself. There is just something about your writing that just strikes and pulls at my heartstrings and I may or may not have taken a day or two to read some of your short fics through because I had to take a break from the volcanic eruption of feels some sentences triggered in my dainty, frail heart. A tiny confession here – I wasn’t ever a fan of AU fics, especially Human AUs when it came to that – but then I discovered your AUs (fell in the kind of love poets write about) and it opened up a whole new magical world that is bursting with potential in this fandom and now I am catching up on everything AU that I used to not give a second thought about (and wondering how many of them would have sold millions if they were original works). So – thanks a ton for being my guide into the AU world.

I read Gasoline and Twenty Steps to Salvation like a ritual every week. Kinda have become my go-to comfort fics despite the angst in it (because you fight fire with fire). My life depends on this ritual and no one can convince me otherwise. The Sound of Settling leaves me yearning for a sitcom centered around the Mikaelson family. Dinner and Diatribes have me smiling until my mom comes and enquires about that very rare expression my face. Your canon drabbles makes me think about all the potential that KC (and the story really) had and how none of it went anywhere and how the writers should have really been replaced by fandom authors.

The most mind boggling of all this is how crazy I am about THE WOLF. I am someone who slept through the first season of TO until I gave up on it for my own sanity. I didn’t know how reading a fic about that would really help me at all and procrastinated on it for the longest time. But then the love people in this fandom have for that series finally made me take the plunge and… what do you know?!?! I absolutely adore everything about it (other than the fact that we don’t have more of it). I just love how there is a fandom of its own for that fic and how I don’t nearly hear baby hope as much as I hear baby eve now. I still question how I came to love it so much when I absolutely hate TO. The existing theory is that there is a certain essence you impart to your characters that I really admire. Caroline never feels ooc despite taking away something so crucial such as vampirism from her and making her a witch. I never really spared Elijah any thought in TVD – did not like him in TO. But TW Elijah is very hard not to swoon over and stan the fk out of. The way you crafted them even within bounds of the very TO brand aspect of super snowflake and a-baby-is-wat-makes-everything-right-in-this-world-syndrome, honestly deserves all the praise in the world. I know there is a very evident divide between TO and TVD Klaus – enough to grate my nerves – but I think the fact that you were aware of that and did not ignore it or disregard it actually helped me appreciate Klaus more in the fic. TW Klaus, to me, dances the line between TO and TVD and that helps give him an authenticity that TO Klaus never had (except in some moments ofc because it really is hard not to fawn over a character like Klaus). Like I actually got his stream of thoughts in TW unlike when I used to go what the fk is this guy smoking??!! in TO. I love love love love love – raised to infinity – Klaus’s monologues in the fic.

This is getting way too long and I am even sure if Tumblr asks have a limit – so going to stop myself before I annoy Tumblr and YOU. I will probably break my streak of abstaining from reviewing and leave incomprehensible ramblings on your fics because I am on a binge - please don't mind that creep in me. Truly sorry for hijacking your ask box like this.

Omg???? Nonnie??? 😭😭❤️ The way I've read this message three times already today!! I just!! I cant!! This is!! 😭😭❤️

I don't even know what to say! This is the nicest thing ever and my heart is so warm right now! ❤️❤️ It's truly so flattering to know you've enjoyed my fics so much. And it's also like you were reading my mind, cause I was just yesterday talking to a friend about how I was feeling tired and lacking energy because of real life and suddenly this just!! It's an injection of sugar, spice and all things nice straight into my veins. ❤️ I cannot thank you enough, seriously!

I am also so happy that you have discovered the joys of AUs! I have to say that I wasn't big on AUs when I first joined either. I was very much here for canon fics cause I was so disheartened by how the shows ended, I needed my fix-it fix. But this fandom has such incredibly talented writers, with the most creative AUs ideas and circumstances, and it's impossible not to fall in love. And now it seems AUs are most of what I write. 🤣 If you're interested, you can search my tumblr for the tag Klaroline Fic Rec. I have recced several amazing AUs by some incredible authors over the years. :)

I am just BLUSHING here with all the praise you wrote to my fics. 😭✨ I am someone who does not know how to take a compliment, but seeing all that is seriously making me emotional. Especially what you said about The Wolf. 😭 I don't know about it having its own fandom 🤣🤣🤣 I've heard a lot of criticism for it and I have doubted my own twists to the story or even the if I added anything new to it at all, so many times (most recently last week, when I started reading it again 🤣). And to see someone saying such nice things about it. ❤️❤️❤️ It makes my day, my week, my whole month! And the things you said about Klaus! asdhasgdhdsg I have such a hard time writing Klaus, so that is a great compliment! ❤️

I have been and still am the person who feels touched by other people's writings, who freaks out on comment boxes and who has found immense joy in reading fanfics that put my troubles with the show to rest. So I can't tell you what it makes me feel when someone tells me they felt for my fic what I feel for others asjkashjkajhdas It's just the nicest thing!

Don't apologize, omg! This has been amazing! Thank you so, so much for taking your time to write me this message, nonnie!😭✨ I hope you have a fantastic day! Thank you! ❤️

#yokan answers #anon #nice people being nice!#i can't believe this message omg!!#😭😭#crying forever #do i deserve all this praise?#probably not #but it makes me so happy that anon enjoyed my fics #and the wolf #thank you nonnie!#😭

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sebastianshaw · 3 years ago

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Hey there @vvithteeth! So, this isn’t EXACTLY what you asked for the readlist to focus on, but I think it’s worth checking out all the same for a general sense of Emma’s history leading up to her current character!

