#'my cold exterior hurts her in some way and her coping mechanism of just Anger will make it worse and neither of us can fix it'

[hella1975]

when i was thirteen i broke my mother's favourite ornament. it was a fine little thing; a swan, all planes of white ceramic and a curved neck no thicker than the stem of a flower. i was too scared to tell her what i had done, even though she heard the crash from the next room. still, she waited. i don't know how long i stood there, staring at this precious thing laying shattered at my feet, but she waited. she knew, and she waited. i knew she would be angry, and i waited, like that might make it all go away. mirrors of each other, a wall between us that could not contain the sound of breaking. knowledge and fear. smoke in the very reflection we accommodated.

eventually, i picked up the clutter in trembling hands. a wing here, a broken neck there, holding the pieces so gently like that could somehow fix what had already fallen apart. i told her i dropped it, i told her it was an accident, i told her i was sorry. in turn, she told me she had owned that ornament for decades, she told me it was precious to her, she told me i was a coward for not bringing it to her straight away. the waiting didn't abate the anger. i remember crying, pieces of ceramic death sliding against each other, against my skin.

i find the metaphor of it all in this single ruination. my mother and i, and something between us. fragile, precious, loved - broken. there is an ugliness inside me that makes my hands shake, and i reach into the rawest parts of my mother, things that existed in her long before i did, and i sweep them from her shelves. anger comes first, sure and familiar. trembling gentleness comes after. it goes like this every time. i do not mean to break things, nor do i know how to fix them, but that does not put the swan back together, nor does it put the words back in my mother's mouth. there is an ugliness inside me that makes my hands shake, and i think my mother gave it to me. it is her mother's, and it is hers, and it is mine. a birthright. a curse. she did not know which of her own shelves to put it on. what is a mother and daughter if not this awful dance of shame? one must be fury, one must be a broken neck.

i put that swan back together with ugly builder's glue, not knowing what else to do, so desperate to piece it together and show it to my mother and say look, please, i'm trying.

please, tell me i haven't broken this too.

tell me i can fix this.

it sits back on that same shelf, and sometimes, we bring it up again. mostly, we laugh about it, about a young girl's clumsiness, about the crooked glue now lacerating pearly feathers. sometimes, my mother will just smile, sad, quiet in ways my mother is not. it was one of my favourites, that swan, she'll say, and i will have my answer. was. because she cannot love it how it is now, and when i was thirteen i was clumsy, but now i am older i make messes that cannot be justified so simply, and the anger seems so much stronger than the gentleness.

still, the jagged pieces of that thirteen year old are a broken puddle in my hands, and i think if i arrange them just so, i can still trace that familiar shame in the paint, this ugly mix of white ceramic and cracked glue. it is a plea i never learned to voice, a desperation my mother never learned to hear.

i think this is the best i can do.

#pour one out for the parent/child dynamic where you both have so so much love for one another #to the point you're one of each other's favourite people in the world #but you just speak completely different languages so that when things DO go wrong #it's just miscommunication after miscommunication until there's just this chasm of aching and longing and grief between you #and through it all the love is still there and that sometimes makes it hurt more #ahah relatable right.... RIGHT???? #this might meet a niche audience but oh well #this is spurred mainly from how me and my mum for YEARS have been in a constant cycle of #'my cold exterior hurts her in some way and her coping mechanism of just Anger will make it worse and neither of us can fix it' #so it's just like. i have so much SHAME and guilt bc i can feel myself breaking our relationship #but instead of reaching out to me or telling me what i can do to be better or to fix this bc she's my mother and she's supposed to guide me #she just gets angry and hurt and thinks im doing it bc i just dont care enough #and i remember this swan (that's all true btw i actually did break her fav ornament lol) and i realised it's such a good metaphor #bc i remember standing in the bathroom just STARING at it #and i was so scared of her temper but i was also scared bc i knew how much she loved it and i was so upset id hurt her #but she just assumed i was being a coward and/or trying to cover it up by waiting so long #like we're just speaking two different languages and there's so much love and anger there and neither of know what to do #so apparently i took that as time to vent on The Cursed Site #i wrote this in one sitting directly into tumblr and idk where it even came from #actually that's a lie my mum text me saying the pink blossoms were out on the willow trees back home #(the ones i got tattooed bc they're very meaningul to me BC of my mum) #and things have been complicated between us ever since i went to uni but seeing that text and knowing she thought of me #and everything just really got to me and now im spiralling heyyyyyy do u still think im hot #i did not mean to rant so much i swear #pls pls pls dont acknowledge these tags #the post itself is free real estate to reblog or anything but my god im already embarrassed by these tags lmao #writing

