#that he basically booked it and left the rest of them to fend for themselves)

[sophieswundergarten]

People talk about SQ going on a villain arc, but personally I've always thought he'd be more likely to just shut himself away for a while

He'd fall off the map, become a recluse not because he's trying to hide from his father, or his uncle for that matter, but because he's so confused and mixed up and lost he isn't thinking clearly

He finds an empty old house, one in a little town somewhere in the middle of nowhere, that he can live in. It's in much worse condition than Mr. Benedict's, and he gets to stay because he does farm chores for the nearby people who own the property

A quiet town. No one questions why this boy appeared, and as he keeps to himself no one bothers him

He comes into the general store sometimes, or maybe the hardware store. Buying basic necessities, repair materials, and asking sometimes strange questions with obvious answers in an embarrassed way

Every now and again, he stops by the pet store. Buying a small bird or two and an obscene amount of birdseed

He becomes known as a lonely artist, a mysterious figure the adults ignore for the most part and the children whisper about. He doesn't pay either reaction any mind

SQ's house is full of art

Colour splashed across the floor, tiny vines and butterflies covering the shutters, vibrant shades all over the fan blades. He etches painstakingly accurate bird footprints on every windowsill, sketches large diagrams of feathers and bird wings across most of the walls, because, who's there to tell him no?

He tries to teach himself to whittle, and there are many mishapen lumps of woods that vaguely resemble birds lined up on the back porch. (He knows they're terrible, but he can't bring himself to throw them away. He feels too guilty, after all, he's the one who brought them into existence. If he won't love them, who will?)

And he has a lot of birds. Some were wild ones he befriended, leaving food and nesting material out until they felt comfortable enough to rest in the rafters, flying in and out of the near-always open windows. Some were bird he saw, either sitting in a cage when they had no business to be, or wandering the park looking half frightened and confused. Birds that people had captured from their natural homes and probably smuggled, hoping to pass them off in a small enough town where no one would notice. Some were birds that had been "released" by their previous owners; left to wander an environment that was not their own and to fend for themselves when they'd been raised domesticated

It's these last few he feels for the most. It's not fair, he thinks. There's no one to take care of them, and it isn't their fault they were forced into a situation like this. At some point, someone had hurt them. Had taken advantage of their innocent nature, and it left some scarred.l

Some physically, like the ones who needed their wings splinted, or had lasting limps, or sometimes were even half blind. And sometimes mentally, like those that still shrank back from his touch after months of rehabilitation, or had missing patches of feathers, or would hiss instead of sing

And so he became known as sort of a wild artist. Someone who seemed to know everything about art and birds and the forest, but occasionally could be seen asking how microwaves worked or whether he would have to pay for checking books out of the small local library (He always returned them in perfect condition)

And, eventually, after he's had some time to think, he calls his uncle. He isn't sure how to contact his dad, but he isn't really surprised to hear the two are living together again. They're twins, after all

And so he tells them where he is, tells them that he wants to talk, wants to understand. And to his surprise, they come to him. And they offer apologies, and answers both

While the kids marvel at the birds and his art and the small collection of poetry and naturalist books he's been slowly building up as he shows them around, the adults confer on what it best to do

And he thinks that, if it's offered, he'd like to go back with them. But he isn't sure. And he's still caught off guard when they ask

#I don't know #Rambly stuff that would definitely not be legal but it's MBS Universe and I am having a really good time imagining the legal systems #Sometimes they're super strict #And sometimes I just pretend they don't exist #But really #I don't think SQ would get angry #And I'm not saying you guys who give him a villain arc are bad!!!! #(Connie you KNOW I love your AU) #But personally #I've kind of thought he'd be the kind of person to just quietly shut down and process #Whether that's on his own or with Mr. Benedict #And I think the big thing would be teaching him not to internalize all of that as his fault somehow #Maybe that's me projecting #Also I was thinking about Big Fish and Benny and Joon and IQ and those kinds of movies while writing this out #Specifically about the type of house I was imagining I guess #Except it backs up to a huge forest #(They're all good movies by the way I think they're very interesting) #But #Yeah #Enjoy more garbage from my brain #the mysterious benedict society #mbs #sq pedalian

[cheeseanonioncrisps]

So, random thought… how many of the Madrigals know that Bruno left of his own free will?

'Cause I'm just thinking about the reactions of Mirabel's parents. When Mirabel talks about seeing cracks in the walls, her mother at first tries to put it off as just stress or something. And maybe she really believes that.

But then, when Mirabel starts getting too insistent that she really saw the walls start to crack and the candle go out, what does Julieta do? She brings up Bruno. The family taboo. “My brother Bruno lost his way in this family. I don't want the same for you.”

Now, this is an odd thing to bring up. Mirabel literally can't say a word about Bruno without everyone in the vicinity loudly talking about how nobody talks about him. It is a big deal that Julieta is referencing him in casual conversation like this.

And I'm convinced that the reason she does, is because she's panicking.

The one kid who she thought didn't get a gift (and who failed to get a gift the same night that Bruno mysteriously left the family) has suddenly started having visions of terrible things that haven’t happened yet. Nobody in the family seems to really know how the candle magic works— and Mirabel's case is unprecedented even in that context— so I don't think it would be that unreasonable for Julieta to wonder if there hasn't been some sort of power transference/replacement going on.

In a family where keeping up appearances is everything— and where there's no real privacy, thanks to Dolores— bringing up her brother is Julieta's way of trying to tell Mirabel “please keep quiet about it if you've suddenly developed future vision, I don't want you to end up like Bruno!”

And sure, maybe this is just because she remembers how Bruno was treated when he was around. But then, she also knows how Mirabel is being treated now. She knows how insecure she is about not having a gift, and how Abuela and the townsfolk seem to look down on her for it.

And the Madrigals have all been raised to view their gifts as tools that they are obligated to use to help the townsfolk. For Julieta to hear even a suggestion that her daughter may have a gift, and immediately shut it down like this, suggests that she thinks the consequences for revealing will be dire.

And she specifically references the fact that Bruno was 'lost', even though she has no reason whatsoever to believe that Mirabel is going to choose to leave the family.

And then there's Agustín, who hears that Bruno had a vision of the Casita collapsing and Mirabel being at the centre of it— a vision that he knows is almost certainly going to come true— and immediately insists that she hide it and not tell anyone.

Again, weird. Why would you not want your family to be informed of an oncoming catastrophe? Even if you have reason to believe that your daughter will be at the epicentre of it all, isn't that all the more reason to let your super-powered in-laws know, so they have a better chance of protecting her? And yet he's clearly way more terrified by the thought of the family finding out, than he is by the thought of Bruno's vision coming true.

His reaction doesn't really make sense in the context of "Bruno had scary visions and then chose to move out one day and cut contact because of how people treated him". Or even "Bruno saw this and it was so scary that he ran off one day".

But both Agustín and Julieta's reactions make perfect sense if they personally believe that Bruno was forced out by Abuela.

I mean, think about it from their perspective. It's the night of your daughter's gifting ceremony, and it's all gone horribly wrong. The two of your have probably spent the night in the nursery comforting a sobbing five year old. You may be able to hear (or Dolores may later tell you) that Abuela is arguing with Bruno— the creepy relative that everyone blames when Bad Things happen— about his prophecies.

And then the next day Bruno has vanished, mysteriously, and Abuela is insisting that nobody is allowed to talk about him.

I feel like you would at least wonder about what had happened, even if Abuela openly said that he left on his own (and we don't know if she even gave that much of an explanation). Especially since Bruno doesn't seem the type you'd expect to take off on a solo journey through the mountains.

And you would never get to talk about these fears, because "we don't talk about Bruno". Even in private, you'd be constantly aware of your eleven year old niece who can't help but listen in to everything you're saying. And having no outlet for these thoughts would probably only make them worse.

So, maybe you'd end up subtly encouraging your gifted children to not upset Abuela too much— make sure Isabella understands how important it is that she go along with things 'for the family', and that Luisa knows to make herself useful— and your one, not-gifted child, to try not to draw too much attention to that fact.

After all, you don't want another Bruno.

#encanto #encanto spoilers #encanto meta #i don't think abuela is aware of this btw #like from her perspective #We Don't Talk About Bruno #because bruno leaving unexpectedly probably brought back a lot of memories about losing her husband #and her specific way of dealing with that kind of trauma #is to close everything off in an attempt to shield the family from danger #and more consciously #she probably sees his leaving #at a time of family crisis #as some sort of betrayal #(which is… not totally unreasonable actually. given the limited information she has #like all she knows is that she asked him to look ahead to see what was going to happen #to their family #and whatever he saw was so fucking terrible #that he basically booked it and left the rest of them to fend for themselves) #but either way i think she would be horrified to know that her family #even just a few members #think that she actively threw him out #but then that's what you get for making open family communication Illegal

[finzphoenix]

Rasgo, you say? I'm intrigued. Can I get any headcanons?

Sure! ;3 It contains the beginnings of the ship, a special thanks goes to @blackiraven who helped me a lot with these hcs <33 ^^ (since I’m really bad at keeping things short, here’s a cut)

- Hugo and Ra's found each other during the months before Arkham City.

- Ra's was impressed by the strength of will Hugo represented, the fact that he had dared to get in contact with his assassins and face the Demon Head himself. The doctor had managed to find out his whereabouts despite all security precautions and strict secrecy. A difficult task considering how many hideouts he owns all over the world.

- The second fact, Ras recognized Hugo's potential as a worthy successor. Enormous strength, bravery and energy are usually his demands on his potential replacement. And well, Hugo has already proven all this. He has strength and bravery (because he came to him, even at the risk of losing his life and also because he is not afraid to act against people who wants to bring him down, manipulate him or wants to exploid him for their own purposes). Hugo had the energy to withstand this over several years. He kept getting up after a defeat. Furthermore, Hugo has already come close to death and has survived again and again; he did not owe his resurrection to doctors or a lazerus pit, it was his own willpower. And who would be better to inherit the legacy of immortality than someone who has conquered death once, even several times?

- Ra’s tends to analyze all the people who join him, in Hugo's case, he didn't have the time he normally would have. When entering into an alliance with someone, he need to make sure that he can trust his partner (and potential successor). At anytime. So he has one or the other conversation with Hugo outside of their plans and due to the fact that such a cooperation requires a perfect strategic interaction, both work together for a while on the implementation, which in turn means that Hugo stays with the League for quite a bit time.

- The members themselves are loyal to Ra’s and obedient to the death, but there was an incident...