EVIL 80s EMMA She’s not good reference for who Emma is NOW, but a good look at what she used to be, and what she’s overcome. I think looking at Emma when she was at her worst, helps one appreciate her at her best. If you see what she had to rise above in herself, you understand the self that she’s fighting back, you have a better appreciation for the kinds of things she’s tempted towards---and the kinds of things she no longer does. X-Men (1st series) #129-131 is her introduction, as she tries to recruit Kitty Pryde to her school before Xavier does. One of the most chilling moments, for me personally, is when she threatens to destroy Storm’s mind so that she will be “human only in physical form” And then Jean drops a house on her, which is why she’s not involved in the Dark Phoenix saga, as she was still recovering. Emma continues trying to get Kitty and other kids into her clutches in Uncanny X-Men (1st series) #180 and New Mutants (1st series) #15-17, but in New Mutants (1st series) #38-40 she finally manages it by exploiting their current fucked-up state and having her student Empath use his powers to manipulate Magneto. But when the kids decide to return to Xavier’s school, Emma allows them to do so without a fight, and just tells them that they’ll always have a place with her if they need it. Which seems nice, but then her thought balloons reveal that this is just so the kids won’t believe it when Magneto tells them she’s evil. Firestar #1-4: Whoa mama, Emma is at max abusive here. See, she desires to eliminate Selene, and to this end she trains a young mutant she names Firestar. She does so by manipulating the girl, isolating her, convincing her that she NEEDS Emma to help her control her powers or else she’s dangerous to others, and even KILLS HER PET HORSE. Emma is someone who says “I love children. Teaching is my life.” and she MEANS IT, she has a genuine call to teach and her love for her students is her driving force, but here we see how she USED to treat her students. Then put her against who she is now, it’s a huge contrast. Honestly, I don’t know why SOME WRITERS want to erase her growth by pretending she was Actually Good All Along but yeah, here’s Bad Emma. This is who she fights. This is what she has risen above. EMMA’S BACKSTORY ISSUES Emma’s history is. . . kind of multiple choice. She tells one version in Generation X #24, but this doesn’t fit at all with the Emma Frost miniseries that came out from 2003 -2004, which also doesn’t exactly fit with “X-Men Origins: Emma Frost” single-issue backstory. I personally would read the “X-Men Origins” one and at least the beginning of the miniseries, specifically the parts that deal with her home life. The reason is that both of these show how unhealthy Emma’s home was growing up, and how that made her who she is. When I saw I think Emma is “wired” to be a villain, I don’t mean I think she was born like that, but as in, I think her environment trained her to become like that. It’s kind of like how a lot of personality disorders aren’t something a person is born with, but come from being in a shitty environment where certain behaviors will help you survive better, and then even once that situation is over, you can’t get rid of those behaviors because it’s how your brain is wired now. That’s how I read Emma---she came out of this toxic, duplicitous environment of manipulation and abuse where she and her siblings were set against each other, and that’s now her default for how she interacts with the world, even though she was originally just a sweet little nerd who only wanted to be a teacher. The “Origins” one features a generic Shitty Abuser Shaw and isn’t as good as the more drawn-out miniseries, as it focuses more on physical abuse (like her father suddenly slapping her) to get a point across that her family is toxic, rather than the more drawn-out miniseries, which I think works better for explaining Emma’s specific brand of. . .Emma-ness. But the bit where her mother tells her that her father is hardest on her because he likes her most of all, is really important I think, since that reflects her relationship later with the Hellions, which is also shown in this. Because Emma is cruel to the Hellions, even though she loves them, and in fact because she loved them. Her love for them and her agony over their deaths is what drives her to join the X-Men in the first place. As for which origin story is true. . .I think the miniseries one is probably MOST true, as it’s the only one that Emma herself isn’t telling as a story. But as the friend who helped me assemble this list puts it, “ Think of any origin story of Emma's as "a sort of fairy tale, a parable," where it's the theme that matters, not the precise events or timeline “ 90s EMMA Emma spent most of the 90s teaching Generation X. I don’t remember a lot of stuff for specifically what I’m talking about with her, but here are a couple issues that strike me as significant. Uncanny X-Men (1st series) #311-314: In Uncanny X-Men (1st series) #281-284, the Hellions were killed and Emma Frost was left in a coma, her body taken care of by the X-Men. This is when she wakes up, takes over Iceman’s body, and goes on a rampage thinking she’s the prisoner of the X-Men. When she finds out what happened to her Hellions, she collapses in despair and turns herself over to the X-Men. This is her turning point. This is when we found out Emma Frost had a soul. That she LOVED the Hellions. That they were not just tools. And there’s this one line in the yellow narrative boxes that really sticks out: “As the Hellfire Club’s White Queen, she spent the better part of her life traversing from one mind to another, violating the very essence of anyone she so chose. Losing herself in the memories of others. Altering, at times, the opinions of those who opposed her. This time is different. This time it is about survival. This time. . .it’s for the children.” The words are echoed when she agrees to join Krakoa's Quiet Council, after Charles and Erik tell her their plan and convince her it might just work. "One more time, then. For the children." Emma’s true love, in my opinion, isn’t Scott. Nor is it Namor. It’s teaching. Emma becomes the teacher to Generation X, as mentioned, and in Generation X (1st series) #18-19, during the Onslaught crisis, she’s so terrified of losing them like she did the Hellions, that she snapped, took the kids to a safehouse in Canada, and put them under her telepathic control for their own safety. This is an Emma who has learned that abusing her students isn’t the right way, but still doesn’t respect their autonomy or consent even as she’s desperately trying to protect them, and has to learn from Monet (who is. . . .actually not Monet) that this isn’t the right way to do it either. Emma did not grow up with adult models who showed her how to love and care for a child, she has to figure it out herself, and it’s a rocky journey at times, even though she has the best of intentions. I think this is a good issue to show an Emma who is in the process of evolving. She’s getting better, but she still hasn’t got it “right” yet. CURRENT-ERA EMMA Emma really becomes the Emma we know with Grant Morrison’s New X-Men in the early 2000s. This is where she starts affecting a British accent, calling everyone darling, and the delightfully witty Queen of Mean while also still a devoted teacher with trauma over losing her students. She always was witty and a little mean, but Morrison takes these traits up to 11 and gives Emma the foundation of what a lot of writers would build upon. It’s also when she begins her telepathic affair/seduction of Scott, which is a more than slightly problematic dynamic, as I’ve discussed. Also, this is when she got her now-famous diamond form. We get a lot of lovely Emma nastiness in this series. New X-Men #128-139 all have lots of great moments for her where she’s just WICKED yet still on the side of the angels, and New X-Men Annual 2001 starts us off. However, character-wise, I think what really comes out here is Emma going from blaming her past actions on substances (she tells Scott in the New X-Men Annual 2001 that she just probably out of her mind on drink and drugs all those times she was doing bad things) to being forced to face her past and herself for the first time when confronted by Jean & the Phoenix in New X-Men #139. It’s the first time we get a look at what Emma’s family and home life was like, as well as the first time she’s established as having a brother, but more than that is the emotion that gets brought in. This is also when Morrison decided to retcon the Hellfire Club as a strip joint (which I hate and also shows up in Emma’s “Origins” story) but that’s neither here nor there. The point is, Jean makes Emma face all her flaws and pain and nasty, most vulnerable parts of herself. Emma is left mentally broken...then one page later, physically, shattered by a diamond bullet that we later find out was fired by none other than Esme, the Stepford Cuckoo whom Emma later says reminded her most of herself. There is definitely poetic symbolism there. As my friend put it “This cycle of her students dying and Emma losing it and trying again but never facing the roots of her issues goes on and on until her roots literally kill her, and Jean of all people resurrects her. Jean, who saw right through Emma, saw something there worth saving, and literally and metaphorically put her back together again.” The next place I’d go is Astonishing X-Men, which is the first time Emma and Kitty work together. Kitty HATES Emma at this point, because, as she points out, Emma is the villain in her origin story. And Emma KNOWS this. That’s why she WANTS Kitty there. She knew that Kitty would keep an eye on her, wouldn’t trust her, and that’s what Emma WANTS, because Emma doesn’t trust HERSELF. So this shows that Emma KNOWS her moral compass is a very flawed one, and that she WANTS to be better so consciously that she’s getting someone she knows doesn’t like or trust her to be around because she knows she’ll watch her like a HAWK. This also means Emma is admitting she can fail, and giving some control to someone else. There’s. . . so much that happens from here. Utopia. Phoenix Five. The Terrigen Mists shit. Secret Empire. I feel like there are probably great Emma readlists out there that include these, but honestly I just kinda zoned out through a lot of it. These are some additional read lists for her I found: https://lornahs.tumblr.com/post/87230882649/where-to-start-reading-emma-frost-lets-start https://www.reddit.com/r/comicbooks/comments/2bwwok/emma_frost_reading/ It’s definitely a LOT and I wish you the best of luck tackling it! Also, I wouldn’t feel you have to read EVERYTHING, or incorporate everything into your depiction. Pick and choose what you feel works best for your version!

