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klaineownsmysoul · 4 years

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I was tagged by @theyaskedmeto (thank you!!!)

rules : spell your url with song titles and tag 10 people.

K - Kiss Me (Sixpence None the Richer)

L - Lost Boys Life (Computer Games)

A - All of Me (Darren Criss)

I - It Must Have Been Love (Roxette)

N - Need You Now (Lady Antebellum)

E - Everybody Wants to Rule the World (Darren Criss)

O - One (U2)

W - What Kind of Fool (The Warblers version - seriously this is sublime)

N - Not Alone (Darren Criss)

S - Set Fire to the Rain (Adele)

M - Manic Monday (The Bangles)

Y - You Shook Me All Night Long (AC/DC)

S - Somebody That I Used to Know (Anderbros baby)

O - Open Your Heart (Madonna)

U - Uptown Girl (Billy Joel)

L - Love is a Battlefield (Klaine duet naturally)

quarantine asks

where are you isolated ??

my house

what are you currently reading or watching ??

reading - A Breath of Snow And Ashes (Outlander book #6) and my usual stash of Klaine fics

watching - nothing specific really in terms of new shows

if you can go outside, what do you like to do during this time ??

I love to go for a drive, going to movies, going over to my parents’ house to spend time with them, my grandmother, and the puppy who’s actually not a puppy but an 80 pound 2 year old golden retriever but we still call him puppy

any fascinating concept you’re studying ??

Nope

what kind of acts of creativity / forms of art are you currently doing ??

I have zero artistic ability; like less than zero if that’s actually possible.

a song that resonates with your state of mind at the moment ??

Don’t Stand So Close to Me (The Police)

favourite impulsive / “bad” coping techniques ??

I have a tendency to put things off until the very last moment possible.

favourite healthy / “good” coping techniques ??

Reading or re-reading my favorite Klaine fan fics curled up in bed is my happy place. Late night tv has kept me sane for the last 3 years because the US Government is an embarrassing clusterfuck of incompetence.

rules: bold everything that applies to you & tag some people you’d like to get to know better.

A P P E A R A N C E

I’m over 5′5″. I wear glasses / contacts. I have blonde hair. I prefer loose clothing to tight clothing. I have one or more piercings. I have at least one tattoo. I have blue / green eyes. I have dyed or highlighted my hair. I have gotten plastic surgery. I have or had braces. I sunburn easily. I have freckles. I paint my nails. I typically wear makeup. I don’t often smile (not in public places). I am pleased with how I look. I prefer nike to adidas. I wear baseball hats backwards.

H O B B I E S A N D T A L E N T S

I play a sport. I can play an instrument. I am artistic. I know more than one language. I have won a trophy in some sort of competition. I can cook or bake without a recipe. I know how to swim. I enjoy writing. I can do origami. I prefer movies to tv shows. I can execute a perfect somersault. I enjoy singing. I could survive in the wild on my own. I have read a new book series this year. I enjoy spending time with friends. I travel during school or work breaks. I can do a handstand.

R E L A T I O N S H I P S

I am in a relationship. I have been single for over a year. I have a crush. I have a best friend I have known for ten years. My parents are together. I have dated my best friend. I am adopted. My crush has confessed to me. I have a long distance relationship. I am an only child. I give advice to my friends. I have made an online friend. I met up with someone I have met online

A E S T H E T I C S

I have heard the ocean in a conch shell. I have watched the sunrise. I enjoy rainy days. I have slept under the stars. I meditate outside. The sound of chirping calms me. I enjoy the smell of the beach. I know what snow tastes like. I listen to music to fall asleep. I enjoy thunderstorms. I enjoy cloud watching. I have attended a bonfire. I pay close attention to colors. I find mystery in the ocean. I enjoy hiking on nature paths. autumn is my favorite season.

M I S C E L L A N E O U S

I can fall asleep in a moving vehicle. I am the mom friend. I live by a certain quote. I like the smell of sharpies. I am involved in extracurricular activities. I enjoy Mexican food. I can drive a stick-shift. I believe in true love. I make up scenarios to fall asleep. I sing in the shower. I wish I lived in a video game. I have a canopy above my bed. I am multiracial. I am a redhead. I own at least three dogs.

I tag @awesome-fanfictionada, @little-smile-magic, @lizzystillbelieves, @leka-1998, @flowersintheattic254, @mmack0621, @iguessimdone29 and/or anyone else who would like to participate!

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theories-fans-andwombats · 4 years

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Tag game time!!! Thanks @dream-emporium

rules : spell your url with song titles and tag 10 people

T - “Terror Time” by Skycycle, from Scooby Doo Zombie Island

H - “Heads Will Roll” by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs

E - “El Dorado” by Two steps From Hell

O - “Outlands pt 2″ by Daft Punk (Tron Legacy soundtrack)

R - “Red Like Roses” by Jeff Williams (RWBY soundtrack)

I - “Impossible” by Two Steps from Hell

E - “Evacuate the Dancefloor” by Cascada

S - “Song of Aeolus” by Karl Jenkins

F - “Ft.” by Funkist (Fairy Tail opening 3)

A - “Adiemus 1999 version” by Karl Jenkins

N - “Nevermore” by Jeff Williams (RWBY soundtrack)

S - “Stay I Pray You” Anastasia Broadway play

A - “(The) Aliens are Here”, Scooby Doo and the Alien Invaders soundtrack

N - “No One Like You” by the Scorpions

D - “Die” by Jeff Williams, RWBY Vol. 2 Soundtrack

W - “(The) World Will Know” by Alan Menken (Newsies soundtrack)

O - “O2″ by Orange Range (Code Geass R2 opening 1)

M - “Main Title (Second Star to the Right)”, Peter Pan soundtrack

B - “Blue (Da Ba Dee)” by Eiffel 65

A - “Across the Violet Sky”, Violet Evergarden soundtrack

T - “The End of the Road Should be Here”, Fire Emblem Fates soundtrack

S - “Summer of 69″ by Bryan Adams

Quarantine Asks

🏠 where are you isolated?

