#the-immortals-assistant

[ruinouss-archived]

|| When you and your bestie get turned by opposing sides in a war but still meet up for the latest tea.

@the-immortals-assistant 

[terrorcaptain]

@the-immortals-assistant​

There were few assignments more problematic than patrolling the oceans and trying to defend merchant ships from pirates and other opportunists. It was as if the Admiralty could not recognise just how vast the oceans were and just how exactly it was he was supposed to get to a distressed ship in good time remained a mystery even to him. 

Smoke had been the first clue and Captain Crozier had been quick to re-direct the ship in order to help. Pirates. It was always pirates so far out but even he could see that the damage to the merchant ship was too much to save her. He may yet be lucky enough to capture one of the culprits though. HMS Terror came alongside the slow sinking vessel in order to pull off any survivors but it was clear that it was not just merchant sailors still aboard. Without hesitation, Francis led his crew on board too, shooting and saber waving to scare off the less hearty pirates and hopefully sail off without the others. 

A few hopped back to their vessel with treasures in hand, a greater few remained to go toe-to-toe with the naval men. Fighting his way through, Francis managed to make his way to the Captain’s Cabin hoping to find the man alive. The door slammed shut behind him and the yells and shouts from the deck because much more muted. It was eerie in a way. He heard something fall to the floor in the cabin itself and drew his short sword, carefully peering around the door to see who was inside. He was surprised to lay eyes upon a young lady, clearly a pirate but a rare encounter nonetheless. 

“Put down the spoils and come quietly.” He bargained, he knew it would be fruitlessly. No one ever put down their spoils nor did they ever come quietly. 

[governmentofficial]

@the-immortals-assistant

Mycroft had not wanted to go on holiday to Barcelona. This was not surprising - the boy despised any kind of change in his life, even if it was only spending time in a different location for a couple of weeks. But, of course, he hadn’t stated this to his parents. He was aware that he was going no matter how he felt about it, thus there was little point in speaking up and causing needless conflict.

In typical Holmes holiday fashion, he had ended up being left to his own devices. His father was busy working - apparently he had some important meetings to attend in the city, though it hadn’t escaped Mycroft’s notice how he would also come home late and smell like unfamiliar perfume - and his mother was writing a first draft for her latest mathematics book while juggling looking after his younger siblings. Sherlock was three and Eurus was two - neither of them were at an age where they were particularly good playmates for their ten year old brother so, when he wasn’t expected to lend a hand with keeping an eye on them, Mycroft had taken to wandering about the section of the countryside they were staying in to find interesting things to look at.

There were a few houses for holidaymakers to rent in the area that they were staying in. At least one of them must have been occupied because, while he was sat on a log, listening to the birds nearby and attempting to identify them by the sounds, he soon found himself approached by a girl. If her accent hadn’t given away that she was American, her behaviour certainly would have because she was far too friendly. Still, he listened without complaint - head tilted to the side slightly as he curiously observed her.

“Fish is a funny name,” Mycroft stated. He wasn’t being cruel, his tone of voice not suggesting that at all, but rather was just saying what he was thinking. Why would somebody name a child after a fish? That just seemed silly to him.

“My name’s Mycroft. How long are you staying here for?” Best to be polite, no? He wasn’t entirely sure whether he wanted to talk yet, but his parents had always taught him that it was not wise to be rude to strangers before you knew if they were useful to you or not.

[thenightmareofyourdrems]

                ˜”*°•.      Balance . Nothing  was  more important  than  balance . Nothing  was  more vital  than  balance . Everything  hanging  from a  really  thin thread ;  a   thread screaming  and  creaking , a   thread  threatening to  break .  Yet, a  thread  they could  still  sustain , even  for  not forever .  Snowpiercer ,  one thousand  and  one carriages  long ,  was once  again  DEMANDING  to be  sustained ;  the last  of  the human  race  depending on  this  .