- An adept was too fixated on seeing his destiny in the succession as a leader, the overzealousness seized him. Strange was a potential threat, a shadow that hung over them like the sword of Damocles. It was surely only a matter of time before he betrayed them. After all, this man was so nervous the whole time, as if he had something big to hide... So, in a cloak-and-dagger operation, he decided that he didn't want to jeopardize his future. -> Hugo had been working all day untill late night and decided to give his mind a few hours of rest. All this time he was in the library, reading books on psychology and hypnosis, mind control, studying old maps of Gotham, and so on. When he finished and was about to leave for his room, he heard a strange noise... Then the assassin attacked him out of the darkness.

At first, he managed to dodge and fend off the sword with the book he was holding. Hugo immediately realized that he would not be able to defeat a professional assassin, so he decided to neutralize him with the help of the environment. He lured the assassin to the bookcases (and had to put up with a deep vertical sword wound on his stomach) that allowed Hugo to knock over one of the bookshelves with the last of his strength and to escape the library. And then, as he struggled down the corridor and left a trail of blood behind himself, a sudden large shadow appears. It's Ra's who was drawn to the noise. Hugo first thought is that he came to finish him off and tries anxiously to come up with arguments and not flinch when his opponent carefully moves towards him. Contrary to his expectations, Ra's assures him that he had not command anything like this and that he would like to help... if he lets him.

- After he had been pached up by Ra's after a long night, his trust was of course shaken. Sure, Ra's assured that it had nothing to do with him... he even had said assassin executed to make a statement and a memorial. And yet there was still a doubt. But especially the tension in this new surroundings made it difficult for him to concentrate on nearly... everything. He knew that he was being watched from the shadows. The whole time. And he had no guarantee that Ra's deterrent method had worked... Ra's in turn could already feel when Hugo entered the room. The tension was palpable. If this working relationship, which was also a relationship of trust, had to work, he had to get Hugo to talk to him. But since he didn't seem to wanna face it with words - maybe out of fear of showing weakness - Ra's decides to invite him to a game of chess and puts him under zugzwang, so to speak. In his opinion, chess finally enables both subjectivity and a sense of identity to be expressed with its ideal of unity and authenticity, as well as conveying a clear picture of the private flow of emotions and thoughts, the as a direct self-expression, truth and authenticity guaranteed.

Tied to the basics of intersubjective reason, to a linguistic system of norms that meets the criteria of general comprehensibility

the possibilities of what a person can say and experience in an individually authentic way seem extremely narrow - but if he can let actions speak for themselves... the whole thing looks completely different.

And it actually worked. Hugo's concerns were expressed whether intentionally or unintentionally through his moves and Ra’s responded to them with forbearance and understanding.

At some point Hugo even completely forgot that it was not just a conversation, but also a game and made wrong, more aggressive moves, which in turn made Ra's smile. The mischief that flashed in his eyes as he gradually took Hugo's pawns out of the game made his counterpart realize how counterproductive his behavior was, but also surprised him with this new... playfulness?

That was what finally convinced him to rebuild his trust and to watch the game much more relaxed and pleasant.

- The game is also reflected in their behavior towards each other afterwards. They slowly opened up to each other, exchanging views on medicine and research (when the time allowed), and even talked about family relationships; like, for example, about Hugo's son. A bond of trust slowly weaved around them, laying the foundations for... something more.

#My greatest apologises for my crappy english skills x'3 #thanks a lot for your ask! we had a lot fun talking about it^^ #Ras Al Ghul #Hugo Strange #Finz' Art #temarcia #Finz' answer #rasgo #Batman #DC #Batman fanart #drawing #digital art #and thank you so much for your interest in this ship!^-^❤️ #arkham video games #arkham series #Arkham verse #Arkham city #it's so much fun drawing these two...

[hawksugarbaby]

Deku x reader- Minecraft millionaire

Fluff

A/N: I use Xbox so these are Xbox controlls but feel free to change them as you see fit

Izuku sat on his bed flicking his eye's from the facetime with you to the screen in front of him continuously holding the right trigger on his controller and chewing his lip. "Wait what level do you find diamonds?" he asked glancing at his coordinates in the corner and you jumped around the world trying to escape a creeper "Fuck i'm gonna die! i'm gonna die! please NO!" you yelped and decided it was time to dig a hole in the ground and block it off. "Sorry, what did you ask?" you look at the phone propped up against your laptop and chuckle at Izuku's face scrunched up in concentration "uh, what level do you find diamonds" he repeated not taking his eye off the screen filled with grey stone blocks and dot's of black for coal. "12 to 14, usually 13 is like the best place"

You answered uncovering the hole you had dug in just as a creeper passed over you and fell into your 3 by 1 grave. "NOOO!" you screeched as the green mob flashed white and you tried to jump out of the inescapable hole for a final moments peace but to no avail. The unmistakable sound of a muffled explosion and the respawn screen, lighting your face up red and you let out a fake cry. "Did you die?" he asked despite the obvious answer. "Yeahh" you answered with a heavy sigh and respawned at home, grabbing a spare wooden sword and jumping over to the spot of your death. If nothing else you'd get a lot of dirt?

Izuku muttered about hitting his head off every block and you snickered "I mean at least you learned your lesson about digging straight down" he huffed and flailed his arms creating a cold air around him "it wasn't my fault no one told me I shouldn't dig straight down!" he had a point, yes, but still you had presumed that even he would know such a basic rule "I know, I know" you say nearing the site of the explosion and start sprinting ignoring the band of mobs chasing you.

"HOW IS MY STUFF STILL HERE. IT WAS LITERALLY NEXT TO ME?!" you yelped in surprise but ran around the area gathering your stuff and spammed the Y button, automatically gearing up and switched your sword to your hotbar along with your enchanted pickaxe and cooked chicken.

"Maybe the minecraft gods granted you... something?" Izuku laughed and popped out of his mine running to his furnace and dropping in a stack of Iron. "(y/n) I hear you need some cobblestone" Izuku said running to your house across from his and down the basement to your storage area. You groaned begrudgingly trying to fend off an army of spiders who had made it a personal goal of theirs to off you. "Izuku please don't contribute to the cobble chest. I'm begging you. I don't need more cobble" you whined sprinting away with 5x more Xp than you originally had. "Do you have lapiz?" you asked raking through his chests to find the blue material.

Izuku opened the chest almost full with cobble and finished it off with 12 more stacks, leaving one or himself. The green achievement bar popped up at the bottom of the screen "Chestful of cobblestone" and you clicked your tongue pushing your hands together like a prayer in front of your mouth "IZUKU. I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD I'M GOING TO BURN YOUR COBBLE. STOP GIVING ME COBBLE, THAT GOES FOR ALL THE REST OF THE BOYS TOO!" your shouting could be heard throughout the dorm and some of the other minecraft players snickered to themselves.

Anytime, they had a stack or so of cobble, they would put it in one of your chests and it became a running joke for them to go "Hey (y/n) I heard you needed more cobble" and shove it in the chest despite your begging them not to. You had 3 chests of cobble but never got the achievement because you had burned the first 2 chestfulls before they could finish it off.

"Yes I have lapiz just give me a sec" he answered after your threat and jumped over to you. Meeting in front of your pumpkin farm you were jumping on. "If you fall you're gonna trample your crops" he said and you shrugged "that's what I have a diamond hoe for duh" you say in a bragging way as if having a diamond hoe of all things really just showed your wealth. You jumped off the pumpkin successfully not landing on your crops and spun around in front of Izuku as he threw lapiz at you "Is this what it's like to be a stripper" you chuckled and Izuku snorted at your joke. "Okay that's enough" you say, stopping him from throwing anymore and bouncing off to your enchantment table.

"I can't believe you had 4 extra diamonds and you made an enchantment table and a hoe" he sighed grabbing all the iron from his furnace and spinning to the crafting table to make a new pickaxe and a bucket for milk. He was determined to make a cake just as much as getting diamonds but there was a lack of cows due to bakugo's anger issues when he was in the server. "What would you even have done with them!?" "I COULD HAVE BOOTS (y/n)!" he shouted back and you purse your lips. He could have had boots...

"Okay well I'm sorry I'm rich and have full diamonds" you shrug and he looked up from his controller looking straight forward pinching the bridge of his nose "your a bitch" he laughed and started back down his mineshaft complaining about the steps hitting his head again. "You love me really" you chuckle and he rolls his eyes with a smile "yeah I know" you glance at the facetime and smile, 8 hours, 29 minutes 43 seconds you'd been on a call just playing minecraft in the server you ran for "the lads" as it had been dubbed.

"OOH IZUKU I JUST GOT FORTUNE 3 ON MY DIAMOND PICKAXE!" you exclaim, celebrating by jumping up and down. "Sweet! You're gonna have endless coal!" he laughed and you punched the air excitedly "so much Xp!" "we have an Xp farm" he retaliated and you pouted "Let me be exited" you whined and he awed "sorryyy" he said dragging it out for effect and you huffed "better be."

Izuku's inventory quickly filled with cobble, coal, and iron again, the occasional redstone for Xp and fuck gold, gold sucks. He stumbled into a cave, a platform of stone and on each side was a pool of lava. But Izuku's eyes lit up and he gasped "OH MY GOD!" he shouted digging through the wall to get to the prize. "WHAT!" you shouted back, busy breeding the chickens and throwing eggs in the overcrowded pen. "Sorry but some of you guys have gotta go" you muttered brandishing your iron sword, specifically named "the chicken killer" since you didn't want to waste your diamond sword on chickens. "DIAMONDS!" he shouted back building a platform around the edge of the lave he could walk on and building under the diamonds for safety.

"OH OH MY GOD WAIT THERE AND I'LL MINE THEM FOR YOU!" you say abandoning the chickens and jumping over to his house again. "wait why. This is my moment I've literally never found diamonds and you're gonna take them from me" he asked looking at the phone, your face twisted with concentration. "Because I have fortune 3 and I can make 8 diamonds like 24" you said. "can I mine these ones and tell you when I find more instead I want to mine my own first diamonds." you stopped at the entrance jumping up and down in frustration "okay fine"

As Izuku ventured further into the cave earning probably half a new chest worth of cobble he shouted for you. "I found more diamonds." you immediately sprang into life holding the left stick to go down quicker. "Okay yeah this is really inconvenient" you agreed about bumping your head on the way down and landed at his shaft. "Uhh which way am I going" you asked. "Left" he said. You followed the trail of torches and Izuku's name tag that got bigger the closer you were eventually running into the same square as him. "Move back I can't see" you instructed and he scooted backwards.

You swung the enchanted pickaxe collecting the aqua gems and throwing them at izuku. "That's like 20 something," you said, shrugging at the phone and running off back home. "That was 28" he said running after you to finally make his full iron armor and tools "I have 33 in total" he grabbed sticks from his unorganised chests that you despised and for the first time, made diamond armor in minecraft.