At my/my parent’s house

📺 what are you currently reading or watching?

Reading: I just finished Finale by Stephanie Garber, and I plan on starting Girls of Storm and Shadow soon.

Watching: Downton Abbey with my mom. It is surprisingly really good (I usually prefer either fantasy/sci-fi shows or animated shows.

🏝if you can go outside, what do you like to do during this time?

I go for walks with my family and play frisbee with my brother. Hopefully soon I’ll start kayaking and swimming!

📚any fascinating concept you’re studying?

I’m in the process of learning Gaeilge, or Irish. I’m taking online courses from Dublin City University and absolutely loving it!

🖼 what kind of acts of creativity/forms of art are you currently doing?

Writing fanfiction, drawing digitally (and a bit traditionally), making clothing designs on Animal Crossing ;)

🎵 a song that resonates with your state of mind at the moment?

Uuuhhhh hard to say. I’ll go with “Pan” by Nightwish, or any of their songs I’ve been listening to. Not so much for the lyrics, but for the feeling I get from the music

🚫 favorite impulsive “bad” coping mechanism?

Either impulse buying something I feel I deserve or deciding to spend a day doing nothing

✅ favorite good “healthy” coping mechanism?

At the moment, taking walks. I’m super active during the summer, but rarely during the winter, and it feels good to get outside on the nice days. In general, a coping mechanism that works really well for me is writing down something if it’s bothering me. Almost instantly makes me feel better and helps calm me down.

rules : bold everything that applies to you & tag 10 people you’d like to get to know better.

A P P E A R A N C E

i’m over 5′5″. i wear glasses / contacts. i have blonde hair. i prefer loose clothing to tight clothing. i have one or more piercings. i have at least one tattoo. i have blue / green eyes. i have dyed or highlighted my hair. i have gotten plastic surgery. i have or had braces. i sunburn easily. i have freckles. i paint my nails. i typically wear makeup. i don’t often smile. i am pleased with how i look. i prefer nike to adidas. i wear baseball hats backwards.

H O B B I E S & T A L E N T S

i play a sport. i can play an instrument. i am artistic. i know more than one language. i have won a trophy in some sort of competition. i can cook or bake without a recipe. i know how to swim. i enjoy writing. i can do origami. i prefer movies to tv shows. i can execute a perfect somersault. i enjoy singing. i could survive in the wild on my own. i have read a new book series this year. i enjoy spending time with friends. i travel during school or work breaks. i can do a handstand.

R E L A T I O N S H I P S

i am in a relationship. i have been single for over a year. i have a crush. i have a best friend i have known for ten years. my parents are together. i have dated my best friend. i am adopted. my crush has confessed to me. i have a long distance relationship. i am an only child. i give advice to my friends. i have made an online friend. i met up with someone i have met online.

M I S C

i can fall asleep in a moving vehicle. i am the mom friend. i live by a certain quote. i like the smell of sharpies. i am involved in extracurricular activities. i enjoy mexican food. i can drive a stick-shift. i believe in true love. i make up scenarios to fall asleep. i sing in the shower. i wish i lived in a video game. i have a canopy above my bed. i am multiracial. i am a redhead. i own at least three dogs.

Tagging some friends @natcatsama and @eternalknoxy if any of u guys wanna do these!

#tag games

#about me

#tag games

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alteredphoenix · 2 years

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In Every Song A Heartbeat (WoW/ToLuminaria)(Celia/Michelle)[Tentative Prologue + Chapter Notes][First Draft]

A/N: So I’ve been plunking away at the ZM Fic for a couple days (which, as you can see above in the header, it finally has a title!), and as I’m trucking along trying to get a cohesive plot outline going - which is condensed as a table of contents in a separate notebook - I thought to myself Let’s try writing a prologue from an OC’s POV and share it, because initially my plan was to just start things off with Celia and Michelle wandering into Zereth Mortis during a scouting mission they’re sent on by Lisette in Silvayer by sheer coincidence because some Xy saboteur managed to get a portal open while the Enlightened was distracted pushing back the Cartel/Mawsworn/Dreadlords and BOOM go from there.

Which leads me to my current problem: if I should include this prologue in the actual, main story or put it in a separate fic that acts as an anthology to other side-stories a’la gap fillers/missing scenes and character-building chapters that might not be able to fit into the former. Not because this prologue is bad (although the bulk of it certainly had me trimming and retrimming it several times because I got the impression that, while it was trying to describe the greater conflict a’la the Jailer and the Mawsworn, it was going too off-track from what the journal entry is supposed to be about aka love as a powerful, recursive state of being that is being tested to its limits by external influences beyond the control of both the Enlightened, the Alliance and Horde, and the Covenants), but because I’m not sure whether or not it’s really necessary to include it outside of it being a small lore-building introduction, since:

a) As it’s already mentioned, if the prologue were to be included then the next chapter would immediately have the girls wind up in ZM, like, almost right after a short timeskip a’la shortly after Sylvanas wakes up in Oribos (but this could work as a case of “the readers know but the characters don’t”, except this probably defeats the purpose of the ZM Fic being explicitly described as “a very loose adaptation of Eternity’s End experienced from an outsider’s POV”, in which case having a prologue chapter describing the conflict and just describing it again to the readers would make it pretty redundant),

b) They’re going to find about the Iteration later on anyway from another broker campsite, and they view it differently as a force of nature called the Resonance that some brokers that are more religious go so far as to consider it a prophecy lain down by the gods they follow, the First Ones, and just happen to attribute it to the girls because they’re not from Azeroth/Draenor/Outland/Shadowlands and thus are not personally affected by the Jailer’s war (YET), and,

c) This particular broker camp plays a very minor role a’la serve as a starting point to where the girls end up and settle in Haven for the duration of the fic; and I like to think that when they are told about the Iteration from another camp, they’ll hear the other points of view from their first camp and others a’la Haven (which most consider to be a load of bunk and, even if it’s true, shouldn’t be shared with outsiders that shouldn’t be in ZM), Pilgrim’s Grace (the whole ‘gods work in mysterious ways, if it happens it happens because of something we did’ shtick), etc.

