#not sure if she would be naturally inclined to become a man eater or if her instincts of not seeing people as THAT kind of prey is a thing

[wispforever]

if youre still doing the character thing, how about spirit or marie?

I sure am. How about Spirit And Marie? Both wonderful characters. I’ll do Marie first, then Spirit. Thanks for the excuse to infodump, really. You people are too kind.

Marie Mjolnir

My first impression of Marie was the same impression I get of most female characters in anime. It’s either “why do their clothes have to look like that” or “oh god here comes the obligatory sexist heteronormative romance”. For Marie, it was more of the second. They mention in the same episode she’s introduced that Stein is her “first love”, which told me that if she had a large place in the plot, her assigned male counterpart around which to orbit would be him. Though I’ve never read the Soul Eater manga, I believe they do end up getting together there (I could be wrong). Whatever the case, I was relieved that Marie’s and Stein’s relationship (though heavily implied to be romantic, at least on Marie’s side) was left open to interpretation in the anime. I’m just very sick of cool badass female characters like Marie being reduced to the man they pine after. So, I guess my first impression of Marie and my impression of her now are largely the same. While I appreciate the moments we get to see her strengths and ability to operate on her own, I do think that her character really suffers because of the whole sexist “oh gosh all I want is to find a husband and retire” “oh my I have to take care of Stein” like okay, I had enough at the cat girl smothering Soul with her humungo-tits. I had enough at sexualizing underage girls and women in general. I had enough at making sexual harassment a punchline. That being said, when we push all of the shitty writing to the side, I admire Marie for her strength and how she interacts with the children, Crona in particular. Which leads me to my favorite moment(s).

The relationship Crona and Marie have interests me the most, since I’m really drawn to the parallels between Marie and Medusa. As parental figures (and as characters), they’re about as different as you can get. As Crona’s mother, Medusa is obviously abusive. Along with being negligent, she abuses Crona mentally, emotionally, and physically. In general, Medusa is a person who doesn’t appear to value interpersonal relationships, putting it nicely. She instead is more focused on her own interests, often to the detriment of those around her. Crona is Medusa’s only immediate family (besides Arachne who she is estranged from), and so they suffer the most from her refusal to show even a shred of human decency or warmth. They suffer especially because they are her child, meaning they’re stuck with her essentially, and repetivie abuse between family members like a mother and child often becomes complex because of the necessity of having a parental figure in your life to support you as you grow up. Medusa teaches Crona that their boundaries don’t matter and that they are only good as long as they are useful and do as they’re told. This is what makes Marie’s influence on Crona so cool to watch. Marie is caring by nature, loving and nurturing by nature. Her very wavelegnth is healing. She is kind and does what’s right reflexively. Marie is the exact embodiment of what Crona always needed but what, even upon being rescued by the academy, still felt so foreign to them: unconditional love. Crona struggles to understand why the other kids helped them, why Maka felt the inclination to stop their battle and save Crona instead by trying to understand them, why the kids are still so kind to them even after everything. They do not understand that love is not a bargaining chip. It isn’t leverage in an argument. It’s not a tool for emotional manipulation. Love is caring for the people close to you, just because. Love for the sake of love. The other kids and teachers at the academy are the ones who are able to pull Crona out of all Medusa’s lies, and Marie is a Huge part of that. Even though I have greivances with this being the largest part of her character and what that implies for female characters in general, it doesn’t stop being so beautiful to me that she could help Crona heal in this way. Marie = best mom for the win

Most of the story ideas I have for Marie involve her relationship with Crona or Stein. Say, this covers my unpopular opinion too. I don’t like Stein and Marie as a couple, but I really enjoy writing them as friends, because even though I don’t really jive with them being together romantically, I think their dynamic is an interesting one to explore because they Are so different.

Getting into that a little bit more, I’d like to start by saying I don’t care if other people like Stein and Marie being a couple. That’s great doods, keep doing you. The fanart’s adorable, the meta’s fantastic. Whoever you are, SteinMarie shippers, ffs keep kicking ASS. This is just my preference and opinion. Zero shade in this house. That said, because of my frustrations about Marie’s character I discussed in the first paragraph, I don’t like the idea of her and Stein being together romantically. It’s really a classic sexist trope: the troubled man and his sweet nurse. I’m also just fed up in general with the hetero-nonsense, so there. However, they are both wonderful characters that I enjoy very much seperately. Also, I think it’s worth mentioning that I’ve only seen the anime, so I can’t speak for the manga as far as their relationship or Marie’s character in general.

Oh shit I accidentally already talked about this one lmao [see the second paragraph]

One headcanon I like to think about when I’m writing Marie is that she likes women (in addition to men or not) and she struggles with comphet. Just something interesting I like to think about. It’s really fun for me to take characters who have been written as pining or had 10 million failed relationships and be like “say what if they can’t find a husband cuz really what they really need is a wife”. I’ll talk about that more with Spirit inevitably.

Spirit Albarn

My first impression of Spirit, obviously him being a cheater, really came with a lot of distaste. I come from a family that was torn apart by infidelity, among other things, so it really rubs me the wrong way. However, his saving grace for me was that he genuinely loves his daughter. It appears that, whether it’s played for laughs or not, he just can’t find fulfillment in his romantic relationships. The reason is left up to the veiwers. Spirit, ultimately, is not just a shitty person, which is how most cheaters are protrayed in media. “Well, they cheated because they don’t care if they hurt people”, “they cheated because they are shit and that’s it”. That’s a fine explanation if you plan to do nothing with whatever character you’re describing, but Spirit is relatively recurring and is shown to be neither mean-spirited or emotionally unintelligent. It bothers me that his cheating and routine sexist behaviour isn’t taken seriously enough to be a subject that Soul Eater tackles and deals with. But that’s fine. I’ll just do it myself. At any rate, I still feel that same way about Spirit’s character, but I find it intriguing that he seems to genuinely want to become a better father and is actually a pretty good dad when it comes to his interactions with Maka. If Soul Eater had been brave enough to develop him more, maybe delve into the reasoning behind his impulsive romantic affairs, I think Spirit as a character could have been done more justice. It seems to me that he could be suffering from some of that wonderful compulsory heterosexuality that I mentioned before, then becoming confused when the woman he claims to love leaves him feeling empty. Rattling my gay little cage

When I think of my favorite moments with Spirit, I think of his moments with Maka, but I’m gonna hold off on that until I get to favorite relationship(s). In reference to what I talked about in the first paragraph, one moment I find really interesting when I’m thinking about my interpretation of Spirit’s character is the scene where he and Maka are on the roof talking. Maka asks Spirit why he cheated on her mother if he did, in fact, love her. He doesn’t appear to know the answer, and he doesn’t really understand how to effectively communicate that, though he was shitty husband, what he really wants now is to try and be a better dad. We hear his inner monologue, and he says something like “I love you [Maka] and your mama. That’s the truth. That’s the truth. That’s the truth.” Every time he says “its the truth” it sounds more like he’s forcing it. This is actually something that is SO strange to me. Even if I didn’t project a queer narrative on to the characters I love, I would look at this and be like “huh that is a Weird thing to say in that specific way”. Why does he say it like that? Why does he have to say it more than once? He’s only talking to HIMSELF. It isn’t like he’s trying to convince Maka. Why does he have to convince himself?? Could it possibly be because he’s reached a conclusion about his romantic/sexual orientation that he’s been trying to swallow his Entire Life??? makes ya wonder, doesn’t it, queers?

Just like I said when I talked about Stein, most of the stories I have in mind with Spirit center around that sweet gayness. But also, I like to think of ways Spirit could come to terms with his sexuality, how it might have affected him when he was young, his relationship with all these women, with his wife. I love to think about him being a dad at 18 and trying his best, but how much responsibility that must have been. Lots of great ideas when it comes to Spirit.

Um? unpopular opinion would be all the standard like I said with Stein lmao. “Oh no!” scream the heteros, “that they/them on tumblr is making Soul Eater queer we canst not allow that in our church!!!111!” But besides that, maybe even the fact that I think he’s redeemable?? Idk most everyone I’ve met thinks Spirit is funny at least and just calls him a dumbass and a slut (affectionate). Doesn’t mean anybody thinks cheating on your wife 56 times is okay so. I like this fandom, it’s chill here. My favorite is when I see my art tagged like “aw the stupid man and his crazy bf” like YOU ARE RIGHT

My favorite relationship when it comes to Spirit (besides Stein cuz if I start talking about them again I’ll never finish this ask) is the one he has with Maka. If you can call it a relationship lol. I guess I just find Spirit’s approach to Maka as a parent really refreshing. Not that the parents in other shows don’t love their kids or whatever, it’s just that the loving parent always seems to be paired with some other trope that makes their character hard to approach. especially in anime. Like the perfect mother who dies in the first episode, and we spend the rest of the show mourning her. Or the father whose love is somehow everlasting even though he’s never home. It’s really the fact that Spirit is even THERE that I love. He knows what Maka is up to. He talks about her. He’s invested in her life, and he loves her. All he wants is to spend time with her, and though he’s sad when she turns him down, he doesn’t push her. god dammit I just like a dad who actually loves his kids without all the usual strings attached like. oh my kids are a huge pain in my ass, but I love them in spite of it. oh i’m a man so can’t relate to my children in a meaningful way but i try. Get the fuck outta here with that shit. I want all the dads to get so happy when their daughters wanna hang with them that they throw up like Spirit. Give me the guy who loves his daughter so naturally, whose daughter is such a huge part of his life, that it doesn’t even occur to him stop trying even if she literally wants to murder him. That’s Spirit. jfc

To end with a cute little headcanon, I really love to think that when Spirit gets older and starts losing the color in his hair, instead of getting white or grey, his hair turns a pale pink color cuz he’s such an aggressive redhead. Wouldn’t that just be adorable? late 30′s, early 40′s, Spirit starts getting little pink streaks in his hair and then bam. Little pink old man Spirit XD

There ya have it. Thanks for the ask, and feel free to send more.

#Soul Eater #Ask #Ask game #anon #Marie Mjolnir #Spirit Albarn #this is wisp

[fandom-puff]

How do you feel about people posting anti Snape content? I know you write for him but he’s also done some terrible things so I was just wondering

Snape is not a black and white character. He is and always has been a morally grey character. that being said, A lot of snape antis zone in on him being a horrible man, and yes he was a bastard. A total bastard.

But that is not his whole character.

When you actually LOOK at his story, there is so much more to Severus Snape than this ‘greasy dungeon bully’ persona that we see in the books.

Idk how best to do this, so I’m just gonna bullet point things to get my point across, otherwise we’ll be here all day and I’ll work myself into circles.

Perspective: the books, while written in the third person, are told from Harry’s POV. His first impression of Snape sticks throughout seven books- it doesn’t help that he looks like a stereotypical wizard villain, dressed in black, working with potions (incredibly powerful magic, often seen as dark and closely related to poisons). So we see Severus Snape from HARRY’S perspective throughout the entire franchise. Harry obviously dislikes Snape, so we, the readers, are inclined to agree with our protagonist. Other characters in the story, however, see Snape entirely differently- take Hagrid, Harry’s first real friend, parental figure, and a generally good natured man, is ADAMANT that Snape is not responsible for the troll, for trying to get past fluffy etc (and he’s RIGHT- it isn’t Snape, it’s Quirrell). Other adults in the story also show this loyalty to Snape: Dumbledore constantly corrects Harry to call him ‘Professor Snape’ rather than just ‘Snape’; he and mcgonagall had a strong professional relationship (despite the house rivalry); Slughorn valued his skill in potions... but because we are subjected to Harry’s version of events, we only see Snape as a friendless dungeon bat, when in reality, he may not have had what one could call ‘friends’ he had strong professional relationships and earned a lot of respect from adults and people who aren’t Harry- I’m sure even hermione defended him at one point?

Snape isn’t a stereotypical survivor: unlike Harry, who, despite growing up in the abusive Dursley household, is generally a kind hearted boy who grows into a sympathetic and loyal young man, Severus is arguably still very angry about his upbringing, his being bullied, becoming a death eater, living a double light etc. And honestly, I can get behind that. Not every victim of bullying, assault, domestic abuse, torture etc is going to develop into a sort of martyr. Instead, Snape is spiteful and hateful towards others and himself- in many ways, it could be argued that his social skills are drastically underdeveloped due to the abuse he suffered, and he is standoffish and cruel to protect himself. Before any of you kick off, saying ‘iTs nO ExCuSe tO BuLlY InNocEnT KiDs!!!!1111’ different people react to abuse differently. And to be quite honest, in that sense I can relate to Severus Snape. I too suffered childhood bullying, being ostracised from my peer groups etc, as well as dealing with the repercussions of being in an emotionally abusive relationship (panic attacks, pushing people away, and overwhelming amounts of self and directed hatred that I had no idea I had thd capacity of experiencing)

BuT hE jOiNeD tHe dEaTh EaTeRs aNd cAlLeD LiLy A M*dBLoOd!!!111: yes. Yes he did. That’s something that we are explicitly told, thank you for pointing that one out. Yes, Snape did become a death eater. Yes, he did call lily a slur. BUT while I do not condone that behaviour AT ALL, it can be argued that Severus Snape has more than made up for it. If he was truly a loyal death eater he wouldn’t be a double agent, would he? He wouldn’t risk his life reporting back to dumbledore if he was wholly ‘evil’. Bare in mind, he joined the death eaters when he was rather young, as lily and james were 21 when they were murdered, so he had to have been at the very oldest 20-1 when he joined at at the youngest 17-8 (we’re never exactly told). At that point, he is still very much influenced by his peers- remember he was friends with Mulciber and I think Avery? He probably knew Lucius quite well too as Lucius was a few years older than him, and they also became Death Eaters. Again, while it wasn’t the best choice, Severus was arguably rather young and doing what the people who accepted him were doing. Peer pressure, maybe? As I said, not his finest choice, but I believe he shows genuine anguish and more than retributes for his wrong doings. He tried to save Lily, even though she rejected him (yes, he didn’t care about Harry or James, but still agreed to including them. He’s a grey character, remember, and James abused him for YEARS). Even after the Potter’s death, he still agrees to protect Harry, even though dumbledore is more than powerful enough to do it himself. I could go on, really, but I think you get the idea that he shows he regrets his choices and at the very least TRIES to put them to rights. As for calling lily a m*dblood... first of all, he tries to apologise right away, so he KNOWS he has hurt lily and therefore tries to fix the situation. And secondly, that is the ONLY time we hear Snape use the slur, and again, he regrets it almost immediately, as he said it in a spur of the moment situation (I haven’t read OOTP in a while, but I THINK it was straight after he was stripped and humiliated in front of everyone). Of course, I acknowledge that it doesn’t excuse the word, he is HUMAN. we all say hurtful things we don’t mean when we’re angry, upset and humiliated, and what’s more, Snape apologised for it almost INSTANTLY- he knew he had done wrong. Also... on the topic of using the M-word... Draco uses it a LOT from Chamber of Secrets onward. Obviously, the Malfoy’s are about blood purity, but before you go on saying ‘but he was young, he doesn’t know better!!!’ That doesn’t excuse it. He KNEW it would hurt Hermione. He knew other people who heard it would take offence on muggle-born’s behalf, yet he STILL does it, over and over. And Draco ALSO joins the death eaters at a young age. If Draco can be ‘redeemed’, then so can Snape.

I could go on but this has been in my drafts for WEEKS

#pro snape #fandom puff rants #character analysis

[chaoswillfallrpg]

PETER PETTIGREW is TWENTY-TWO YEARS OLD and a BARMAN at THE LEAKY CAULDRON in DIAGON ALLEY. He looks remarkably like DAVID LAMBERT and considers himself aligned with THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX. He is currently TAKEN.

→ OVERVIEW:

Peter Pettigrew has always been the sort of boy who felt as though he didn’t belong. Growing up in the wizarding village of Chudley with his mother and father, Peter felt out of place. His mother HOLLIE HOLLOW had been born a witch to a fairly notable family with a promising inheritance before she had married his father. An Irish man, EWAN PETTIGREW had hailed from Dublin. A sturdy man and unlike any Hollie had come across prior and was completely swept off her feet from the moment she had laid eyes on him. After the two were married Hollie moved back to Chudley and announced to her family she had fallen pregnant with Peter. She hoped the news of a baby would bring her family closer together despite her choice to marry a Muggle but found herself mistaken. Cast out into the cold, Peter’s father gave up his career as a boxer and bought the local pub in Chudley renaming it The Merrow where Peter was born and raised. The Pettigrew family had a difficult time in Chudley due to Peter’s father who couldn’t quite seem to fit in amongst the witches and wizards who primarily made up the small town. Part of the reason Peter never felt he quite fitted into his own family was due to his father’s internal struggle. As a young man growing up in Ireland he had always wanted a strong boy who would grow to be like him.

When Peter began showing magical ability and showed little interest in boxing, his father tried his best to win him round and persisted in trying to make his life as close to a Muggle one as he could. He sent Peter to primary school outside the village and enrolling him in boxing classes, allowing him to come home battered, bruised and unhappy but still Peter continued to go. Peter had always been a boy who was eager to please with a balanced sense of humour that is often acquired by growing up in a pub. Children would often try and bully him at school, especially when he first began showing signs of becoming a wizard. Peter would be able to do things that other children could not, making items of school work belonging to children who picked on him disappear with a simple thought, or making an extra piece of cake appear on his tray at school after he was told he couldn’t have more than one. Despite it being brilliant magic, he was often called a freak and returned home with bruises not just from his boxing classes but inflicted by others at school he spoke back to. Naturally his father had protested attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, hoping instead he would attend Sacred Heart College, the Catholic school close to the house and begin taking shifts at the pub when he was old enough. 

Thankfully his mother had refused and packed him away to school with little help from his father who had refused to even accompany them to Diagon Alley to collect his supplies. Hogwarts felt as though it would be a fresh start for Peter without the worry of being bullied. At this school he was just like everyone else and was excited to be treated as such. JAMES POTTER and SIRIUS BLACK were the first people to notice Peter wasn’t like everyone else, though he liked that about him. Peter had a hardened look about him and seemed older than most of the other students due to a lifetime of bullying and emotional abuse from his father. When LARKIN MULCIBER sneered at him for his tatty robes, Peter’s response was to attempt to have a fist fight with him which certainly caught the attention of the two boys. Both children from notable families, what little he learned of them struck Peter as interesting, particularly Sirius whose family situation sounded even more horrible than his own. Peter had never been around boys like these before. They thought Peter was cool because he lived in a pub and knew how to give someone a right hook which were things Peter had always been ashamed of rather than embraced. Sitting under the hat in his first year, Peter prayed to be placed in Gryffindor alongside Sirius and was overjoyed to get his wish and later be joined by James at the Gryffindor table. 