#out of shirt #readlist

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westerhos · 4 years ago

Text

Our Story: Chapter 5

Here marks the middle of our tale, that vast, perilous land between the beginning and the end. The going is treacherous in these parts—the wayward couple must heal on their own, tread the sea of two decades with arms and souls akimbo—but still, it is not unnecessary. The middle is never aimless. Always, always, it has one goal: the ending.

When the lights go up and the curtains close, you clap—perhaps, should the couple reunite (which, of course, they will), you shout “Encore, encore!” But then, at last, you return to your car. You catch the train, or you grab a taxi. At last, having started at the beginning and waded through the middle, you reach the final destination. The night is over; you go home.

Home. Whether a place, a person, a feeling, or a thing—it does not matter. Home is always the goal and the ending, the northernmost star we pray to and walk towards.

[December 24th, 1996]

Two weeks’ vacation in a cabin, tucked deep inside a fold of mountains. Here, amongst the stretches of living nothingness, even the silence has a voice. Owls hoot in the night. The pines’ chatter, their needle-whispers pierced by caws and shifted air—a hawk swooping to ensnare her prey. And if one listens closely enough, one can hear the hunter's a shaky, traitorous breath, which launches the doe across the snow—the echo of his heartsong, the drum to which the doe’s hooves beat. Come back, come back, come back.

This is why Jamie has come here: for the endless conversation between man and mountain, more steadfast than the chill in his heart. In the past four years, Jamie has sold the twin cot (it lies in a salvage yard somewhere, all broken springs and dreams). A different couple has moved into the studio, and when they had spoken of paint jobs—“Perhaps mint green, what d’ye say, hon?”— Jamie had thought, Thank God. He’d happily offered them the keys when they turned to him, pupils dilated with youthful optimism. By that point, there was no space for Jamie and Claire inside that Edinburgh Eden, and so he’d chimed in, “Aye, a bonny color.” (Indeed, the walls are mint now, though a forgotten strip of marigold shines in the northern corner.)

For two years, Jamie has lived with Murtagh in Glasgow, having shed not just his home but his editorial career in publishing. He has grown tired of fixing other’s mistakes—too many of his own in need of correction—and so here he sits on this Christmas Eve, writing towards redemption.

The Grampians are a peaceful place, big hulks of rock scattered with trees—bouquets of fir, oak, and pine cradling other cabins. At dark, their windows flicker, candlelit with the dreams of the aspiring novelists, essayists, playwrights therein. Men and women, all bowed before the cleansing hum of nature’s speech. Like Jamie, they had seen the fliers: WRITER’S RETREAT, TWO WEEKS IN THE MOUNTAINS—and so it was. They were small colony taking its temporary leave, hoping to reconstruct the world according to their own, more favorable terms.

Over supper, the group gathers and shares their ideas: outlines, pieces of dialogue, an inspiring poem they’ve loved since childhood. And while Jamie is generous with his advice, he holds his notebooks against his chest. Enraptured by this warm aloofness (for is it not the way of all great wordsmiths?), the others whisper behind their palms, “Have you read Fraser’s story?” Into napkins, “No, have you?”

But among the fifteen guests, only one has read Jamie’s story—and tonight, Jamie waits for her inside his cabin. His latest draft is fanned around him, some sections highlighted and others slashed. They are not unlike Claire’s old strike-throughs, which had snipped the would-be Dalhousie and eventually, Jamie’s own name, from her life (a reclamation of Beauchamp, a transformation to Randall). Among Jamie’s scribbles are his friend’s edits, which are much more forgiving, much less forceful than the lines of his own red pen. Each comment reads like a bashful request: “More clarity?”, “Switch the verb here?”, “Too many adjectives?” as if she needs permission to occupy the margins. Should I really be reading this?, she seems to say, the bare-backed rawness making her squirm.

But she is helping him, his friend. And so she sees Jamie’s drafts before John, his agent, and before Fergus, his assistant and most loyal advocate. With each comment, she brings him closer to understanding, to the better beginning, middle and end. Note by note, to the way his story (their story, for it can never be Jamie’s alone) should be. All rhymes and logic, had it not veered off-course.

Is Alexander too cold here? Shouldn’t he say something? (He should have.)

It seems out of character for Alexander to never visit his daughter’s grave? (Grief carves cowards out of heroes.)

Shouldn’t he try to win Elizabeth back? (God, yes. He should have tried harder.)

The knock comes three minutes later, as expected.

“Hello?”

“Door’s unlocked.”

“Oh!” A muffled apology, embarrassment for the delay. “Sorry,” the visitor says. “It’s late. Didna ken if ye still wanted to talk or not. I brought—well, I finished reading your last chapter.”

And now another player enters this fifth act, tip-toes quietly onto the stage. Only a slip of a thing in the cabin’s doorway, cheeks pinked by the storm’s sharp nip. She is Jamie’s friend-slash-critique partner, and even her entrance is punctuated by a question mark. The score of owl, pine, hawk and hunter swells, buffeted now by new notes: the crack of chapped lips smiling, the anxious shuffle of papers, and—

“Dinna fash, I couldna sleep anyways,” Jamie assures her. “Did ye like it, though? The new ending?”

His friend inhales sharply, stealing as much oxygen as the room will allow. Everything—the threadbare futon, the TV’s antennae, the welcome mat and Jamie’s body—bends towards some invisible presence. A ghost between between all.

“It was…a bit different from the last one.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘Nay, I didna like it.’”

She looks shyly at the ground, one foot treading nervous circles into the planks.

“It was a bit too sentimental is all. After everything. All that time and silence…D’ye really think Alex and Lizzie could make it?”

Her words are a blow to Jamie’s stomach, and the pages are fire in his hands. He puts them down, wants to thrust himself under a blanket of snow to freeze the flames.

“In a fairy tale, maybe, but life isna a fairy tale. And d’ye no want to write truths?” She looks up, and her eyes gore him. “This story isna a fairy tale either, Jamie. Yours never are.”

“Aye…aye, I s’pose they’re not,” he replies, thinking of his other novels and short stories, essays and poems. Each accepted by John’s gimlet eye, only to meet their end in a publisher’s slush pile. (“Too dark, too wallowing,” an editor once wrote.)

“Give it another go. I’ll help ye tomorrow, if ye’d like,” his friend offers. “Three days left. I reckon we’ve time to sort the kinks, right the wrongs.” (Three days will never be enough for Jamie’s wrongs.)

“I’d appreciate that, lass. Verra much.”

His friend looks behind her and at the moon, a shy sickle in the sky. It draws her toward the door and the snow-covered mountainside.

“Weel, it’s a long walk back,” she says. “Wanted to give ye that before the morning, so I guess I’ll just…”

“Will ye stay with me tonight?” Jamie blurts. And he hates himself for saying this, the way it sounds outside his mouth and inside his cabin, landing on the unmade bed. Its despair makes it ugly. But.

But if his friend stays, Jamie thinks, perhaps the emptiness will leave. If his friend stays, perhaps his story will correct itself, falling into its natural rhythm, by the force of whatever solace she can give him.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” he continues, “and I…I dinna want to be alone.”

She pauses, thinks it over before saying, “Okay. Just for a bit?” (Just for a bit? Another loaded question, and one he doesn’t want to answer.)

“Thank you,” Jamie whispers, and Mary McNab removes her coat.

____

Long before daybreak, Jamie wakes. He gathers his draft, made complete by that final failing chapter, into a single stack. He retrieves a box from his suitcase, which is swathed in his old holiday sweater, and it speaks to him. A quiet loudness, like the murmur of the Grampians. You mean your lager-stained pullover? With the Santa looks that looks like he’s got vomit in his beard?