[comeondowntosouthparkrpg-blog]

Christophe DeLorne

[Insert Les Miserables Reference Here] Christophe has been accepted! Let us know your blog and your discoed so we can add you!

out of character info

Name/Alias: Tommy Pronouns: He/Him Age: 20 Join Our Discord: Yes Timezone: PST Activity: 7-8 Triggers: N/A Password: jimmy can fast pass my ass Character that you’re applying for: Christophe Favourite ships for your character: Christophe / Chemistry

in character info

Full name: Christophe “The Mole” DeLorne Birthday: 6 June Sexuality, gender, pronouns: Homosexual, CIS Male, He/Him Age and grade: 18 & Senior Faceclaim: Oscar Kindelan

Appearance: 

Christophe has dirty, medium-tan skin with a good amount of scars here and there, but the most prominent one being a cut across the chest. Having fought more times than he could count, he’s pretty muscular though he appears more on the leaner side. Standing at about 6'2", he towers over some students in his grade but about an average size within the people he works with. Cursed with a resting bitch face that makes it look like he’s constantly glaring at the person he’s looking at if he doesn’t change it.

Has messy and short dark brown hair, it’s likely ruffled up as he doesn’t particularly care for styling it. His eyes are a deep green, though they are fairly dull in colour. Wears the same old kind of clothes that he used to, a dark green military jacket with brown pants, knee-high boots and black fingerless gloves. He also has a brown sash around his shoulder that carries various items in each pocket in it and holds the shovel he holds most of the time he’s walking. Around his neck are two dog tags, but one of them isn’t his name.

Personality: 

His demeanor is initially fairly cold, cut off, and abrasive though he doesn’t intend to come off that way. With a glare look on his face, he often appears like he doesn’t like anyone or isn’t looking for company, something that he prefers even if he doesn’t like it. It doesn’t help that he has a foul mouth, swearing often and blunt with words that would apply to this.

Holding a fairly cynical view on the world, he believes that not everyone or anyone at all is born with true kindness in their heart and that all people are naturally bad until taught otherwise. His hatred for God is often fueled by his insecurities, it used to be a coping mechanism that he used to feel better about the hand he was dealt in life. He is emotionally unstable at times, anger and an attempt to seem tougher than he sometimes can be stemming from his times that he’s had to fight, or whatever he felt like he had to do to keep himself sane enough to function. His growing numbness to having to hurt or kill people scares him, wondering if he’s lost his own humanity.

Internally, he’s fairly lonely despite the fact that he tries to distance himself from other people emotionally (aside from Gregory). His entire life has been spent doing shady missions and fighting to stay alive which has taken up a lot of his free time that he typically spent trying to relax his muscles and tension. Through his tough guy exterior, he’s fairly sensitive though he would never show it through his stoic demeanor.

History: 

Christophe believed God has always hated him. Even before he was brought into the world, his mother was in a relationship with a French soldier who had moved to South Park for a better life with the child. When his father had died, she cursed the child in her womb and attempted to abort him, stabbing him in the heart with a clothes hanger.

Miraculously, he had survived. Growing up wasn’t much better, a distant relationship between him and his mother who had shown him strict discipline. His mother had raised him to know the warfare his father left behind, a dog collar and the people he had worked with, as well as teaching him first hand. At the age of 7, he had been involved in covert operations and worked with a group of soldiers.

It was a lot to take in as a kid, and to this day he can’t get the images, sounds, or feeling of what he often had to do out of his head. One of his most traumatic experiences was being caught by a guard dog, bitten on the arm until he was rescued by one of the soldiers.

He’d grown to be proficient, a fast learner and eventually became incredibly skilled in covert operations even though he was so young. After the events of South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut, he had started to question his own life and its meaning when he had experienced death firsthand, both the pain and coldness confusing him as well as waking up. His world had changed, though he wasn’t able to escape the life he’d created for himself. Throughout middle school he had still gone through what he’d always done, and had been under strict disciplining with his mother who he had learned to act better around if he didn’t want her on him all the time. Though he’d always disagreed with her, he felt scared around her, almost like he was unable to move, almost afraid of experiencing death once more.