There they all sat, breaking bread and throwing it at one another as Peter sat wondering if in that moment he was the happiest he had ever been. Peter’s school experience was influenced largely by those around him. Not a naturally academic or gifted student, Peter’s value lied in a number of other things. He was a damn good Beater, could drink like a champion, smoke like a chimney, and was the fastest at downing shots at parties and then was able to lie through his teeth about it afterwards to PROFESSOR MINERVA MCGONAGALL. Peter was a fiercely loyal friend and had a reputation as being the most trustworthy of his friendship group. Though he lied often for James and Sirius to teachers, it was REMUS LUPIN who Peter found himself lying for the most during his time at school. Remus had become close with Peter, James and Sirius through sharing a dorm room together but found that as fun as he was he disappeared often without warning for days at a time and made strange excuses after his return. After one evening, curiosity got the better of Peter and Sirius who followed Remus out to The Dark Forest one full moon and saw him shift into a werewolf. When Remus returned the boys alerted Remus to their findings, followed by a master of an idea by Sirius to learn to become Animagi to accompany Remus during his transformations and look after him. It was at that point the four became truly bonded. 

Known as the Marauders, they became inseparable and vowed to take the secrets of one another to the grave. Upon leaving school, Peter wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to do with himself. He was a skilled enough Beater to try and pursue a career in Quidditch but he didn’t think that would truly make him happy. Of course his father promptly insisted on him coming back to Chudley to help them run The Merrow, but with all of his friends shacking up together in London, Peter knew moving back home wasn’t an option. Instead he put his skills to good use and got a job working at The Leaky Cauldron as a barman until he figured out what his greater purpose was in life which he found much faster than he thought. Peter had only been out of school less than a year before PROFESSOR ALBUS DUMBLEDORE had reappeared back in his life. The boys had all seen the recent string of disappearances in the news, especially with his other friends working at The Ministry of Magic and all the talk he’d heard in the pub. Dumbledore had attributed the ongoings to one man in particular THE DARK LORD who was suspected to be building an army. Dumbledore needed people like Peter and his friends on his side and quickly brought them into the fold of his new group he called The Order of The Phoenix alongside their friends from school LILY EVANS, MARLENE MCKINNON, MARY MACDONALD and DORCAS MEADOWES. 

Although Peter enjoys being part of The Order because it allows them to do what is right, he mostly enjoys being back with his friends. Peter has enjoyed growing closer to other members of their group who previously overlooked him as James and Sirius’ sidekick, Lily Evans being someone in particular Peter has grown very fond of. A talented witch, Lily offered to help Peter improve his potion making and alchemy skills and the two quickly became good friends. A kind yet quick witted witch, Peter simply enjoys her company and can often be found working with Lily around his work at The Leaky Cauldron or slipping her free butterbeers as they catch up after she finishes work. Under Dumbledore’s instructions Peter has continued to work at The Leaky Cauldron to keep a watchful eye on who comes into the alley and do a bit of digging into any suspicious behavior which he finds to be of interest to the group. A charming barman with a sight Irish twang, Peter is somewhat of a hit with a few of the witches who visit the pub, including older wizard and famed journalist RITA SKEETER who he has been known to have the odd romantic liaison with from time to time. Peter has a slight inclination she only gives him the time of day to get some information of him, but since his meetings with her are primarily a fact finding mission for him also he doesn’t mind all that much. 

→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:

Blood Status → Half-Blood

Pronouns → He/Him

Identification → Cis Male 

Sexuality  → Up to Roleplayer 

Previous Education → Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Gryffindor)

Societies → N/A

Relationship Status → Single 

Family → Lucie Hollow (estranged cousin) 

Connections  → James Potter (best friend/housemate), Sirius Black (best friend/housemate), Remus Lupin (best friend/housemate), Lily Evans (best friend), Marlene McKinnon (close friend), Mary MacDonald (close friend), Dorcas Meadoews (close friend), Thomas Dodderidge (boss), Maren Linwood (friend/potential love interest), Cassiopeia Kim (friend), Emilia Grey (friend), Cressida Abercrombie (friend), Gilfred Abbott (friend), Caradoc Dearborn (friend), Poppy Hookum (friend), Aurora Sinistra (friend), Rita Skeeter (romantic liaison) 

Future Information → Eventual Traitor to The Order of The Phoenix, Eventual Death Eater 

PETER PETTIGREW IS A LEVEL 5 WIZARD.

#peter pettigrew #david lambert #order of the phoenix rp #order of the phoenix rpg #new rp #order member #alleys #the leaky cauldron #magic #taken #taken order member #taken wizard #wizard

[7-wonders]

Twilight, Eat Your Heart Out

Summary: Pondering your own mortality is never a good long-term solution, especially when you have to compare it to the immortal vampire you’ve found yourself entangled in a relationship with.

Word Count: 4209

A/N: Vampire Michael is back! I hope you enjoy this; feedback is always appreciated and, if you feel so inclined, I would love if you liked, reblogged, or commented.

Jealousy, in any sense of the word, is not an emotion that you’re very familiar with. Of course, there were occasions throughout school where you felt wrongfully snubbed of an award or a grade, certain that you deserved a higher score. Never before have you been in a relationship where just the mere sight of your lover with another person fills you with self-doubt and envy. You’re better than that; your happiness and sense of fulfillment, you’ve always believed, does not rely on another person. At least, that seemed to be the case before you got yourself entangled with a suave, mysterious Antichrist who just so happens to also be a vampire.

Entering into a relationship (you wouldn’t dare to call him your boyfriend, or even use the word ‘dating’ to describe the odd situation that you’ve found yourself in) with arguably the most dangerous creature in the world was not something you had penciled into your five year plan. Lately, it seems like nothing is going according to the plan that you had meticulously crafted upon graduating college and landing your job at Kineros. You weren’t expecting to have your first bona fide lover, nor did you believe that you would suddenly learn about the warring forces that are essentially playing a game of chess and using humans as the pawns. You also never thought that you would be an accessory to murder.

Multiple murders, at that.

Blood bags don’t satiate Michael, who always complains that blood is so much better when it comes directly from the ‘source.’ In an attempt to quell Michael’s more...sadistic tendencies, you’ve offered to allow him to drink from you whenever he needs to. Shockingly enough, it turns out that even the cruelest of vampires, the one who is arguably the ruler of all others of his species, has a heart when it comes to certain humans. He had explained to you how taking blood from you multiple times a week, no matter how small the amount, would eventually kill you. So here you are, standing in some alleyway acting as the bait for Michael’s next meal.

This routine hasn’t seemed to get any easier since the first time Michael asked you on a hunt with him. Lure in an unsuspecting victim who has less-than-innocent intentions with you, guide them back far enough to where any wayward screams won’t be heard, and let Michael handle the rest. A fairly simple ploy, but one that never failed to have your stomach curdling with some sort of negative emotion. Before tonight, you had never been able to pinpoint what this foreign feeling was. 

It’s while you’re watching Michael pin tonight’s prey, a pretty brunette that had been planning on robbing you, against a wall that you start to realize what this might be. The low lighting that the street lamps cast into the alley glints off of his talon ring, which he uses to quickly and precisely slit open the woman’s throat. His hand tangles in her hair, yanking her head back and allowing him to drink deeply from the flowing wound. She moans weakly, pathetically, and you become aware of something else that’s nestled right beside the disgust that forces you to avert your eyes from the gory scene.

You’re jealous. Not only are you jealous, but you’re jealous of the woman that Michael’s currently draining dry. You understand why everything about this situation looks so intimate; Michael’s nature, of course, is seduction. His ethereal beauty and dangerous charm are integral in beguiling his victims, and he’s going to use these weapons to his advantage. Still, the intimacy of this situation has you nearly doubling over in disgust.

Michael, finally satisfied with his meal, carelessly discards the barely-breathing woman on the ground like she’s little more than an empty wrapper. He grins up at you, blood-stained teeth glinting in the light of the moon. Gracefully stepping over the body, he approaches you slowly and fluidly. It’s almost as if he’s a predator stalking his prey, although that isn’t too much of a stretch; you are, after all, human. There’s hardly any mess on his face, always the clean eater.

“You certainly do have a way of picking the most delicious meals for me, pet.” Michael darts his tongue out, licking a few stray drops of blood from his lips before capturing your lips in a kiss. The copper taste of his kisses, while familiar by now, are still something you don’t think you’ll ever get used to. “Shall we be on our way? The night is, after all, still young.”

“Don’t you need to clean up this mess first?” Michael smirks, waving one of his bejeweled hands in the air nonchalantly.

“A simple phone call is all it takes, nothing to worry about.” He slings his arm around you, silver talon coming dangerously close to puncturing your shirt and your shoulder. 

As you leave with Michael, you can’t help but cast your glance to the glassy eyes of the corpse that lay sprawled on the ground. Although there’s no sign of life left in her body, you swear you can feel her stare follow you when you round the corner.

This trend continues for the next two weeks, with every feed that you help bring to Michael invoking that same fiery jealousy in the pit of your stomach. These people, you know, are nothing more than food to Michael. But the way that he looks at them right before he strikes, convincing them that they’re safe and to give themselves over to him, makes you realize that you’re not special. That tender look, which you thought was special only to you, is just another play in Michael’s book. Slowly, you start to become aware of the fact that maybe it’s not just jealousy that you feel whenever Michael must partake in a feed.

You’re scared, as well.

Every human that he kills, every possible victim that walks past you when you’re scouting for Michael, reminds you that there is a very thin line separating them from you. You could just as easily be Michael’s next kill, the vampire draining you and leaving your body on the wet pavement with little more than a glance that one might give a dead deer on the side of the road. Michael claims to be fond of you, says that he couldn’t imagine killing you, but you know just how volatile Michael’s kind are. One day he could be your lover, and the next day he could be your killer. It’s a fact that remains in the back of your mind, always making sure you’re alert for any changes in his emotions towards you. 

When you meet one of Michael’s oldest friends (both in age and amount of time that they’ve known each other), that fear morphs into dread. The Countess, as she’s known as, owns the Hotel Cortez and uses its’ guests as her food source, which Michael considers to be a genius move. She’s radiant, mysterious, and absolutely gorgeous; you start to wonder if every vampire becomes ethereally beautiful when they’re turned, or if attractiveness is a prerequisite to vampirism. She had appeared suddenly, visiting with Michael in his plush office when you arrived for a “late night of work.” You were stunned by this goddess sitting opposite your lover, the two clutching crystal glasses of blood. 

“Elizabeth, allow me to introduce you to (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” Michael said warmly, standing with his visitor on his arm. “(Y/N), this is the Countess, my closest confidante for the past hundred years or so.”

She held her hand out for you to take, a talon ring all-too-similar to Michael’s digging into the skin of your wrist when she pulled you towards her. “What a stunning creature you are, my dear.”

“Oh, well, thank you,” you said in a voice an octave higher than your usual, causing Michael and the Countess to have laughed.

“My, my, Michael, it has been quite some time since you’ve found yourself enamoured with a human in this way. Why, the last had to have been Oscar, back in the late eighteen hundreds?” The Countess smiled wistfully. “It always did amuse me, how he would rather come up with the fanatical idea that you had a portrait stashed away somewhere that grew old in your place instead of believing what he had seen to be true.”

You had been jarred out of your semi-stunned state upon the familiarity of this man’s idea. “Wait, are you telling me that Michael once had a relationship with Oscar Wilde?” The two smiled conspiratorially, choosing to remain coyly silent instead of telling you if your suspicion is true.

“My dear Countess, we have not had the chance to reconnect since the turn of the century. For all you know, I could have had a harem of human lovers in that time,” Michael cooed.

“I know you too well for that to be more than a fantasy. Say, has it really been that long since we’ve last seen one another?” The Countess spoke, leaving you mildly upset that the two were basically talking directly above your head.

“Unfortunately.”

The platinum vampire sighed. “Nothing like the rich blood of those who indulged themselves due to their belief that they would die when the calendar changed to the year two thousand. Of course,” she smiled patronizingly at you, “you were hardly more than a babe then, weren’t you?”

You tightly returned her smile as Michael chuckled at his friend’s joke, the two continuing with their reminiscing. Eventually that night, you had left early, feigning exhaustion from a long week in order to get out of the awkward situation. Awkward for you, at least. For the two immortal beings, you’re sure you were little more than a pest, a persistent fly that finally managed to find an exit through a window.

It’s not as if you’re angry that they made fun of your youth. You can’t place the blame on two creatures who have lived hundreds of years combined for picking on how you’ve only existed for a mere blip on their timelines. Instead, the two inadvertently opened your eyes to what lay underneath all of the jealousy. A lingering sadness wraps itself around you, reminding you it’s there from the moment you wake up, and whispering in your ear to lull you to sleep. You’re sure that Michael’s noticed the change in your mood by now, being so attuned to your thoughts and feelings even without the fledgling link that had been created through him consistently feeding from you. 

As a person who relies on logic and research, you love facts. With this situation, however, the facts of the matter are not too appealing to analyze. For starters, you like Michael Langdon, a lot more than you’re supposed to. What had started as a simple ‘enemies with benefits’ situation has evolved into something that you never saw coming: your life is now a bad vampire fanfiction. What kind of human falls in love a relationship with a vampire who feeds from them in exchange for immunity and confidential information? You can only pray to whatever’s out there that this affection you’ve developed isn’t sensed by Michael, lest he decide to prey on you even more than he already does.

Even if you didn’t care for Michael like you do, it’s impossible to deny just how introspective you’ve become since meeting the Countess. Maybe it’s because you had been so swept up in the enigma that is Michael, but after he pierced your neck with his fangs while having you pinned against your desk, you sort of forgot about the fact that Michael’s going to remain the same as he’s always been. More specifically, you forgot that you won’t remain the same. It was easy to imagine him as your equal, with you holding the leverage of your tantalizing blood over his head and using that to your advantage. You became an odd team, helping Michael to successfully hunt and kill people whose deaths wouldn’t arouse too much suspicion. 

When the Countess reminded you of that fact, of how you came into the picture in what’s essentially the opposite of dog years (does every vampire year equal 70 human years?), it forced that issue of immortality versus mortality to center stage. No matter how your attempt to change the phrase, the words mean the same thing: you are going to grow older and die, while Michael will be the same as he’s always been and continue to go on without you. It’s not as if this is new information for you, considering one of the first things Michael told you was how he’s been on the Earth for over 400 years. It is, however, something you’ve deliberately avoided thinking about while trying to navigate the schematics of suddenly taking up company with a vampire.

Michael could, of course, give you immortality to allow you to live for eternity with him, but who’s to say that he’ll even still continue to tolerate you beyond next month? Immortality is a gift to Michael and his kind, and it’s not a gift to be given out frivolously. All humans are, all you are, at the end of the day, to Michael, is a meal. Nothing more. He could easily decide that he’s bored of you, his new human toy, and drain you of every drop of your blood until you’re just as lifeless as the corpses you’ve watched him devour lately. Humans are expendable, a renewable resource that Michael is determined to cultivate when he brings about the apocalypse in order to fulfill his father’s wishes. 

Even if Michael weren’t to get bored of you, it seems like he just brings in a new human to capture his attention until they, too, die. It’s a constantly revolving door of human lovers, you realize, ones who do nothing but serve as distractions for the vampiric Antichrist until the time comes for his ‘mission.’ What makes you better than Oscar Wilde? The man based one of his greatest works on Michael and penned many an eloquent letter for his blond-haired lover, only for said lover to allow him to be exiled and dead from meningitis. If he didn’t want to take the most well-versed and passionate of his lovers to be his eternal companion, what would make him want to take you? You are, after all, a mere researcher at a robotics company whose greatest accomplishment will likely be nothing more than improving sex robots (at least that’s what you tell yourself). 

It’s a train of thought that makes you especially melancholic. Why even bother to continue associating with Michael if he’s just going to toss you out like trash when you’re one day old and withered? It’s never good on one’s psyche to ponder mortality for an extended amount of time, but it’s all you can think about whenever you see Michael. So, like any person who’s not good at confronting their emotions would do, you ignore the source of all of this inner turmoil. While that’s easier said than done, all you really have to do is get work done during the day and lock yourself in your house at night. Easy, right?

You’ve managed to exponentially increase your productivity at work during the daytime, eliminating your need to work into the evening hours in an effort to finish your projects. The hardest part is the evening, when you can hear Michael crooning through your apartment door in that honey-laced voice to just let him in, pulling out every pet name in the book in an attempt to persuade you. You almost gave in a couple of nights ago, hand on the doorknob before you stumbled back and hid under the covers in your bedroom. After that night, though, he finally seemed to get the hint and left you alone. You’re lonely, lonelier than you’ve been since you first met Michael, but it’s for the best.

Tonight, it seems as if your week of avoiding interaction with a certain mysterious blond is finally catching up with you. You get home late, the moon already hanging high in the sky by the time you finish getting drinks with a couple of friends. Unlocking your front door, you can immediately tell that something’s off. The window, which was closed before you left, is now open, the curtains billowing inwards. Your heart beats wildly for a few moments, until you catch Michael’s distinctive scent: expensive cologne and something woodsy, both masking the metallic smell of blood that always follows him. 

“I know you’re here, Dracula, you big fucking nerd,” you grumble, shutting the door behind you and tossing your keys on the counter.

“Why do you continue to insist on calling me that horrendous nickname?” You can’t see where he’s at, but you can hear his voice coming from somewhere in the kitchen. 

“Sorry, Mephistopholes, it won’t happen again.” You only jump slightly when, in a split second, Michael’s got his arms wrapped around you from behind and his chin resting on your shoulder.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” It’s not a question; he knows it just as well as you do.

“And what if I am?”

“Well, I certainly don’t enjoy it. I also don’t like thinking I’ve upset you in some way.” Michael grabs you by your shoulders, spinning you around and backing you against the kitchen counter so he can look at you. “So? What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing. I’ve just been tired, haven’t really wanted to see anyone lately,” you shrug, staring at the shine on Michael’s shoes. Your eyes widen when his large hand grips your chin, forcing you to look up towards him.

“You know, I don’t tolerate liars, (Y/N). I could very well just read your thoughts to figure out what’s troubling you, but I won’t because you’ve told me how uncomfortable that makes you. So, you can either tell me know, or we can stand here like this until you decide you’re ready to talk like an adult instead of giving me your childish silent treatment,” Michael snaps. 

“What if it’s because of your attitude, hm?”

“It’s not,” Michael says with his eyes narrowed, daring you to try and come up with another excuse. “I’m giving you one more chance before my patience runs out, (Y/N).”

“You’re infuriating,” you scoff, pushing him off of you (surprisingly, he lets you) and stalking off towards your bedroom.

“Is it something to do with work? Did one of the victims that you caught for me actually touch you? Did the Countess scare you?” He knows he’s got you when your back stiffens at his last guess, breathing hitching before you walk faster. Unfortunately, due to his speed, Michael’s already sitting perched on your bed by the time you cross into the room. “So the Countess scared you?”

“Shut up about it, please.”

“I’m not going to. I care about you, and I don’t want to see you upset in any way.”

“You care about me?” Michael nods, not sensing the sarcasm in your voice. “Just like you cared about all of your other lovers, who you then cast out and let die when they grew boring to you?”

When you turn around to glare at him, Michael’s already staring at you with those wide blue eyes. Instead of getting angry, or firing back, things you expect him to do, he just reaches out a hand and grabs your own. He remains silent, probably to let you calm down while you continue to throw daggers at him with your eyes, and you allow him to pull you onto his lap. 