"Oh my god he's wearing BLUE! It doesn't match your colour scheme" you cried shielding your eyes and looking away. "Sorry (y/n) let me just dye my diamonds green real quick" he said, throwing an emerald at you and you feigned shock. "A MIRACLE. TRULY"

"Okay I wanna enchant it" he said following you to the enchantment table. "We do have those enchanted books if you want something specific?" you said but he shook his head "nah i'm doing it old fashioned" he said standing at the enchantment table and taking his time going through, enchanting each item with its purple iridescence.

"What did you get?" you asked, jumping around him excitedly and he hovered over each item. "Respiration on the helmet, projectile protection and unbreaking, wait I got unbreaking as well?" he asked looking at you through the facetime "it does that sometimes" you shrugged and he raised his eyebrows and hummed with the newfound knowledge. "Those on chestplate, protection on the jeans-" "leggings" "whatever, and feather falling on the boots" he said putting all his armor back on and going over his tools "efficiency on the pickaxe, efficiency on the axe, unbreaking on the hoe, unbreaking on the shovel, and fire aspect on the sword" he said stabbing a chicken that immediately went up in flames. "Roast chicken for life!" you cheered.

"Okay you have your full diamond now come to the nether" you said standing in the swirling portal and Izuku whined. "Literally what for!" he asked standing next to you despite his disinterest and the loading screen popped up. "For that Xp, gotta get that nether quartz" you said jumping to a clump of nether quartz and letting the green spheres fall on you watching the bar go up. "(y/n) What's the bridge for?" he asked walking over to the bridge ignoring the magma slime jumping toward you.

"What bri- AGH FUCK NO NO YOU CUBE FUCKING BITCH THINK YOU CAN JUMP ON ME LIKE I'M SOME WHORE WHO DO YOU THINK I AM" (A real thing i've said playing minecraft with my friends) he turned around just as the magma divided into 4 then each of those into another 4 until there were none. "Don't go on that bridge you will absolutely die" you warned and he backed up onto the bridge anyway. You were surprised he even made it halfway before a ghast needed to tell him his place and shoot him right into the neon orange below. "YOUR FUCKING KIDDING ME RIGHT"

Bonus content

Kaminari, bakugo, and kirishima all joined the call loading up minecraft not expecting to get an earful of your abuse to Izuku who was crying into his controller "I FUCKING TOLD YOU NOT TO GO ON THE BRIDGE BECAUSE A GHAST WOULD KNOCK YOU OFF BUT WHAT DID YOU DO. GO ON THE BRIDGE. I LITERALLY JUST GOT YOU THOSE DIAMONDS ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME YOU BROCCOLI. I WASTED MY FORTUNE BUFF ON YOU."

You loved him really. But you would never be taking him to the nether again.

A/n: What is your relationship with Izuku here? That's for you to decide. Also these are all things that have happened to me while in minecraft with my friends.

#bnha #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #bnha fanfiction #boku no hero academia #mha #mha deku #bnha deku #izuku midoria x reader #midoriya x reader #izuku x reader

[letsmellowjello]

The Notebook

Pairings: Anakin Skywalker x Jedi!Reader

Warnings: just fluff and a tiny bit of language

Summary: Anakin doesn’t know that you draw him, but then he finds your notebook.

Notes: I absolutely hate how I wrote their little battle, it just seems so slow and not exciting. Just do me a favor and try and use your imagination a bit, okay? Just an fyi that nobody asked for, I honestly think I’m the funniest person ever and I think that the title that I chose is kinda funny (it really isn’t but still). Feedback is appreciated! The gif isn’t mine

Masterlist ~ Prompts/Requests

Some would call it stalkerish, others would call it infatuation, but you called it pure boredom and a good reference. Ever since you met Anakin Skywalker, you had been drawing him. Every spare moment was spent sketching away in your little notebook the lines of his face and the swoops of his hair. When you first started doing it you saw it as purely a way to kill time and hone your own art skills, but over time it became something of a habit and maybe, just maybe you were falling for him a little bit. Whenever you had a moment, you were always itching to take out your little notebook and pencil.

Of course Anakin never knew anything about it, you didn’t intend for him to. All he knew was that you liked to draw at times and that you had a notebook. You had to admit, it was a little creepy, but what else could you do when the pictures drew themselves? Anakin was absolutely gorgeous and a wonderful model even if he didn’t know it. You would never tell him any of these things, it would only boost his ego. 

“That was absolutely horrible,” You groaned as you and Anakin left the Jedi Council Chamber. You had both just debriefed the council of what had happened during you mission which was a complete and utter mess to say the least. Nobody had died thank goodness, but so many things went wrong and it had just taken so much longer than necessary.

“I can second that,” Anakin agreed. “I have to go see Obi-Wan real quick, but do you want to go grab something to eat later?”

“Sure, I’ll meet you in the banquet hall. See you later.” You turned and walked down the hall in the opposite direction of Anakin. You always loved your little post-mission dates. They weren’t actual dates of course, but it had become something of a ritual since you were padawans to go get something to eat and just talk and wind down after a mission.

You walked into the banquet hall and chose a seat next to one of the towering windows that overlooked the city of Coruscant. There were very few people in the hall as it was an odd time of the afternoon to be getting food, but you were both off for the rest of the day so you didn’t need to worry about missing a training session or meeting. 

As you sat down you sighed tiredly, it felt like you hadn’t gotten the chance to relax in forever, which wasn’t too far from the truth. During the mission, the only time that you had been able to get any amount of relaxation or rest was in between jumps and even then there wasn’t nearly enough time to properly sleep or do a little sketching. All throughout the mission and the debriefing with the council, you had been itching to take out your notebook and start drawing. So now, when you were finally able to sit back, you took out your notebook and began to transfer your creativity to the old and crinkled paper.

As time went on, Anakin’s face began to appear soon followed by his hair, neck, shoulders, and body. You had a really good memory when it came to remembering what things or people looked like so you could draw them later. The boy in your drawing was in a powerful stance with his lightsaber raised above his head to protect against his opposition. It had been when you were on Jedha for just a little bit of reconnaissance. It was supposed to be really easy and just a quick in and out. But Anakin being Anakin and you being you, of course you had gotten into trouble and had drawn some unwanted attention which then caused you to be fending off blasters while trying to escape.

The pages of your notebook were filled with similar sketches; some of him smiling, being angry, sad, thoughtful, you had it all. Anakin was just a very expressive person which made for some very interesting drawings.

Your pencil scratched lightly at the paper to shade in the shadows of his face when you felt a presence approach from behind you.

“Boo!” Whoever it was put their hands on your shoulders to scare you. Even though you knew that someone was there, you still squeaked in surprise. You quickly closed your notebook and turned to see Anakin, but not before he got a glance at your drawing. “Hey, what were you drawing?”

“Anakin! Don’t scare me like that! How did things with Obi-Wan go?” You completely ignored his question and tried to distract him away from your notebook.

“Hey hey hey, don’t change the subject. What were you drawing? Can I see? You’re always doing stuff in that notebook and I never know what it is.” He reached for it but you pulled it away.

“No! It’s none of your business!” You protested, trying to keep it away from him.

“Let me see!” He leaned across the table and tried to pull your arm closer so he could grab the book but you resisted. It soon became an all out battle to try and get the notebook with Anakin basically on top of the table and you leaning very far back in your chair. The few people who were in the hall looked over at the two of you in disdain at the ruckus that you were making. He climbed over the table but you quickly got up and tried to hide the book in your robes but then he was there preventing you from doing such a thing. The two of you fought ruthlessly against each other to obtain the book until you managed to break free of his grip and dart away but he was quick to follow. 

“Y/n get back here! I just want to see your drawing!” You were now jumping over tables and chairs to try and get away. Oh how Obi-Wan would not be pleased. The entire time he was on your heals but then he slowed and extended his arm using the Force to pull you back to him. 

“Hey! That’s cheating!” You protested as you tried to resist him, your feet slipping on the floor helplessly. Once he had pulled you to him, he wrapped his arms around you to try and stop you from struggling.

“Y/n just- argh stop moving! Just let me see!” Even though you were a powerful Jedi, his physical strength was too much. Realizing that there was nothing that you could do and that he would find out your secret sooner or later, you gave up and stopped squirming in his grasp. You let him take the book with a reluctant and frustrated huff.

“Anakin,” you said before he opened the book, “just know that it’s not as creepy as it looks. I promise, okay?”

“Um... okay?” He gave you a funny look and then directed his attention back to the notebook. He opened it up carefully and was absolutely dumbstruck at what he found. Almost all of the pages were filled with sketches of himself in all sorts of poses and expressions. Your face burned with embarrassment and all of the sudden the floor and your shuffling feet became the most interesting thing around. “Y/n... these are amazing...” he breathed.

You mumbled a “thank you” under your breath.

“So this is what you’ve been doing with every spare second?” He turned the notebook towards you. “You’ve been drawing me? You liiiiiiike meeee” his face scrunched up as he teased you.

“Oh shut up! No I don’t!”

“Yes you do! You like me! You like me! Why else would you only ever be drawing me then, huh?”

“Ugh fine! So what if I do? It’s just a couple of drawings! And besides, who would like a colossal ass such as yourself?”

“You would! Obviously.” He grinned at you as you turned away from him crossing your arms and huffed. “Oh come on y/n!” He took you by the shoulders and turned you to face him. “It’s not that big of a deal, and I don’t really blame you, I am quite amazing.” He wore a smug look on his face and subtly flexed his muscles. You rolled your eyes and began to move away but he pulled you right back, not letting go of your shoulders this time. You were now painfully aware of how close you were and the mere centimeters separating the two of you.

“I um, I have to-” You spluttered in any attempt to leave the situation. You didn’t want to meet his eyes because you knew that if you did you’d just fall for him even harder and this time you might not be able to control yourself. 

“Y/n...” Anakin’s voice was soft now and had lost it’s smugness and pride. “It’s okay, you don’t have to be ashamed. Hey, look at me.” He tilted your chin up a little bit and you reluctantly met his gaze. What you saw in his face startled you. You didn’t see that arrogant and prideful boy you knew, there wasn’t even a hint of teasing humor or cockiness in his face. Instead there was something else. Understanding, maybe? Shyness? Care? Who was this boy and what did he do with Anakin?

“It’s not okay though, I’ve broken one of the most prominent rules of the Jedi Code! I’ve fallen for someone, and another Jedi at that!”

“That makes two of us.” His voice came out as almost a whisper. You barely heard it, but when you did it took you a moment to register the gravity of his statement.