I took great care not to tip off the reader that the POV and the camp aren’t human or from Luminaria’s world (which...AFAIK...doesn’t have a name...?), and this being a perfunctory first draft I think I can tidy it up a bit more so it remains vague.

Most of the inspiration for this chapter and its ideologies stem from a Star Fox fanfic trilogy called The Books of Fox McCloud set in an AU world that practices Christianity, two of its stories being The Unonian Rose and The Significance of the Rose that are complete. Unfortunately, these two and the third and final story (which was never completed OOF) are no longer available on Fanfiction.net and can only be found by downloading and extracting them from the Fanfiction.net Pack off the Internet Archive. (I also understand that religion, especially Christianity, is a pretty contentious topic in this day and age, but those fics were written in 2007-2008, and while I was never religious to begin with I always did like how innocently they were portrayed. So even without the context behind this inspiration, I like to think that kind of ‘innocent, honest love that survives all odds even through death’ is universal. Maybe too idealistic and optimistic, but something to aspire to.)

For every story that is told, there must be a song to accompany it.

So many songs I have heard in passing whenever these threads are woven and spun, in those days when I knew only glory and greed. There are such stories that reflect my own with similar endings, and yet there are those same stories that do not end so gallantly, so powerfully, so wonderfully it would reduce the audience to fits of passion. Fairy tales and fables and poems laced with triumph, tragedy, sweetness, tartness—as small and inconsequential as the walls of one’s home to as far-reaching as the chaotic horrors and wonders of the spaces that construct their patterns to all that may hear, see, and pay respect to the lands that would be devoured and birthed anew.

Every song must be a story, but not every story must contain a song: it is but the way of creation and, by rote, the pattern in which the gods have made reality. Were it all the sound of music, I’d wager there would be little silence to be had for concentration! Oh, but I digress; I have known people that find luxury and motivation in the madness, the lights, the uproar of voices. Although I prefer my storytelling to be conducted in contemplative quiet among the drone of the eidolons and the trill of ambiance from the workers outside, I can appreciate the beauty within such calamity.

Much as I would like to, I cannot hear all these songs at once, and that is my greatest shame to bear. For every second that passes into a minute that becomes the hour and extends into eternity, there is music: the crescendo, the decrescendo, the diminuendo, notes, pitches, the stanza, the pattern of rhymes. Ah, but the voices—the voices. In all the realms that I have traveled and all the worlds I have visited in my days as a chronicler have I never found nor heard such articulated beauty as a voice in melody. A group which raises their voices to the high heavens is pleasant to hear, but a single voice, especially one joined by another in duet? Oh, it is harmony. Oh, it is unity. To join one’s voice among another and dance as the song is sung and the dance is spun is closest to reaching perfection. It is the grand design the gods have laid out for any one person, that we have been granted these instruments so that we may give praise and homage to for being alive.

That, I believe, is the definition of love.

It’s such a wonderful feeling, isn’t it? To be moved in ways that could be so easily put to words but at the same time be transcendental beyond any mere connotation. The response, our response, is universal: it is warm, it is comforting, it is divine. It has the power to instill flame into the meekest of souls and has the strength to force the coldest, hardest hears to their knees. We have been blessed to feel it, understand it, and to give it freely from one unto another from the gods, though we are undeserving of it. It is through our bodies and our voices that we express our gratitude to them and hope that our love shall be reciprocated. From these acts we create a union that is all-encompassing, fulfilling, and pure. It is an honest love that would survive even death.

I do not know if the other caravans adhere to this in the same manner we do, but here in our camp we have a word for this. My colleagues have seen this crop up time and again during our research into interpreting the lords’ tongue across the various plaques and facilities scattered throughout the lands; and although there is still much debate among us, we agreed that this note, this song, is integral to not only being in communion with them but ourselves as well. It is not just a fractal—it is a state of being, and it begins with the resonance of two alike minds.

We call it the Iteration.

Some of my colleagues have discussed that it would be more appropriate to call it an Iteration rather than the Iteration; what one person uncovers as love, another will find a different meaning to it and respond accordingly to that particular whim, and they are not quite wrong in that assumption. No song nor sound is the same, for if they were then it would make for a very dull if quite noisome existence! However, I think that is a rather cynical way of viewing the Iteration; I feel that line of reasoning comes from our more sinful, wayward days prior to our revelation, and it does not surprise me that a few of my brethren find my thoughts hypocritical if not heretical in regards to the laws the other elders have established among the caravans.

And I do not blame them. In fact, during those moments, when darkfall is heaviest and only the chorus of the bufonids to keep me company as I recite my prayers and pen my thoughts by the buzz of the lamplight at my desk, I think they are right. It is a very whimsical, hopeful idea to cling to, one that I should have moved on from long ago, when I was younger and more innocent. Everything that we are and everything that we are driven to do is based on imperfection, that the only way to achieve perfection and unity is to put our faith and trust in the gods, the one true beings that are, have, and will be perfect. To hope that there exists a kind of love that is bereft of the problems that can sully it in one fell stroke, or taint it in a way that will be deteriorate over time and be turned into hate, is to hope too much. Something that perfect, that whole, is simply unattainable.

Maybe they are right. Maybe I am being too idealistic to hope that something like that is possible. Maybe it is too much to even imagine what that would be like. The gods have plans for all of us, even though we may turn away from them for but a time, in disbelief and thinking we know better than them, but it is a plan we must follow to the end all the same. Those plans will be rife with tribulations that will test our resolve and make us want to desert and leave the path we have decided for ourselves. To desert it would mean to abandon the gods and ourselves, and to abandon one another means to abandon love and give in to our doubts and despair.

Yet even as the darkness closes in around us, even as the peace we have known for so long is disrupted by the discord of unholy monsters and their cruel masters, even as all they have shown is hate—for what has been taken from us—and given us grief—for what has been lost to us—and will continue to pursue those dark roads to their bitter end, I must have hope.

I must have hope that our love for the gods will be strong, and that the love they have for us will be strong enough for us to endure.