“Hearing about my previous human lovers frightened you?”

“Not in the sense of, ‘oh, I’m jealous that he’s been with others before me.’ It frightens me how insignificant a role in your eternal life I’ll play,” you confess.

“Why do you believe that?” Michael’s not asking this question to be condescending, you know, but to truly understand the thought process behind your feelings.

“I’m a mere blip on your timeline; I barely take up any space, considering how long you’ve lived and how long you will live. I’m like a fucking baby compared to you, and I truly don’t know anything about the world in the way that you do. Why am I to believe that I’m anything different compared to all of the other human partners you’ve taken? You haven’t turned any of them, and there’s no way that you’ll turn me. Even if you don’t grow tired of me within the next few months, I will grow old and die; it’s inevitable. I’ll die, and you’ll continue on with living.”

“But in the meantime--” you cut Michael off, too fired up to let him speak.

“In the meantime, I’m a meal. That’s all humans are to you and your kind. You can sugarcoat it all you want, say that I’m your ‘lover’ and that you ‘cherish’ me, but at the end of the day, I’m nothing more than a to-go meal for you. Your entire mission is to let Hell rule on Earth, and enslave the best, most tasty humans as your blood bags. Who’s to say that I won’t wake up to you draining me one day? I help you get your meals, but the only thing separating them from me is that I managed to make you laugh long enough to escape death.”

Michael knows that you have some valid points and a right to be upset by them. Tears brim your eyes, but you refuse to allow him to see you cry or show any more vulnerability than you’ve already been forced to. He kisses the back of your hand over and over again, calming you down before he speaks.

“Do you know why I have never turned any of my previous human partners?” You shake your head, shrugging. “It’s because, although I have loved each and every one of them very much, I knew that they were not compatible with eternity. None of them would be able to handle the burden that an immortal life comes with. Sometimes, they also choose to turn down my offer. I have only offered the gift to three people in my lifetime, and all three of them said no.”

“So the Countess…?”

“Is not one of my creations, no. In fact, I have yet to make a creation.”

“Why have they said no, then?”

“There was a man,” Michael says slowly, fondly, “who I was very much enamored with. It was over a hundred years ago, but I can still remember everything about him like it was yesterday. He’s the last mortal I’ve ever offered to turn, and he refused. Said that he didn’t want to live long enough to see what became of his works. He told me that his mortal life was painful enough, and that he rather wouldn’t extend it for an indeterminate amount of time. I was...heartbroken. I vowed that I would never allow myself to get close to a human again, and that I would never offer anyone the gift for as long as I lived.”

“Michael, I’m so sorry.” You reach for his face, gently tracing your fingers along his jawline.

“No need to be sorry, I’ve long since moved on.” He kisses your cheeks, letting his forehead fall against yours. “I didn’t tell you this to get pity from you. I told you this so that you would understand that I don’t treat all humans as my prey. I have a...talent, if you will, a sort of night vision for the soul. I can see exactly who each person truly is, no matter how they try to hide it.”

“So I passed that test, then?”

Michael chuckles, “you did, and so has every human I’ve ever been fond of. I can’t promise you much: eternity, that I’ll be the lover you need me to be, or even regular dates. But I can promise you that, no matter what happens, you will always hold a special place in my heart.”

“Right next to Oscar Wilde?” you prod with a cheeky smile on your face.

“Hypothetically, if I had been in a relationship with Oscar Wilde, then yes.” He’s deliberately careful with how he chooses his words, enjoying stringing you out on this mystery.

“Thank you,” you kiss him softly. “I’m sorry for being annoying lately.”

“You weren’t annoying, not in the slightest.” Michael shifts you on his lap, so you’re now straddling him. “Are you feeling better now?”

“I am.”

“Good, I can’t stand to see you upset.” His fangs are peeking over the top of his full bottom lip, and you grin before lightly touching the point.

“Are you hungry? It’s been a couple of weeks since you’ve fed from me, we should be good.” You start to sweep your hair away from your neck, but Michael stops you.

“I am hungry, but it’s a...different type of hunger,” he alludes, making your face heat up as he rapidly changes positions so you’re lying on your back. “Let me show you just how special you are to me, darling.”

//////////////////////

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[heartwoodventures]

If You Go Down to the Woods Today Pt. 1

The latest posting pinned to Heartwood’s job board had seemed like any other. Something had been terrorizing the people around Buscarron’s Druthers. Some unfortunate soul would go missing only for their body to be found days later in the woods, bloody and broken. As the Company was inclined to do, they took on the job, assuring the Wood Wailers they could solve the problem. Honestly, to most of them it sounded like nothing more than a hunt for a wild beast that had gotten a little too comfortable around the forest settlement. Easy gil. 

So, with the collective ease of people who had been down this road before, Heartwood’s mercenaries started drifting into the yard of the Company house at the appointed time by ones and twos, ready to meet the client and get on with it. Aislinn, sitting on a nearby bench had her head bent over the handgonne laying across her lap, forever making little adjustments to the finicky firearm as she chatted amiably with Aiswyda, the towering Roegadyn’s sunny disposition belying the grim reason for this gathering. The two of them had joined up at nearly the same time and yet Aislinn couldn’t pinpoint when this mercenary business had become like old hat to them. 

Khora and Zorah stood nearby and now and then snippets of the miqo’te couple’s flirtatious banter drifted across the yard. Nazyl arrived looking perennially serious and ready for business, but then again, he rarely passed up the chance to rid the Shroud of any evils, perceived or not. Finally, N’yami came out from the house hurrying to meet them, her topaz carbuncle trotting happily in her shadow. 

This is how one Vanriri Vanri found them as she determinedly made her way towards the estate, relieved to find a group already assembled. She schooled her expression into one she thought serious enough to befit the situation, but not grim -- and climbed to the top of the stairs, clearing her throat. 

"You are the adventurers assembled to aid in the--" She paused. Too much alliteration, better quit that. "The hunt, in the Shroud, ...for the Wood Wailers, yes?" Was that too specific? No, no, better she confirmed.

Zorah smiled warmly by way of greeting, “We are, yes. Ready to go when you are."

Content that her weapon was indeed good to go, Aislinn rose to her feet and slid it into its holster over her back. She studied the lalafell that had just arrived before nodding in wordless agreement with Zorah.

Nazyl glanced over their client. Another Lalafell, hopefully it wouldn't go like the last two times... "Alright..."

“Yup! Ready to kick names and take ass.” Aiswyda cracked her knuckles in a playful gesture, unaware of her mix-up.

That caused a wave of reactions ranging from amusement to confusion to ripple across the faces of the rest of the group but no one corrected the Seawolf. 

"Wonderful!" Vanriri beamed at those before her, then seemed to realize that might be a little too chipper a response considering the circumstances, and quickly cleared her throat again. "Er, that is, the Wood Wailers extend their gratitude." She held up one finger, faltered slightly at Aiswyda's words and very severely pressed her lips into a line to keep herself from laughing. "A-ah, ahem, I've been instructed to bring you to an area near Buscarron's Druthers. If you are all prepared, of course!"

This set off a chorus of answers in the affirmative. 

"I'm set to go."

"Ready as I'm going to get, I think."

"South huh? Mm." Nazyl mused. Of course, he thought of his most frequent haunt, and its countless horrors, "Alright, I'm equipped then."

Zorah glanced to Khora silently, looking him over and deciding he was good to go.  "We're ready." She nodded toward Vanriri.

Khora’s ears flattened somewhat over his head.  "Yes I am ready mooom..."

"Don't you start with me."

"I never stopped."

"Then let us depart!" Vanriri glanced skyward briefly. "The attacks have largely occurred from dusk 'til dawn, which should fortunately line up with our arrival." She turned on her heel as each one confirmed their readiness, and led their trek.

As the adventuring party made their way through the Shroud, dusk settled in early as the sun dipped beneath the thick canopy. Buscarron's Druthers rose up to meet them at the end of the path -- though it was much quieter than normal; commonly a buzzing hub of activity even at this time, there was barely a skeleton crew of guards stationed at every entrance. One posted at the main road nodded to them as they passed and approached the settlement proper.

Aislinn took a moment to sweep a glance around the area. "Know what kind of attacks, exactly? Any idea what we're up against?" she asked with a note of curiosity. 

"No one has strictly seen the creature," Vanriri answered, glancing over her shoulder at Aislinn, "but the ...leavings from its victims have been-- ah, gruesome, if revealing in their nature. They appear to have been kills of opportunity, and have seemingly been dropped from a considerable height. ...According to reports from Stillglade Fane on the condition of the remains."

Looking off into the thicket, Aiswyda tilted her head, thinking aloud. “Dropped? Perhaps some manner of bird?”

Aislinn made a face that signaled her distaste before surreptitiously eyeing the skies above them.

The lalafell pointed further south. "By and large, victims have been found along the stretch of woods between here and Camp Tranquil, though none in the swamp itself."

"Egh, I don't like that. Issom-Har is in that area, n' all kinds o' nasteh things come from it. Closin' the door ta that hellhole has been an effort n' a half." Nazyl commented. 

Vanriri nodded. "Indeed, the Wood Wailers have posited it may well be some manner of creature from the depths."

Zorah frowned as she listened, "One of those one-eyed demons, I imagine? Or imps. Grotesque things."

Nazyl narrowed his eyes, gazing south. Considering how it killed, it was either a demented tree climber or, as he assumed, a devil of some kind. They were known for their cruelty, "Imps hardleh have that kinda clevahness.” 

"I am happy to defer to each of you on how best to approach; I can take you to the location of the last victim, if that is where you would prefer to begin?" Vanriri suggested. 

Aiswyda turned to the lalafell with a nod. “We could find some clues there. Seems like a fine idea to me.”

Dropping her gaze from the skies, Aislinn nodded in agreement. "Aye, seems like a good place to start."

With a nod Vanriri began to lead them away from the settlement. Her back turned to them, she let a little of the dread currently turning her gut to lead to creep into her expression. Here she'd thought some kind of Shroud animal gone wild was bad enough, but fiends...

Nazyl continued to speak as they moved into the dark forest. “Imps are smart, but not enough ta keep hidden this long without bein' found out. B'sides, they're too small ta carreh someone that ain't a Lalafell.” he paused. “...A bogeyman might have that capabiliteh though..."

From behind him Aiswyda stared in uncharacteristic speechlessness at the lalafell’s back. She would defer to Nazyl’s expertise but in her mind, she wondered. But what if there were a whole troupe of imps?! The horror. She shivered.

Vanriri brought them to a halt in a forest glen that could have been any other glen for all that it failed to scream of the violence done here among the peacefully nodding branches and soft, moss covered floor. The petite lalafell pointed slightly ahead at a patch of earth that had been a little more obviously trampled. In the gloom, it was difficult to see -- but the earth bore some small sign of a heavy impact. Keen eyes might have been able to pick out bloodspill though it had, unfortunately, largely sunk into the loamy undergrowth.

Immediately, Heartwood got to work. Almost as one they fanned through the glen.

Aiswyda’s heels sunk in the soft earth, but that didn’t stop her from making her way quickly to the scene of the crime. One janky step at a time. “Hm, well. If something really was dropped from up high to here, I’m shocked it managed to make it past the canopy.”

Aislinn's eyes narrowed slightly as she sought to take in whatever Vanriri had pointed out to them but it was difficult in the waning dusk. She moved forward a bit and eventually made out the impact site. Logic had her glancing up to the canopy of trees overhead. "Maybe not just something that takes to the air, but anything that might drag a victim up into the trees?" She looked to Nazyl, wondering if he knew of anything supernatural that might fit the bill off the top of his head.

The void hunter stared at the shifted ground, looking up from where the victim would have dropped. Nothing less than lethal distance, that's for sure. But why? If for amusement, then they would have just left the body. He grimaced, by breaking someone this way it would technically make them...easier to consume. An intelligent man eater...? He couldn't determine the purpose of this bizarre ritual from sight alone, and his eyes kept to the treetops. He glanced at Aislinn, "I'm still unsure. I don't know maneh things that do this off the top of me head, but so far it's pointin' ta bogeyman. They're not fun ta deal with."

Investigating the scene was indeed proving difficult in the gloom, though Zorah was less hampered than most; she was able to make out a wide spread of blood from the point of impact, and the remnants of strange tracks besides; whatever it was, it was ...probably quadrupedal. The miqo’te’s ears twitched as she looked about, remaining silent for the time being. She had picked up on the scent of blood, that iron smell of which she was never fond. She stepped a bit closer, looking over the area, listening to them speak all the while. 

"These are unfamiliar." Zorah finally spoke, gesturing to the tracks on the ground.  She looked to the others, "Any of you recognize them?"

At Zorah's question, Aislinn turned her attention from the impacted earth and moved closer to where the miqo’te stood in order to get a better look but soon shook her head. The tracks were unlike anything she had ever seen. "But then again, I'm not a tracker. Either way, I say we see how far we can follow them."

Zorah smirked, "Sadly, I was one of the ones who never really got hunting and tracking down with my tribe. I spent my days in Radz-at-Han instead."

The canopy above this point was perhaps thinner than most -- broken branches and foliage were thin, and too weak to support whatever was dropped through them. Curiously, several of the branches are bent upwards however. A detail Aiswyda quickly pointed out.

“Huh. The branches here lean up. Perhaps the ‘thing’ flew up afterwards, or can emit strong gusts of wind?” She narrowed her eyes, thoughtful. But her mind drew a blank. “Sounds like a doozy.”

"Miss Vanriri Vanri, was there aneh othah reports regardin' these attacks? Sounds, tracks, anehthin'?" Nazyl asked. 

Vanriri shook her head in reply. "Nothing conclusive. 'High pitched shrieking' was reported, but whether that was the creature or," she glanced pointedly at the impact site, "...otherwise..."

N'yami hung back and quietly studied the area, branches were pointed upward in an odd fashion, maybe the thing could come out of the ground? The Seeker looked over to her summon and gave a small shrug as if silently communicating with the carbuncle. Whackara chirped back at her and N'yami tilted her head curiously. Clearly she was lost in her own thoughts about this.

When the chatter and brainstorming from the group died down it soon became clear to all of them that the forest in this area was silent in a way no forest should ever be. The sounds of regular fauna were completely absent; even the buzz of vilekin seemed to be missing.

“Was the forest always this...er.  Silent?” Aiswyda wandered to the edge of the foliage, searching for any sign of wildlife. She didn’t like the quiet. She was the type of person who got antsy in silence around others.

In reply, Aislinn made a thoughtful noise in the back of her throat. An unsettled feeling had begun to creep over her though she couldn’t articulate why. She wasn't the forest type and couldn't pick out the significance in the lack of noise but even she knew the sudden silence in a calm before a storm.

Nazyl felt a chill down his spine. "....Somethin' ain't right. There's nothin' alive here." A hand curled around Perdition, hearing his own heartbeat drumming against the silence of the forest.

“Cheeky bugger. We’re alive, aren’t we?” Aiswyda muttered. But she understood where the lalafell was coming from. Something felt different. Off.

Their observations made Vanriri stand a little straighter, apparently realizing for the first time the only sound that she could hear -- other than the group of adventurers -- was the uneasy thumping of her own heart. "Oh." She cleared her throat uneasily.

And then, beyond the gradual lull of the sound of leaves in the evening breeze far overhead came a distant sound of wings that began to echo from above...

Zorah’s ears flickered, picking up the subtle sound all too well. "Something's coming..." She spoke quickly, just loud enough for all of them to hear.

(What gruesome fate befell the forest denizens? Will Heartwood survive what comes next? Will names indeed be kicked and asses taken? Find out next time! To be continued!)

#ffxiv rp #heartwood ventures #Heartwood plots #balmung rp #N'yami Synch #Nazyl Tharazyl #Zorah Velaceras #Khora Velaceras #Aiswyda Nuthalwyn #Aislinn North #Vanriri Vanri

[ijustwant2write]

Not Your Typical Woman-Jax Teller x Reader

(GIF credit to @charliehunnamxo)

Masterlist

Summary: requested by anonymous: ‘Okay first of all you are amazing second of all I was kinda hoping you could write a one shot, or fanfiction (whatever you like cause I know it will be awesome either way) where the reader is looking for a job as a mechanic at TM where she gets the job an ends up patching in Mabey getting into a fight with a few crow eaters over Jax who she eventually ends up with thank you so much you are amazing 😍😍’

(A/N: Just changed it slightly, but I hope it’s still what you wanted)

Characters: Jax Teller x Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name  (Y/L/N)=Your last name

Warnings: Swearing, bitchiness

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Pulling into the parking lot, I smiled to myself as I looked at my new place of work. All my life I had grown up helping my dad work on his car and motorbikes, it just seemed natural to me. Whereas my sister was the typical girly-girl, playing with her dolls and dressing up, I would roll in covered in oil or mud, helping carry the tool box around; I giggled as I thought back to that time, we were so different yet had the strongest bond. This was all I wanted. A simple mechanic job, surrounded by what I loved doing. I had grown up in Charming too, I could never leave this place. 

Confidently strolling towards the office, I kept my head held high as I realised that this place was mostly run by men. Shame really, we needed more women in this industry.

“Hey, (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?” Gemma, the woman who interviewed me called out.

“Yeah, hi!” I said back, shaking her hand.

“Good to see you again, congrats on getting the job.”

“Thank you. I brought those papers you asked for.”

“Great, let’s show you around.”

I had instantly liked Gemma when she first interviewed me, but now I was more sure than ever that she would be a good boss. Her attitude was just amazing, I loved how she was clearly the boss who ran the place, the men respected her too. After showing me where everything was, we ended up back outside, and I couldn’t stop myself from staring at the bikes lined up.

“You got one of your own?” she asked me.

“No, used to. Had to sell it unfortunately, but my dad had one too. They’re beautiful.”

She chuckled.“You know who we are, don’t you?”

I nodded.“Yeah, you’re an MC, Sons of Anarchy to be exact.”

“I’m assuming that’s what attracted you to the job?”

I laughed at that.“No, it’s just a perk.”

My dad had always told me of this MC, almost praising them sometimes. My mom on the other hand, not so much; she could see that they were helping their community, their family, but of course, this couldn’t outweigh the amount of illegal shit they got up to. I always found it exciting. That was something me and my sister had in common, we loved the bad boy look (as most girls do at some stage in their lives), and these men were just the right bunch for us to crush on. Being in an MC interested me. I didn’t know whether it was the danger, the mechanical side, or how close they all were that pulled me towards that life. And here I was, working for them.

“I think you’re going to be just fine here. Hey, I know it’s sudden, but would you mind covering someone’s shift this afternoon? It’s in an hour but he’s called in sick and I need this job doing today.”

“No problem. Might as well get going whilst I’m here.”

I changed into the overalls, pulling down the top half and tying the arms around my waist before throwing my hair up in a ponytail. Normally I was a very confident person, but nerves were starting to kick in. I had only ever worked on cars and such by myself or with my dad, and although I had the degrees necessary, I could feel doubt starting to creep in; it wasn’t a nice feeling.

“Hey, are you supposed to be in here?” I heard someone say behind me as I shut my locker.

“Uh,” I turned around, greeted by a handsome, blonde man,“yeah, I just started today.”