“Wait wha-?” And then the centimeters between you disappeared and his lips were on yours. Your eyes widened by then you relaxed and fell into the kiss. It was intoxicating, he was intoxicating. You had never experienced anything like it and weren’t sure you’d ever experience anything like it again. His hands came up to cup your cheeks and yours went to hold the back of his head, pulling him closer. But unfortunately, being human, you needed to breath. You separated reluctantly, but this time the space in between you buzzed with energy.

“So um...”

“Shhh no words. Just enjoy the moment.” 

“But-” Anakin placed a finger on your lips to quiet you.

“Shhh...” You obliged and gently rested your forehead on his.

After a moment of comfortable silence, he broke the quiet. “Do you think anyone saw us? What do you think will happen if the Jedi Council finds out?”

“Oh fuck the Jedi Council, what are they going to do? Get rid of their two best and youngest Jedis?” Your own words surprised you. That position was usually reserved for Anakin.

“I’d like to do that again y/n.”

“Me too...” The space began to close again and your eyes fluttered shut until the door to the banquet hall opened. You and Anakin careened away from each other to the other sides of the room.

“Ok, please tell me that wasn’t what I think it was.” Obi-Wan stood in the doorway with his arms crossed and a disapproving but humorous look on his face.

“No nope, not at all Obi-Wan.” Anakin assured him and you nodded in agreement.

“Good, because you both know the repercussions that could follow. Anakin come with me, I need to have a little chat with my young padawan.”

“But I-” He protested.

“No buts! Let's go!” He took a fistful of Anakin’s robes and began dragging him out of the hall. On his way out Anakin gave you a helpless look that you could only laugh at.

Once they left you sank down into the nearest seat hugging the notebook to your chest, still riding out the high that you had gotten from the kiss. You felt like a lovesick little schoolgirl whose crush had just winked at her from across the playground. In all your years of life you never thought you would fall so fast and so hard for anyone, let alone Anakin Skywalker. Yet here you were. And as luck, or the Force, would have it, he felt the same about you. Obviously you couldn’t be together in the conventional way, but just knowing was enough for you. 