Inside the box is a gift—a vase, azure porcelain—though Jamie has no plans to send it across the Atlantic, to the Boston apartment where his ex-wife kisses another man. No. This vase will stay with Jamie, forever hidden on the high shelf of a closet, or exiled to the back corner of a desk drawer. Like his grief, it is something that he owns—this small cut from a cloth of unraveled dreams—to be kept and locked safely away. There, there, always there. All fancy people have vases.

Jamie wraps the box with his manuscript. One by one, he folds the pages over and under, seals the edges with tape to form an inch-thick layer. So much history around this small, delicate thing—their story, with the ending Jamie cannot use and which cannot be the truth. At last, he cuts the string of wool, which still drips from his sweater after all these years, and it rasps, Do we have time? Of course we do.

Finally, Jamie weeps—a mournful sound that joins the chorus of this great, big mountain—and ties a frayed, red bow.

____

(Jamie does not realize that Mary watches him from the bed. “Tell me about her,” she wants to say—for once a statement and not a question—but she does not. Instead, she calls to Jamie, presses her goosefleshed nakedness to his. And as they move together, slow but unfeeling, she pretends she is a vessel. Closes her eyes. Makes room for the ghost. I’m Claire Beauchamp. Just plain Claire Beauchamp.)

____

Here, the idea of a writer’s retreat, the introduction, and the parentheticals (although those are also inspired by one of my favorite authors Kate Atkinson) are my lame attempts at trying to be Lauren Groff. Actually, the next handful of chapters are the result of my obsession with her novel Fates and Furies—which you should absolutely go read, right now.

One of my favorite parts about writing a modern AU is finding ways to fit in canon characters or references. I started this chapter having no idea who Jamie’s critique partner was, but it very quickly came together once there was a remote cabin, Jamie inside it, and a woman coming to visit him. I hope the reveal is at least somewhat...fun? The vase is also obviously a nod to Outlander, and, well, I’m assuming y’all caught on to Jamie’s character names (a bit on the nose, lmao).

I’m not crazy about this introduction (it’s...a bit much...but it’s meant to tie into the introduction of Chapter 1), but the final paragraph from Mary’s POV is actually one of my favorite paragraphs in the whole fic.

I also think I wrote this during a snowstorm, wheeeee!

#myfic #outlander #claire beauchamp #jamie fraser

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angelatmidnight1 · 4 years ago

Note

hey there, if you're taking prompts, you could write something with rampart? thnx!

Hi, I’m so sorry this story is late! I was writing this while I was teaching so I didn’t have a chance to finish it like I wanted to. Thanks so much @caatnip for helping me out of my writer’s block! I couldn’t have finished this story without you. This story is a bit longer than my other ones but I figured it was okay since I’m making up for lost time ^^;. I really hope you like it!

Quit Bustin’ My Chops!

Rampart is one of the newest Legends to join the Apex Games and finds herself on the same team as the handsomest bachelor around: Elliot ‘Mirage’ Witt. The trickster takes it upon himself to show the new recruit the ropes, seeing as he is the best Legend to participate in the games, after all. Ramya not only takes his advice right to the scrap heap, but flirts with him at every chance she gets, effectively throwing off his game. Mirage is a natural flirt himself and can knock most women off their feet, but isn’t used to getting the same treatment back so readily. Putting the trickster in a tizzy only adds fuel to the fire; Rampart is the new self-proclaimed Apex Legend in the games and rubs it in Elliot’s face. Being the Kill Leader and the Apex Champion is the icing on the cake. Elliot may have lost the limelight in that match, but there’s one arena where is an unrivaled Champion: making people laugh.

“Okay, so this is a supply bin. These have all sorts of goodies in them that’ll help keep you alive. Maybe you need some bullets, or one of those sweet, sweet Phoenix kits. Or maybe–”

“Pipe down, Suzy. I get it. We’ve only run into ten other ones just like it on our way over here! I’m sprouting grey hairs here, Witt. I’m itchin’ for a fight, not a scavenger hunt.” Rampart whined to her teammate, Mirage, who led her over to the eleventh supply bin as they scrounged through The Epicenter. Mirage tutted softly as he rapped his fist against the bin to open it.

“Not so fast, rookie. I can’t have you run into your first fight empty handed. That’d make me a terrible teacher!” The trickster chuckled, hooking his arm around the modder’s shoulders to bring her over to the supplies. Ramya pursed her lips and shrugged Elliot’s arm off her shoulders.

“It can’t be that hard, mate. I mean, you’re here, after all.” The modder snickered, her snickers turning into full blown laughter when he gaped at her.

“Hey!” Mirage pouted, which only made Rampart laugh some more. “I am a professional in the Apex Games. In fact, I’m the best Legend you could be on a team with! Cause, ya know, I’m just perfect.” The trickster retorted with a smirk, taking the time to strike a pose with his wingman in hand. “I mean this hair, this face...these guns?” Mirage flexed his muscles and chuckled. “I mean, come on, you see it. Anyways, back to business.”

Mirage turned to the open supply bin and gestured to its contents. “So you have an R-99, right? This supply bin has an extended heavy mag, an extenEEEE—”

Mirage suddenly felt two hands squeeze his sides, making him jerk forward. He lurched away from the hands and spun around to face a grinning Rampart. “What was that for?”

“I’m getting antsy, Witt. All this talk without shooting any plonkers can really cramp up the hands,” Ramya answered slyly as she reached for his sides again. “I guess I’m lucky to have such a handsome lad nearby to squeeze~.”

Mirage sputtered and choked back a laugh, batting her hands away. “Hey, hey, easy! At least take me to dinner first.” He replied jokingly with the beginnings of a blush appearing on his cheeks. The trickster turned around to try and hide it but, before he could complete the turn, Rampart slid closer to him and smirked.

“Aww, did I make you blush, Witt? Your widdle cheeks are going so wed!” Ramya cooed, reaching up to pinch his cheek. Elliot swatted her hands away for the second time before he fully turned around.

“Nope! Nuh uh. Not me. Like I said, I’m incredibly good l-looking.” Mirage answered quickly with a very obvious voice crack. He mentally cursed himself; the trickster was a natural flirt and could knock most women off their feet with ease. But, he wasn’t used to receiving the same treatment. Especially not from a new Legend! The blush on Elliot’s face reached his ears as Rampart leaned against him with an amused smirk.

“Anyways, like I was saying...” Elliot continued, “You have an extended light mag, an extended heavy mag, and a shotgun bolt. Which attachment should you grab? I’ll give you a hint, since I’m such a nice guy. You want the one that goes with a light weapon.” Elliot smiled and looked at the modder expectantly. Ramya shot the trickster a look and slowly, begrudgingly, snatched the extended light mag from the bin. The trickster cheered rather loudly and gave her a gentle, friendly punch on the arm.

“I knew you could do it. You’re gonna be the next Apex predanor–predtator…ehm, predator in no time. All thanks to me, of course.” Mirage grinned, causing the modder to roll her eyes.