By the time he hit high school, he was a known expert in his field and had quite a few contacts along with people who would occasionally call for him needing his services. To get out of the house he was raised in, he needed money, and nothing small would get him out of the dirt poorness that his mother had, also having to hand over the money he’d made to her whenever he did make a penny. Now, he simply tries to live on with what he has.

Sample paragraph: 

Silence, a good sign. His footsteps were light as he moved around the abandoned building, making sure no one occupied it or was snooping around in the general area. Gesturing for his partner to follow him, he ran up the stairs as quietly as he could, removing the sniper from his sash and setting it up. Looking around once more, he made sure that nothing would disturb them, a habit of his to check several times.

“Listen to me,” The Mole whispered sharply, checking that nothing would jam nor that his clip was empty once more, “it will be on my count and no zooner or later, tu comprends?”

As soon as he heard confirmation, he knelt down to angle himself right. Through the scope of the lense, he searched for the spot their target would soon be approaching, silently searching the area. The moment he saw them, The Mole didn’t move a muscle more than he felt like he had to, focusing on the two targets and assigning his partner one as well as one for himself. The tranquility was chilling, once he had reached his countdown, a silenced shot was taken and it was over.

Watching the two fall to the floor, he stayed as the blood pooled under both of theirs heads, the deed was done. He drew back from the scope of the sniper, putting it back in its place. Only a brief pat on the back was given to his partner, not a smile nor compliment was sent in his direction. Christophe eyes and inhaling, he was now a regular person who had no ties to what he had just done.

Headcanons: 

Still lives with his mother and pays half even though he has his own hut in the woods somewhere hidden, a warm bed and clothes even with a person like her is preferable to the smell of wood and dirt or the forest floor.

Has a heavy French accent, but he has learned how to clear it up a little since he gets annoyed when people can’t seem to understand him through it. When he’s more annoyed, it gets even heavier than usual to the point it may be just gibberish.

Smokes about every few days, but he keeps his cigarette in his mouth for comfort reasons.

As long as you’re paying and give him a good reason to do something, there’s a high likelihood he’ll do it, no matter how shady it might be.

Has always wanted to have a pet, but his mother doesn’t like any aside from her grumpy cat named Camille that doesn’t seem to like him.

His grades aren’t bad since he works on homework whenever he’s home due to his mother nagging him to do so, but he has quite a few absences on his record that half are only excused.

Works out at the gym regularly to keep up his strength, never know when you might need to fight hand to hand.

Although he doesn’t hate being called by his first name, most people around school and in general know him as “Mole” since he typically uses it as an alias to keep privacy.

Anything else: N/A

#Christophe DeLorne #Application #Admin Samantha #submission

[permian-tropos]

Are there any ideas for what you like to see in a fanfic for 'gallirae'? I want to try writing this couple and having some prompts you would enjoy might help me write it better. Thanks! - Your rarepair exchange match

Hi rarepair exchange match! I’m really glad to hear from you! My request had some details but I probably could have written a more comprehensive letter. Here is a very long long letter, hope it’s not intimidating.

Also, if you read these prompt ideas and then get inspiration of your own that’s different, that’d be fine! That’s kind of what happened with me for my exchange fic, I started off thinking about fulfilling specific requests but then my own ideas kicked in, and I’m debating how much of them to use.

Prompt ideas:

They meet early in their careers (can be canon divergent since Sloane doesn’t recognize him, or implication of memory loss). Gallius Rax would be a persona that Galli is still trying to construct, a few years into his direct service. As a newly appointed commander in the Naval Intelligence Agency, he quite outranks Sloane, who is still a cadet, but he’d be 20, and she’d be 24 or 25. They’re stationed together in some assignment (perhaps even the one where Sloane witnesses a sea before a storm, which “Rax reminds her of”), and Rax disguises his rank and Sloane ends up treating him as a peer or social subordinate because he’s younger, even trying to play the mentor, because he clearly lacks discipline and social skills. This might bring out his rebellious side because it reminds him of the anchorites’ strictness. He’s had to obey Palpatine completely but this makes him want to push back where he can. But even with Rae’s staunch loyalty to the Empire she also chafes against immediate authority, and they can bicker and squabble but eventually bond, particularly upon learning they both joined the Empire to escape poverty.