You did not know what the future held, but what you did know was that Anakin was in it.

~~~

Taglist: @umpoedameron

#star wars #star wars imagine #imagine #Anakin Skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin-skywalker-imagines #mellow jello imagine #fanfic #star wars fanfiction

[eventidespirits]

Nicknames: Laur, Laurie Aliases: Jonathan Legerdemain, Jean Nuit Apparent Age: “30″ True Age: 51 Gender: Cis Man Pronouns: He/Him Sexuality: Demiromantic Gray-Ace Birthday: January 6th Occupation: Occultist, Bookstore Owner Species: Vampire (Nightingale) Residence: The Vista Rosa neighborhood in Santa Marta, CA.

𝔸𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖

Height: 5′10 Build: Average height, has a sort of stereotypical “scrawny nerd” sort of build with a soft layer of fat/soft belly and not a lot of muscular definition. He has long arms and legs in comparison to his torso which makes him look taller than he actually is. Face Shape: Somewhere between an oval and a diamond, his facial features are fine and delicate with a long straight nose. Eye Color/Shape: Vibrant, unnaturally bright ocean-blue with cat-like slitted pupils. Large but set deep within his face with heavy, tired looking lids and deep dark circles which gives him a sort of permanent “resting bitch face”.  Hair Color/Style: Slate Gray. Laurent’s hair is mostly straight with a slight wave to it (2A) and usually worn tied into a loose ponytail at the nape of his neck. he has long, messy bangs that usually hang in his face. Skin Color/Texture: Very pale and desaturated with a distinct yellow undertone. He has soft skin but has a lot of small scars and marks on his hands from various occult work he did while he was still a mortal. Distinguishing Features: First off, Laurent is prematurely gray. He also has a number of tattoos (a tattoo of a magical circle for protection on his back, another protection sigil on his chest over the heart, has a tattoo of an open eye on the back of his neck). He also wears glasses. Posture: Very “proper” posture -- stands straight up but there’s that slight hunch to his shoulders that comes from hours bent over books and papers. He moves very purposefully and a little bit stiffly with quiet footsteps.  Voice: Soft and understated, with the remnants of a Quebecois accent. Laurent rarely raises his voice and his speech is usually curt and clipped, possibly even seeming rude or sarcastic at times. Clothing Style: Lots of blacks and blues with some cream and charcoal. He tends to wear comfortable clothing that could pass for being formal in most situations -- black slacks, button-downs over v-necks, turtleneck sweaters and cardigans. A lot of his looks vaguely recall the 1980s when it comes to sweater choice.  Notable Mannerisms: Scrunches his nose when he’s thinking deeply about something  but otherwise seems to not have a lot of particularly unique or defining mannerisms (almost purposefully so)

𝕊𝕜𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕤

Physical: Lockpicking, breaking and entering Social: What Social Skills? Basic etiquette, subterfuge/lying, manipulation Talents: Calligraphy, Poetry, Prose, getting in over his head Knowledges: Greek, Latin, French, currently learning German, Masters in Psychology, Traditional Magic, Ritual Magic, Sigilcraft, Herbalism Hobbies: Reading, Writing, Gardening, Cooking Special: Basic Nightingale abilities, some natural magical talent (mostly lost after becoming a vampire), spirit sight, minor precognition 

ℙ𝕤𝕪𝕔𝕙𝕖

Strengths: Clever, quick witted, tenacious, detail-oriented, good concentration, inquisitive, intuitive, dedicated, loyal, strong sense of internal morals Weaknesses: overly curious, stubborn, too smart for his own good, overly self-reflective, can be cold and emotionally distant, closed off from his emotions, rude, irritable, afraid of intimacy, standoffish, shy, just generally bad at people. Goals: To gather all the knowledge there is to be had, especially where it concerns the occult; to learn proper spontaneous magic Fears: Loss of knowledge, loss of control, true death, what lurks beneath santa marta (but not enough to stop researching it) Ideals/Morals:  Laurent is willing to do almost anything to gain knowledge but there are a few things that disgust him and he finds morally abhorrent -- like hurting children or murder (notably -- he sees a difference between killing and murder but also tries to avoid killing people as a general rule unless it’s in self-defense) Guiding Philosphies: Knowledge is Power Sense of Humor: Very dry and sarcastic. He’s definitely the person to deliver a sarcastic quip with a totally straight face and it leaves people wondering if he even has  a sense of humor. Overall Personality: Laurent is kind of a prickly bastard. He’s introverted and introspective and has very little interest in being around or talking to people. He can pretend to be polite very well (and expects others to behave in a similar way). He prefers things to be well-structured and mostly predictable, he has trouble dealing with sudden intense changes. He seems very distant and cold to most people -- utterly focused on his work over anything else.

𝕃𝕚𝕗𝕖

Best Memory: Worst Memory: Biggest Accomplishment: Prized Possessions: Favorite Colors: Favorite Foods: Favorite Scents: Favorite Songs: Can't Leave Home Without:

ℍ𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪

Birthplace: Suburbs of Montreal, Quebec Childhood: Growing up, Laurent’s parents were usually very busy, both having careers that demanded a lot of their attention. He and Louis were often left to sort of fend for themselves (classic latch-key kids). Being the more shy of the twins, Laurent often relied on Louis to make friends -- having few friends that he could consider his specifically. At around the age of 11, while playing at his neighbor’s house after school with Louis, their friend Alex and his younger sister Madeline, the four of them found a oujia board and did what any group of pre-teens would do: they turned out the lights and used it. Unfortunately for the twins, the house was old and the board itself connected to a rather angry spirit that would attach itself to Louis and scare the hell out of the other three children. This is what would start Laurent’s interest in the occult but it was what would happen the next summer that would cement it as an obsession... While playing in a local park, something that Laurent could neither identify or describe beyond “a writhing mass of eyes, grasping tendrils and eyes” would pluck Alex from the face of existence -- not only taking the 12 year old but erasing any sign that he had ever existed to begin with from the minds of everyone but Laurent. 

Adolescence: At thirteen, Laurent’s family moved to Santa Marta, California. Highschool was difficult for Laurent, who had started to go prematurely gray by the time he was 14 and was shy and bookish. He had to deal with a lot of bullying and it cemented his irritability. 

He did, however, thanks to the unique nature of Santa Marta (attracting the supernatural) manage to make friends with a Witch by the name of Martin. They’d also date for about a year in secret before both decided that it just wasn’t working. However, the pair of them were obsessed with the occult and the presence of the “Old Gods” which were present in constant whispers in Santa Marta. This is where Laurent got into most of the trouble he would as a teenager -- breaking into abandoned buildings looking for ghosts and signs of the supernatural as well as getting 100% illegal tattoos in dangerous settings (most notably, he had his protection sigil done by Martin in his basement along with the eye on the back of his neck).

Somehow, probably just due to luck, Laurent never actually got in legal trouble for any of the crazy shit he did as a teen but that luck wouldn’t last.

Adulthood: In his desperate search for occult knowledge, Laurent would end up crossing paths with a woman named Claudine -- a Nightingale who was also an accomplished occultist and a powerful witch in her own right. He would end up stealing several of her important research journals and end up becoming her “assistant” at the age of twenty-one (she normally would’ve killed him for it but was impressed by his dedication and natural skill). She would keep him on as an assistant, teaching him about the occult and preparing him for life in the Nightingale Court before finally turning him in 2000.

Recent: In 2010, Claudine would disappear suddenly -- leaving behind only a note about her own research into the “thing that lurks beneath the streets of this blighted metropolis” and pointing Laurent in a similar direction. During his training with Claudine, Laurent would run into mentions of the “Myriad Eyes” multiple times, especially when researching the occult history of Santa Marta... A phrase that he quickly came to associate with the thing that had taken his childhood friend.

Currently, he’s running a bookstore in Vista Rosa called “Eigengrau Books” and living in an apartment located above the store. 

ℝ𝕖𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕡𝕤

Family: Jean DeFantome (Father; deceased), Emily DeFantome (Mother), Louis DeFantome (twin brother; estranged) Lovers: Martin Schwartz (former), Camellia O’Friel (current) Friends: Isaac Nerezza (works at his bookstore), Claudine Legerdemain (Missing) Enemies: ??? Other: ???

ℝ𝕖𝕤𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕔𝕖𝕤

Income: Middle-class Residences: A two bedroom apartment above his bookstore. Vehicles: Black 2010 Ford Fiesta Van

#Laurent DeFantome #About: Laurent #ooc

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Taking Chances 2/4

Keanu Reeves x Reader (A/n- Switching perspectives without clear divisions cause why not)

1 2 3 4 

Warnings- Brief mentions of smut, cheesy romance stuff 

Ayiana and Mark had left when the rain had slowed, and Keanu had insisted that they take the rented car back, after agreeing with Y/n that they could fend for themselves. After the couple had left though, tipsy and all over each other, the rain, as predicted by the forecast, had grown heavy again. Though, as the night waned on, most patrons, drunk and tired, had opted to bare the worst of the storm, leaving the pub scantily populated, with Keanu and his newfound friend cozied in a booth near the back, where the lights were lowest, beer bottles and empty glasses laid out on the table. By then, Y/n’s clothes were mostly dried, as was her hair, now in messy curls framing her gorgeous face. “Wait,” drunkenly, Y/n giggled, leaning in so Keanu could catch a whiff of the alluring remnants of her perfume mixing intoxicatingly with the scent of alcohol, “Say that again.”

“Okay, okay,” her fit of musical giggles were contagious and Keanu could help but grin wider as he realized how absolutely breathtaking Y/n was when she smiled, “I got up to check the air, and just like that this lady rear ends me.”

“And the bike slides out from under you?” She finished, eyes wide and her soiree interrupted by her gaping in shock.

“Basically, yeah,” Keanu nodded, “It was insane!” He laughed a bit louder, not caring how much attention they attracted, only quelling the sound when he finished off his latest drink. They’d had so many by then, that they’d both lost count and Y/n and Keanu could both safely say that they were way past drunk.

“But you were okay right?” And just like that, her glassy eyes were sparkling with genuine worry, and again, Y/n leaned in a tad bit closer. The nearer she drew, the harder it was to ignore how plump her lips were, how much Keanu wanted to kiss her. It was so strange, they didn’t know each other very well, and Keanu knew that Y/n would probably be gone by the next day; but he thought he could listen to her for a lifetime, her laugh, her voice, even her silences were enjoyable. She was so unlike anyone he’d ever met, funny, intelligent, confident, but also so very shy at times, blushing when he least expected and laughing at his worst jokes. It wasn’t forced or fake laughter either, it was real, full bodied and melodious.

“Yeah,” Keanu’s smile softened as he reassured her, still surprised by her unexpected concern, “I was standing, so everything turned out fine.” They broke into a bout of silence, a brief one, which Keanu broke, "So, what brings you to Luxembourg? I mean, you're definitely not from around here."

At that, Y/n blushed, thinking back on how she'd messed up the accents on very simple words earlier, "I'm not," she chortled quietly, they'd just been equipped with fresh drinks, and as she thought of her answer, mind to blurry to work out all the details, she spun the glass in her hand, eyeing the whiskey inside with broken focus, "I'm actually here for…...inspiration. I thought some kind of spontaneous trip would somehow get the creative juices flowing, I'm a writer, or at least, I'm supposed to be," she chuckled dryly, "I used to be a journalist."

"Career change? You didn't like it?" Keanu furrowed his brows, holding his chin in his palm, elbow planted on the table. He wanted to know everything about her, willing to listen to anything she'd say, and based on their interaction, he could tell she felt the same. 

"I did," Y/n took a sip of her drink, staring off to the cleared tables ahead wistfully, "I traveled sometimes, but usually I'd be in Washington, covering press conferences and that kind of stuff. It was pretty boring," frowning, Y/n tried to put her thoughts into words, "I always wanted to be a writer, you know, write a novel or something that people would read even when I'm gone."

Like she had back at the bar, though with the moment feeling far more intimate, Keanu took Y/n's hand, curling his fingers over hers, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles, her skin silky smooth. Her plight resonated with him, the burning desire to leave behind a legacy, make his own unique mark in the world sometimes haunted him too sometimes. "But?"

"But?" Huffing with a faint smile, Y/n shook her head, taking another lengthy sip of her drink, "But I don't know how. I mean, what am I even supposed to write about?"

"Whatever you want," Keanu chuckled with a new enthusiasm. Untangling their hands, Keanu rummaged through his pocket for his wallet, eventually producing enough cash to cover their bill and more, before standing and offering Y/n his hand, "Come on."

Confused by his erratic behavior, Y/n's lips hung agape, finding it hard to formulate any semblance of a sentence, "What're…..what?"

"Trust me?" His plea was half a question for her to actually do it and half an inquisition to gauge how much she actually trusted him.

"Trust you?" Y/n shot back incredulously, though still taking Keanu's hand, their fingers interlacing easily, feeling as if they were made to fit, "I don't even know you!" Already, they were already at the front door, and Keanu was pushing it open, pulling Y/n along as he stepped onto the slippery, wet sidewalk. The sound of the downpour, accompanied by the claps of thunder and occasional burst of lightning welcomed them. Heavy drops hit the street and pavement, splattering upwards, in some areas creating huge puddles. In an instant, even though they were still under the guard of the under-croft, their feet were soaked, water clinging to the hem of Y/n's tea length sundress and soaking her wedged sandals, while Keanu's boots were completely saturated, as were his jeans. "Is your plan to get us sick?"