“Ooo, an Apex predator, you say? Well, I guess there’s only one way for me to do that, isn’t there?” Rampart countered wryly, returning the grin when the trickster raised an eyebrow. The modder reloaded her weapon and holstered it; there was only one gun she would ever need in the Apex Games. In one smooth motion, Rampart turned on her heel and scurried towards the distant sound of gunshots and grenades. “By shooting some bloody plonkers! I’m gonna go pick a fight. When you’re done yammering on about attachments, you should join me. I won’t get mad if you watch my back, though.” She called back to him, her grin widening as she gave him a little hip wiggle before finally leaving. Mirage sputtered and hurried after her. How could she move that fast with that mini gun on her back, anyway?

“By yourself? Hold up. You don’t even know where you’re going! You just got here…” Mirage yelled back to her, mumbling the last phrase to himself as he followed her to the fight.

Gunfire roared across the battlefield as the duo approached Fragment West. There were two squads fighting in the middle of the city: Bangalore and Bloodhound, and Revenant and Pathfinder. Pathfinder managed to down the hunter with an accurate Longbow shot, and the simulacrum was rushing in to attack the soldier. Bangalore popped some smoke to provide some cover to revive her teammate, but was also trying to actively listen for the approaching enemy. It was the perfect amount of chaos for Rampart and Mirage to join the fray. The modder skipped to a location not too far from where the two robots were set up. She quickly set up her amped cover before deploying Sheila, sighing happily.

“Oh, Sheila. They’ve never seen a girl like you.” The modder purred before hopping onto the seat and revving up the gun. “Yo Witt, got a fool OT. Doesn’t look too scary, so you can come out of hiding.” Ramya snickered, looking over her shoulder to see Mirage finally bringing up the rear. The trickster panted and shook his immaculate locks out of his face so that he had a clearer view of the enemy.

“Nothing scares me, Rampart! Now, remember what your super awesome teacher showed you. You point your gun like this, you aim for the–” Mirage was cut off by Sheila coming to life as bullets rapidly fired from the minigun.

“Ya see that? Haha! Just hit an enemy. Guess I’m a fast learner, eh?" Ramya laughed as she shot at Pathfinder. The modder’s shots connected with the robot’s back and by the time he took cover, he lost the majority of his shields.

“More friends are coming to kill us. There’s another squad!” The robot called to the simulacrum, holstering his weapon so that he could use a shield battery. Revenant was just about to put his totem down so that he could attack Bangalore and Bloodhound, so he wasn’t thrilled about the sudden interruption. He growled and reluctantly rushed back over to his teammate, having to duck behind cover when Mirage also started shooting at him. Revenant placed his totem down and both he and Pathfinder activated it to advance on Mirage and Rampart.

Rampart fired more rounds at Pathfinder and Revenant once they emerged from their cover. She managed to send the angry murderbot back to the totem, but Pathfinder managed to grapple behind some more cover. This gave the happier robot the opportunity to close in on them. Mirage noticed the approaching enemy and went to meet the robot halfway. Right before the trickster poked his head out, he activated his Life of the Party ultimate. Mirage hoped to confuse Pathfinder so that he could attack from an unexpected angle. The decoys mirrored his movements and circled the robot; Pathfinder shot a few of the decoys before zoning in on the real trickster. Pathfinder nearly downed Mirage, but the trickster managed to fire one Mastiff shot to the torso to finally take him down.

“Sorry, Path! Don’t take this personally, it’s just business. Heh..personal business..” Mirage chuckled, shooting Pathfinder one more time to finish him off. He didn’t even want to think about how close the robot came to killing him. The trickster hurried over to a nearby corner and used a shield battery to heal up. While doing so, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in a nearby window and noticed that his hair was a mess! He panicked and stopped healing himself to quickly fix it. Elliot teased out his curls and put some stray locks back in place, which gave a certain tall, angry murderbot plenty of time to sneak up on him. Revenant wasted no time in throwing a silence orb to keep Mirage from using his decoys to escape. The trickster dropped a high pitched scream and spun around, clumsily fishing for his Mastiff.

“Oh shi-Revenant! Uh, h-hey, this isn’t a good ti--” Mirage yelped as Revenant began firing on him. The trickster did his best to return fire, but he hadn’t healed up before the simulacrum arrived. Needless to say, Revenant barely had to do anything to down the trickster.

“This part never gets old.” Revenant purred as he loomed over Mirage, grinning as he noticed the pure fear in his eyes. Elliot inched away from the murderbot, but he kept coming. The murderbot slowly raised his left hand so that the trickster could see it turn into a razor sharp blade. “I’m not gonna make it quick. That would spoil all the fun~.” He murmured in his deep, gravelly voice as he knelt down to finish him off. Mirage screamed again and put up his hands defensively.

“NO, DON’T EAT ME!” Mirage wailed, shutting his eyes and waiting for the sharp pain to come. But nothing came. There was some more gunfire, a loud growl of “damn skinsuit”, and a mechanical sounding crash by the time the trickster found the courage to open his eyes. Mirage was shocked by what he saw: the boisterous, smirking modder, and Revenant’s death box.

“No, don’t eat me~.” Ramya mocked in a squeaky, high-pitched before laughing and kneeling down to the trickster. “I thought you said nothing scared ya, Witt! I’ve never heard anything human scream like that~.” She teased, pulling him to his feet after injecting the resuscitation serum into his body. Mirage grumbled and took out a Phoenix kit to fully heal up.

“I wasn’t scared! I was distracting him so that you come and kill him. It was all a part of the plan.” Mirage insisted as he finally healed his shields and health. Rampart skeptically arched a brow while she was fishing through Revenant’s death box.

“Uh huh. And, was crying like a baby a part of the plan too?” Rampart chuckled, grabbing plenty of ammo and improved attachments for her weapons. Mirage narrowed his eyes at her.

“No! I mean, yes! I mean...I didn’t, I wasn’t...I wasn’t crying like a baby!” Mirage did his damndest not to blush again and fished through what was left of Revenant’s supplies. Ramya stared at him and suddenly smirked, but he didn’t see it. She took a few steps away from him in the direction of Pathfinder’s deathbox; but then, out of nowhere, the modder yelled, which scared the hell out of Elliot.

“WITT! I see someone!”

Mirage jumped to his feet and immediately popped his ultimate again. He didn’t know who was coming or where they were coming from, so his decoys looked just as confused as he was. He ran over to Rampart with his weapon drawn. The modder wasn’t moving, but she did have her R-99 in hand.

“Where?” Mirage spun in all sorts of directions in search of the enemy, but he didn’t see anyone. “Who? Who’s coming?”

Ramya wasn’t moving because she was trying to keep her composure. But, when the trickster ran up to her side with that half-frightened, half-confused look on his face, she lost it. “I see a plonker who’s convinced that he is a Legend. Yet he’s been duped by a rookie! Maybe the real Mirage is that you’re a Legend, eh?~.” Ramya laughed hard enough to snort and held an arm against her abdomen. The trickster stared at her in disbelief; did she seriously just pull a prank? On the holographic trickster?

“I….you--you almost gave me a heart attack!” Mirage finally managed to say before putting his Mastiff away. He put a hand on his chest and could feel his heart doing somersaults. “Seriously. That took a lot outta me...”

Ramya’s laughter calmed down to giggles and she wiped a tear from her eye. “Sorry mate. It’s just..you should’ve seen your face.” She snickered, strolling up to him and cradling the left side of his face. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, Witt. If anyone comes, Sheila and I will protect you. We won’t tell.”