That is our Iteration. It is my Iteration. And I am sure, if I were to risk leaving the safety of the shield and make the journey across the Veldt to the camp that sits therein, it would be their Iteration as well.

It does not hurt to hope, does it? To hope that the darkness that has desecrated and plagued this sacred land be banished from whence it came and protect that which we hold dear, even as we push through the wounds that are inflicted upon our hearts. To hope that even when it seems twilight reigns supreme and the dawn out of reach, even when those same hearts are mired in turmoil and cannot see past the fog of turmoil they are lost in, love will still be there.

That is why I believe in the Iteration. Something, someone, must be out there to give back that hope. Not only to my brethren, but to everyone that has chased the darkness here and fought to bring back the sounds and the music that the trees and the rocks in their crevices, the wind and the grains of sand carried on its wings, and the water that flows from down high on the mountaintops used to sing.

There must be. Even those that have weathered the storms of war and heartache must have the strength to remind us that we are not alone...and that we cannot give in.

“Sir!” The door to the chamber whirled open behind him, and he did not have to look up to see the shadow of the protector standing in the threshold. The glow of his energy blade tossed a teal light over the walls. “Enemy forces have been spotted by the Path! They’re carrying translocators! What are your orders?”

He rested his hand next to the journal and bowed his head, thinking. Then he looked up, staring at the inactive lamppost on the wall, where it would soon be switched on for darkfall. “We cannot take any chances. Gather with you whatever servitors are still in functional operation and go with Ratashi and Ivect. Take the portal and redirect its coordinates to cross over the mountains. If we are lucky, we should be able to intercept them before they breach the gates and prepare the light step cyphers. Go now, with haste. I will join you.”

“What?! My Elder, you must stay here!” said the protector. “We cannot afford to put your life in danger!”

“What sort of leader would I be if I cannot stand among my kin and fight? I would be remiss if I were to confine myself here while you are putting yourselves on the line.” A terse silence fell, to which the protector uncertainly shuffled his lower leg articulations. The Elder sighed and twisted round where he sat, giving the protector a reassuring flare. “Forgive me, brother. I am not mad. I appreciate your concern, but I would not forgive myself if I did not do my part—and that part includes ensuring that not a single one of those translocators goes off.”

“Elder….”

“You have your orders. Go. We have no time to waste.”

“Sir!” The protector saluted and dashed out of the vault. The door shortly closed in on itself.

The Elder turned back to his desk and spared only a moment at the lamppost. Then he picked up the pen, shook it so that the ink loosened in the case, and set the tip to the flimsy once more.

A long, arduous road awaits us. I fear that it will break more than its fair share of people by the time this war will come to an end—far more than I and everyone else spread across the realm will see and hear about.

But I believe victory, and peace, will be within our grasp. If we reach hard enough and strain against this ill, misbegotten wind, then we will have it. We need only seize it.

We need not forget who we are, lest we fall from the grace of the gods. We must remember the Iteration.

Then and only then we shall be able to move forward and love again.

#fanfiction #warcraft #tales of luminaria #mywriting #that fic where celia & michelle go to zereth mortis fic

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nanaswhispers · 7 years

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Wandering Souls

Day 1 KLAROLINEAUWEEK : Fusions & Crossovers

OUTLANDER AU.

K&c don’t interact with Claire and Jamie. They’re also not really Claire and Jamie, but there are some similitudes with a strong Klaroline twist. Also, Randalls became Lockwoods. Not really Outlander canon either, just Outlander Universe.

Angst. Violence. Language.

Although it was originally intended as a one-shot, and I ended it in a way so that it can still be read as that, I’m feeling inspired, and like it needs a continuation, so, if you like it, stay tuned for a second part! After Klarolineauweek ends most probably.

PART 2 - PART 3

Enjoy !

« Eerie, isn’t it ? » a distinctly male voice abruptly brought her out of her contemplation.

Caroline threw a quick glance towards the man walking up to her, then looked back down, from her perch on the balcony, at the dancing, joyous pairs moving through the castle’s Great Room, the fires in the various hearths scattered in all the corners of the space to combat the wet cold winter seemingly never ending here in the Highlands, the unfamiliar smells of food and beverages that wouldn’t even be remembered centuries from now, the swirls of the tent-like skirts women were forced to wear below the excruciating tightness of their corsets, and the swirls of the kilts around the men’s knees proudly displaying the loyalty to their clan, their allegiance to their Laird.

And, she supposed, it really was eerie. Although, she guessed the man now standing next to her didn’t find it so for the same reasons she did. At least not from her perspective as a 26 years old woman from the 21st century that suddenly traveled through time and landed in the 18th century, right in the middle of Scotland.

So, she only nodded, not willing to show or say to much.

Even if she hadn't quickly glanced back when he interrupted her musings, his voice would have betrayed his identity immediately. Such a raspy, smooth, velvet was recognizable amongst thousands, but, it was his accent, so different from everyone else’s around here that truly differentiated him from the other people in Castle Leoch.

She had heard he was a traveler, and had been a warrior for some Lord in another land some time ago, his prowess with a sword was rumored to be extraordinary. (Clearly, only nice terms to say sell-sword, she scoffed, internally.)

She supposed he had his reasons as to why he divulged no details about his past. (She couldn't really hold that against him since she hadn't really been that forthcoming herself…)

Perhaps he had done things that would take away the good grace the Mackenzies had towards him?

Maybe it was shame that ate him up from the inside? (Although Klaus didn't strike her as one that would care about such unprofitable and unusable emotions…)

Or, most probably, his past was too painful, still too raw to share… she understood that.

Those were different times, where people didn’t always have the luxury of circumstances or even the rights to choose a path for themselves. Sometimes, to survive, one must do things they didn’t like. Things they wished to never remember again.

Objectively, she had known in a vague sort of way, that all those were indisputable facts. That free will and freedom were what dreams were made off. However she had never truly comprehended it, grasped the whole spectrum of that fact, understood how it affected people to be choice-less, powerless, voice-less, not until mere months ago. Now, she did. Unfortunately.