"No," Keanu flashed her a mischievous grin, the act enough to add a distinct boyishness to his rugged features, despite the evidence of salt in his trimmed beard, "You're here for inspiration, so let's find you some. You know what they say about experience." 

Squaring up to brace the weather, Keanu gave her one final glance to ensure Y/n was ready too, and when her eyes complied, he led her out. In an instant, they were drenched, cold rain water matting hair to their skin and  making their clothes cling to their bodies. Y/n barely had a moment to even be concerned with how wet the contents of her bag would be, or even the fact that she was still holding Keanu's hand when there was someone at home waiting for her. All that mattered then and there was the glee on Keanu's face, how contagious it was and how much she wished they could stay like that forever. "Well where are we going for this experience?"

"This is the experience!" Keanu laughed giddily, stopping when they were stood in the middle of the deserted street to look up at the sky, "You can't tell me you've ever walked through a foreign town, with a complete stranger during a storm in the middle of the night."

It was an oddly specific situation and Y/n without even thinking of it, resigned to sharing in his excitement, "No!" It was a strain for her soft voice to combat the sounds around them, "I can't say I have." They were walking down the cobblestone street, following the gentle slope downward, occasionally stumbling as a result of all the alcohol they'd had. It was cold, though neither of them noticed; the company was warm enough, and as they walked, Y/n looked around, closed stores looking vastly different from what they were like back home. There weren't bright lights embedded in the showcase, meant to display products even during closing, and everything just seemed so beautifully vintage, straight out of a forties film noir. 

"Tell me something about yourself," Keanu broke her thoughts as they grew further and further from the pub.

Briefly, Y/n turned to him, biting her lip at how enthralling he looked like that, so picture perfect, as if a snapshot from a movie had been plucked out of a television and placed right next to her. Keanu was nothing like Noah, he was enigmatic and fascinating because of his unpredictability. He laughed easier and much louder, he was shy and bold at the same time and much to her surprise, they didn't have any sort of awkward "getting to know you" period, they'd just lapsed into familiarity in merely a few minutes. "What do you want to know?"

“Anything,” everything. Keanu grinned broadly, knowing that he’d likely be content with listening to her for the rest of his time, without ever growing tired. “Just say anything,” being with Y/n, staggering through the rain, the sound of her kitten heels on cobblestone muted by the weather and her palm warm and right in his, couldn’t be anything other than the optimum of perfection. He’d never felt that at ease with someone, so ready to bare his soul to a stranger, “And I’ll listen.”

For a brief moment, Y/n glanced at Keanu, her smile faltering, softening, as their eyes met. Part of her knew it was wrong; the way she was feeling. If she were sober, then maybe things might have been different, but Y/n’s speech was slurred and her vision was blurry. Her mind was cloudy too, bombarded only with thoughts of Keanu; how much she was enjoying having his hand in hers, how devilishly handsome he was, how desperately she wanted to kiss him. Abruptly, with a pink hue, hidden by the darkness, spreading on her cheeks, Y/n turned away, “Lets see,” she deliberated, “My favorite book is The Great Gatsby, I moved to Washington for college when I was eighteen,” she thought some more, “And I love eighties music!”

Throwing his head back in wild euphoria, Keanu gazed at her, “Were you even alive in the eighties?”

“Nope!” Y/n giggled, almost tripping, only to be caught by Keanu, who took the initiative to pull her closer. Her laughter sobered, and in the back of her mind, Y/n knew she should pull away, tell Keanu the truth, but his embrace was warmer than anything she’d ever felt, and when she stole another glance at him, only to find him gazing down at her, his expression illuminated by the flickering street lamp, all she could see was a face that seemed strange and oddly familiar simultaneously. Then it hit her, she didn’t want to tell him, Y/n wanted to live like that with him, even if just for the rest of the night. It was out-rightly selfish, and utterly wrong, but she had a feeling that Keanu was worth it. Her heart hadn’t fluttered like that in a long time, and it had been ages since she’d done something so spontaneous. 

Keanu hadn’t noted that he’d been leading Y/n in the direction of the hotel that he’d been staying at until the elegant building came into view, yellow lights glittering through the screen doors leading to individual balconies and the valet’s station vacant, possibly due to the storm. “Where are you staying tonight?” Keanu inquired as they floundered towards the front doors.

“I…..” Wide eyed, Y/n stuttered, “I have no idea,” despite her distress, she was still smiling faintly, I guess I’ll get a room here.” Already, they’d stepped through the door, greeted by the middle aged doorman who warmly welcomed the two with French salutations. Easing her hand from Keanu’s grip, moving some soaked hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear, Y/n twisted her body to rummage through the contents of her handbag, searching for her purse, in hopes that the hotel would have an unbooked room.

“Or you could just stay with me,” Keanu blurted, causing Y/n to stare up at him with a perfectly surprised expression, “Come on, it’ll be fun, we can have some more drinks, get to know each other better, it’ll be fun.” Holding his breath, Keanu hung on to the hope that she’d say yes; he really wasn’t ready to lose her company yet.

Internally, Y/n debated Keanu’s offer. It seemed appealing, and she wanted to say yes, to just go for it and see where the night took them. But she was engaged, and maybe going up there with him was taking the fun too far, she already felt like a cheater anyway. Not because of what she’d done exactly, you could hold anyone’s hand and it would mean nothing, no, the guilt had bubbled up like a broil in the pit of her stomach because of how she’d felt. You shouldn’t feel the way she did about Keanu when you had someone waiting for you to come back. To come home.

But Paris wasn’t home, and while she’d tried to make Noah her home, like he’d done with her, Y/n knew she was straying, far, far away from what was ordinarily familiar. She didn’t want familiar that night, she wanted Keanu, the thrill, the loud laughter that she’d easily sunk into, the feeling of getting lost in his whiskey eyes and the insurmountable comfort that came from simply holding his calloused hand. Y/n had the burning urge to know him, learn him, hold on and not let go. The feelings swirling around in her chest weren’t ones that Y/n thought could be built so quickly, yet there they were, and all she could say to his offer was, “Let's do it.”

Stunned by her willingness, Keanu’s features brightened tremendously, and he swore he’d never smiled so hard, “Great!” Taking her hand again, they trotted towards the elevator, leaving the deserted lobby behind, squinting at the bright lights and foggy reflections that dazzled their eyes as they entered the metal contraption. It took a minute or too, his eyes squinted and his stocky fingers fumbling until he found the ‘15’ button, hitting it harder than he should have. As they went up, they found that the air in there was colder than it had been downstairs, and when a shiver ran through Y/n, Keanu, without thinking of it, wiggled his fingers out of hers, proceeding to drape his long arm over her shoulders, reeling her in.

Instinctively, Y/n nuzzled into his side, reveling in the warmth that radiated off his body despite his soaked outfit, swallowing tightly as she tilted her head upwards, only to find that Keanu was studying her, his expression soft, though wanting. No one had ever looked at her like that, not even Noah; like she was everything that mattered, all wrapped up in one person. Like she held the clarity to every unanswerable question in her eyes. Like love could be simply contained in a stare. Love? Love. For probably the first time since they’d sat down in the pub, Y/n stopped smiling, though, it was only because the giddiness had been replaced by something more…….consuming. Thoughts of drinks and a chat late into what remained of the night dispersed, and the lump in her throat only thickened. Tell him, one voice urged, while the more careless one pleaded with her to just let things unfold. One night with a man who’d made her feel like she was the only woman in the world couldn’t be so bad, could it?

As if it were fated, their faces gravitated towards each other, just as Y/n turned slightly in Keanu’s embrace, cocking her head to the side. His lips were barely a hair away from descending upon hers and she could readily smell the alcohol on his breath, mixing with the scent of the rain and a long smoked cigarette. Altogether, it was alluring, and Y/n wondered if the next day she’d be able to go back to a life without it; if she’d be able to leave Keanu behind. She didn’t want to find out. As he came closer, her breath hitched, the soft sound contained in the hollow of her throat, and right as it was about to happen, right as she was about to finally break a sacred promise, the elevator dinged, the doors sliding open, ready to the deposit the pair on the sleepy hallway of the hotel’ fifteenth floor.

“We should…..” Keanu trailed off, not able to quite shake off the feeling that had prompted him to try to initiate a kiss in the elevator, though still leading Y/n towards his room, down the end of the hall. Secretly, he hoped that the moment could be rekindled when they reached their destination, it would be a lie if he’d said he hadn’t wanted to kiss Y/n since the moment they’d met. The thought had bounced around in his head all night, hope building in his chest every time their eyes locked, but the time never seemed as right as it had until they were in the elevator. Clumsily, he shoved his key card into the designated slot, swearing under his breath when he’d gotten it wrong the first two times, the mood only lightened by Y/n’s incessant giggles at his plight from nearby. When Keanu finally got it right, he was the first to enter, though she was close on his heels as he slapped the light switch near the door. 

Still laughing, Y/n barely noticed the kink in the carpet in the threshold, getting caught in her shoe, resulting in her stumbling forward and right into Keanu’s arms. Luckily though, he caught her, his hands planted on her waist, bunching up the fabric of her pleated, dusty rose colored dress, beneath her cropped leather jacket. Even when she was steadied, Keanu’s grip remained, only loosening to slip to her hips. Feeling the air around them grow electric once again, Y/n took the tiniest step forward, only just registering how close they’d already been. Once again, Keanu was staring at her, the way he had been during their moment in the elevator, “He looked at her the way all women wanted to be looked at by a man,” she quoted breathlessly, not quite sure why she’d felt the need to do that, her lips already ghosting Keanu’s.

“What?” Keanu knitted his brows, his arms moving again to circle Y/n’s waist, his tongue hurriedly darting out to moisten his lips as she stood on the tips of her toes to reach him better. 

Raising her hands, Y/n tangled her fingers in his shaggy, wet mane, when the other hand cupped his neck, feeling his scruff tickle her thumb. Barely, she registered the low twinkle of her engagement ring, occasionally made mute by the bursts of lightning that brightened the suite. “Nothing,” Y/n leaned in. Heartbeat to heartbeat, quick breaths in sync and minds only focused on one thing, they finally let it happen. Hot lips, meeting, taking a minute to feel each other out, slow and sweet as Y/n tasted him for the first time, though, growing passionate when their tongues warred. Better judgment was never going to prevail, and when Keanu found the edges of her jacket, pushing it off, she let him, thoughts of anything and everything that was outside of their bubble, fade away.

******

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi  @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves  @planetkt  @iworshipkeanureeves​

#keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves x you #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick fanfic #fanfic #fanfction #keanu reeves ff #ff #john wick ff #fluff #taking chances #2/4 #ansgt #john wick fanfiction #keanu reeves fanfiction

[talltales]

pair:   jackson / reader desc:   decay gives way to life         through time, and time only words:  2k rated:  15+ genre:  drama/romance notice: sequel to safe harbor gifted: to @alrightyaphroditie​ and @dawnofus, for their requests

                           —AND THE SIGHTS WERE AS STARK AS MY BABY                                    AND THE COLD WAS AS SHARP AS MY BABY

she is a dangerous, seamless sort of woman—filled to the brim with a fusion of beauty and chaos. it suits her in the same way that red suits roses, jackson thinks, after she’s drifted to sleep with her fingers curled under his shirt.

he can’t really imagine it being any other way.

it takes several minutes to pull himself out of her grasp, half for her determination to chase his heat and half for his own hesitation to leave hers—a balancing act in more ways than one, centered on the growing ambiguity between what is and what could be.

ninety-six days.

in the dark, he turns to watch her curl into a ball beneath the thick blankets, fending off the cold that he leaves in his wake. a glance at the window reveals only the pitch blackness of night, rain dimly lit by the glow of the moon. the smell of it lingers in the air like a cloud of smoke. but jackson has learned to breathe it and draw strength from it.

the rain is plague and sustenance—fortune and fury. the only mercy that it ever granted was the leveling of those deadly tides. somewhere, he supposed, the dam holding those waters in the city had broken and it was flowing unchecked, into the surrounding lands.

maybe there were people still out there. maybe they’d already left.

he finds it hard to care, regardless. the center of his concerns mumbles in her sleep against her pillow, lashes fluttering against the onslaught of her own dreams.

wordlessly, he slips into the kitchen and allows his fingers to trail along the pots that litter the tables between; the beginnings of a flower garden, with seeds nestled deep into rich soil. potential lies locked within them and jackson has taken to waiting with her, holding onto bated breath for the first sprout to breach the earth from below.