Mirage grumbled and batted away her hand. “Yeah, whatever. Laugh it up, gearhead..” He muttered, his arm brushing against her side as he walked past her. When he did, Ramya flinched and accidentally dropped her weapon. The trickster gave her a strange look. “Rampart?”

Ramya waved him off and quickly gathered up her weapon. “I’m good, mate! Just a lil’ case of butterfingers.” She chuckled as she hurried past him to gather up some more loot. Mirage blinked and eyed her closely; he swore he could see the faintest, faintest shade of red on her face when she walked past.

Rampart and Mirage came across Bangalore and Bloodhound later in the match, and the duo, mainly Rampart, took the two of them down with ease.

“You get a bullet! And you get a bullet! Everyone gets a bullet! Hahaha!” Ramya cheered as she and Sheila blasted poor Bangalore and Bloodhound out of the game. Elliot would never admit it, but the modder was racking up kills faster than he thought she would, and her high kill count won her the glorious title of Kill Leader. Ramya beamed when she heard the announcement sound throughout the arena.

“Hear that, Witt? You’re looking at the new Kill Leader! Not bad for a rookie, eh? Maybe you can learn a thing or two from a real Legend.” The modder grinned, having to revive the trickster again when he fell prey to the hunter and their Wingman.

“Yeah, well I was Kill Leader in my first..thir--uh, eighth season! It’s beginner’s luck.” Elliot countered while he, yet again, used a Phoenix kit to fully heal himself up.

“Heh...whatever helps you sleep at night.” Rampart shrugged and dug through the loot that was left behind. The duo made it to the top three and, after diving in to third party the last two squads, were named the Apex Champions.

After the match, Elliot hung up his shiny new Apex Champion medal in his room. He already had plenty of cutouts and collectible figurines of himself, but he always had space for a new medal! He looped the medal around one of his mobile figurines and gently booped it, grinning as it swayed side to side. While he was admiring himself, Rampart skipped into his room with her own medal and plopped down onto the couch, startling the trickster.

“So when are you taking me out for a drink, Witt? Think it’d be a fair trade for how much I carried you~.” Rampart smirked and swung her legs up onto the couch. Mirage turned to her and gave her a look. “Ya know just because you got three--eight--no, twelve kills last game doesn’t mean anything! It was your first game, maybe I decided to go easy on you.” Mirage argued matter-of-factly and put his hands on his hips. Ramya giggled and skipped over to him, playfully poking at his stomach. Mirage yelped and pushed her hand away, but she managed to sneak another poke to his side.

“Turn that frown upside down, mate! You’re just not as good as you think you are.” The modder teased as she kept making quick little jabs to his torso. A few giggles slipped out of the trickster while he tried and failed to grab her hands.

“Yehehes I ahaham! Stop! Stop pohohking me!” Elliot whined and retreated to his couch with Ramya hot on his tail. He fell back onto the cushions with his arms against his torso; but, somehow, she managed to find a little bit of his stomach or side to poke. After a few more pokes, Rampart switched gears and suddenly reached under Mirage’s arms, raking her short nails against his armpits. This made the trickster scream and slam his arms against his sides. The frantic laughter came next.

“STHOHOHP RAHAMYAHA!” Mirage yelled, his laughter growing in volume when she straddled his waist and went for his sides.

“I don’t know who Rahamyaha is! Oh! Wait, is that the girl who got twelve kills in her first game? Maybe the greatest Legend there ever was?” Rampart grinned and started squeezing his sides, laughing when the trickster bucked his hips.

“NOHOHOHOHOH! You-AH! YOOHOHU AREHEHAHAH NOHOHOHT!” Mirage squeaked and laughed harder when she stuck her hands under his shirt to squeeze his bare sides.

“Wrong answer, Witt!” The modder chirped, scribbling her nails against his belly before returning to his sides.

Mirage was going crazy; every time he hugged his arms to his sides or reached for her wrists, she attacked his armpits or belly instead. It wasn’t enough to be the Apex Champion or turn his face red; now, she was trying to tickle him to tears! In his haste to stop her, he grabbed her sides and squeezed them, drawing out an audible gasp.

“Oi, watch it!” Rampart hissed and stopped tickling him to reel away from him. Mirage perked up and looked at the modder; although he had to recover from the sudden tickle attack, a sly grin popped up on his face.

“What? That didn’t tickle, did it?” Mirage smirked, sitting up and advancing on the retreating modder.

“No!” Rampart answered quickly and crossed her arms against her torso. “I just didn’t think you’d grab me so hard. I’m not that kind of girl, Witt.” The modder continued, grinning triumphantly when Elliot turned crimson.

Elliot, after stumbling over his words, suddenly launched himself towards Rampart and pinned her to the other side of the couch. Rampart screamed and struggled to knock him off of her, but he held strong and immediately started poking her sides.

“Ah! Witt, geheht off of mehehe!” Ramya growled, a few stray giggles escaping her as she arched her body upwards.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Mirage chuckled and poked across her stomach, eliciting some more giggles. “I didn’t catch what you said. It’s almost like you laughed, which would be weird if you aren’t, ya know, ticklish or anything…”

“I’m nohohohoht! Geheheht oohohohff MEHEHEHE!” Ramya squeaked and kicked her feet against the couch when he returned to her sides. The trickster spidered his fingers up and down a few times before kneading at the very top of her ribcage. Rampart yelped again and whipped her body around to try and dodge his fingers. Mirage easily kept up with her squirming and, as much as she tried not to, she finally gave in to the ticklish sensations and laughed.

“EEHEHEHLIOT STAHAHAAHAH! I’M NAHAHT TIHIHIHICKLISHAHAH!” Ramya shrieked and bucked her hips when he gently scratched his fingers around her belly button. Mirage snickered and alternated between her sides, stomach, and her ribcage, which is where she seemed to be awfully ticklish. But, the trickster wasn’t ready to go for the kill just yet.

“Oho, I’m Elliot now? Funny, I don’t think you’ve called me by name all day!” Mirage snuck his hands underneath her arms and laughed when she snorted. He wiggled his fingers in circular motions and jabbed at the spot right before her ribcage began. Ramya threw her head back and laughed louder, which only encouraged him to stay on the spot. “And call me crazy, but I think only ticklish people laugh when they’re tickled. So, I guess that makes you ticklish, huh?”

“NOHOHOHOHOH!” Rampart yelled and stubbornly shook her head, the laughter flowing freely as the trickster’s fingers found her neck. The modder made a weird sound that sounded like a cross between a squeak and a honk, sending Mirage into a fit of laughter.

“Thahahaht’s nohohohohoht fuhuhuhnyhyhy!” Rampart protested, her laughter dying down to giggles as she whipped her head around. Mirage swiped his fingers along one side of her neck and gently prodded at the other. He finally noticed the blush on her face, causing him to grin widely.

“It’s totally funny! Look at how wed your widdle cheeks are~.” Mirage cooed and laughed some more when Ramya glared at him. “You can’t be the greatest Legend in the games when you’re this tickle, tickle, ticklish~.”

Rampart giggled uncontrollably and tried to trap Elliot’s hands between her neck and shoulder. She succeeded, but it didn’t stop the tickles. “Ihihih’m gohohohohohnna kihihihill yohohohuhu! I swehehehehehear!” She snickered and continued to roll her head side to side.

Mirage feigned offense and audibly gasped. “You’re gonna kill me?” He repeated, moving from her neck to the sides of her stomach. Ramya immediately dissolved back into laughter and struggled with a renewed vigor. “That’s not nice at all! In fact, that puts me on the defensive!”