Caroline looked back at him again. Observed him standing quite rigidly, especially compared to his usual falsely laid-back attitude. Watched as he took notice of every nook, cranny, and corner present in the Great Room, never letting down his guard. His already paranoid streak seemingly accrued by the tension right before the battle that will take place only hours from now.

When she met him initially, his aura of violence and aloofness perturbed her. Frustrated her. Unbalanced her. She wasn't equipped to deal with men who dealt everyday with violence and non-ending wars, as real individuals, with their own set of traumas and real experiences. People who lived through the consequences of spilled blood. They were just a story, something passed almost as anecdotes when political machinations and tales of bloody battlefields were taught in class as more important than the measly life of a no-name Scot, until they stood in front of her, threatening her, thinking she was a spy for the English that persecuted them.

Now, with hindsight and experience on her mind, she guessed his attitude had its benefits. Even though he was capable of angering her like no one before in her life (both time frames included), he was also the one that protected her like nobody ever did before, even at his own expense.

She would remember until her last breaths those wretched moments when he took a hit, or a bullet in her stead. When he defended her honor by sullying his. When he sacrificed his comfort so that she could feel better. And he did it without ever bragging, which was actually quite surprising and commendable for someone with such a propensity for teasing and showing off.

Klaus had sometimes been such an antagonistic bastard during her three months in this time that she in some stances (after an arduous battle with herself) could force her mind to forget how handsome and charming he was. Yet, here, standing next to her, with an indescribable expression stretched on his fair and strong features, her breath was taken away.

The warmth exuding from his arm to hers was much more effective than the fires in chasing away the chill from her bones, she noted absently.

This time, when his voice interrupted her from her musings, about how hot he was, she was grateful. She couldn’t allow herself to fantasize about men she didn’t plan on seeing for much longer. She had to get back to Tyler. Her, maybe not as sweet nor devoted as she would like, husband of two years, waiting for her, generations away. So she only focused on his words and not on the divine mouth uttering them.

“I find it quite eerie to see such joy on their faces. They know that the dawn will bring nothing good, that most of them could be dead come sundown. They know that Lockwood and his brutish British goons are better funded, better equipped, and have higher numbers. And yet, here are those Highlanders, dancing, laughing, drinking and fucking… Is that the most stupid or most intelligent thing on this world, I wonder?”

She pondered his question a few moments. Never truly finding a concrete answer but still giving away her piece of mind.

“I don’t really know, to be perfectly honest with you… It is stupid. They are drinking themselves to a stupor they won’t really exit out of even on the battlefield; they are using all the energy they could save for the fight by fucking women they wouldn’t even acknowledge any other day; they are burning up every resource they have that could feed their people in the coming months…”

(She hushed the words “if survival is theirs” for both their sakes.)

“And yet, there is something undeniably awe-inspiring and truly…beautiful, seeing them like this, focusing only on the present time, not worrying about the events of the morrow, enjoying everything about living at least one last night… One can only envy such lust for life.”

Klaus looked at her in silence, contemplating her (and her words), a small smile etched on his sinful lips, as if he was amused by the rhetoric of her answer, or as if he was pleased she shared her mind so openly with him after weeks of avoiding real conversations with him, instead giving back only defensive, short and concise words.

They stood side to side, in silence for a long while, pondering the events to come, the forced joy and drunkenness being displayed in front of their eyes, as if a scene from a historical action movie. Appreciating each other's warmth, knowing fully well it may be the last time they ever could. Quietly, secretly, throwing quick glances that when caught would case an embarrassed smile to bloom on their otherwise stony faces.

As per usual, it was Klaus that breached through the wall of silence between them.

“I, am no Scot, my fair lady, and I do not plan on giving away the fight before it has even begun. I intend to broaden significantly my list of slain English bastards. Therefore, I must bid you a good night and take leave to retire to my own chambers. (Where you are always welcome if you so wish)”

He smirked a little, by habit, but the usual heat and innuendo were not present this time.

“As my people say Wake early if you want another man’s life or land. No lamb for the lazy wolf. No battles won in bed… If I come back from the battlefield tomorrow, it will be my pleasure to see those beautiful eyes again my lady Caroline. If not, it was my greatest pleasure to have gazed upon such beauty. May your journey be easy and prosperous.”

Watching his form slowly inserting itself into the crowd made of rowdy highlanders, Caroline hoped with everything she had in her that those parting words would be useless and that his famed prowess with a sword was as true as it was told to be.

Caroline went to bed shortly after. But sleep wasn’t destined for her.

His parting words resonated in her. Ringed something distant in her mind. A memory she couldn't quite grasp, of a knowledge she felt even into her bones was important. Something that would help her unravel the mystery that was Klaus.

Well, the saying of “his people” did that. The others, the last, more personal ones, she didn't want to think about. (She failed. It may or may not have provoked tingling, fire and constricting of the heart. Caroline wouldn't even admit it under duress.)

She had spent the entire night fretting over all the possibilities the morrow would bring. Contemplated each person’s probability to die on that clearing. Admonished herself for even wishing that some would make it back.

She knew the Scots would lose. She knew it was the beginning of the end for the Highland culture and way of life. She knew that in the times to come, even speaking one’s mother tongue could get yours to be separated from the rest of your mouth. She knew it was the landmark for oppression.

She had gone to fucking Scotland, visited and observed every ruin, studied every book and stood upon Craigh Na Dun, because her entire career as an anthropologist would depend on how she started it, would depend on her thesis about the history and culture of these lands. The way people had lived and developed in a region not known for its welcoming nature.

And yet, she still hoped against hope.

So, she mourned for all the lives that would be lost. She cried for all the lives that wouldn’t be, but will live under torture and agony. She wept for all the women left behind waiting for any news that their loved ones survived, for the children that will become orphans in the coming hours.

Just before dawn and its daunting sun rays came, she heard the stirring of horses led to the gates of the castle. The bustle of men hurrying for armors, swords, food.