she’d taken to gardening with less fuss than he’d imagined. once she’d grasped the basic concepts she was unstoppable.

the network of lights crossing the ceiling beams is his own contribution, offered in lieu of laundry duties for the week. it was a simple enough trade. jackson pretends that the veiled excitement in her eyes had nothing to do with it.

with a quick look over his shoulder, he assures himself that she’s still sleeping. practiced hands open the drawers and cabinets that contain a simple mixing bowl, the sugars and flours and miscellaneous things required for his task. a small packet with a faded label lays beneath his fingers when he’s done and examining the ingredients with an engineer’s eye.

he begins his work.

fifty-one days.

he’s given his first taste of hope. there is promise in the quieting of those deadly waters, and jackson—reasonably, he thinks—decides to act upon it. when he dons his raincoat and ventures down the stairs instead of up, he dares to believe that something could change.

it takes all of two days to get her to stop screaming and let him leave the shelter they’d made for themselves. it takes a day longer to stop her crying.

the first time, all he finds is a dozen corpses between them and the building next door, sunken beneath the waters and reaching for the slate grey skies. jackson learns again not to look down. the second, he finds a rowboat to tow into the hollowed out shelter of the first floor. it’s a fruitful journey that exceeds the bounty of the last, and the two to come.

there isn’t a soul alive as far as he goes, but there are empty units; apartments and small groceries situated above expansive garages. he empties each little by little, building his bachelor’s apartment into something better resembling a home, one piece at a time.

the grocery has a generator. he spends the better part of two weeks dismantling it and transporting the parts, and another week stocking their newly functioning refrigerator with the spoils of his afternoon journeys. it beats dragging their bagged perishables from cold, dirty water.

he brings back books. art. board games.

when he unloads the latter, jackson hears her laugh for the first time in months. the sound draws his eye upward, along the stair-line to where she stands. startled, with a quivering hand held over her mouth.

she cries for the next two hours.

the grieving process, he supposes, is a messy thing. particularly when the loss is not of a single person but an entire world. she folds herself into his coat when he opens it, crawling across his lap and burrowing to the warmth hidden beneath. jackson can’t say he minds the contact when his eyes begin to burn; when it gets harder to shove it back and back and back. there are other times for those sorts of things.

there are always other times.

seventy-five days.

“do you think that we’ll ever taste fruit again?” the question comes quietly, murmured between spoonfuls of chicken soup and the flickering of the candlelight, “or eggs? are there even farms anymore?”

there is an absence in her voice; an airy quality that makes her seem as if she’ll blow away in the slightest wind. but her eyes are fixed upon him—holding his gaze with no give.

she is daring him, jackson realizes.

challenging him to feed her more hope, when he is clinging to that first and only taste of it from weeks before. she is a dangerous, seamless sort of woman. beauty and chaos. it suits her in a way that red suits roses. he can’t really imagine it being any other way.

but, there are no more roses.

there are no more fruit.

“if i find a melon out there, you’ll be the first to know,” he says instead, biting his tongue against the spiked words that he wants to inflict upon her—quiet retaliation for making him think.

“my birthday is in three weeks. you better hurry.”

there is no humor in her smile; merely pain.

eighty-one days.

and though logic argues against any effort, he ventures ever further into the outskirts in the city when the rain relents; in search of rooftop gardens that haven’t been washed away, markets that aren’t swelling with the sickly sweet scent of rotten fruit.

if she notices his efforts, she says nothing. her only answer to the packet of rose seeds laying in her palm is a soft sigh—“putting me to work, are you?”

“i figured it was time,” he watches her bite her lip before she steps closer, past the ever-shrinking boundaries between them to strip away the heavy layers of his outerwear.

the seeds vanish into her pocket.

“you would.”

their banter gives way to silence, as it does of late. he preoccupies himself with the easy way she smoothes his damp hair from his face, tucking it behind his ear. there is care in her movements, clouded as it is by her usual bristling demeanor.

“now that’s what i call a tragedy,” she whispers, busying her fingers with the buttons of his shirt—through the violent shivers rattling his bones, jackson realizes that she is talking about him, “you’re a mess.”

his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth; every thought skitters to a stop at the tentative smile playing across her lips. finally, he finds his words and pushes them out as she peels the wet fabric down his shoulders, “watch your mouth. you, of all people, should understand what i’m trying to do here.”

it has the intended effect. her lips press together as she winds the soaked clothing into a ball and tosses it into the waiting metal bin with the rest of their wash.

“yeah, i do.” she levels a look at him—sharp and bittersweet; filled with a secret that he isn’t meant to know. “you’re trying to get yourself killed going out there for something that you think i want more than i want you here. safe.”

as if the air has been drawn out of her, she drifts to the window and remains there, back turned and arms crossed over her waist.

whatever glimpse he’d caught of joy in her is lost.

he is lost.

ninety-six days.

he only notices that she’s awake by the sound of her muted footsteps, crossing the space between them—his attention is on the improvised stand and the smoother held between his fingers. the tips of them are caked in a layer of vanilla icing that is nothing short of an assault on the senses.

“you’re making a cake,” she asks, and it is anything but a question. how could she wonder, after all, when the evidence is laid out before her?

“and you’re distracting me,” muttering, jackson sets aside the smoother and wipes his hand on his t-shirt before picking up the half-full piping bag of forest green icing. the only color he could find, as it were. “go get cleaned up, we’re having breakfast.”

when he spares her a glance, she is watching him with a strange look—lips parted as if to speak—before she enters their small kitchen space and begins digging for a skillet, “we’re not eating cake for breakfast.”

“it’s your birthday. why not?”

he pauses when he hears the telltale sniffle, faint enough that it almost slips beneath the click of the gas being turned on. from the refrigerator, she pulls a small bottle of plant-based eggs and pours them onto the heating pan, “because it’s my birthday, and i say so.”

“heard.”

they work in comfortable quiet, steadily through the dull echoes of rain washing over the roof. the constancy of it lulls him into a daze. it’s easy to work in, he finds, while piping amateurish decorations onto the perimeter of the cake.

he tops the piped icing with diced pieces of dried melon.

it looks good enough.

he’s in the middle of writing her name across the top when he feels warmth at his back; a soft heat that sinks into his bones and makes it hard to focus, “what is it?”

her words are muffled against the fabric of his shirt—face pressed into the expanse between his shoulders, “you really get on my nerves sometimes, you know? you’re so fucking pragmatic about this whole thing that i wonder if you've even grasped the reality of what happened.”

she exhales, and the sound is shaky at best. teary at worst.

frozen, jackson listens—tries to quell the racing of his heart. it pounds rebelliously against his ribcage, but he keeps his voice even, “and?”

“but i realize that i needed that. more than i needed to be coddled like a child. as far as we know, it’s just the two of us now anyways. so i might as well learn how to see the good in what you do.”

her grip tightens, fingers curling into the front of his shirt. it’s far from the first time that she’s been this close; far from the first time that he’s felt the effects of it—a residual glow at the edges of his thoughts.

giddiness, he labels it, before shoving into a box reserved for things he does not need to think about.

“i love you.”

but there is no box for that.

“i love you,” she repeats, so softly that he can barely hear it. but jackson can feel her lips moving against his back, “you don’t have to reciprocate—“

“i do.”

slowly, he sets down the piping bag and lays it next to the almost almost finished cake.

it takes effort to loosen her grasp on him and turn around; to think past the voice in his head roaring that this is a bad idea. this is the very thing that he’d been trying to avoid, living in such cramped quarters with the only soul he’d dared to bring into his sanctuary.

looking back, it’d been her, the pretty barista with the prettier smile that’d drawn him downstairs in the first place—hoping that he’d be fortunate enough to find her standing behind the counter, making his favorite drink.

he’d gotten lucky, looking back.

“i do,” he admits, threading his fingers through her hair. as her head dips into the crook of his neck, jackson allows himself to breathe. she smiles, and he feels it against his skin—

beauty and chaos. it suits her in the same way that red suits roses.

he can’t really imagine it being any other way.

“i do.”

for longer than you’ll ever know.

                           and the nights were as dark as my baby                            half as beautiful too

#request #member + prompt #jackson wang fanfic #got7 fanfic #label: x

[aka-indulgence]

BOOK ‘EM

Commission for @exilemmc!

thanks for commissioning me! ^u^

Ao3 link

(SF!Sans/OC)

Sans has been given the task of chasing down a criminal, a monster that has been attacking passerby around the city.

He is a monster with a sense of justice... so he takes it. Little does he realize how different his 'pursuit' will be once he actually meets her.

The city smelled like summer heat, even though the day was starting to get old, the sky becoming dark, painted gold and red. Cars whizzed by, making blurs of red and white on the streets below, while street lamps start to turn on. A myriad of people were walking under them, brushing past to get through the after-work rush as fast as possible, to go home.

 Sans was sat on top of a foldable chair, his gloved fingers linked together, two dots in his sockets scrutinizing the road below, darting from human to human, looking for the odd one out. He was sitting above the crowd, on the roof of a decently sized building he’d been given permission to use as an observation platform. He had a monster energy drink (not the branded human drink- an energy drink specifically made for monsters to boost their magic) on a box next to him, along with a couple of snacks he’d bought from the convenience store below. He’s doing a stakeout at the moment. He’s been hunting for information this last week, and now that he thinks he’s gotten enough, he’s waiting for a certain individual to show up on this street.

 It’s been about 5 years since monsters have broken the barrier and escaped to the surface. Things are much better now than they were before; monsters have managed to integrate with human society and for the most part, everyone has grown accustomed to living side by side. It hadn’t been smooth sailing at the start, with the crimes monsters have done to fallen humans and their previous brutality in the underground. But through negotiations their ambassador Chara and the royal family, the humans had, albeit reluctantly, let monsters come to live on the surface.

 Monsters had basic rights. They were now able to use gold as currency to buy homes, food, supplies, all their basic needs. They could get jobs and open businesses, drive, and get healthcare (though most of that was run by monsters since human and monster biology differs so vastly, even amongst themselves). It would seem good, but it is by no means perfect.

 There’s still the problem of racism. While monsters were given rights, businesses still could turn monsters away if they didn’t want them around their establishment. There were restaurants that would turn monster patrons away, groceries that wouldn’t let monsters shop there, or even someone blatantly telling them to “fuck off” when they were in a public space, where  everyone  is supposed to be able to be in. With every monster’s history in the underground, most would be inclined to strike back, the instinct to not look weak still ingrained in their very dust… but they couldn’t do anything like that, not on the surface. It’s ridiculous how some people can be, but it’s still better than what it was when they first escaped. There are much more explicitly monster-friendly businesses everywhere now, and the majority of people don’t tolerate monster-racism. But it’s still here, and they prove to be most troublesome when a monster finds themselves alone with racists.

 What’s worse than racists was that though monsters have been granted most of the basic rights, after a while they soon found they were omitted one right. When a crime is committed against a monster, whether it be by monster or humans, they found that the police like to turn the blind eye. When they first monsters came to the surface, they pretended to care. They took in cases, conducted investigations, but as time went on, they took less and less. They never take action when a monster finds trouble. Their excuse is that they “don’t deal with magic”, that monsters should be able to fend for themselves. They can’t get involved if an “encounter” happens, even though that usually isn’t the case. And when a monster DOES try to defend themselves against a human, police wouldn’t hesitate to disarm them.

 Monsters couldn’t rely on the human police.

 When the barrier fell down, the royal family had considered disbanding the royal guard, since there was no need to capture humans anymore. They never did. When it became apparent that the human police weren’t going to keep monsters safe, the royal guard stepped up to take that position. They operated differently from the human police, following an amended version of their regulations from Underground (no immediate ‘executions’), and are only followed when someone aggravates monsters. There would be times where the police will file a complaint to them for one reason or another (they don’t like how they do things, or how they’re handling  their own  situation), but they never manage to go past complaints. Monsters have a clear case. If the police aren’t going to help monsters, then they’re going to take matters into their own hands and claws.