With that, Elliot’s hands fell onto Rampart’s ribcage and gently squeezed at the bones. The modder screeched and cackled, kicking pillows off of the couch. “NOHAHAHAHAHAHA STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAP IHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHT!”

Mirage gave her a mischievous grin and swiped his fingers along the length of her ribcage. It made her laughter rise in pitch, which only boosted his confidence. “Stop what?” He chuckled, gently tweaking two of her middle ribs. “I thought you said you weren’t ticklish! And that you were the best Legend around! Looks like you lied on two fronts, huh?”

Ramya cried out in protest and laughed even harder. During her struggle to free herself from Witt’s iron hold, her ponytail loosened, so much of her hair covered her eyes and face. Mirage could still see the huge grin on her face, though, which made his own grin soften a bit. It wasn’t like one of those teasing, cocky grins that she kept throwing his way when they were in the arena.

“IHIHIHIHIHI DIHIHIDN’T--AHAHAHAHAHA! DIHIHIHIHDN’T LIHIHIHEAHAHAHAH!” Ramya argued while Elliot’s fingers continued tweaking the middle of her rib cage. Elliot let out another dramatic gasp and kneaded his fingers into her uppermost ribs.

“There’s another lie! My goodness, you are just asking for it, huh?” Mirage teased, chuckling again when he made Rampart snort again. “How about this, I’ll make you a deal. Say that I’m the best Legend hands down, no questions asked, and I’ll stop. I’ll even keep how ticklish you are a secret, so no one else will try to get ya in the ring! Whaddaya say?”

The trickster went back to gently tickling the sides of Ramya’s neck to give her a bit of a break. He went at short intervals, just giving each side a quick scribble here and there. Rampart snickered and brought her shoulders up again, taking the time to breathe where she could. Mirage slowed down even more and went to playfully boop her red cheeks and nose.

“Heheheheh...I-Im thehehehe behehest Lehehehehegend, hahands dohohown…”

“See, was that so hard?” Mirage didn’t realize what she had really said, so he happily let her up. Ramya breathed heavily and rubbed away the ticklish sensations from her ribcage. “I’m glad we can finally agree on something! Because believe me, you were this close to--”

The lightbulb just went off in the trickster’s head, and Rampart could see it. So, with what little energy she had left, she leapt from the couch and made a beeline for the door. She was laughing again, but this time, for a different reason.

“Come back here!” Mirage yelled and got up to chase her. He caught up with her before she could get into the hallway and easily picked her up.

“NO! Put me down, ya plonker! I said it!” Rampart insisted as she kicked around in his arms. She held one arm against her torso and, with her free hand, squeezed at Witt’s sides and hip. Mirage flinched and laughed, but he managed to get back to the couch before the tickling could really get to him.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it! So, let’s try again. Tell me that I, meaning me, am the best Legend, hands down, no questions asked.” Elliot demanded with a grin as he pushed her back down onto the cushions. This time, he held both of her wrists in one hand and used his leg to pin hers down. It became pretty clear to Rampart that she was screwed, but damn it, she wasn’t going to say it!

Mirage narrowed his eyes at the modder when she didn’t say anything. Then, with a dramatic sigh, he used his free hand to poke up her ribcage. Ramya squealed and bit down on her lip to trap the incoming giggles. Mirage grinned at her and switched to kneading in between the bones after a few more pokes.

“Coochie coochie coo~.” The trickster cooed, working his fingers up and down her ribcage. Rampart’s face went red again and, after another second or two, she burst out laughing.

“I”M NAHAHAHAHAT SAHAHAHAHYING IHIHIHIHIHT YOHOHUH PL-AHAHAHAHAAHAHA!” Rampart shrieked and bucked when he kneaded his fingers faster between the bones. Her ribs were still sensitive from the previous tickle attack, so it didn’t take much to put the modder back into hysterics. “STAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!”

“Nope! Say it and I’ll stop.” Mirage was resolute and couldn’t help but to laugh along with her as he gently scratched up and down her ribcage. This made her arch her back and desperately twist around to try and dodge his tickling hands; but, this time, she wasn’t getting away so easily.

“AHAHAHAHAHA WIHIHIHIHITT STAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Rampart yelled again and howled with laughter. Since he had her legs pinned down this time, the modder couldn’t even kick to try and alleviate the intense ticklish sensations. This only benefited the lone pillow that remained on the couch. Elliot was ruthless, but he did pause a few times just to see if she would say what he wanted to hear. She didn’t. The trickster tutted softly and gently scratched at the patch of skin where the ribcage ended. Rampart screamed and went ballistic with desperate laughter pouring out of her.

“NOOOHOHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Mirage initially flinched, not expecting the sudden roar of laughter. He let go of her wrists so that he could tickle the same spot on the other side of her ribcage. When he let go of her wrists, she immediately latched onto his and tried to pry them away from the spot. It didn’t work, but it didn’t stop her from trying, either.

“Huh. Didn’t you have ribs here a second ago?” Mirage mused, still scratching away the spot. He shook off her hands and pinned them underneath his arms. “Maybe I miscounted them. Let’s see...one, two, three…

Ramya yelled one more time before her laughter went silent. She shut her eyes tight and shook her head as the trickster ‘counted’ her ribs. Mirage stopped tickling her when he didn’t hear the laughter anymore and let her go. The modder immediately turned onto her side, breathing raggedly.

“Bloohohohoody hehehehell…” Ramya gasped after several minutes of trying to catch her breath. She hugged her arms tightly against her torso, still giggling from the lingering ticklish sensations. “I give, I’ll sahahay it…”

“Nah, don’t bother. Looks like you could use all the air you can get.” Mirage chuckled, not realizing that he was staring at her. Rampart’s face was bright red, her hair was a mess, and she was still grinning. “As the best Legend in the Apex Games, I’ll be nice and let you off the hook.”

Ramya rolled her eyes and propped herself up onto her elbows. “I guess I’m the luckiest girl in the world..” She quipped sarcastically, gathering her hair back into its ponytail. With her hair out of her face, the modder could clearly see that Mirage was staring at her. She arched a brow, giving him her sly, signature grin, which immediately snapped him out of his trance.

“Uh, you wanna get that drink now? My treat, of course.” Mirage stammered and stood up, offering her his hand. Ramya nodded and took the hand, but pulled him down so that she could latch herself onto his back.

“Wha-hey! Whahat are yohuhu--?!”

“What?” Rampart hooked her arms and legs around Elliot so that she could comfortably rest on his back. She didn’t even need to see his face to know that he turned crimson again. “You didn’t think I was actually going to walk to your bar, did you? Pfft..”

The modder tweaked his sides and giggled when he lurched forward. “Get a move on, Witt! I’m not getting any younger.” She demanded, continuing to gently prod his sides as he sputtered and hurried out of the room.

#apex legends #mirage #elliot witt #mirage apex legends #rampart #rampart apex legends #ramya parekh #ticklish!rampart #ticklish!ramya #ticklish!ramyaparekh #ticklish!mirage #ticklish!elliotwitt #ticklish!parekh #ticklish!witt #ticklish!elliot

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ddagent · 4 years ago

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A Year in Review - Writers Version

Rules: pick your favourite sentence from a work you posted / wrote during a month of 2020! if you didn’t write anything in any particular month, don’t worry! tell us what you were doing or use it as free space for runner-up sentences. after that, tag 8 people or more to do the meme!