Set after Book 1, between 1 and 2 or early Book 2, before things go downhill -- they attend the opera together. If you like elegance/extravagance as an aesthetic, feel free to play that up. Since Rax’s character seems very much inspired by Erik from PotO, it might be amusing if they survive a PotO parody event (ie. the chandelier drop. would the Star Wars equivalent be popping the Mon Cala ballet bubbles?) that isn’t actually planned by Rax. Maybe it could veer into hurt/comfort territory, where Rax hadn’t imagined Sloane would panic faced by a chaotic mob, the way she does in canon in the peace talks.

The other prompts are probably fast-paced since the fic isn’t very long (though you can take ideas in them and make them more introspective), this one’s more relaxed. I’d be into a story where they’re ruling the Empire, or more likely the First Order, together. Established relationship or an “it’s complicated” co-Emperors with benefits thing. Since Sloane prefers cold showers and Rax, liking comfort, would probably favor hot baths, their preferred water temperature could be a mild conflict, ie. he’s trying to get her to bathe with him, she’s trying to get him to swim somewhere, something like that.  

And just to be thorough, I’ll list some traits I particularly like about them!

Character Traits: Gallius Rax

messed up from the strict Jakku cult upbringing and Palpatine’s manipulation and abuse

worship of music and opera and narrative as a guiding structure to his life, definitely has a spiritual vibe but he scorns denominational faith

adores theatricality and dramatics, but, like in the sea-before-storm metaphor, represses his own intensity and is often furtive and avoidant

likely a maladaptive daydreamer, since he was always “chasing after stories”

often relishes, trickster-like, in causing unpleasantness. a nasty, naughty boy, as Palpatine says. I headcanon it’s partly a coping mechanism; he started down his villainous path under extreme duress, so he makes himself enjoy being evil. unlike with Palpatine, the villain he’s emulating, he seems tense and insecure

subconscious imposter syndrome, his persona of Gallius Rax is very fake

pretentious, extravagant tastes, likes to talk in metaphors

we never found out what was up with that tattoo or brand on his palm but he has a creepy tattoo or brand on his palm

Character Traits: Rae Sloane

dedicated to the Empire, but by the time of the Aftermath books has been struggling with her convictions

definitely ambitious, wants to rule, wants to be in control

she has a lot of professed ideology but it’s very often hypocritical, driven by impulses and emotions that she rationalizes

headcanon: she has borderline personality disorder, rather in the same way people headcanon this for Anakin (so if mental health issues interest you)

kind of nosy, likes to research and snoop, loves libraries

a “if you want something done right, do it yourself” type

imagines influential figures in her life as “retinue of ghosts” and metaphorically (or not) hears their voices. this also hints at a touch of morbid weirdness under her pragmatic exterior

a good but not great boxer and physical fighter. is buff. proud of her long hair

has a history of making enemies in the Empire by being combative and willful

comes from a lower class background on Ganthel, joined the Empire to avoid working in factories and shipyards

snarky, able to gossip and crack jokes, not really severe and uptight for an Imperial, but more than a civilian

has a bit of a romantic admiration of space, finds the sight of it comforting, compares it to a child’s blanket, the Death Star and other spacecraft without windows are tomb-like

Relationship Traits:

in canon I think they are ideologically codependent — Sloane relies on Rax being her evil counterpart to make her feel like the good guy. Rax, being obsessed with theatrics and performance, draws validation from Sloane as his ideal audience member and central character in his narrative

“fellow outcasts” — both of them definitely don’t fit in in the Empire, which probably has to do with their poor backgrounds and how classist the Empire and its Emperor are

Rax as a smooth, seductive, but always sinister presence that Sloane admits to being tempted by, she willing uses more suggestive language about it

even though Rax is seductive it’s very passive, he’s less open about admitting lust or attraction, commitment and vulnerability and openness are scary

Sloane is more of an active pursuer but she indulges her anger, not her attraction

both of them waiting around for the other to show interest

they’re overwhelmed and overstimulated by each other, and too proud to show it

#my post #asks #star wars rare pairs #gallirae