“Oh, right. Sorry, too used to saying that.”

“You’re too used to asking women if they should be in here?”

“Sorry, ignore that. I’m Jax.”

I shook his hand.“(Y/N).”

He looked me up and down before turning away, making me smile. I wasn’t going to lie, I was flattered that someone as gorgeous as him was checking me out. As he turned around, I couldn’t help but stare at his kutte, admiring it slightly. He must have noticed because as he took it off, he looked at me over his shoulder.

“Gotta admit, the chicks dig it.”

“I think I dig it for different reasons.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve always wanted to be in an MC, ever since my dad first introduced me to bikes.”

“Really? Don’t see many women wanting that...actually there aren’t any women patched in.”

“What?! Are you serious?”

“Yeah, it just hasn’t happened yet.”

I thought for a moment, a slow smile appearing on my face.“What does it take to get patched in?”

“You serious? You got any idea the shit you got to go through?”

“No, that’s why I’m asking.”

“Uh...listen, I’m the President of this MC-”

“Oh, shit. This isn’t a good start is it?”

“Look, the fact I’ve never even heard of a woman being patched in means that it’s there for a reason.”

“I mean, it could be that a bunch of males just made that rule because that’s what men were, and sometimes still, are like.”

He nodded to me.“Yeah, it could be. I would have to look into it.”

“So that’s not a no?”

“It’s not a yes.” he smirked.“I’ve literally just met you, I shouldn’t even be considering it.”

“Hm, what does that tell you about me?”

I winked at him, sultry leaving the room with a new found confidence, adrenaline pumping through my veins. With confidence practically radiating off me, I was greeted with another Son, Juice, who was told to show me the ropes before I started working. I was easily able to joke with him as he showed me around, introducing me to everyone else that was there. It seemed easy, everything was where it would usually be, and I just wanted to get started. Once he left, I instantly started working, fully focused on the work in front of me.

As I would bend over the bonnet or lean down to grab another tool, I would notice some of the other men staring; there were those that tried to hide it, others didn’t care if I had seen them. Sometimes I would stare back, instantly causing them to look away, which always made me laugh. They were all working for the Sons of Anarchy, a notorious biker gang, they dealt with illegal stuff daily, yet somehow the presence of a woman made them nervous. 

The weeks flew by, and I couldn’t express how much I was loving my job. Not only was I passionate about my work, the people around me became like a second family. It was so easy to fit in with them. When I told my dad everything, instead of being concerned that his daughter was affiliated with a gang, he was excited, asking me tonnes of questions, as if they were celebrities. But I started noticing that I would be given different tasks to the other workers, ones not involving the garage. It was usually Jax who gave the orders, pulling me away from whatever I was working on to ask a favour. I would go with other members for small tasks, like collecting payments; this definitely wasn’t in my job description. These tasks kept appearing, and I was starting to get an incline that something was going to change for me. 

Like any other working day, I turned up to work, hanging up my belongings and checking my appearance. I heard someone else enter, making me smile as I went to greet them.

“Morning Jax.” I beamed.

“You’re needed, now.” He said coldly, a dark look on his face.

My smile instantly disappeared.“Oh, for what?”

He didn’t say anything, only gesturing with his head to follow. Nerves started to build in my stomach. Had I done something wrong? What could I have possibly done? Did a job go bad? Was a customer unhappy? Numerous scenarios whizzed through my mind as I followed him to their meeting room, where they had their ‘church’ meetings. I could see all of the club members sat around the table. This was serious.

“Stand over there.” Jax ordered, sitting at the head of the table as I stood opposite.

It went silent, all of the men looking at me intensely.

“Look, we appreciate all you do. It’s clear to see that you’re a hard worker, you know what you’re doing. But I’m afraid that isn’t enough.”

I clasped my hands together, gripping onto them tightly as I listened.

“We’re gonna have to put more on you, show us that you really want to do this.”

I felt something slap onto my back, slinging around my shoulders. I jumped slightly, grabbing onto the material before it slipped off. As I brought it in front of my eyes, my mouth dropped open in shock, disbelief strewn across my face.

“No fucking way!” I exclaimed.

They had handed me a kutte, stating that I was a prospect to the Sons of Anarchy! I wasn’t sure if I was dreaming.

“It’s official, you’re our newest prospect. Means we get to boss you around a lot more.” Jax smirked.

“You’re all assholes, I was about to start crying.” I scoffed as I put it on.

“Looking good lass.” Chibs called out.

“How come I can become a prospect? I thought women couldn’t be one?”

Jax explained,“Well, the way we see it, the rules are old fashioned. I could tell that you were serious about it too. You’re our guinea pig.”

Congratulations were passed around to me as the meeting adjourned, smiles on everyone’s faces. I caught my reflection in the mirror. I looked fucking sexy and powerful with this kutte, it was a new part of my life and who I would be.

“I’ve got your first order actually.” Jax, who hadn’t left the room, said.

“Oh? And what would that be, Mr President?”

“For your ass to be at this clubhouse tonight for a party.”

“I think I can manage that.”

“And wear the kutte. Don’ know why I’ve not let a girl wear it before.”

“Glad you like it just as much as I do.”

His teasing tone stopped for a moment.“You do know how serious this is, don’t you?” 

I nodded.“Yes, and I wouldn’t put myself in this position otherwise.”

Once I finsihed my shift, I sped home, racking my brain to think of something to wear. My first party and first time being a prospect, it was daunting. I was making history here, being the first woman prospect. They had seen something in me, and I was going to prove that I was worth the title and much more. 

Checking myself out once more in the mirror, I took yet another picture of me, still not over how I looked; I had done an amazing job of getting glammed up. Jax had offered to take me to the party, even though I could easily travel there myself. Looking over the selfies I just took, I giggled as I sent one to him, along with the message that I was finally ready. I must have received the world’s fastest reply, he was on his way. 

“Someone’s out to impress tonight.” Jax commented after giving me a wolf whistle as I stepped outside.

I gave a little spin, taking the helmet from his outstretched hand.“Don’t I always? Come on, let’s get going, I’m in desperate need of a drink.”

For the first hour, Jax stayed by my side. His hand was around my waist, not caring what it looked like to others. Instead of it embarrassing me or making me uncomfortable, I relished in the fact that he was paying attention to me. Jax lured me in. I didn’t know everything about him, hardly anything actually but that made me want to know him more; he was interesting to me, not to mention undeniably hot. I felt a little lost when he left me for a moment, but I had to remain confident. I was a prospect, and although we had to earn respect, I didn’t want to come off as someone who would just roll over when someone told me to. Especially when two crow eaters approached me, as if I were some sort of prey.

“Isn’t this funny Jackie? The sons must be playing a practical joke.” one spoke.

Jackie obnoxiously cackled.“Oh god, it’s pathetic how she craves so much attention.”

Hypocrites.

“Can I help you?” I snapped.

“Oh, no. We’re just enjoying the entertainment for the evening.”

“Do you honestly have nothing better to do when you aren’t being used as a sex toy?”

“Listen sweetie, I don’t know why they’ve let you become a prospect, quite tragic actually; makes you more frigid than you already are.”

“How would you know what frigid means?”

“You have to respect us. We’re part of the club.”

“No, you’re really not. I work for patched in club members, and the only woman I’ll ever take orders from is Gemma. Stop kidding yourselves and just get on with whatever it is you do.”

“I’ll be telling Jax about this....once we’ve had our fun.”

No, Jax and I weren’t an item, we hadn’t even spoke about anything remotely close to that. She was trying to push my buttons, and although deep down it was working, I masked that.

“You do that. Now let me get on with my night.”

I turned away, leaning against the end of the bar. My hopes of them leaving were false, making me roll my eyes as they came up with more cute comebacks. That’s when I spotted a crate of beers on the floor, giving me a slightly petty idea. Picking up one, I shook it, turning back to face the girls.

“Look, you’re bitchy comments are great, they’re really making me sad,” I sarcastically said, pouting slightly,“but I really think you should cool off.”

I opened the bottle, letting it spray all over the whores. It soaked their skimpy dresses, their squealing grabbing the attention of everyone. It was silent for only a moment before laughing and yelling followed. I laughed too, really wishing that I had done something more to them. They whined as they rushed off, and that was when I knew I had made some enemies. But before I could celebrate my victory, I was harshly yanked out of the room. I panicked as I saw that it was Jax. Shit, was I really not supposed to do that? Should I have been the bigger person?

As he pushed me up against a wall, I could hear how heavy his breathing was.“That was fucking hot.”

“What?” I breathed out.

“Back there, what you did. Everyday I get more and more attracted to you.”

“J-Jax, are you serious?”

“Yes, look if you don’t want this then just say-”

I quickly grabbed his hand, it was my turn to drag him into another room.“Fuck yes, say no more.”

#jax teller #jax teller imagine #jax teller imagines #jax teller one shot #jax teller x reader #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy imagines #sons of anarchy one shot #sons of anarchy x reader #soa #soa imagine #soa imagines #soa one shot #soa x reader

[cleocazo]

ultimate ship for morgan, astrid & lian

ultimate ship ask meme   /   accepting !

General:

How long will they last? : not to sound like a real broken record but i sure hope they hercules vc go the distance.

How quickly did/will they fall in love? : i think it’ll be… so natural to the three of them, though there might be some hiccups along the way. it might take a bit for them all to adjust, and get used to being a poly - i can speak for morgan only really, but i KNOW being in a relationship and wanting it to work will be new for them. it’ll b so wholesome though.

How was their first kiss? : each individual ‘first kiss’ is gonna be… so different. like. morgan and astrid live together so know each other much better - for them, it might be something that’s already happened in a club, you know? whereas with lian, it’ll be FRESH. it’ll be something new and exciting, and it might come along with a shot of first kiss adrenaline. 

Wedding:

Who proposed? : i’m gonna be presumptuous, but i feel like lian could be the one? morgan would never think about it, and if we think about the fact astrid’s parents are divorced… i feel like both of them might be inclined to leave it a REALLY long time, whereas lian might want.. their shot, you know?

Who is the best man/men? / Who is the bridesmaid(s) : i’m combing this q because i’m not sure yet who’s more likely to fulfill what role, but they’d each choose close friends / family, i feel - tova and astrid are close enough, and i think morgan is close to THEIR siblings. i’m conscious sidekick is very chill rn so dynamics are slow to build, but mayb fabian for lian! #sibs! 

Who did the most planning? : morgan and lian did the most. astrid had input, but also just… really let them both go wild.

Who stressed the most? : i feel like the parents did. the trio were so happy with it just being what it was at the end of the day, whereas the parents wanted it to be perfect. 

How fancy was the ceremony? : not very. i think out of the three, morgan is the only one with exceedingly expensive taste, and they wouldn’t have allowed that CLOUD the overall festivities. it probably wasn’t that huge an event, with lots of like… not actually handmade, but definitely things that looked handmade decorating the space. wholesome stuff, u know.

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? : i’m not sure! i don’t think anybody! unless astrid was mad at vidar. or jade was being real villainy.

Sex:

Who is on top? : i feel like it could either be morgan or lian, u know. just a feeling. in my brain.

Who is the one to instigate things? : mostly morgan, i feel. like, not in a bad way or anything, she’s just… a very sexual being.

How healthy is their sex life? : it’s good. i wonder if anyone would ever answer ‘not at all’. like… three times the stamina, babey.

How kinky are they? : i wonder this also. i think it depends on mood. sometimes it b fun to try new things / do something out there, u know? 

How long do they normally last? : i should’ve saved my ‘three times the stamina’ joke for here.

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? : of course they do, they’re gay.

How rough are they in bed? : like the kinky q, i feel this really cld depend on general mood. sometimes it wld prob be… so fun.

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? : it’s astrid’s favorite thing to do, and i feel it’d so quickly become morgan and lian’s, too. 

Children:

How many children will they have naturally? / How many children will they adopt? : full stop i feel they cld have like one / two kid/s and be content with that ( would astrid REALLY want to deal w any more babies than necessary after her dad made his own softball team? ), but i’m not sure what route they would go. 

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? : lian, sorry baby.

Who is the stricter parent? : i feel it depends, and could be morgan or lian depending on day and vibe. 

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? : they’re doing smth silly with astrid, and morgan and lian are none the wiser.

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? : they give them money a la the skellingtons and let them do their OWN thing.

Who is the more loved parent? : astrid. she’s consistently the most chill, i feel.

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? : they all want to go, and sometimes make a combined appearance - but mostly it depends on who’s available, with them all switching it up. 

Who cried the most at graduation? : astrid. i feel it’s just… more likely.

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? : also astrid. 

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? : morgan !! she loves it.

Who is the most picky in their food choice? : i’m not sure?? none of them?? eat what ur given.

Who does the grocery shopping? : this would also depend on who has the time ! they’re busy bees ! whoever does it gets a list from morgan tho… and if they deviate ( which happens often ) has to live with those choices.

How often do they bake desserts? : not very. that’s a little too much effort, but there’s always ice cream in the freezer ! 

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? : i’m not sure who’s what but i feel like it just .. depends.

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? : morgan brings them all out w the stark money . it’s hot.

Who is more likely to suggest going out? : astrid and morgan, it’s the sorority girl in both of them.

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidentally while cooking? : i just … feel like its astrid.

Chores:

Who cleans the room? : morgan keeps the space clean for the most part ( she’s VERY obsessed w clean spaces ), but they do like, weekly cleaning which is more equal.

Who is really against chores? : again, i’m so sorry, i feel like it’s astrid.

Who cleans up after the pets? : whoever owns the pets -a rule by morgan stark.

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? : astrid…

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? : no one. why WLD they !!

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? : lian gets lucky the most.

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? : astrid or morgan, creatures of comfort and cleanliness. 

Who takes the dog out for a walk? : whoever owns the dog.

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? : they go all out! but they also have a habit of procrastinating taking the stuff down, which means having a christmas tree still up in april.

What are their goals for the relationship? : what r the goals for any relationship… b happy?

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? : astrid

Who plays the most pranks? : lian??

#c: morgan stark #opp: astrid vidarsdottir #opp: liena harper #ship: my heart is too big for just one of you #answered #i LOVE THEM #Anonymous

[mythvoiced]

@enchcntd - THE OG GAYS, OFC — ultimate ship meme!

---

Send in two (or more) names and I’ll fill all this out about the ship!

General:

Rate the Ship -   Awful | Ew | No pics pls | I’m not comfortable | Alright | I like it! | Got Pics? | Let’s do it! | Why is this not getting more attention?! | The OTP to rule all other OTPs

How long will they last? - Uh? Forever? Obviously?

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - I wouldn’t say it was love at first sight but it was definitely “good god, this is something”, at first sight (at least for Patrick) so I’m thinking it didn’t take that long, they were infatuated pretty early on, and they both feel Very Strongly, SO HERE THEY ARE

How was their first kiss? - It had the intention to become steamy because at first Patrick thought “yes, this’ll do it, this’ll show him my feelings” but then their lips touched in that random-ass bathroom stall in the men’s toilet at a gala event organised by one Anthony Sullivan, and it was just... slow sparks, it was the “we have to pull away after a literal second because neither of us can believe this is happening and oh god this is what i’ve been missing all my life, isn’t it”

Wedding:

Who proposed? - The absolute idiot that is Patrick Finch (said, of course, affectionately) he just kinda suggested it and well, hey, once you’ve put it out there, all you gotta do is get a ring and PUT IT ON IT because I’m mad Pat didn’t show up with a ring right away >:( but then again, it wasn’t exactly a planned proposal

Who is the best man/men? - We haven’t discussed this yet BUT ALLEN’S DEFINITELY THERE, I don’t know who’d apply for Spencer so feel free to scream the names at me <w< I don’t think either of them would want people who aren’t like, super close to them, though, right?

Who is the braid’s maid(s)? - Not applicable, but to be honest Liv should be IF yknow

Who did the most planning? - Patrick struggled a bit here because he’s used to planning things SOLO (comes from having a naturally strategical mind AND being alone for so long and all the time) but he wouldn’t want to just leave Spencer out of it when he’d know he’d feel bad if he couldn’t participate, so they probably balanced it according to their abilities... And then Pat’s mum Susan flew in and had to be physically restrained by Allen because planning a wedding is on her bucket list and she adores Spencer so she literally is usually sitting there, in a corner, waiting until she can help with something

Who stressed the most? - This would go to Spencer, right? Patrick does his own fair share of stressing on the daily (can’t he rest) but he having Spencer nearby calms him down ALSO because he wants to be calm enough to help Spencer when he’ll start stressing (this is probs the planning only, because I feel like if we’re talking about the idea of marriage itself, Patrick wouldn’t sleep for a week, but I dIGRESS, Allen is here during that period, he’ll smack some sense into him, don’t worry)

How fancy was the ceremony? - Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - Anthony Sullivan, Reginald Finch, and Patrick put off inviting Robert until his mother ripped him a new one

Sex:

Who is on top? - They both are... ON TOP OF THE WORLD because they are very deeply in love with one another

Who is the one to instigate things? - They haven’t worked their way up to that topic/situation yet and they both seem fairly comfortable with just letting it rest wherever it may be for a while longer, lmao

How healthy is their sex life? - Well, healthily nonexistent, LEAVE THEM ALONE Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now

How kinky are they? - No Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head

How long do they normally last? - Fellas, I don’t even know if Spencer masturbates, I know Patrick doesn’t even do that, HOW AM I SUPPOSED-

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - Hypothetically speaking, because this is literally all we’re doing here (I’m tryna swerve this section, not gonna lie) the answer would be YES, although Patrick would be more inclined to take care of Spencer’s because for obvious reasons

How rough are they in bed? - Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it.

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory.

Children:

How many children will they have naturally? - None! Biology doesn’t work that way!

How many children will they adopt? - AT LEAST one, I don’t feel like they’re thinking of adopting another at the moment, BUT DEFINITELY one! Her Royal Highness Samantha Finch

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? - Sammy didn’t use diapers anymore when they adopted her!

Who is the stricter parent? - Patrick! Outwardly! He tries to be! He’s a big softie but he’s also terrified of losing her

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - BOTH! They’re quite apprehensive BUT at the same time, Patrick believes if a kid’s feet aren’t dirty at the end of the day, have they really lived the day? Falling of a low branch off a tree every so once in a while is okay, it depends entirely on what Sam can handle, because she may be on the spectrum, but he’s not made out of glass neither should she be treated as such, mic drop LMAO

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? - Kitchen is Spencer Terrain! Therefore, by extension, SPENCER!

Who is the more loved parent? - She loves them equally for different reasons! You can’t really compare them, because they’re two completely different beings and she adores them for who they are as individuals.

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? - Patrick would make it a habit to be around for them CERTAINLY because he wants not only to be there for Sam, but also for Spencer the first few times, thinking the idea would stress Spencer out. Not to mention, Patrick has a deep-rooted passion within him to go against every and all systems out there, so he’d want to be there right away if the school Fucked Up because that’s his daughter they’re talking about (but he’d also try to get Spencer to come every time because it’d be important to Spencer as well to be there, right?)