I know I am hideously late but I’m battling this sinus infection and only just now catching up. I was tagged by the amazing @aviss, and I am tagging anyone who wishes to do it! <3

January: Head, Hand, Heart (Chapter 15)

Brienne kissed Jaime in the spot where they had first met, where they had first embraced. Where they would stand as Queen and Prince Consort to preside over the kingdoms. Where they would present their first child to the Court. Where Jaime would tell their three children for the umpteenth time how he thought their mother the Maiden when she entered this very room. Brienne kissed Jaime in that spot until they both decided to return to their bedchambers and satisfy their hunger. They left the ghosts behind them as they went and began their new life together.

The Lion and the Beauty. Oathkeeper and Stormbreaker. The Golden Prince and the Warrior Queen.

February: I Can’t Get No Satisfaction

“How gallant of you. Let us see how long it lasts before all you think about is your want; your need to touch your clit, fill that cunt of yours.” His teeth toyed with his bottom lip. Brienne loosened her grip. “You think I want to fuck you? I have no desire to bed anyone other than my sister, but I equally have no desire to walk all the way to the capital with my cock stiff and my balls blue. I am merely suggesting, my Lady, that we give each other a helping hand to take the edge off.”

“I won’t untie you.”

“There are other ways I can touch you, my Lady. You can straddle my face; let my tongue give you the orgasm you so desperately need.”

March: Sugar

Jaime’s forehead furrowed, and those beautiful lips fell into a frown. “Can you give us a minute?” he said to the waitress and, after she took her leave, leant across to Brienne once again. “You’re not used to asking for the things you want, are you?”

She bristled at his tone. “And I bet you never have to ask; they’re just given to you.”

He grinned. “Most of the time. I was lucky enough to be born into a family with more wealth than I can ever spend. My sister’s bought vineyards; my brother a boat or three. I’d like to buy your time and your company.”

“Why me?”

April: Table for One

As she completed the last table of appetisers, Podrick returned. He was smiling. “Table fourteen said to give his compliments to the chef.”

Brienne frowned. “He hasn’t even eaten it yet.”

“He said if you cook steak as well as your scallops, he’s in for a good meal.” Podrick closed the distance between them, so the rest of the kitchen couldn’t hear what else he had to say. “He also said that if he’s lucky enough to get a third course, he’d like the chef to bring it out herself.”

“Oh.” Her cheeks flushed. “I see.”

May: Chariot

Jaime pulled his car up in front of the Tarth Limited building; the blue-tinted windows shining in the King’s Landing sun. “We’re here.”

“Thank you,” said one of his passengers; a tall, striking woman with the bluest eyes Jaime had ever seen. Her companion, a shorter, plain-looking man whose face Jaime wouldn’t be able to pick out of a line-up, said nothing. “Have a good day.”

The woman went to open the rear door, only to find the handle stuck. Not wanting yet another comment about kidnapping passengers and holding them in his back seat, Jaime flung himself out of the driver’s side and opened Widow’s back door. While some (his mother, for example) found calling his car Widow’s Wail macabre, Jaime found it suited the faulty door, rusted exhaust, and the tendency for the radio to splutter to life at the oddest moments.

“Sorry about the door,” he offered, allowing the young woman to make her escape. “Have a–have a good day.”

June: Pride

Cat grinned, and Jaime just sat, watching his daughter smile his smile. She had her mother’s eyes and nose; both of their desire to wave around a stick at other people carrying sticks. But that smile was all him. She grinned at her lion cub, who had her mistress’ eyes, and Jaime knew the exact moment his daughter settled on the perfect name.

“Sapphire,” she said; the cub sneezing in response. “Saffie for short.”

“I love it. And your mother will love it, too.” He stroked his daughter’s head, earning a content smile from his child and a bop of the head from the newest addition to the family. “Now, will my little lions finally go to bed?”

July: Sparkline

“Nineteen Reasons why Hand Jaime Lannister is the sexiest politician in Westeros,” Brienne teased as Jaime entered her office. The Sparkline article was open in her browser; a topless photograph found on his brother’s social media reason number one. “And then there’s the one about your beard.”

Jaime ran a hand over his face as he slumped into his familiar seat beside Brienne’s desk. “Ah, yes. I saw that article.”

“They suggested you should call it Ovary Killer.” A clear riff on Oathkeeper, the ancient Valyrian sword that hung in the Queen’s office. It’s sister blade hung in his own. He’d like to take it to his laptop most days. Over her screen, Brienne caught Jaime’s eye and grinned. “The press is rather fond of you.”

“As they are of you, Your Grace. You and…Renly.”

August: Score

“Touché, Ms Tarth,” Jaime said; his smile fixed in place as he chatted with her. “Manager of the Evenstar and so desperate to meet me that you did a job one of your staff could have easily done.”

Brienne snorted. “I don’t believe in hiding in my office, Mister Lannister, especially during a busy weekend. Believe me, the highlight of my day will be watching you lose, not seeing you in a small towel.”

“Oh, so you did see me in that towel?” Jaime Lannister teased his bottom lip with his teeth, and her traitorous stomach somersaulted. “I should thank you again, Ms Tarth. My lucky gloves were in my room; without that key, who knows how many of your goals I would have nearly let in.”

“I don’t think your hands are nearly as good as you think they are.”

September: Mixed Doubles

The half-penny dropped, and Jaime had the sudden urge to throw himself in front of a fire-breathing dragon. Anything other than face this realisation. As Jason re-joined Brienne and Melara in the living room, Jaime gripped the kitchen island and tried not to scream. “Oh, Gods!”

“Now, Jaime, this isn’t something to get worked up about,” his father declared; a wry smile forming on his features. “In actuality, it’s rather amusing.”

“We’re not even on the same continent as amusing! Tyrion told me to wait a day.” Jaime turned sharply towards his brother. “Wait a day, you said. Ask her then if you think it’s right, you said. Well during that day, Brienne fell for the direct-to-DVD version of me!”

Tyrion held out his hands; trying to placate his brother. “Jaime, I know you’re angry—”

“—angry; I’m not angry. I just want to hit you, wait a day, and take you to the maester then!”

October: N/A

[I didn’t write anything in October. Not even headcanons :( ]

November: Not Marriage Material

“Is she presentable?”

From behind the handmaiden, a choked snort of derision echoed out into the hallway. Jaime, Lord of Casterly Rock, just smiled. The handmaiden, short of stature but sweet of face, merely nodded and allowed him entry. Her gaze lingered on his crimson tunic and golden curls before the girl took her leave; no doubt to return to the kitchens and wax poetic about the Golden Lion. Jaime took a moment to bask in the admiration before he entered his oldest friend’s chambers.

Brienne was sat in front of the looking glass, staring unhappily at her reflection. Jaime crossed the room and pressed his lips to her freckled cheek. “Lady Evenstar.”

“My Lord.” Brienne sighed as he perched himself atop the dresser. “Who is it today?”

December: A Sevenmas Carol

“I don’t deserve this.”

“Did I deserve my end, Kingslayer? Did my husband and sons? Does your sister, after all she’s done, deserve to die in your arms like lovers from a song?” Lady Stark blinked away a tear. “Life is not given to the deserving. It is not a case of what you deserve. What do you want, Ser Jaime?”

He did not even have to think. “Her.”

#ship: braime #moi #writing

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