Caroline stood up, engulfed herself into her giant woolen shawl looking for every scrap of warmth and comfort she could find, and went hesitatingly to the small window in her room. Watched the heaviness slowly etch itself into each pair of shoulders. Observed them trying to joke and laugh as they usually would no matter the context, but without their hearts in it. As if they knew, that this time it would be something else entirely.

Her eyes strayed by themselves on the imposing figure Klaus presented, standing stoically against the archway, waiting for the signal to go. She felt his eyes rest on her too, and without thinking, her hand rose, and he nodded instead.

She watched, paradoxically unaware and simultaneously much too cognizant of the time trickling by. The final moments coming too fast, but the preparations for it endless.

“May we meet again” she whispered, almost unknowingly, as she watched them leave.

Seconds, minutes hours meshed together, passed away without anyone noticing. Time stretched itself into a continuous agony of not knowing. The haze of waiting seemed unending.

And yet, when the main door of the castle caved under the might of His Majesty's troops, every child, woman, elder that had been huddled together in the Great Room as they waited, jumped as if broken out of a short nap.

Screams and wails, of despair and realization that they had lost, breaking into a symphony of pain and misery.

Their people were doomed. Their families broken. Their loved ones most probably lying amidst bowels, mud and piss, their blood fertilizing the soil they had fought for until their last breaths.

Surrounded by the cacophony of cries, grunts and orders to knee in front of His Majesty's power, Caroline stood rigid, devoid of any expression, numb.

Some would perhaps say she didn't feel affected by the outcome of the battle, that these weren't her people, that she had only been an unsolicited guest in this time and in this clan. Others would simply rationalize that her forehand knowledge of the loss had prepared her sufficiently to not break in front of the menacing soldiers.

However, Caroline knew that neither of these options were right.

She wasn't catatonic, but her mind had stopped. The blow of the truth too hard, to powerful to digest immediately. She would do what she did best in situations where everyone succumbed. She would hold the ship and bear stoically every hit, up until the moment when she would relax and everything would just engulf her. It was okay, she would handle it when the time comes, as she always did.

For now, she had to be strong.

Especially since the man bearing the same name and features her husband had centuries from now, sauntered proud as a peacock in the Great Room. Laughing at the misery etched onto the faces of every Scot present. Enjoying the defeat creeping into their eyes. Thrilled to see the proud people that defied him at every turn kneel weakly in front of his power.

Caroline would not kneel. So he sent two of his apes at her.

One soldier of his Majesty dead, lying in a pool of his own blood at her feet, the other holding his side while grabbing her hair at the same time, holding her in place, she watched as Theodore Lockwood, her husband’s ancestor, and doppelganger, the King's most infamous Lieutenant, walked proudly towards her.

She glowered at the man that tried to rape her, that tortured her, that gave her the status of criminal.

He came to her, as closely as possible, smirked as he towered over her now that she was kneeling against her will at his feet, and replaced the hand in her hair with his own mighty grip.

Her attention went for a small moment to the man standing behind her, and the knife she had used to kill his compatriot moments away that he now pushed relentlessly against her spine. Dumb rookie mistake Caroline.

Suddenly, she felt her head move under the force of his pull, her hair being torn out of her scalp. She felt him rubbing his groin on her entire face, particularly her mouth, while holding her still.

While Tyler's main attribute and reason as to why they had tried so hard for so long to make it work, was his anatomy and their incredible alchemy in bed, the mere thought of being in contact with her husband's cock elder twin awoke in her a repulsion she didn't even know she could feel.

And the smells certainly did not help: his putrid penis, the piss he didn't wipe away, and the aromas of death and blood from the field hit her all at once. The repulsion she felt needed a physical outlet. She couldn't stop the gag in her throat, and managed barely to contain the vomit that wanted to get out of her lips.

He laughed at her struggling and as he heard the present people objecting but not nearly loud enough to count as worthy protestation. Still shaken with their grief and pain and helplessness, they couldn't put up a real fight.

He enjoyed seeing mothers shielding the eyes of the young and elders being drawn to tears as they witnessed the glorious spectacle he gave them.

He looked back down at her, obviously thrilled and satisfied with his stage. She felt him get even harder against her lips. Her stomach went up to her throat again.

“If memory serves me well, and trust me, I never forget any slight, you had previously sworn that you would never kneel to, I quote, “a scumbag” like me… Hmm, I wonder what you are doing right now? Not that proud anymore, Miss Forbes, are we?”

She only glared. Her lips remained stubbornly sealed, she would not give him the satisfaction of rising to the bait, nor would she give him the opportunity to shove that gross bulge in her mouth… even if the perspective of biting that particular appendage to blood was thrilling.

His victorious grin changed to a glower as her eyes remained without tears and ever challenging.

“Don't expect your protector to come help save the day as usual either, I saw him lying motionless surrounded by a pile of shit next to another one of your little band of criminals. I must admit, it was quite the pleasuring sight, quite arousing too, pity I had to come here so fast, I would have enjoyed tremendously finally fucking that dirty asshole that deserved much needed punishment, defiling his body and showing that even in death I could make him suffer... Mmmh, quite the waste really. I'm only sorry it wasn't me that ended his miserable worthless life.” he taunted.

Anger shone in her eyes even amidst the pain. Disgust written plainly on her features.

And as she felt herself succumb a little to despair and pain as it hit her in the chest, for reasons she had never truly admitted to her herself until then, she forced herself in a state of unbending steel. One of coldness reining in the darkness growing at the prospect of never seeing Klaus again. She could not afford to lose her composure and resistance right now. Otherwise he would achieve his goal of putting her down.

It angered him, clearly.

She felt him distance his breeches covered cock away from her face, and just as she exhaled, glad to be out of contact with that thing, with the tight grip he had on her hair, he abruptly threw her down to the worn, gray, dirty stone of the ground.

The knife of the unaware soldier lacerated her deeply into her left side. Pain erupted in her body at once. Her blood ran profusely from her forehead where her skull hit the floor with force, forming around her head a halo of red.

Still, even battered and bloody, Caroline refused to let him win. So she grasped every ounce of force present in her and slowly lifted herself up on her hands, then knees, and lastly feet. She pressed a hand on her wound, trying to slow the flow of blood oozing out of her chest.