Who cried the most at graduation? - To be honest they probably spent 20 minutes just all three of them crying into the best family hug in the history of all family hugs

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - Patrick, because he INVENTED trouble with the law, NAH omg hopefully neither

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? - Spencer! Patrick can cook well enough to keep himself alive, but Spencer is basically a CHEF at this point and well, it’s his thing :3

Who is the most picky in their food choice? - Maybe Sammy? Patrick isn’t picky in the slightest, he’s very likely to eat something he doesn’t like either (at the end of the day he always be “everything’s better than trench food, so”) and Spencer doesn’t seem very picky? So if anybody had to pick that title, it’d probably be some child-pickiness

Who does the grocery shopping? - Who happens to! Depends on schedules and such, but I also believe that Spencer is more likely to, also because he’s the cook so Patrick would be constantly calling him anyway

How often do they bake desserts? - Any time Spencer would feel like it >:)

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - Well, Spencer is a vegetarian so there’s that, Patrick definitely enjoys meat

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - SPENCER! Although, it depends, are we talking a dinner out or a dinner in, although it’s a dinner in either way right, SO SPENCER! Because he cooks. Patrick would surprise him with something else.

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - PATRICK! But he means... OUT out, as in out into nature, on a field, for a picnic, or to star-gaze, he’s more likely too because if he can’t breathe fresh air at least once a day, he withers away (like a dog, yknow)

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidentally while cooking? - NEITHER! 

Chores:

Who cleans the room? - BOTH!

Who is really against chores? - NEITHER! I can see it being rather relaxing for both of them, just getting things done around the house

Who cleans up after the pets? - WHOEVER HAPPENS TO!

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - APPLE! Lmao

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - SPENCER! Because Patrick is just gonna boot them out if he doesn’t like them, he’s a master at skillfully kicking people out of places, but also because he’s taken to trying to be calm during situations like these so that Spencer can rely on him, so even if he WAS stressed, he’d probably get over it

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - SAMMY! It’s her Treasure

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? - SPENCER! For the sole reason that Patrick’s showers are fast as lightning lmao and he doesn’t take baths

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - THEY DON’T OWN A DOG!

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - THEY DON’T MISS A SINGLE ONE EXCEPT FOR THANKSGIVINGS PATRICK DOESN’T PARTICIPATE IN THAT ONE LMAO

What are their goals for the relationship? - EVERYTHING THEY GOT RIGHT NOW TBH

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - NEITHER! Both seem pretty early risers

Who plays the most pranks? - PATRICK! I’m kidding IT’S APPLE

#enchcntd #a writer and his wolf;patrick & spencer #TOOK ME A THOUSAND YEARS BUT HERE WE GO #actually jokes on all of us i usually take much longer #;queue

[theevilfoodeaterconchita]

Sorbet-Plateau Sherbet; Scene 3

Evil Food Eater Conchita, page 144-152

The "Association" secretly existed in nearly every land in Evillious, and each of the branch heads in it were all called by the name "Bruno".

Their job was to assist people in underside professions, like Platonic. They would refer talented people to their jobs, and provide information about their target--naturally, they required a considerable fee for it all.

Platonic had great pride in her skills as a burglar. That was why, excepting times when she had to make a getaway, she didn't use the "Association" much. That was because asking them for assistance meant decreasing her compensation for her work.

Only, the amount that AB-CIR had paid her this time was higher than the fee for any job that Platonic had done before. Perhaps his financial standing had improved because he had started working in Castle Hedgehog in Lioness lately. However, the fact that her pay was so much also meant that this job was going to be a difficult one.

Platonic slipping up in the Demilamb mansion was because she'd been careless in her information gathering. He wouldn't forgive another mistake. The "Association" took a high price, but she couldn't deny they provided a good service in exchange.

"Is this your first time in the Conchita territory?"

Bruno sat with his legs apart in a wooden chair opposite Platonic.

"Yeah."

"Well then first I'll explain the situation here. Did you have any trouble getting this far?"

"I did. Feels like they're paying extra attention to people getting entry into this territory."

Even though it was a land quite close to the capital, the Conchita territory did not adjoin any other countries, and was not politically very important at all.

If she had to come up with something, there was the walled city to the northwest, but that was a relic of the days long since passed when Beelzenia was still warring with the great Tasan Empire of the west. Nowadays it was little more than an ordinary town, with no demand for it as a fortress.

Platonic didn't really get why they had such stringent restrictions on entry.

"It's by decree of Empress Juno. She's afraid of it getting out that there's something bizarre going on here," Bruno explained.

"Something bizarre?"

"It's Banica Conchita. She's the female lord here, and lately she's begun to take some very strange actions."

The only thing Platonic knew about Conchita was that she'd contributed to Beelzenia's food culture, and become lord by her achievements.

According to Bruno, two years after she became the lord here, she had suddenly fallen ill.

"At first people were saying that her life was in jeopardy, but then somehow she bounced back. It was after that that it happened--that Conchita started to go funny."

The first time Conchita showed herself in public since her recovery was at a banquet being held in the estate of Duke Oruhari, the lord of the Grabia territory.

"Up until that point she'd been known as an extremely fat woman, but they say that when she arrived at the banquet she was thin--a strong change from how she'd been before."

"Maybe she wasted away from her illness?"

In response to Platonic's guess Bruno continued speaking, seeming not to fully agree despite giving an inclination of his head. "Maybe. But that's not the important thing. After the meal at the banquet, Conchita began to eat something else that she'd brought along with her. Everyone who saw it went into an uproar."

"What in the world was this Conchita eating?"

Bruno paused for a moment, clamming up, before he replied with a grim expression, "…Bugs. Live ones."

"Eugh, gross."

The only people she could imagine eating bugs were poor people on the brink of starvation and witches who lived out in the middle of nowhere.

Though come to think of it, the Conchita mansion is set on a mountain far from town…nah.

Platonic pushed away the fantasy that had started to come up in her head.

"Isn't it absurd for a noble to be eating something like that in public?"

"Exactly. Banica's not been invited to any more parties since that banquet."

"That's only natural."

"After that, Banica hired a man into her mansion. He was an oriental chef who knew how to make unorthodox meals. So he created dishes using bizarre creatures the likes of which no one had ever seen, and then every day Banica would eat them.

"What kind of dishes in parti--" Immediately after Platonic started to broach the question, she hurriedly took it back. "No, nevermind. You probably shouldn't tell me."

"That's wise. The day I heard what the menu was, I lost my appetite for the entire day. Eventually Conchita was no longer able to be satisfied with it, and proceeded to start eating even more impossible things."

"…A summary. Just tell me a summary."

"Let's say, there exist varieties of mushrooms that you should never eat. Platonic, have you ever eaten mellalga mushrooms?"

"Of course not."

The mellalga mushroom was something said to be representative of all poisonous mushrooms, which once you ate it would make your whole body grow swollen and red as though you were being burned.

"But Conchita did. And it's not just plants. There are animals that are poisonous too, and she's been regularly eating them without excising the poison. But she hasn't died or even become bedridden."

Platonic's impression of the state of affairs was gradually getting more horrific.

Eating bugs, devouring poison--maybe Conchita really was a witch.

"Even the oriental chef known for being a weirdo was rightly disgusted by his employer's abnormal dietary needs and fled the mansion, apparently. After that Conchita's hired on other chefs in succession, but there's no one who stays there long. Her gruesome tastes are escalating, to the point where now she'll apparently even use tachinid flies, vomit, and excre--"

"That's enough. I'm gonna puke."  

"If you do you should wrap it up and take it to the Conchita mansion. She'll probably buy it from you."

Bruno spoke with a joking tone, but Platonic didn't laugh.

"Cut it out--At any rate, I get now that Conchita's a freak. It'd be pretty inconvenient for the empress if word got out that one of her 'Five Dukes' was like that."

"The Conchita family was pushed out of their position as lords for another incident in the past as well."

"Then she should make Conchita quit immediately."

"Only three years have passed since she became lord, and furthermore it was Empress Juno herself who appointed her as such. If she keeps repeatedly replacing her lords people will start to question her judgment…Well, that's probably the gist of it, I'd think."

Even the association couldn't claim to clearly understand the thinking of a country's central figure, it seemed.

"Right now Conchita's repulsive eating habits are well known amongst her people. They've come to avoid ever going near her mansion. Because you can always smell the stink of something rotting in its vicinity. When you break into the mansion I would advise wearing a mask."

"--Well, even if the owner is a creep that doesn't have any relation to my job. All I'm doing is stealing that wineglass from her, you know."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that. Conchita is a woman who can eat poison and still remain healthy. She might actually be a monster."

It was possible Bruno was still joking when he said that, but perhaps he was also half-serious. Despite the relaxed nature of his expression he wasn't smiling in the least.

"Oh gosh, I'm shaking." Platonic clutched at her shoulders as though she was frightened, but she wasn't really all that scared at all. On the contrary, she figured that even if this Conchita wasn't a normal person, it wouldn't have any impact on her work. "But let's just talk about what I need to find. I'm not some hero out to go vanquish a monster."

"If only. All of the burglars hired by AB-CIR to slip into the mansion until now have gone missing. Hopefully they weren't eaten by the lady of the land in there."

Platonic's frowned at Bruno's words.

"--What? This is the first I'm hearing of it."

"Hm? Hearing of what?"

"That AB-CIR's tasked other burglars with this before me."

For Platonic, the sorcerer AB-CIR who was her current client was an old friend. He had originally been a patron of Platonic's mentor, but when that mentor died Platonic had started getting contracted to do his requests.

After several jobs had gone by Platonic had thought that they had built up a mutually trusting relationship, but it seemed that was a miscalculation on her part.

"That jerk didn't say one word to me--if he wasn't so handsome I'd clock him one."

"Ha ha ha. What a disaster for you."

Platonic sternly glared at Bruno as he laughed loudly. He held up his hands before his chest as though to pacify her.

"Now now--Although, if you really are the best thief in Evillious, you'll manage somehow won't you? It is because AB-CIR values your skills that he entrusted you with this."

"…Fine, I'll give it a shot. Tell me the layout of the mansion and how many people are in it!"

Platonic put her hand on the table and brought her face so close to Bruno's that she could feel his breath.

<<prev------directory------next>>

[osmw1]

Poison-Wielding Fugitive   Chapter 29

“I wonder if they had been swarmed by monsters…”

That was anticlimactic. It’s even a little too quiet.

“Perhaps they barely made it out of the dungeon with their lives, escaping a monster they couldn’t win against.” ‘That is reasonable.’ “Are there monsters that strong in the dungeon?” “Umm… as far as I know, no. Then again… the miasma is quite thick, so you would have to be quite skilled to adventure be here.”

Sounds about right. Since I have Poison Absorption, I never really paid it much attention. But judging from Arleaf, it seems like the deeper you go, the more toxic it gets. It’d probably be hard for us get any farther. Though it may be convenient for me since I get constantly healed, it would probably be more efficient for us to consider fighting somewhere else since we have Arleaf with us.

“Then before we get swept up by anything unnecessary, let’s head back.” “Muu?” “I think so too. It would probably be evening by the time we return. I could drop by the church as well.” “Alright, let’s get going then.”

With that, we trace our path and return from the entrance of the dungeon and go back to the village.

  As soon as we stepped foot into the village, Arleaf calls out to me.

“Let’s go to the church.” “Yeah, alright.”

Would it be alright though, Veno?

‘It should pose no problem if thou art simply going to spectate. If anything suspicious happens, I shall warn thee.’

Gotcha. And so, to the church we went. It’s quite like what I expected out of a game. As expected, their symbol isn’t a cross. What is that? It’s like a heart wrapped in thorns. And having seen how Arleaf’s family prayed, it doesn’t seem like this village is affiliated with my enemy’s religion…

‘Do not drop thy guard. I, too, shall be vigilant.’

Arleaf leads me inside. Hmm… it feels very holy in here. It’s not unlike the feeling you get when visiting Shinto shrines. The evening sun peeks through the stained-glass windows, like something out of a fairy-tale.

“Good evening, Father.” “Good evening, Arleaf.”

The man dressed like a priest looks up from his book as Arleaf greets him.

“This is… I have heard of you, Cohgray, the Poison Eater. I give you my sincere thanks for saving our village.” “Uhh, umm, that nickname…” “Yes, the rumors say that you are quite the monster to not only put your life on the line to try, but to finish everything on your plate. Of course, the rumors come from…”

You can see the veins bulging from Arleaf’s forehead. She has a smile on her face, and likely, it would be the same smile she’ll give to her father once she gets home. Didn’t my nickname change rather quickly?

‘It must be the case that the young girl’s cooking is infamous.’

How awful.

“Now that introductions are out of the way, is there something you needed from the church?” “Yes. I was hoping to change jobs.” “I have heard talk of it. You wish to be stronger to help the adventurer Cohgray.” “That’s right. Yukihisa and I were out hunting earlier today, and I believe I know what to expect in the future. Father, would you help me with the job change ceremony?” “… is that right? I understand. Since Mr. Cohgray is the savior of our village, I would like to lend all my powers to him too. Normally, I would ask for a donation, but I shall waive it this time.”

Oh? How nice that she gets to change jobs for free. Huh… didn’t know it costed anything though.

‘It seems so. Well… in thy case, we used the altar in the dungeon, thus it was free of charge.’

I guess what we should’ve done was come here, but we borrowed the altar without permission. It might be dangerous for Muu and I to do so, but Arleaf’s an outsider… so I’m sure she’s fine.

“Then let us proceed with the ceremony. This way, Arleaf.”

Arleaf goes before the church’s altar… oh, there’s a stone statue of a dragon on it. It looks kinda similar to the one at the dungeon, doesn’t it?

‘The apothecaries had prayed to the Holy Dragon before their meal as well. It seems like this is that dragon. If it is related to dragons, it may be easy for me to interfere.’ “Clasp your hands together in front of the statue and pray. Then, with a calm mind…”

Just like how we did, Arleaf stands in front of the altar and… oh, she’s not touching it. She’s praying. As she does so, a magic circle lights up at her feet. Hmm? The light is slowly extending towards me?!

‘Hmm?’

Is this fine? Being detected would be dangerous, wouldn’t it be?

‘Let us see… hmm, I think you need not worry. I believe it is because she has a mentor nearby and thus affecting her class change.’

Huh? Uhh, so does that mean… Arleaf gets to be a Poison-Wielder too? Unlike with Muu, I can’t see her options or choose for her, so this is a little worrying. As soon as I thought so, Arleaf turns around with a puzzled look on her face.

“Umm… there’s a new class called Thaumaturge available…”

She calls out with a ‘What should I do?’ kind of tone. I quizzically look over to the priest.

“It is not a class that I would recommend… but at your current level, Arleaf, you should not be able to choose it though. I am sure that this class exists, but…”

The priest brings out a book that was tucked away near the altar and begins flipping through the pages. I nonchalantly get closer to Arleaf to speak to her in secret.

“Maybe this is happening because I’m nearby?” “Perhaps so…”

I’ve told Arleaf that if possible, I’d like her to keep my profession a secret. I can’t tell the priest about being a Poison-Wielder. But, Thaumaturge… it certainly sounds like it’s related to Chemists. I wonder what kind of spells she would get.

Hmm. I do have recollections of seeing Thaumaturge in games. They’re also known as Shamans or Witch Doctors. You usually see them in Western RPGs. They’re close enough to Shamans that you can lump them together. They’re like Chemists, but with more of an inclination to sorcery. I guess you could say they’re in the same discipline?

‘I have heard about them quite a long time ago…’

Oh, you know about Thaumaturges, Veno?

‘I believe it is a class originating from somewhere far from civilization. However, I do not get involved with human classes, so I know not of the details.’

The priest stops flipping while Veno and I were speaking.

“… I have found it. Thaumaturges… a class from before Chemists were an established class. It seems to be related to Chemists, but with more of a focus on the magical arts.”

Ooh, an ancient class then.

“It may sound dangerous, but it is nothing wicked. It doesn’t seem to have anything to do with dark magic.” “Is that right?” “Yes. However, it is also said that you can progress to advanced classes that deal with evil, so proceed with caution.”

Evil classes? What are those? Well, probably evil as in everyone will hate you for it, eh?

‘Classes like Necromancers that involve the dead are likely to be classified as evil in a place like this.’

Necromancy certainly sounds bad. Then… what are Poison-Wielders?

‘Thou can use thy own judgement.’

… Poison-Wielders certainly sound bad. Anything that has “poison” front and center probably doesn’t give off the best of impressions.

‘Is that a comment directed towards me, a Poison Dragon?’

That’s something to do with human nature, I think. When we say poison, stuff like assassinations and other bad things come to mind. Of course, like you’ve said before, medicine is also a poison of sorts, so I can’t make a blanket statement and say all poison is bad. It’s just hard to accept. If it’s bad, it’s a poison. If it’s good, it’s medicine. It’s like word-association. And so, Poison-Wielder.

‘Then thou could also say Medicine-Wielder… there would be no difference between that and Chemist then.’

That sounds a lot better.

“A profession of evil…”

Arleaf seems rather troubled by this.

“You could also advance into other classes. Since it popped up anyway, there would be no harm in trying it out.” “Would it be alright?” “I think we are all sympathetic on not wanting to choose a class of wickedness… but a base profession like Warrior can have paths that lead to evil as well. So too Priests, so too Mages.”

What would an evil Warrior be? Berserker?

‘That is a particular fierce advancement of Warrior. ‘Tis not a class of wickedness.’

It’s kinda hard to explain what I mean. What is a wicked form of Warrior then?

‘For Warriors… something like a Dark Warrior.’

Well, that’s a straightforward name. So I guess anything with “Dark” in the name is evil?

‘I am not too familiar. However, Dark Knights are also an evil class, I have heard.’

Oh, yeah, that makes sense. But they’re considered good in games. I guess it must be different in this world.

‘I know of the conditions to be one. Once someone wields a cursed sword, they are automatically forced into being a Dark Knight.’

That’s certainly evil then. Do they turn out okay?

‘Cursed swords leech the blood of their users and eventually turning them into mere puppets. The price of power is their lives, leading to a deplorable fate. By the way, I have a few of them at my lair as decoration.’

If you have one now, don’t give it to me. If Muu becomes a Dark Knight, we’d be in danger.

“Muu?” ‘If I had one on hand, I would consider giving it to thee. Unfortunately, such is not the case.’

I’m fine without. Wait, why would want to do that anyway?!

“Yukihisa? Were you listening?” “Huh? Oh, what?”

I just noticed Arleaf was speaking while I was chatting with Veno.

“What should we do? I would have to wait a few days between changing jobs, that is if I were to have second thoughts. Should I play it safe with Priest or Mage? Or perhaps try out Thaumaturge? “Hmm…”

Like a Chemist, but more proficient in magic. I can’t say I don’t like the sound of that.

previously: /ch001/ /ch002/ /ch003/ /ch004/ /ch005/ /ch006/ /ch007/ /ch008/ /ch009/ /ch010/ /ch011/ /ch012/ /ch013/ /ch014/ /ch015/ /ch016/ /ch017/ /ch018/ /ch019/ /ch020/ /ch021/ /ch022/ /ch023/ /ch024/ /ch025/ /ch026/ /ch027/ /ch028/ /ch029/ /next/ (please support me on Patreon or Paypal) (full list of translated chapters) (discussion thread on Novel Updates)

#Poison-Wielding Fugitive #PWF #Average Translations #AvgTL #osm #毒使い逃亡者 #一般の英訳 #アネコユサギ #ライトノベル #ラノベ #aneko yusagi #light novel #ln #web novel

[shenanigumi]

I don't see this one so far for the ship meme, so HeiChi please? ^_^

Noooooooo problem!!