So  there  she  was,  wearing the  clothes  of hospitality ,  the  mask of  mr.  Wilford’s most  loyal  follower ; his  voice .  To her  everyone  would talk ,  her  duty to  then  inform him  about  all problems,  offer  a  solution,  be the  means  of   communication  between  all passengers  and  their  God ,  the ‘creator’  of  the train .  Years  passing by ,  covering  his absences  with  excuses like  too  much business .  Tapes  of  his  voice echoing  during  the biggest  of  celebrations, enhancing  the  delusion . Lies.  So  many lies .  For  mr.  Wilford  was dead ;  abandoned  in the  freeze ,  together with  the  so many  people  he’d kept   out  of the  train ;  people with  tickets  that he’d  killed  just  because  he could .  And  her  daughter … the  price  she had  been  forced to  pay ;  her little  girl  left behind  because … because  all had  happened  so fast .  Ben  shouting  that they  had  to make  a  choice , that  it  was now  or  never , her  thinking  that her  parents  had brought  her  daughter to  the  train . Soldiers  outside  firing at  desperate  people screaming  for  a place  into the  train .   But  maybe  if she  had  just waited …  But  it  didn’t matter . Not  anymore .

It  was soon  that  the woman  she’d  asked to  see  made her  appearance.   The  restaurant-carriage  was  empty  of course ;  Wilford’s  commands . Her  gaze  just  briefly  met the  two  guards that’d  been  ordered to  escort  the woman  into  the carriage ;  stubbornness  or  whatever  disobedience not  something  affordable at  the  moment . A  nod  of the  head ,  and the  two  men walked  away .  ❝ I  hope  it  was  no  bother . You  coming  here . ❞ Words  came  out accompanied  by  a  genial  smile as  she  beckoned their  new-found  detective to  take  a  seat .  ❝ Would  you like  something  to  eat or drink ?  ❞  

𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚛 @the-immortals-assistant​

[discipulusmaleficus]

🖌 Fish and Kalmar??? 👀 @the-immortals-assistant

@the-immortals-assistant - ✏️ and I'll draw your muse! 🖌 and I’ll draw our muses together!

stfu dude

[amnerise]

—   amira   &   fish,   cont

@the-immortals-assistant​   :   anyone who has an inkling of common (fashion) sense knows that the best part of the games are the traditions that proceed the arena. the chariots, the interviews, anything and everything that puts the talent of the capitol’s stylists on display ... although talent is lacking in recent years. there are only so many ways you can dress children up as trees before it becomes derivative, and that number is twice. district four is one of amira’s personal favorites, however — the theme of the sea is striking when executed well.

“it is a beautiful dress, one of my personal favorites this evening,”  amira attempts to convey warmth, when there will always be a cold barrier between tribute and the elite gathered to watch them die.  “i must compliment your stylists later,”  she chuckles.  “— how are you enjoying the capitol? it must be very different from your home.”

[omniishambles]

        Plotted Starter !   -   @the-immortals-assistant

        * * *

 It was droll, really, this entire situation.

 Fingers tapped against the arm of his chair, a thoughtful glance cast down to the place where his leg used to be. The idea of phantom limb syndrome had been a curiosity, once upon a time, a thing to marvel at with idle fascination. Now he was experiencing the real deal. He could feel the muscles move and clench as he thought about raising it, but there was nothing there. An empty void. No foot to float into view.

 Frederick Chilton was in for a nasty surprise. That thought made a vague smile flicker across Gideon’s lips, twitching upwards at the corners.

 He glanced then to the teenage girl sitting beside him in her own chair- one much comfier than his own. But hospital wheelchairs had never been designed for long term use. There she sat, a bright young thing with wild blue hair that complimented her Father’s dining room perfectly.

 Thank God that wasn’t the room he was being subjected to today, nor the basement where Hannibal Lecter prepared the meat for his gourmet meals. But was God really the one to thank? No. It was the daughter of the devil. Sipping blood from a cheerfully pink Starbucks cup like it was the most natural thing in the world.

   “Ya know, I don’t think dear old dad will appreciate you spoiling the meat like this. Popcorn is hardly a flavour enhancer...” Gideon said, taking that moment to toss a popcorn kernel into his mouth, looking at her all the while. “Or do you get a chance to slip a recipe into his hands now and again?”

        * * *

[chaosfindsaway]

@the-immortals-assistant​ Plotted starter with Andy & Fish

Andy leaned against his car, scrolling through a few pages to try and gather some information on this Fish person. She contacted him asking questions about a doll. He agreed to meet with her - at a discreet location in the park where the cover of trees couldn’t hide any potential lurkers. He trusted no one. Particularly people who managed to get his phone number without him making prior contact.

“You Fish?” He asked, looking up when someone approached and sliding his phone back down into his back pocket. Of course, Andy was armed, but when wasn’t he? Andy Barclay always had a gun.