During the entire, without a doubt long process of her getting to her feet, filled with moans and grunts of pain, he watched as one might study sadistically a weaker animal slowly get devoured by a mightier predator.

In that exact moment, as she saw the gleeful triumph he regarded her with, Caroline swore she would kill him. She promised it to herself.

Whatever she had to do to reach her goal, she would. However much time she had to stay in this timeline in order to rid the world of scum like him, she would spend it, without even a consideration to the man with the same voice, the same face and the same initials as him waiting for her.

She would kill. She would avenge all the people that suffered or died because of him. She would kill him for Klaus, so that his death wouldn't be vain.

She would end his life just as he ended every possible future she could have had with him, every opportunity that would never happen where she would have finally come to realize how much Klaus meant. She would end him because he ended her.

And he will suffer, that she swore.

#klarolineauweek #klaroline drabbles #Klaroline #klaroline fanfiction #outlander au #day1 #part 1

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thesketchingwitch · 7 years

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10 questions

So I was tagged by @awesomeeyeroll to answer her questions so here goes

1. If you could change any adaptation choice from the first two series of OL what would you change? (If you haven’t read the books just what would you have liked to seen omitted or done differently) Now that is a corker of a question - Im torn, tbh - I would have loved for us to see the healing pool scene at the end of S1, because, a) it would have been amazing and b) it would have prevented the mess up of timeline/Jamie's healing which ended up spoiling over into S2, and causing all sorts of additional problems. I'm also still terribly sore over the not-carving of initials in the finale because these scars resonate again and again through the later books! ( and don't get me started on the lack of dedication inside C’s ring, for same reason, and because it makes me RAGEY) But if I was going to have to pick one thing, it's the Laoghaire denouement - the fact that Jamie knows it was she who betrayed Claire in S1 - and that half assed apology/forgiveness thing in S2 ain’t cutting it - Because the REPERCUSSIONS are huge - I just don't know how they are going to sell the marriage to me, how they are going to sell Jamie ACCEPTING marriage to his wife's betrayer.... so yeah, it’s going to be interesting !

2. Colum or Dougal? Colum. I admire his intelligence, and his incredible fortitude in regards to his illness. And he can also admit when he's wrong.

3. Who is your favourite secondary character from S1&2 and why? Mrs Fitz. I adore her - she is a legend, ( as is Annette Badland, who I hopefully will get to meet this weekend at the convention, to give her the print of my drawing of Mrs Fitz) and I wish there was some way of bringing her back into S3. ( I don't count (show)Murtagh as a secondary character, whom I also adore )

4. Do you belong to any other fandoms and if so, which ones? No, no others (though I know far too much about Dr Who, but that’s cos of my hubby’s obsession)

5. Which new character are you most looking forward to seeing in season 3 and why? Oh, hell, people are going to hate me for this, but, sod it, it's my choice, and it is William. *prepares for eggs to be thrown* I love the interaction Jamie has with his son at Helwater, limited though it is - it's incredibly touching and it just amplifies the angst really because the reader (and hopefully the viewer) will see what an amazing father Jamie would have been, both to William and to Bree if he had only had the chance. And the existence of William also further deepens the already incredibly complicated relationship Jamie has with Lord John ( who obviously we met in S2, so I couldn’t choose him, though I am very excited to see David Berry’s interpretation)

6. If you could see any outlander AU fanfic (inc canon divergences)made into a TV show which would you chose? Oh, what?!!!???!!! How could I decide between so many AMAZING AUs - aaaaahhhh. No. Don't make me. I can't. *stamps foot*

7. Can you recommend a fan artist that you love? Wow, there are so many. So I'm going to have to cheat. Weeeeelll, Im going to have to recommend all my fellow mods over at @picturethefrasers. Cos we are all quite different in style and I love that. If I had to pick another artist who works wonders with pencils, it would be @mybeautifuldecay, or if I were to choose for digital art, which is completely beyond my competency level, I would have to say @art-by-khuggs - the saturation of colour she gets in her pictures is astounding, and is something which I just envy big time, and lastly, because I just adore her style, girlfrog.

8. What did you have for breakfast? Toast, made from wheat and rye bread, spread with my homemade blackberry jam! Delicious.

9. Mary Poppins or Annie? Gotta go with Mary.

10. Tea or coffee. Tea, always tea. Have barely had a cup of coffee since I was pregnant with my almost 14 year old.

Now I know I’m meant to come up with 10 different questions, but that ain't happening - my brain is fried this evening, so I’m going to tag @marshmallow0810, @kalendraashtar, @bonnie-wee-swordsman, @gotham-ruaidh, @madam-outlander, @abbydebeaupreposts, @owlish-peacock36, @thatwetwomaybeoneagain and @takemeawaytocamelot and see how you all do answering the questions above!

#10 questions

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hermanwatts · 4 years

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Science Fiction New Releases: 18 April, 2020

This week’s science fiction new releases features Robert Heinlein’s newest novel, a collection of Poul Anderson sword and planet tales, the return of one of indie science fiction’s pioneers in the Spinward Fringe, an even weirder Austin, Texas (if that’s even possible), and more.

Bastion of the Reaper (The Last Reaper #10) – J. N. Chaney and Scott Moon

Halek Cain has one chance to save everyone.

The Alon Empire has redoubled its efforts to conquer Yansden and strip the planet bare. Their massive fleet devours every star system it encounters. They demand total surrender and show no mercy. The Neverseen are rising from the forests, oceans, and desert wilderness and thirsty for blood. Cain and his allies have stopped both of these enemies once, but their backs are to the wall and they must escape or die.

Recently acquired from the ancient ruins in the planet’s interior, the Black Phoenix grows more powerful every day, draining Cain and X-37 of resources even as it gives them the tools to win battles and find Maglan.

But winning might kill them both in the end.

Will Cain master himself and his cybernetic modifications to run the blockade? Can he find Maglan and liberate one Sansein in return for an alliance that will protect the exodus fleet forever?