General:

Rate the Ship: Awful | Ew | No pics pls | I’m not comfortable | Alright | I like it! | Got pics? | Let’s do it! | Why is this not getting more attention?! | The OTP to rule all other OTPs

How long will they last? Forever and always. They’ve sworn to keep up with one another for as long as they live and then some, remember.

How quickly did/will they fall in love? It took Chizuru much longer than it took Heisuke, I’ll tell you that much. Even then, Heisuke didn’t want to say anything since he wasn’t sure she felt the same. Of course, she did, but it took her a little longer to differentiate between platonic and romantic.

How was their first kiss? We saw it in canon, and it was easily my favorite kiss in all the routes~

Wedding:

Who proposed? Heisuke. (Huh, I just now remembered that I wrote a shitty oneshot about that a couple years ago…)

Who are the best man and groomsmen? None, but Kazama and Amagiri came by to congratulate them at one point. Only because of Sen’s involvement, though.

Who are the maid of honor and bridesmaids? Sen and Kimigiku both came to offer their congratulations as well, to Chizuru and Heisuke’s somewhat sheepish delight.

Who did the most planning? No planning required for what amounts to some sake and sex.

Who stressed the most? Both of them, but they were there for one another to prop each other up when it came down to it.

How fancy was the ceremony? Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? Everyone, unfortunately. They’d lost touch with most people and didn’t really want to know what had become of them, if we’re being honest.

Sex:

Who is on top? They switch off. It starts out with Heisuke, since he has at least a little bit more of an idea what’s going on, but Chizuru is a quick learner.

Who is the one to instigate things? Neither of them is especially shy about their propositions, but Heisuke’s implications are more frequent.

How healthy is their sex life? Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once or twice a week, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now

How kinky are they? Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head

How long do they normally last? Either a long time or no time at all, depending, but it’s at least equal and mutual in that department.

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? Yes. They’re not allowed to try and be selfless. They’ve spent enough time arguing about self-sacrifice already for it to come back as an issue in the bedroom.

How rough are they in bed? Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it.

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory.

Children:

How many children will they have naturally? Just one, I think.

How many children will they adopt? None.

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? They share that task equally, as with all things. Heisuke thinks it’s important for him to have an active hand in as many aspects of raising his child as possible, even the less-than-pleasant ones.

Who is the stricter parent? Both of them are pretty relaxed, to the point that I’m almost inclined to say Chizuru. She’s not stern, but she’s more decisive and has clearer boundaries.

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? Chizuru. Thanks to Heisuke, she’s dealt with enough dangerous stunts for a lifetime.

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? Chizuru, though their child is homeschooled, so that’s not usually necessary unless they’ll be going into town for some reason.

Who is the more loved parent? Both of them. They’re much better parents than they think they are, given that neither of them really had functional families.

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? Chizuru, if those existed in this setting.

Who cried the most at graduation? If that was a thing, they both did, and held each other.

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? Both of them, but Chizuru is more patient about it, so she’d be more likely to succeed.

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? Chizuru.

Who is the most picky in their food choice? Neither of them, but Chizuru is more discerning in her palate.

Who does the grocery shopping? Chizuru.

How often do they bake desserts? Quite a lot, actually.

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? Chizuru makes sure Heisuke eats a balanced diet, since he’s not overly picky anyway. He makes it pretty easy for her to take care of him.

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? Heisuke. It’s nothing special, since he’s not as skilled as she is, but he wants to repay her for all her hard work in keeping the household together.

Who is more likely to suggest going out? Heisuke.

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidentally while cooking? Heisuke, but he’s very careful that this doesn’t happen. The Yukimura village has already burned down once.

Chores:

Who cleans the room? Chizuru, but Heisuke does help.

Who is really against chores? Heisuke used to hate them, but Chizuru gives him incentive by turning them into challenges or offering little rewards.

Who cleans up after the pets? They don’t keep pets.

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? Heisuke, but he felt so awful about cheating that he swept it right back out again five minutes later and did it right that time.

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? They never have guests, but given their circumstances, I’m pretty sure both of them would be stressed if anyone found them. Chizuru more so, most likely.

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? Heisuke, if they had a couch. It made his day.

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? Chizuru by a small margin. More often than not, neither of them take an especially long time to bathe, but they do like relaxing together now and again.

Who takes the dog out for a walk? They don’t have one.

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? Always, but they never do anything major since they’re the only ones here to enjoy it.

What are their goals for the relationship? Surviving and supporting each other until the end. There’s no nobler goal than that.

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? Heisuke, but he told Chizuru not to let him do it since it throws off his sleep schedule and he’s trying to readjust to normal human times again.

Who plays the most pranks? Heisuke, but they’re always completely harmless and in good humor since he can’t bear to run the risk of hurting Chizuru in any way, even as a joke.

#asked #something-wild-cat #answered #heichi #headcanons

[lusilly]

a softer occlumency (wip)

in the canon of This Regulus Lives AU, the ootp gang finds out snape quit teaching harry occlumency. they cannot allow that, so regulus, The Original Death Eater Traitor, offers to help. totes unfinished tho i may pick it up cuz i fucking love this version of regulus

a little info abt this regulus: he’s Super Gay, he betrayed voldemort before the fall & has been in hiding since voldie’s return, is a Sympathetic Slytherin(TM), hates dumbledore just as much as sirius does, loves harry almost as much as sirius does, and also suspects that harry is a horcrux ):

Dear Harry,

          It has come to my attention that Professor Snape is no longer able to tutor you in the art of Occlumency. Though I understand the break may be a relief for you, I and others who care for your wellbeing cannot allow your lessons to come to an end. Therefore, I should like to come to Hogwarts at your convenience to resume your lessons, if you will accept me. If not, then I will find another more suitable teacher for you.

           I hope to hear back from you. You may send word with Professor McGonagall; though she, like many of us, would prefer that Professor Snape remain your teacher, she is willing to accept my presence at Hogwarts temporarily in order to teach you. I implore you to let me know at once, so that we may begin our lessons as soon as possible.

           It is entirely for your benefit, Harry. This skill very well may save your life one day, as it has for me many times.

           With warmest regards,

           Regulus Arcturus Black

P.S.- Padfoot says hello, and he too would like to reiterate that you absolutely must resume your lessons. It is of the utmost importance.

---

           Just before eight o’clock in the evening on a Friday night, when usually Harry would be in Quidditch practice, Harry made his way down to the dungeons. Regulus’s second message, which Professor McGonagall had relayed to Harry after Transfiguration lessons a few days earlier, had instructed Harry to meet him in an unused classroom near the Slytherin common room; apart from Snape’s classroom, Harry was not overly familiar with the dungeons, and dreaded the thought of accidentally bumping into Snape – or worse, Draco Malfoy or one of the newly formed ‘Inquisitorial Squad.’

           He did in fact pass some Slytherins on his way to the classroom, but it was a group of giggly Third Years who cast a few sneaky glances at him, but didn’t seem to be chattering about anything particularly malicious. Ignoring them, Harry went down the second corridor on his right, then countered three doors down. He paused before it, hand raised to knock. His lessons with Snape had been an absolute mess, and his dreams about Voldemort had only become more vivid. Though he trusted and like Regulus worlds more than he did Snape, Regulus always seemed so earnest, so full of vague pride for Harry and his friends. The thought of disappointing him made Harry’s stomach turn.

           Pushing this thought away – Harry wasn’t to blame for his stalled progress anyway, it was Snape’s fault for being such a horrible teacher – Harry knocked twice on the door before him.

           Before him, the door swung smoothly open to reveal a mostly empty classroom. Regulus stood by the desk at the front of the room, his wand drawn. “Hello, Harry,” he called, with a harried smile. “Close the door, will you?”

           Harry did so, then he crossed the classroom to join Regulus at the front. There was a bunch of old cushions lining one side of the room, rather reminding Harry of how they’d set up the Room of Requirement for D.A. lessons. On the desk there was a simple, shallow bowl which appeared to be carved from pure marble. In it, the dregs of some silvery substance swirled in slow circles.

           “Good evening, Harry,” said Regulus again, in that slightly awkward manner he had. “Had a restful week I hope?”

           Restful was not the word Harry would use, but he didn’t want to get into it with Sirius’s brother. “Yeah,” he answered, glancing around the room. “Sort of. Sorry,” he said, with a slight frown on his face, “I don’t think I’ve ever been in this classroom before. What’s it used for?”

           Giving a small wave of his hand, Regulus answered, “Nothing, now. In my day there was a course called Ancestry, all about pureblood heritage, tracing family trees and the like. Naturally it was mostly full of Slytherins such as myself, and therefore a classroom near the common room made sense.” With a grim look, Regulus added, “You can imagine why such a class fell out of fashion after the war.”

           “Don’t you think it’s a bit weird that the Slytherin common room is down here to begin with?” asked Harry; this had always bothered him, ever since his venture into the common room during his second year. “All these Slytherin students from rich pureblood families, and they end up in the dungeons, below the lake. It’s cold down here. I mean – you’d think with parents like Malfoy’s there’s be more complaints.”

           Regulus’s expression eased into a smile. With a shrug, he answered, “You get used to it. Besides, rich pureblood parents like Lucius Malfoy were Slytherins once themselves. It’s a matter of pride.” He eyed Harry. “As a Gryffindor, surely you can understand that.”

           Had this quip come from Snape, not Regulus, Harry might have smarted. But something about Regulus’s proximity to Sirius, the easy ribbing they had with one another, took the bite away from such a comment.

           There was a pause of sorts, and Harry was unpleasantly reminded of the purpose of this visit. “Thanks for coming all the way to Hogwarts for me,” said Harry, feeling badly at tearing Regulus away from whatever important work he had with the Ministry, or with the Order. “You didn’t have to though, I’m doing fine on my own.”

           “No,” said Regulus, glancing down at the wand in his hands: it was a new wand, one Harry had not seen him with before, noticeably shorter and lighter in color than his old wand had been. Quietly, Regulus said, “You are not.”

           “I don’t need the lessons,” Harry insisted, despite himself. “I actually think those lessons with Snape were making it worse-”

           Sounding almost bored, Regulus interrupted Harry. “Your lessons with Professor,” he put the slightest emphasis on this word, “Snape were not worsening your resistance to the Dark Lord’s penetrative attacks, Harry, they were only making you more aware of their occurrence. Now that your attention has waned, if the Dark Lord does manage to probe mind, you might very well fail to notice his intrusion.

           This stung. Indignantly, Harry protested, “I think I’d know if I were being probed by Voldemort.”

           To his credit, Regulus no longer flinched at the name. He had spent enough time around his brother, Harry thought, that he had become used to hearing the Dark Lord’s name spoken in his presence. Regulus merely shrugged. “Perhaps,” he said, standing up straight, turning to face the bowl sitting on the desk before them. He gestured for Harry to join him.

           “Now, Harry,” Regulus began, rolling his wand over and over again in his hand, “my specialty is Legilimency, not Occlumency, and I do not claim to be anywhere near as adept as Professor Snape in either. Still, you must understand that these skills do not oppose each other: rather, they complement one another. Think of them as two sides of the same Galleon.”

           This seemed to Harry like going back to the basics of Occlumency, but he did not protest: Snape had certainly not bothered to explain such concepts to him, anyway.

           Regulus continued, “There are a great many wonderful books on the subject of Occlumency which might help a student to understand the theory behind it,” Harry’s head jerked around, mouth open to protest, “but,” there was a slight smile on Regulus’s face, “Remus tells me that you would much rather do something than read about it, and anyway – I expect you’ve had quite enough of theory in class with the High Inquisitor, hm?”

            When Regulus arced an elegant eyebrow at Harry, it had the unfortunate effect of ever so slightly stretching out the cursed scar which billowed from Regulus’s neck up to his right ear. Regulus’s expression tugged the mottled, scarred skin upwards, and Harry swore he could’ve seen something shift on Regulus’s skin, as if tiny letters in some foreign script morphed and shivered across the surface area of the scar.

           The man, however, had the very Sirius-like effect of calming Harry, making him feel acutely understood. “Yeah,” admitted Harry. “It’s bad, especially now since Dumbledore is gone-”

           Regulus made a skeptical little noise. “Dumbledore isn’t gone,” he said. “He’ll return when he decides the time is right, I assure you.”

           If there was a note of bitterness in Regulus’s voice, it only served to incline Harry towards him even more. After all, Harry too had had his complaints with Dumbledore over the past few months, and everyone else seemed to dismiss these concerns rather than genuinely hear them.

           Harry wanted to bring up Dumbledore once more, eager to find an ally in his discomfort, but Regulus swiftly moved on. With his wand he tapped the marble bowl before them. “Do you know what this is?” he asked simply.

           Peering into the thing, Harry shook his head. The silvery strands contained within seemed somehow familiar, but at first he could not place it. Then something clicked in his head, and he looked up at Regulus with wide eyes.

           “Is this a Pensieve?” he asked.

           With a hint of pride, Regulus gave Harry a warm smile. “Precisely. It’s not uncommon for powerful magical families to possess a Pensieve of their own; for most families it serves as a living historical relic, an archive for future generations. My family was a peculiar with their usage, though.”

           Harry blinked, then pointed down at the marble bowl before them. “This is your family’s?”

           Regulus bowed his head in assent. “Passed down the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black for generations,” he said. “But I am the last Black left, and so it has fallen to me.”

           “There’s Sirius,” Harry pointed out.

           Instead of a response to this, Regulus only gave a little chuckle.

           “So,” continued Harry, with another look at the curiously low level of memories that seemed to be contained with the bowl, “this is your family history?”

           “Oh, not quite,” answered Regulus mildly. “Though many families use it in that sense, the Blacks have always had a very particular penchant for keeping dangerous secrets, and therefore rarely entrusted memories to future generations. There is a charm,” Regulus continued; his lips were drawn up slightly in a grimace of distaste, “which is said to have originated with my many-times great-grandmother, Crepuscopula. Anything enchanted by the charm, upon the caster’s death, destroys itself. Memories included.”

           Regulus dipped his wand into the bowl, stirring the sparse memories around.

           “So,” said Harry again, glancing cautiously up at Regulus, then nodding down at the bowl. “Whose are those?”

           “Mine,” answered Regulus, without looking up at Harry. “And my brother’s. Some memories are eased by removal, Harry. Placing a memory in a Pensieve does not entirely excise the thing from your own mind, of course, but it does serve to dull the details, to remove the sense memory, leaving behind something hard and clinical – as if you are reading a book containing your memory, instead of experiencing it all over again. I have removed some memories,” added Regulus, raising his eyes to observe Harry, “because Legilimency opens a link that goes both ways, and as an adult, I believe that there are some memories of mine which a teenager should not see.”

           Instantly, Harry’s stomach went hot with anger, and he opened his mouth to protest that this was exactly what Snape had done, when Regulus held up a hand to silence him.

           With that hand, Regulus gestured towards the Pensieve. “I invite you to do the same.”

           For a moment, there was silence. Harry closed his mouth, processing these words. “What?” he asked, a crease on his brow.

           Tapping the side of the bowl with his wand, Regulus explained, “If I am allowed to censor my memories, then you too must be given the opportunity. To proceed otherwise would be unfair.”

           Regulus did not meet Harry’s gaze as he said this, but Harry had a sneaking suspicion Sirius and Lupin had filled him in on everything he had said in the fireplace.

           “Is there any memory you’d like to remove?” asked Regulus plainly, clearly free of judgment. “Anything at all?”

           Now that Harry was put on the spot, nothing immediately came to mind. Maybe the memory of the dreams, the winding corridors – but that wasn’t just one memory, that was a dozen or more, there was no way he could remove all of that. The graveyard, maybe? Cedric’s face, or maybe Cho’s tears after that.

           As he thought about it, running through every memory he’d hated Snape seeing, it occurred to him that he wasn’t really worried about Regulus witnessing any of it. To Harry, Regulus still seemed like just an extension of Sirius, and there was almost nothing Harry would dream of hiding from Sirius.

           “Not really,” said Harry.

           Regulus stared at Harry for a moment, expertly disguising his disbelief.

           Then he let out a long breath, shifting gears. “Certainly,” he replied, with a curt nod. “Shall I teach you how to do so anyway, should you, at any point during our lessons or in the future, desire to remove a memory to a Pensieve?”

           Harry blinked. “Oh. Yeah, sure. That sounds…useful.”

           With a brief glance of amusement Harry’s way, Regulus straightened up, wand in hand. “Now,” he began. “Professor Dumbledore uses the Pensieve as it was intended – to store memories in all their clarity, to be perused or recollected at a moment’s notice. The act,” Regulus continued, gesturing at the bowl, “of removing a memory into the Pensieve requires a detailed recollection, which itself can be a painful process, depending on the content of the memory. The magical properties of the Pensieve then strengthen and fortify the memory – it adds nothing that was not there, but it makes the surroundings brighter, more vivid, the sounds clearer and louder. As an old man with a mind filled to the brim, it is perfectly understandable for Professor Dumbledore to allow the Pensieve to hold some of his more fading memories. Many others, particularly in my family, misuse the Pensieve, think it someplace to discard one’s ugly memories. They believe to discard the thing we do not want to remember will make our lives more peaceful, which is escapism at its best, foolishness at its worst.”

           Sensing a judgment hovering between words, Harry looked up at Regulus from the bowl. “You said some of Sirius’s memories were in here.”

           Regulus gave a slow, mournful nod. “Don’t think too harshly of him, Harry. Sirius is an exceptional case.”

           “What do you mean?”

           Once more Regulus lowered his wand into the bowl, swirling around the contents. “Sirius has survived that which would drive most men mad,” said Regulus simply. “I am obliged to provide him with whatever he needs to retain that sanity.”

           Peering down into the bowl, Harry imagined he could see the faint figures of dementors swirling along with the silvery memories, their long ragged cloaks dragging behind them. “You think he put his memories of Azkaban in here?”

           “Some,” answered Regulus, with a slight shrug. “Staying in our old home is hard enough for him as is. We will forgive my brother his little indiscretions.”

           Holding up his wand, Regulus continued, “Very well Harry, let’s begin.”

           Harry, who had been under the impression that they’d already begun, nodded and held up his wand.

           “The first thing one must do,” Regulus began, “is to picture a memory clearly in your mind – rather like you would do to summon a Patronus. However,” Regulus added, as Harry nodded and immediately began running through a list of memories he typically chose for his Patronus, “remember that whichever memory you choose, you will not only have to picture it perfectly in your mind, but you will lose it for however long you choose to leave it within the Pensieve. Therefore I suggest you start with a memory which for some reason or another is clear to you, but which is not especially bad nor good. Something which will cause you no pain to recall, yet which you would not mind so terribly if you lost.”

           Cautiously, Harry asked, “Is that likely?”

           “It’s possible,” replied Regulus mildly. “Though not common.” Regulus took his wand and placed it against his head, on his temple just above his scar. “Have you chosen a memory, Harry?”

           “Yes,” said Harry. Once, he had spent a particularly dull Divination lesson taking turns enchanting a fly with Ron, making it buzz in increasingly complex patterns. For some reason – maybe the heat of the day, or the particular delight in ignoring Professor Trelawney’s blathering on – the memory was vivid in his mind, though it was not something he would miss if he lost it.

           “Good,” answered Regulus. “The incantation to draw a memory from your mind differs for different wizards and different Pensieves, but no matter what it is, it is usually nonverbal. The spell I was taught was Memoria mori.”

           He looked at Harry pointedly, and he nodded. When Regulus did not continue, Harry got the message and said, “Oh – er, memoria mori.”

           “Excellent,” said Regulus, with a nod. “Memoria mori. Silently invoke the incantation while holding the memory clearly in your mind, and,” Regulus’s eyes fluttered closed, and from the tip of his wand he drew out of his hand a long silvery strand, which waved gently in air, then detached into the Pensieve as he lowered it down into its contents.

           Regulus paused, then dipped his wand once more into the bowl. As he raised his wand, twirling it slowly as he did so, a figure made up of the silvery substance appeared. It was a woman, and she appeared to be carrying a bundle of cloth in her arms.

           “This is the memory I just extracted,” he said, his eyes focused on Harry earnestly.

           Harry peered at the woman, who slowly rotated in the bowl. “Who is she?” he asked.

           “That is your mother, Harry,” replied Regulus quietly. With his wand he pointed to the bundle of cloth in her arms. “This is my memory of the first time I met you.”

           Eyes widening, Harry glanced around at Regulus, in shock. Surely on some level he knew that Regulus had known his parents, that he, like his brother, had met Harry many times as a baby. But there was something about the reality of it – the image of his mother holding him, right before his face – that brought it home in a way Harry hadn’t expected.

           With a wave of Regulus’s wand, the figure collapsed back into the silvery contents of the bowl. “Now,” said Regulus matter-of-factly. “Your turn.”

           “Oh – right.”

           The memory Harry had chosen had fled from his mind at the sight of his mother, but he shook his head slightly, bringing it back. “Alright,” he muttered. “Memoria mori. Memoria mori.”

           Regulus nodded silently, watching.

           Placing the wand against his head, Harry silently recited, Memoria mori. Eyes closed, not knowing if he was doing it right, he pulled his wand away from his temple – and ever so slightly, he felt resistance.

           “Good, good,” said Regulus. Harry opened his eyes to see his wand a few inches away from his head. Between the tip of his wand and his head there floated a thin silvery strand; it did not glow as brightly as Regulus’s had, and it looked rather worn, but there it was. “Keep going,” instructed Regulus, and Harry did so, tugging the thing from his head until it broke. “Well done,” said Regulus, nodding his head. He took Harry’s hand and brought it to the bowl. When Harry’s memory neared the contents of the Pensieve it tugged away from his wand, sinking into the swirling depth below.

           “Excellent,” said Regulus again, releasing Harry’s hand. “Very well done, Harry.”

           “But – my memory,” said Harry. “It didn’t look as good as yours.”

           “Yes, but it was your first time,” Regulus pointed out. “Try to recall the memory for yourself now. I daresay you should find it a bit spotty.”

           Indeed, when Harry thought of that lazy day in Trelawney’s classroom, it came to him slowly, half-formed. He knew that he’d been enchanting a fly with Ron, but could no longer remember the specifics of the complex shapes they’d had the fly make in air.

           “So the memory is – in there now?” asked Harry, gesturing towards the Pensieve. Regulus nodded. “And could I – if I wanted, could I do the same thing you did with my mum? Make someone appear like that?”

           Regulus dipped his head. “You certainly could. Recall the memory in your mind, focusing on the blank spots which you know should be filled. Then one merely lowers one’s wand into the Pensieve, and one should be able to produce the figure one has in mind.”

           Dipping his wand into the Pensieve, Harry thought of Professor Trelawney, whose classroom he knew he had been in, and yet whose figure at the time somehow escaped him, calling to mind instead a vision of her from this year, stricken and terrified under Umbridge’s harsh words.

           Raising his wand with a swirl just as Regulus had done, another woman appeared, cloudy, but recognizable. Leaning down slightly, Regulus peered at the woman, then straightened up. “I’m afraid I don’t recognize her,” he told Harry mildly.

           “That’s Professor Trelawney,” Harry replied. “I was remembering one of her classes. I wasn’t really paying attention,” he added, apologetically: Regulus had always struck Harry as more of a Hermione type, and Harry figured he was as likely as she was to scold him for poor study habits.

           On the contrary, Regulus watched the figure slowly rotate before them. “Trelawney?” he asked. “She isn’t the professor Umbridge sacked, is she?”

           “Oh, yeah, that’s her.”

           “Divination, yes?”

           “Yeah.”

           With one eyebrow cocked, Regulus glanced sidelong at Harry. “You study Divination?”

           A guilty grimace on his face, Harry shrugged. “More or less.”

           His gaze flickering back to the woman in the Pensieve, Regulus nodded slowly. “As did I,” he said, quietly. “I’m afraid Professor Trelawney was after my time, however.”

           For a moment, his mind seemed to slip away to something far away.

           And then he snapped back to the present. With a wave of his wand, Trelawney disappeared. “Though I understand a centaur has taken over upon her absence, yes?”

           “Oh, yeah,” replied Harry, nodding. “His lessons are a lot different but…to be honest, I wasn’t learning a whole lot either way.”

           Regulus murmured, “I’m sure Dolores loves that,” but Harry didn’t think he was responding to Harry’s reply.

           “In any case,” said Regulus, dipping his wand back into the Pensieve, and bringing the silvery strand on the tip of his wand back to his temple, “should the day ever arise when you absolutely must know how to use a Pensieve, Harry, now you know how to do so. I would offer to explain to you how to enter the memories contained within the Pensieve, but,” he gave a knowing smile, “Professors Snape and Dumbledore have assured me you are perfectly capable of that.”

           The thought of Snape railing on against Harry to Regulus made Harry’s stomach do a flop. “Snape was a horrible teacher,” he said, defensively. “I didn’t mean to pry, but-”

           “Please, Harry.” Regulus held up a hand mildly. “Let us move on.”

           Harry wanted to argue, wanted to explain to Regulus just how terrible Snape had been to him. But then he was reminded of what Regulus had said to him, over a month ago now: Snape had been the one to recruit Regulus into the Death Eaters to begin with. Surely Regulus knew exactly how terrible the man could be.

           Forcing himself to abandon this, Harry nodded.

           “Good,” said Regulus. “Now.” He turned around to face the empty classroom, and gestured towards the wall against which several pillows were bunched. “I suggest you leave considerable space between the two of us during this exercise,” Regulus explained. “Penetration of the mind can be an extremely potent experience, and the more intimate it becomes, the more piercing. And vice versa, of course.”

           Harry briefly thought of the tight quarters of Snape’s office, the lack of space between his gaze and Harry’s. A wave of disgust crashed down on him, and he took Regulus’s advice and crossed the classroom.

           Out of habit, Harry raised his wand.

           Regulus’s eyes flitted from Harry’s face to the tip of his wand, and he gave a small, skeptical laugh. “You won’t need your wand, Harry.”

           A frown broke out on Harry’s brow. “But Snape-”

           “I am not Professor Snape,” Regulus cut him off coolly. “I believe my old Housemate sought to strengthen your mind through exercises of force – an effective technique, though one which requires intense discipline.”

           Harry wanted to protest, but given that he never once followed through on any of Snape’s Occlumency homework assignments, he figured this wasn’t entirely untrue.

           “I, on the other hand,” Regulus continued, “understand that you are a fifteen-year-old boy with a life outside of this classroom and exams coming up soon, if I am correct. Therefore, I will try to teach you a more sustained method.”

           “OK,” said Harry. “So what should I do?”

           Regulus chuckled. “Think of a number.”

           “I-”

           “A number, Harry.”

           Harry hesitated, then stuck his wand into the waistband of his pants.

           “Have you got it?” asked Regulus; he held his wand in one hand, the other behind his back, in a classic dueler’s pose. Were it most anyone else, Harry wouldn’t feel safe without his wand too in hand: but this was Regulus Black, Sirius’s brother. The man could not hurt a fly.

           Harry nodded.

           “Good,” said Regulus. “I will attempt to discover that number using Legilimency. In defense, I would like you to focus on the memory of that day in Professor Trelawney’s classroom.”

           Harry blinked. “But that memory’s still in the Pensieve.”

           “Precisely,” answered Regulus, holding up his wand before his face in concentration. “Think of your mind as a tower of stones, Harry. Remove one, and the rest come tumbling down. If I – or the Dark Lord – can penetrate through one memory, then it becomes easier to infiltrate into the rest of your mind. Do you see? If you can learn to successfully block attacks on your mind by providing a blank memory, one that is fuzzy and half-real, then perhaps you can transform the memory – or rather, the lack of memory – into a shield of sorts. A wall.”

           This sort of made sense to Harry, although all this talk of mindreading was beginning to boggle him anyway. “Right,” said Harry.

           “Yes? Are you ready, Harry?”

           “Ready.”

           Regulus was silent for a moment. Across the classroom, his dark eyes met Harry’s, catching his gaze and keeping it, as if magnetized.

           “Legilimens,” murmured Regulus.

           Harry waited for the collision, like getting the breath knocked out of his lungs, but nothing happened. He blinked.

           Just as Harry was about to say something, confused, Regulus said softly, “You’re not trying, Harry.”

           “I’m-”

           “Six,” said Regulus. “Pick a new number.”

           “But I-”

           “Thirteen,” said Regulus. “New number.”

           “Regulus-”

           “Thirty-two.”

           “Hold on-”

           “Seven,” said Regulus, relaxing his dueler’s stance. “Harry, please, do try and focus.”

           “I am focusing,” Harry protested heatedly.

           “Emotions are clouding your mind,” said Regulus, shaking his head sadly. “Occlumency demands its students clear themselves of emotion, forget about the past, about their trouble.” He added, “I’ve found it’s a bit like Muggle meditation, in fact – it can be very calming.”

           Anger reared up in Harry’s stomach: this was exactly what Snape had been telling him to do. “Of course emotions are clouding my mind,” he said loudly. “Voldemort’s out to get me, remember, wouldn’t that trouble you?”

           Regulus looked at Harry.

           “Yes,” he said. “It does.”

           Instantly Harry regretted his words. Regulus too was being hunted by Voldemort, more viciously than most apart from Harry himself. Though it wasn’t quite the same – Harry didn’t imagine that Regulus was having dreams from Voldemort’s point of view, terrifyingly at one with the monster – Regulus could understand, just a fraction. Better than anyone at Hogwarts, anyway.

           Setting aside his wand, Regulus gestured at the stoop of the stone ledge which led up to the classroom’s cupboard. He took a seat, and, cautiously, Harry joined him there. Regulus stuck his hand into his coat, searching for something, and then produced a small chocolate bar. It was a Cadbury Fruit and Nut bar, in fact, decidedly non-magical. Harry wanted to ask Regulus where he’d gotten it, because a pureblood like Regulus didn’t seem like the type to just waltz into a corner shop. “Remus suggested I bring chocolate,” Regulus said, handing it to Harry. “I told him we’re not fighting dementors, but he thinks it’ll help. Anyway,” Regulus added, “Sirius won’t have any, so Remus has to get rid of it somehow. Yes?”

           Harry opened the chocolate and broke off a piece for himself. “Sirius doesn’t like chocolate?”

           Regulus looked at the stone floor, twirling his wand over and over again in his hands.

           “He used to,” he said, turning to Harry with a dreadful, see-through smile. “Anyway, you’re not fooling me, you know, I know you have a strong mind. Remus has told me of your Patronus, and no weakling would be able to conjure something as strong as that. It’s a stag, isn’t it?” asked Regulus mildly, making small talk. “Like your father?”

           Harry nodded, the fight eking out of him. “Is yours a dog?” he asked Regulus. “Like Sirius?”

           Regulus held out his wand. “Expecto Patronum.”

           A silvery hound burst forth from the tip of Regulus’s wand. It was smaller than Sirius’s Animagus form, lean and long-legged. A well-bred dog, a hunting hound as opposed to Sirius’s wolf-like mutt.

           It was friendly, and the thing loped around the room for a moment before coming to a stop before Harry, nuzzling at his hands, then vanishing into thin air.

           There was a short silence. Regulus, who had been regarding Harry with a certain bittersweet expression, got to his feet. He headed away from Harry, to the desk where the Pensieve sat.

           “I want you to learn Occlumency, Harry,” he said, without looking around. He leaned over the Pensieve, peering into its shallow depths. “As does Sirius, and Remus, and Professor Dumbledore.” He glanced back and added, “And Professor Snape, no matter what you may think.”

           Harry felt a twinge of guilt, suspecting Regulus had seen more than just numbers in his head.

           Facing the Pensieve once more, Regulus continued, “But you have to want it too, Harry. The thought of the Dark Lord invading your mind – the threat of possession – please believe me when I say it keeps many of us who care for you up at night.”

           “You think he could – possess me?”

           Regulus turned to look at Harry. There was a supremely mournful expression on his face, as if witnessing some terrible tragedy.

           Quietly, Regulus said, “I think you and the Dark Lord are tied to one another in ways neither of you yet understand. All I want is to bide you some time, so that we may understand it before he does. Do I think,” he continued, when Harry’s stomach convulsed, “you will wake up tomorrow as a servant of the Dark Lord?” He paused, met Harry’s gaze. “No,” he said simply. “And I, unlike others, do not fear your visions of him, glimpses into a madman’s mind. I only fear the day he comes to see what they mean.”

           “What do they mean?” asked Harry; he was suddenly very tired, and didn’t have the strength to argue with Regulus tonight. “I mean, why is this happening? What does it all mean?”

           Regulus regarded Harry carefully.

           “It means,” he said, slowly, “that you are very, very important Harry. It may very well mean that – you are how we conquer Voldemort.”

           It was the first time Harry had ever heard Regulus speak the name.

           “How?” he asked. “And why aren’t you teaching me that instead of Occlumency?”

           Regulus laughed quietly. “I cannot,” he said, turning back to the Pensieve. “But I think you’ve made a good point, actually. It is not practical to ask a young man such as yourself to divorce himself from all emotion. Nor is it healthy,” he added, as an afterthought. “Perhaps we oughtn’t try and block with the lack of emotion, but rather try and overwhelm with a much more powerful force.”

           “What kind of force?”

           “Surely,” said Regulus mildly, carefully balancing a silvery strand hanging from the tip of his wand, “Dumbledore has already given you his old speech on the deep and mysterious powers of love, yes? I have had a thought.” Taking his wand, strand of memory attached, he went to Harry’s side once more. He gestured towards Harry’s head. “I should like to share a memory with you,” he said, “if you will permit me.”

[that’s all i have sorry lmfao it’s a wip]

#regulus black #harry potter #order of the phoenix #hp #hp fic #the only line i'm not confident abt is when harry says ''there was nothing he could dream of wanting to hide from sirius'' cuz dreams

[crimsonrevolt]

Congratulations Fallon you’ve been accepted to Crimson Revolt as Thorfinn Rowle!

↳ please refer to our character checklist

Death Eaters are always chilling to me, especially when written well, and Thorfinn was no exception. I loved how you balanced the subtle edge between charming and vengeful and constructed a character who uses everything he can to his advantage and spares no mercy. Your interpretation for him was everything that I didn’t realize he was lacking in skeleton form alone, and it was beautiful (and terrifying) seeing him come to life in your writing! We’re so excited to see what you do to build him further and what kind of impact he’ll have in the rp! *your request to age Thorfinn up has been accepted

application beneath the cut; tw: death, violence, murder, torture, abuse

OUT OF CHARACTER

INTRODUCTION

Hello! I’m Fallon, twenty-one, reside in the CST, and go by She/Her pronouns. And for that optional fact: I am originally from Germany.

ACTIVITY

Between a 1-10 I would currently set myself at a 6 or 7. I do run two roleplays of my own, and university is back in session as well as me having work.

TRIGGERS

*removed for privacy

HOW DID YOU FIND US?

Your confessions blog showed up on my recommended blogs, and clicking it out of curiosity, I found myself very much appreciative of all the kind words your members left there. Hoping the roleplay was still active I clicked onward to the main, thus discovering your exquisite roleplay! Also sidenote hi Jen Boo Bear.

WHAT HARRY POTTER CHARACTER DO YOU IDENTIFY WITH MOST?

Hang on to your wands, kids, because this is about to get deep (sorta). I identify most with Sirius Black (alright, so maybe I haven’t been to Azkaban, but we’re disregarding that bit). Being considered as an initial outcast, especially amongst his family, is something I can greatly relate to. With a family that has always ventured on a certain path, holds strict values, and expects their descendants not to differ, both my brother and I haven’t always been received in the best of light. But in the end this unfortunate upbringing didn’t discourage him, but shaped him, and I like to believe that like Sirius, in the end, will be sure of my chosen path.

ANYTHING ELSE?

Just to age up Thorfinn to twenty as earlier discussed, and thank you for considering my application!

IN CHARACTER

DESIRED CHARACTER

Thorfinn Aesir Rowle

Thorfinn: ‘thunder’

Aesir: ‘of the gods’

Rowle: ‘renown, wulf, wolf’

FACE CLAIM

Dominic Sherwood

REASON FOR CHOSEN CHARACTER

I’m a sucker for the dark, battle-worn antagonist, and most likely lack the ability to play anything but. I often play Antonin Dolohov or Amycus Carrow, but one of the things that drew me to Thorfinn Rowle was the simple fact that I’ve never seen him as a character in an HP roleplay before, and that I was instantly drawn to give his character a voice that I have yet to see. I immensely enjoyed all the carefully chosen aesthetics for your characters, but the dark princeling aura I was struck with by Thorfinn’s stuck with me.

I see him with wicked grins and darkly promising smirks; donning a crimson, cracked crown. He is not the calm before the storm, or the storm itself. He is the devastating aftermath; what the world left for others to see. A loose cannon, an army’s artillery, the Coliseum walls, and possibly the tragedy of Pompeii. Rage is his conquerer. I see him a strong-willed and brutally honest; with a sharp dose of unforgiving. He is prepared to move hell and earth to obtain what he wants, obliterate anything in his path no matter the consequence. Socially, he prefers isolation; volatile actions being the loudest thing about him. He’s apathetic, and considers emotions a distraction, a waste of ability. People tend to avoid him due to his cynic and unpredictable nature. However, if he likes you— though you would never find him admitting it— then he’s more inclined to make an effort not to piss you off. He wears vengeance without a cloak, and has swept over lives with its very existence. His charming persona is often a ruse, a swift way to invite you in before the killing blow.