Culture Shock (The Gunn Files Book 1) – M. G. Herron

Aliens are among us, and Austin, Texas just got a whole lot weirder.

When smart-aleck, down-on-his-luck bounty hunter Anderson Gunn snags his next job, he’s just happy to get the gig. The target he’s chasing may be wanted for murder, but his bills aren’t going to pay themselves.

As it turns out, he probably should’ve been more selective. When he tracks down Cameron Kovak, the wanted man turns out to be no man at all.

Gunn finds himself face to face with a tentacled creature out of Ridley Scott’s worst nightmare – a baby Cthulhu, wearing his target’s skin like a onesie. And that’s just the start of it. Aliens have their eyes on us, and Gunn finds himself swept up in their mysterious plans.

Guardian Outcast (Star Scavenger Series #1) – G. J. Ogden

Hudson Powell had always been a drifter, but after his father died he vowed to turn his life around. He quit freelancing as a starship pilot and joined the Relic Guardian Force as a 38-year-old rookie.

That was a big mistake.

The RGF police the alien wrecks that have been found on every portal world discovered in the last century. They make sure the relic hunters pay taxes on the priceless alien tech they scavenge from the hulks. The snag is that the RGF is corrupt. And Hudson’s training officer, Logan Griff, is the worst scumbag of the lot.

Pushed over the edge, Hudson stumbles upon the exhilarating world of the relic hunters and meets the equally intoxicating and deadly mercenary, Tory Bellona.

Cast out from the RGF, Hudson Powell chooses a new path. But the discovery of a unique alien crystal will set events in motion that cannot be undone.

People stopped asking where the alien hulks had come from. People stopped asking who created the portals, and why. Hudson will discover that some alien relics are best left buried.

One decision can change the course of an entire civilization. One discovery can change your life.

I, Earthling (Soldiers of Earthrise #4) – Daniel Arenson

The war roars toward its bloody crescendo.

Armies muster for the final battle.

On one side fights Earth. Mighty. Wealthy. The center of an empire. On the other side: Bahay. A humble planet. A backwater. A world whose people will never surrender.

Jon and Maria fight on opposite sides. But to end the violence, they must work together. The very fate of humanity depends on it.

Yet the fires burn so hot. The hatred runs so deep. As the climactic battle flares, as the bombs fall and the cannons boom, can Jon and Maria survive? Or will this war rip them apart?

The Pursuit of the Pankera – Robert A. Heinlein

Robert A. Heinlein wrote The Number of the Beast, which was published in 1980. In the book Zeb, Deety, Hilda and Jake are ambushed by the alien “Black Hats” and barely escape with their lives on a specially configured vehicle (the Gay Deceiver) which can travel along various planes of existence, allowing them to visit parallel universes.

However, unknown to most fans, Heinlein had already written a “parallel” novel about the four characters and parallel universes in 1977. He effectively wrote two parallel novels about parallel universes. The novels share the same start, but as soon as the Gay Deceiver is used to transport them to a parallel universe, each book transports them to a totally different parallel world.

From that point on the plot lines diverge completely. While The Number of the Beast morphs into something very different, more representative of later Heinlein works, The Pursuit of the Pankera remains on target with a much more traditional Heinleinesque storyline and ending, reminiscent of his earlier works.

And here it finally is: Robert A. Heinlein’s audacious experiment. A fitting farewell from one of the most inventive science fiction writers to have ever lived: a parallel novel about parallel universes as well as a great adventure pitting the forces of good versus evil only the way Heinlein could do.

Rebel (Spinward Fringe: Broadcast #14) – Randolph Lalonde

The invasion has changed everything for Haven Fleet and the citizens they protect. More than ever the Order of Eden seems to be everywhere, hanging over our heroes like a menacing cloud as they face new challenges and try to keep the fleet from falling apart.

A resistance group led by Stephanie Vega and Shamus Frost on the Tamber moon struggles to fight Wheeler and the Order of Eden as another small group of fighters led by Jacob Valent and Admiral Rice plan a daring attack that they hope will devastate their enemies and free their people. Will it pay off, or will the price they pay for resistance be too high?

The leadership of Haven Fleet must try or orchestrate all its efforts and expand before the Order of Eden or Edxi catch them. All the while, an old force in the galaxy stirs and no one knows which side they’ll turn against.

Salvation (Rise #2) – Nathan Hystad and Devon C. Ford

The peace doesn’t last long…

With the newly received schematics of the Gateway from Detroit, Tom and Alec head to the west coast to recruit more manpower, but find that not everyone is willing to rise against the Overseers.

On Tom’s orders, Cole travels to Chicago to uncover a hidden enclave of Roamers. Meanwhile, Lina must convince pockets of Freeborn to join the Reclaimer’s cause.

Dex is forced to return to the Occupation and lie about his recent whereabouts. He sets off on a covert task that’s pertinent to the Reclaimer’s success.

Swordsmen from the Stars – Poul Anderson

Poul Anderson is one of the most celebrated authors of science fiction and fantasy. He combines elements of both genres in the three novellas presented here, which have never been collected in one book before. Heroic science fantasy at its best!

WITCH OF THE DEMON SEAS—Guide a black galleon to the lost, fear-haunted citadel of the Xanthi wizards—into the very jaws of Doom? Corun, condemned pirate of Conahur, laughed. Aye, he’d do it, and gladly. It would mean a reprieve from the headman’s axe—a few more precious moments of life and love… though his lover be a witch!

THE VIRGIN OF VALKARION—Tonight, so spake the Temple Prophecy, a sword-scarred Outlander would come riding, a Queen would play the tavern bawd, and the Thirty-Ninth Dynasty should fall with the Mating of the Moons!

SWORDSMAN OF LOST TERRA—Proud Kery of Broina felt like a ghost himself; shade of a madman flitting hopelessly to the citadel of Earth’s disinherited to recapture the fierce, resonant Pipes of Killorn—weapon of the gods—before they blared out the dirge of the world!

Science Fiction New Releases: 18 April, 2020 published first on https://sixchexus.weebly.com/

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