PREFERRED SHIPS // CHARACTER SEXUALITY // GENDER & PRONOUNS

Thorfinn identifies as a male with the use of He/Him pronouns. Though he is demisexual, he has found that he holds a preference for men. Romance is a falsity, and sex is as simple as intoxicated convenience. With parents that married due to bloodline, had a child for the sole purpose of an heir and lineage, he does not hold the best views on relationships. He considers them a ruse, and strongly believes he lacks the emotions to pursue them (or hold the patience to achieve them).

As for ships, Thorfinn, I believe, would do well with someone of similar mind and position. A death eater, as merciless as himself, would cause an initial, gravitational pull. Someone that has known their share of tragedy, and that holds a pension for volatile behavior. Someone he can kill with, but also, in the end, perhaps trust and self-teach a fondness for.

CREATE ONE (OR MORE!) OF THE FOLLOWING FOR YOUR CHARACTER:

You can find headcanons, aesthetics, a playlist, and more on a mock blog right HERE!

IN CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE

♔ If you were able to invent one spell, potion, or charm, what would it do, what would you use it for or how would you use it? Feel free to name it:

His mouth twisted with vile intent. There were plenty of spells for inducing silence; to singe the worthless tongues emitting mindless, dimwitted banter. “Perhaps a spell that removes your tongue,” he proposed, mismatched eyes flickering toward his inquirer, “so that when the silence is lifted, you will be forced to remain mute.” He sunk into the leather sofa — his seat a throne wherever he sat— and hoisted legs crossed at the ankle atop a crystalline table. Someone’s priceless heirloom, no doubt. Thorfinn pictured his knuckles testing the strength of the glass, and the force needed to fracture its history. How little he cared, and how much he urged to set ablaze someone’s foundation of precious memory. “Or,” he continued, a dark chuckle bubbling within the cauldron of his hollow throat, “I could simply cut out your tongue.”

♔ You have to venture deep into the Forbidden Forest one night. Pick one other character and one object (muggle or magical), besides your wand, that you’d want with you:

His grin was a trap; a feigned charming persona a fallacy. It was an invitation to lean toward the wolf’s bloodied maw and bare their jugular to ivory fangs; their life forfeit to his usurping snarl. Camaraderie was a long lost, archaic concept to the bloodied prince. Who would he have beside him in war, if not but himself, the only being he knew to depend on upon a genocidal battleground? “Freyja.” At least she was loyal. “Scarier than any bloody werewolf, and knives have never done me wrong.”

♔ What kinds of decisions are the most difficult for you to make?

His brows furrowed, and a dramatic, over-exasperated sigh was its accompaniment. “The decision to answer this question.” He could feel his hands become coated in oil-slick scarlet, sticking his palms together with familial blood. Then his fingers, curling around the dagger’s hilt, and its silvery blade embedding its sharp structure into an unmarred canvas. Again. And again. And again. The parental slaughter had been the most effortless decision of his life. What could be difficult, when your actions were comprised of reactive ideas? Decisions for my wellbeing, he thought, the realization tasting acidic.

♔ What is one thing you would never want said about you?

Flames licked behind mismatched irises. That was rather personal. Through his stoic demeanor came a feign of allowance where discord stood vigil. The query posed could never truly hold a valid response. To allow a crack disrupt his fortress? The idea was built on an inferior man’s principles. His voice captured a death eater’s generic principle: “That I was merciful.” What priest in their dutiful confessional could possess his true answer? Oh, how Thorfinn’s words could set its frame ablaze. The presence of his sins could ignite it, perishing the priest to embers, leaving the scene to ash.

WRITING SAMPLE

(Flashback, Age seventeen, Christmas Eve)

Outside, the Rowle mansion was an exquisite portrait; its estate’s entirety blanketed by a delicate layer of frigid snow. Dusk had sunk the brightest globe, and engulfed the elegant architecture in a fine veil of twilight. Inside, the shadowed hallways were ablaze with screeching, humanoid howls. Inside, a chamber’s immoral walls were drenched by a garnet-tinted paint.

It had begun with his vision of a mother— an empress in her evening silk. A son had ascended stairs which rose toward heaven, yet truly descended into hell. She was seated upon her deep-violet, ornately carved throne, the tip of a feathered quill peeking through a curtain of ashen hair as her cranium dipped to write upon parchment. “I am busy, Asger.” The son had taken another, sinisterly determined step. His mother’s head lifted, and he was met with her porcelain features through a mirror’s reflection. She swiveled around to face him. “Thorfinn.” Her tone was riddled with surprise; had he ever intruded her chambers before? Or, perhaps, the shock withdrawn from her siren-song voice was the result of his wand, steadily directed toward her. She rose with  years of practiced grace, and he, the birthed puppeteer whom cut her fraying chords by a whispered, fatal curse. And then, she cascaded, her elegance smite. She looked like the angel she never was. And him? Only demons soaked themselves in blood.

The man convulsed beneath the wand’s volatile scrutiny. Its possessor stalked felled prey, predatory gate circling the pursuit of an oncoming kill. The last of his lineage, brought low.  “How does it feel?” he queried, tone level, voice failing to rise above his father’s ceaseless war-cries. “Does your blood feel frozen? Do your bones feel shattered? Does your body feel ripped apart?” He wished to pluck his tendons, incinerate his veins. How does it feel? he thought, to be the receiver of such senseless, merciless brutality. He’d known its pained definition for seventeen years— a length that which confessed itself a millennia of accursed onslaught. His father had swallowed lucifer’s luck; he’d only tasted its iron for mere hours.

And then he unsheathed a bladed heirloom; meant for crystalline encasement, yet selected for insidious motive. Thorfinn knelt beside his father’s mangled figure, the torturous curse subsiding, paying tribute to its subterfuge. “How does it feel?” he repeated, the inquiry infested with sadistic promise. “I’ll teach you.”  Like you taught me. There was a spray of pink mist as he drove the dagger home, discoloring his ivory flesh. Turbulent wrath. Barbaric savagery. Ferocious fury. Colossal sin. The blade rescinded to his potent rage with a sickening shing and squelch. The knife committed its massacre; a rerun of sharp steel embedding itself into a shallow-breathing frame.

The host’s mouth parted to expel a current of blood; staining loathing lips with death’s lipstick. Again, a caged voice whispered, rattling his vandalized skull. Again. Again. Again. The battlecries no longer echoed from his father’s frozen throat. They were his elicitations, tearing through his system with each thrust of the weapon.

Exhaustion finalized the deed. At its release, the knife struck the earth with clattering force. The victor rose, armored in liquified rubies. His victim lay in grotesque mutilation, a corpse devoid of its proper casket. The wraith vanished from its demolishing destination, and sought an eloquent alternative.

Deft digits slipped upon the keys, revealing red smears upon their stark notes. The kneazle’s lioness paws left perfect, scarlet-printed shapes atop the piano’s glossy roof. She sat poised on charcoal-colored haunches, sharing a piercing gaze with her murderous owner. “Happy Christmas, Freyja.”

#accepted app

[zodiac-enthusiasts]

Pisces Woman Personality Behavior Attractive Pisces Woman The Pisces woman is beautiful, provocative and sexy, and her gaze is unforgettable. Made of charm and a trace of childhood, in addition to a body made for dance and movement. Therefore she knows how to seduce men, leaving them breathless. She is a passionate woman who will make man's head spin. She can fall madly in love with someone and suddenly end a story with a wrong gesture or an evasive answer. Love for her is a cosmic fusion, and eroticism is a language of the body as of the soul. She is never alone, but always with the man of her life. Her life changes often depending on her moods. The Pisces Woman Behavior The Pisces woman together with the Cancer woman is among the most emotional and romantic signs of the Zodiac. Pisces woman has sweet, melancholic and dreaming eyes give the impression of being elsewhere. Pisces woman is more utopian than Aquarius woman is. She may appear like a child who has never grown up and who is full of fantasy, capricious and very unpredictable. Uncertainty in Pisces woman can be noticed easily. From her complicated and changing nature. Pisces woman is versatile and very sensitive to outside influences. Sensitive Romantic Woman Pisces woman will float in a romantic, magical and imaginative universe in which she can give herself. He will be able to love in silence, without arousing the slightest suspicion in the man of her desires. She seems to be gifted with great intuition and extreme sensitivity. A particularity of the Pisces woman is that she genuinely feels the emotions of those around her. Shy and difficult she may appear to others. Often she displays a sensitive and extremely sentimental character. Clearly Pisces is surprising and tormented lover. She can be both a heart-breaker and reserved lover, perhaps for fear of committing herself. Is She The Perfect Housewife? She is not a great housewife if she hasn't got a decent financial backup. Pisces woman will have a babysitter, a cleaning lady, etc. She is a woman who likes to shine and be admired. She likes entertainment and everyone will find her at the theater or at the cinema. Pisces woman also knows how to treat others in an original way, she can be a hypnotist or a radiotherapist. She has good selling skills in any field thanks to her enormous persuasion. Typical Pisces Woman Love Pisces woman love is experienced as an essential moment of her existence, in which she is able to express the best part of herself. Her importance counts a lot, especially that of her partner which turns out to be quite necessary for her character stability. In fact, one of the components of the sign is her changeability. Sometimes she's positive, which brings out her creativity and sometimes she's negative which generates situations of uncertainty, such as indecision, the tendency to lie or to search for eternally stronger sensations, through transgression. What Is Love For Pisces Woman? For Pisces woman, to love is to experience absolute sensations without half measures. This is why she's capable of having great feelings but also great tragedies if there were problems or obstacles to her love. To better understand her effective behavior is described in her sign symbol representing her as the perfect way to define love. Two Pisces bound together but running in opposite directions. The "thread" that unites her corresponds to the tendency to depend on others or the partner, as well as a particular inclination to let oneself be taken by sensations and vices. Pisces swim in two different directions symbolically expressing the contradictions typical of her character. Life Without A Real Love A life without love doesn't make any sense to a Pisces woman. Happiness is measured by the presence of romance, fancy dinners or night walks on the beach. Faithful but inconstant, she falls madly in love and can leave without warning. Each time it could be the man or woman of life, but considering that the life of a Pisces is as fickle as the moon. The Sexuality Of Pisces Woman The main components of Pisces woman sexuality are passion, eroticism and a bit of transgression. Sex is an essential part of love although it is often experienced as a "hidden" experience, outside of established bonds. Pisces woman is not unfaithful by nature. Some may say that by nature she needs continuous changes. In case she doesn't find the partner, she will go and look elsewhere. It seems strange, but she remains faithful only when the partner keeps her in continuous emotional tension, even in conditions of obvious submission or, she can be the "betrayed," those who wait at home with moving dignity a partner in the mood for adventures. How To Win A Pisces Woman? It is unquestionably sure that to capture a Pisces woman, anyone needs a good bait, and the best is to create a magical and unusual atmosphere. Therefore, choosing the adequate place where to meet with the highest care. The candidate for love must look for a romantic, exciting place where there is peace and definitely some privacy. A cottage, hut or a cabin in the high mountains, on the moonlit beach, near a cliff overlooking the sea or, more simply, just a lighted evening fountain would do. The Pisces Woman In Bed She is the realm of imagination. Sex becomes an expression of its erotic fantasies. So much is the emotional involvement and suffering so her sexuality will express itself better. It is good, however, not to be deceived by her apparent passivity. It is very good at playing with emotionality, able to create that tension very similar to fear, to let go, a moment later, in tears, in the arms of a man who comforts her. Sensual and languid in nature, she links sexuality to the idea of being possessed and lives it in a complicated and problematic way. The Pisces Woman And Marriage She wants to be the useful catch of his companion, devout and helpful, in exchange, she demands his unconditional love. Best for her would be to find a man who has such an economic position. He should devote much of his time to stand by her to support her, comfort her and help her. Otherwise, it may happen that she is sharing her husband's business so as not to feel alone and useless. In the end, however, it is easier to remedy this need for companionship, through motherhood, carrying on the children that emotional charge that the husband is not able to completely satisfy. Make Love The Primary Purpose In Life Very sensual, sometimes even very beautiful, she lives her existence as a function of feelings. There are women born under this sign that has made love the primary purpose of their life. Often not always finding equally generous and available partners. The reason is that of the emotional instability to which she is subjected. She can be both an "eater" of men as well as a woman who attempts a single ideal of tormented love for the rest of her life. Her passion is an incredible story marked with cracks and reconciliations because of the intense and overwhelming emotions created with that magical atmosphere that she likes. Undoubtedly, she acquires greater self-confidence, wanting to manage to find a greater balance in her life.

[suitcasesoffeathers]

10 Favorite Characters from 10 Fandoms Tag Thing

I was tagged by @carrotcouple~~ Thank you so much!!! <3 (And I’m so sorry this is so late!!!! ><)

So, I just want to say that I’m really indecisive, so usually, picking a favorite character is very difficult for me. XD So thank you again, Sunny!!! Because now I have an excuse to really think about it! XD

Midoriya Izuku from Boku no Hero Academia: He’s my favorite—I’m not really sure why, but I just want to root for him...lol I think it’s because he’s relatable in the way that he was bullied and doesn’t fit in with the other kids (which I think many people feel like even though they may not be lol), and he’s being picked on, etc. He just seems very human, I guess...And he’s kinda like the underdog, so I’m inclined to root for him out of sympathy...But also empathy because I can find little parts of me in him I guess...? Also, I admire his determination and courage. I like how he never gives up and his will to become a hero is never crushed even though everyone around him is constantly telling him it’s hopeless. 

Nora from Noragami: I know a lot of people don’t really like Nora, but I kinda feel bad for her, and so I guess I like her more because of that. I’m just really curious about her backstory and why she acts the way she does. To me, it seems like she’s being manipulated/tricked by Fujisaki into helping him. It seems he taught her what was right and wrong, and that’s why she’s evil and things. But if that’s the case, then it’s not really her fault; she was just obeying her father...And I really like how Nora loves Yato so much; their old relationship was kinda cute in a way, and it’s clear that she does care for him; she just doesn’t know how to express her love properly I guess lol

Rock Lee from Naruto: He’s just an overall nice guy, and I admire his determination to become the best shinobi he can, despite not being able to use ninjutsu and genjutsu. He was also the underdog, I guess, since he was bullied and didn’t fit in. He is very emotional and empathetic, and cares very deeply for his friends. He’s also optimistic and encouraging, and he just seems like a nice guy to have around. Plus, he’s really funny XD

Nishinoya Yuu from Haikyuu!!: I really like Nishinoya because he’s super encouraging, enthusiastic, funny, dependable, and a very determined and strong-willed guy lol He just seems like he’s always got your back. And if you’re ever feeling down or unsure of yourself, he seems like he’d encourage you and support you. And because he’s so energetic and positive, it can really give a boost to your mood, I guess lol He just seems like a nice friend to lean on.  

Hanji Zoe from Attack on Titan: I had a lot of trouble picking a favorite in AoT, but I have to go with Hanji because I just think she’s really cool lol. I like how she’s exotic and maybe a little insane at times (lol), but is still very intelligent and acts to complete her goals. I like how she’s seemingly goofy and carefree, but really, it’s kinda like an act; she can be very serious when she needs to, and even uses her facade as part of her plan in order to throw off the enemy. She can also be quite empathetic towards her subordinates at times, though she may not show it much lol She is willing to listen to them and consider their ideas and values. However, if she really believes something is right, she will work towards it despite what others may think. She can also be blunt at times, and is able to look past certain flaws or mistakes previously made; she seems to focus more on the present and how to solve the problems at hand, rather than just dwelling on the past.

Black Star from Soul Eater: He may not be the smartest, but I think he’s one of the bravest. He’ll jump straight into battle to save a friend, or just to defeat an enemy and work towards what he thinks is right. He’s a very determined guy, and always tries his best. He constantly tries to grow stronger, and will do his best to become just that in order to protect his friends. Although he may seem full of himself, it’s mostly just an act. He acknowledges when people are stronger than him (even though he may not admit it), and you can tell he respects them. And even when he yells out that he has surpassed god and things, you can tell he doesn’t really believe it himself because in later battles, he says that that will be the battle where he surpasses god. And he even uses that to encourage his friends when they’re feeling unsure of themselves. He’s also very loyal, and will endure anything for the sake of his friends and comrades.

Genos from One Punch Man: I just think Genos is hilarious in the way that he acts so serious to the point that it’s ridiculous. He takes everything Saitama says to heart, and carries it out the best he can. And he’s not one of those serious characters that’s stuck up and thinks they know everything; he’s actually very open to advice and criticism, and is willing to learn whatever he can in order to become stronger and become the best hero he can. He’s also very loyal to those who trust him; he’ll try to support his comrades the best he can even when he’s unsure of whether he can actually pull it off. And he also trusts his close friends (mostly Saitama) to no end, even if it doesn’t quite make logical sense. I also like him because he’s relatable; he often tries to accomplish something, and fails, and then, he has to be rescued by someone else (usually Saitama). This can give him a sense of uselessness/failure, which I think many people can relate to. 

Alibaba Saluja from Magi: I had trouble picking a favorite from Magi as well >< I think I chose Alibaba just because he’s admirable. He’s a very positive guy; he’s encouraging, confident, light-hearted, and seems like a nice person to be around. He’s pretty straight forward and honest, so you know he’s not hiding any dark secrets lol He also has strong morals (except before his character development lol), and will do whatever it takes to change the world for the better even if those around him think he’s wrong. If he believes in it, he will work towards in no matter what. But of course, he is open to new ideas and things of the sort. He’s also very loyal and reliable; you can trust him to have your back. 

Mikado Ryuugamine from Durarara!!: I chose Mikado because I love his character development so much!! He went from innocent, kind, and caring, to a bit insane (lol) He was basically willing to do anything to reach his goal of righting his wrongs and creating a perfect world for his friends. Though, it seems he lost his morals in the process, causing him to harm other people, including the friends he wanted to protect. But I really like how he had the same goal all along: to keep his friends safe. You can still see his original personality even when he became a little crazy (lol), and his character development made sense considering his situation. I guess I just find him very interesting because he developed in a realistic way, while still being able to keep his kind-hearted nature throughout the whole story. 

Kasamatsu Yukio from Kuroko no Basuke: I chose Kasamatsu just because he seems like a nice person (besides him hitting Kise all the time lol). I think he’s very admirable; he’s a good leader (he’s encouraging, knows how to take charge, and control the situation/team) and he’s confident (but not too confident), not only in his own strength, but the team as a whole. He really cares for his teammates, and tries his best to make sure they’re okay before he even thinks about himself. And I think it’s actually really nice of him for not hating on Kise for being the best on the team despite being a 1st year (I think most people would be jealous, and thus, treat him poorly). I also like how he’s funny, while also serious. And he takes all the blame when the team loses—he feels responsible for the team since he’s the captain, and tries to stay strong in front of them, which is very sacrificing, I think...

Well, that’s all. Gosh, that took a long time lol Sorry for the long post ^^’ Most of it was just me trying to figure out why I liked the characters XD

Hmmm, I’d like to tag @sakkigami, @zamashi, @awney, @practicingproductivity, @torra-kitty, and @iamapoopmuffin! You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to! 

Thanks again for tagging me! It was so much fun! <3

#tag thing #sorry this took so long! #It was a lot harder than I expected #XD #but it was so much fun!!! #thank you for tagging me!!!