 Sans had just gotten home that day after patrolling around his section, calling out for his brother when he heard a knock on the door. Sans was immediately on guard when he saw the human police standing there in front of him. Sans was expecting for more of their bullshit, but he was surprised when they asked him for assistance. When they tell him they needed help in capturing a monster, Sans had laughed in their faces.

 “WHY WOULD  I  ASSIST IN YOU CAPTURING MY OWN KIND? YOU’VE NEVER HELPED US WHEN WE WERE IN TROUBLE. WHY SHOULD I GIVE YOU SOMETHING YOU WOULDN’T GIVE BACK?”

 They plead to him, asking that he hear them first. They have been getting reports of a monster from all around the city, assaulting people for seemingly no reason, and they’ve been looking to capture them, to no avail. They get Sans’ attention as they explain, because though Sans wants to teach them a lesson, it also doesn’t sit well with him to just let a monster attacking humans left and right. They show him some files and documents, one of them with a clipped picture one witness had caught when they attacked. It was blurry and dark, the figure in question moving fast enough that the picture of them didn’t come out quite clear. They don’t tell him directly, but Sans knew they were desperate. They’re normally too prideful to ever ask monsters for help, but this time.. they went to Alphys for help, only to be directed to him, one of her best front workers.

 So he took it.

 “ON ONE CONDITION. YOU HAVE TO LET ME WORK  MY WAY.  YOU DO NOT GET IN MY WAY, AND… YOU WILL STOP TREATING MONSTERS AS IF THEY DON’T EXIST. SHOW THAT YOU CARE ABOUT THEM, LISTEN WHAT THEY HAVE TO SAY, I DON’T CARE HOW YOU DO IT. EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU, AT LEAST IN THIS CITY.”

 They accepted his deal surprisingly fast, and that was what lead Sans here.

 Sans has been studying all the information they’ve gathered and has done a bit of hunting himself. He took in all the newer reports, but he hadn't managed to actually meet the offender. He came to the conclusion that the culprit likes to target the richer areas of the city, far from monster residents. It struck him as odd that they could get this far without being spotted or being seen as suspicious. Monsters never really come here. The few times they do, they stick out like a sore thumb- monsters don’t really like the area, from how it seems most racists like to hang around there. It makes sense to Sans, considering how it’s far from where more monsters are. When he came here people were staring at him, though there was a policeman nearby, just to make sure no one was going to hinder him trying to do his job protecting  them.

 It’s been hours since he’d sat here. The sun has long set by now, and stars have started to appear in the dark sky. It’s late, but not  too  late. Not for him, anyways. There are much fewer people walking on the streets now, only one or two on each sidewalk. It’s very quiet.

 Sans has become accustomed to the violence in the Underground, having to be on watch every second he’s out. He always makes sure he isn’t showing any weaknesses, even if he thinks no one is watching. For that reason, Sans won’t admit to himself that he’s starting to get tired, even as his teeth parts a little, disguising his yawn as a sigh. He’s too prideful.  IT’S ONLY BEEN A LITTLE WHILE, I’VE SPENT DAYS WITHOUT SLEEP, THIS IS NOTHING.

 His sockets have been open for a while now. And though skeletons don’t need to blink, he still gets the occasional urge to close his sockets, to rest them for a while… but he won’t let himself. He has to watch the streets at all times, lest he misses something. He doesn’t want to admit it to himself, but he’s starting to lose focus. Watching a mostly uneventful street for hours on end starts to get boring for a while, and even his vigilance has its limits. Without looking away, Sans’ hand reaches out to grab his energy drink, only looking away as he tilts his skull up so that the liquid wouldn’t spill over his jacket. He finishes a sandwich, wiping his (already clean) bony ‘lips’ with a tissue, and he sweeps the streets with his eyelights for the umpteenth time-

 When he hears the scream of a woman.

 Sans is immediately on his feet, eyelights darting to the source of the sound, and he sees the culprit in action, having already struck the woman on the side of her head, falling unconscious.

 The street was empty now apart from the three individuals, leaving the sidewalk clear for him. Sans  jumps  off the building, gloved hand sliding down a sturdy pipe, catching onto a canopy of the very convenience store Sans visited just earlier, landing on the ground with relatively light force  .  He starts sprinting towards the criminal, now crouching down in front of the victim, his hand out, ready to pull them into an encounter to stop them from escaping.

 Sans takes a short observation of this ‘monster’. He certainly doesn’t recognize them… and Sans has to recognize a lot of monsters.

 “STOP RIGHT THERE!” Sans shouts when he’s come close enough to have their soul in range for an encounter. Sans  could  have just rushed them and struck them down, but with how things were in the Underground, with how many dirty, backstabbing monsters there were, rarely a fair fight in sight… even with his EXP, he didn't like stooping that low… even if they were a criminal, he wanted them to know he was coming. He was about to reach their soul with his magic- when their head snaps to look at him, and Sans stops in his tracks as they stare at him.

 Sans was frozen as the culprit makes eye contact with him. Sans’ eyelights dart everywhere around them, and in that short time-space, Sans could get a few things. Their face was covered by an oni mouth mask. This is no monster… but a human in a mask. And from the scent they carry, Sans gathers that this individual is female. He can’t help but pay attention to all of her. A sort of  wave  had washed over his soul when he first saw her eyes, and for a few seconds, Sans stands still.

 She take the chance and runs off, breaking whatever spell she had put over Sans.

 Sans shakes his head. “I SAID STOP!” Sans shouts as he starts to run. “I DON’T WANT TO HURT YOU, BUT I WILL USE FORCE IF NECESSARY!”

 She moved much faster than Sans anticipated, having made much more distance between her and him. Sans was fast and started to gain on her, when she made a sharp turn into an alleyway. Sans follows soon after, and he spends some time chasing her there, turning left, right, right again, before turning left… it was like she was weaving him into some sort of web, she knew where she was going. Sans could run fast, he kept barely missing her over the tight and tighter alleys, until all Sans could see was a leg sticking out from behind a wall as he turned the corner… and she disappeared completely.

 Sans had lost her.

 Sans’ running slowly comes to a halt as he has to tell himself to stop. He couldn’t find her now, and he couldn’t waste energy just blindly going through this maze for the chance that he might find her. By that time, she probably would’ve escaped these back alleys completely while he was still stuck here.

 Sans returns, walking slowly as he remembers what path he took to get where he was, making his way back to where that lady had been knocked out cold.

 He took the time to help her up to hand her to the police (humans would be suspicious of him if he had brought a hurt human woman to a hospital). She had slapped his hand away angrily when he got to her, telling him not to touch him, even as he ushered her to the nearest police office.

 He isn’t bothered by her at all, having been distracted along the way. There was a lingering feeling in his soul from the encounter… still strong too. He’s never felt anything like that. He taps his chin for a while as he tries to decipher it, before he quickly snaps himself out of his thoughts.  NOT THE TIME TO THINK ABOUT THAT.  Instead, he puts his attention to the information he’s gathered from the meeting. She got away, but that’s alright. There’d be the next time, and he’d be much more prepared then.

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

It’s been weeks now, and Sans hasn’t managed to catch them. However, from all his  Cops and Robbers  he’s done with her, he knows much more than he did when he first had that stakeout.

 They don’t choose targets randomly. He found that they always go after humans, and those humans seem to always be racist, monster-phobic, bigoted people. Sans doesn’t have to even know their history; every time Sans came to help them, they’d always react aversely to him. It’s interesting to him, as he unravels what her possible motivations are from what he’s gathered. The meeting that night was far from the last encounter he had with her he’s met her a couple of more times after that, but every time, they’d been quick on their feet. No matter how quiet or hidden he thinks he was being, she’d always turn around right when he’s nearby and run to their nearest escape a soon as Sans tried to take a hold on their soul.

 It put a bruise on his ego, for he has taken pride in the fact he’s been so good at doing things like this from his experience in the Underground, yet this human has always found a way to elude him. Though, he has suspicions that he might know what causes it.

 Every time Sans met her, he gets that same feeling in his soul. It reacts to her, in a way he doesn’t understand… something novel, and a little scary, if he’s to be honest with himself. At first he was afraid that the human has some sort of magic- who knows, maybe now that monsters were back on the surface humans had learned to get in touch with their magic? But no. If she really did have magic, he would’ve known, and she probably would’ve used it on the humans too, if she wanted to play the part of a monster, but that wasn’t the case. Not only that, but he always felt oddly… good(?) whenever he does encounter her. He’s caught himself getting excited every time he heads out to look for her, almost  longing  for another encounter, before he stops himself, realizing how odd of a thought that was. He’s uncomfortable that something was happening to his soul because of a human, and for something he doesn’t know. He’s a  monster , and in the many battles he’s been through, he knows a lot about the things people could do to souls. But not this.

 …

 Sans shakes his skull. It’s no matter, now wasn’t the time to think about her, or whatever it is happening to his soul. He’s not on duty today, if only because he has to retrieve his bike. It’d broken down about a week earlier for some unknown reason, and he’s sent it to get it looked at, then fixed up.

 Sans was walking there, legs moving with haste, impatient to get his ‘baby’ back. Right before he left, Papyrus had offered Sans a ride in his coupe. Sans had quickly declined despite his brother’s insistence. Papyrus’ coupe is a  toy  coupe, and Papyrus had been standing beside it, ridiculously tall for the ‘car’, the kind where your feet was its engine and turning the wheel doesn’t actually steer the car.

 “c’mon bro, it’d be much less tiring and way more fun than just walking,”

 “PAPYRUS, I REFUSE TO MAKE A  FOOL  OUT OF MYSELF BY RIDING THAT SILLY LITTLE CONTRAPTION WITH YOU.” Sans had scoffed, dodging the vehicle deliberately in the case Papyrus decided to just shove him in anyways. It wasn’t even that far, near the outskirts of the city where most monsters had made it their home. Sans walks with quick, confident strides.

  UNLIKE HIM, I DON’T TAKE THINGS THE LAZY WAY.

 He does way more taxing physical activities often anyways.

 After a while, Sans approaches the mechanic’s shop. As soon as he gets to the door, the mechanic, James (or Mint, as most people liked to call him) stands up and greets him.

 “Hey Sans, welcome. Here for your bike?” Mint meets him at the door.

 He’s a big man, taller than Sans, in blue overalls, a rolled-up shirt under, with parts of it with oil stains on. It strained a little against his arms, muscular, tattoos covering them. To some humans, he might have an intimidating disposition, but one look in his hazel eyes and Sans knew he must be much kinder than he looks to be.

 “OF COURSE, JAMES. IT’S THE ONE THING I’VE WISHED FOR IN THE UNDERGROUND, IT’S PRECIOUS TO ME.”

 “Yes, you told me... and Sans, you know Mint is good by me?”

 “YES, I KNOW, JAMES. HOWEVER I LIKE TO BE CORDIAL WITH THE PEOPLE AROUND ME. DON’T ASK ME WHY, I JUST LIKE IT THAT WAY.”

 “Well…. ok then.” Mint’s smile turned lopsided for a while, but just taking it as  that’s just how Sans is,  he turned and lead the skeleton to the table where the expensive purple-accented bike stood.

 “Here you go, all fixed. There was a problem with the wiring and I had to clean your throttle, with some other things… nothing major really. It’s should be up and running now.”

 “AH, EXCELLENT,” Sans nodded, his eyelights shining brighter when he finally reunited with his dear motorcycle. “SO I CAN TAKE IT BACK NOW, JAMES?”

 “Yes of course,” Mint replied good-naturedly, but he stops Sans before he goes to haul the motorcycle off the table himself.

 “Wait just a second, I still need to get your papers.”

 “PAPERS?”

 “Yeah. I have to hand you the papers about what I did with your bike and the problems it had. Regulations these days, some mechanics can be real scummy.” Mint shook his head before giving Sans a small, teasing grin. “I thought you were all about formality.”

 Sans gives Mint a toothy grin, trying to be thankful but realizing he might be coming off as threatening. Mint turns around, shouting to somewhere else in the shop.

 “Hey Victor! Can you get me the papers on my desk? It has SANS written on it!”

 “Coming Mint!” a voice responds from somewhere in the hallway behind him. He hears footsteps. Sans had been mostly “off”, noting that there was nothing of interest or worth giving attention to in this place, but… Sans blinked, brows furrowing between his sockets. An odd, but familiar feeling starts to flood Sans’ chest, focusing on his soul. Sans turns around just in time to see…

 Her.

 She’s wearing a black-neon shirt that hung loose over her frame and dark brown khakis. Her hair was in an undercut style, with a ponytail hanging off behind her. She had hazel eyes, two studs on her left brow, and a ring in her lower lip, right in the middle. Sans couldn’t help but take in every detail on her, his soul was alight in his ribcage, much more responsive now when he’s actually seeing her.

 “Oh, let me introduce you- this is my daughter, Victor.” Mint gestures Victor closer to him, standing her in front of Sans. “Victor, this is Sans from that monster royal guard.”

 “Yeah, I’ve heard a bit of him,.” Victor chuckles. “What’s wrong, Sans? You look a bit surprised. Didn’t expect Victor to be a girl, didn’t you?”

 Sans stood up a little straighter when he realizes he’s been staring at Victor for maybe a bit longer than what was socially acceptable. Sans clears his ‘throat’ and shakes his head. “NO, THAT WASN’T WHAT I WAS THINKING AT ALL. MONSTERS DON’T REALLY HAVE THESE ‘STEREOTYPICAL’ GENDER NAMES… BUT I DIGRESS.”

 Sans shoots her his best smirk, his sockets lidding. “I WAS JUST THINKING OF HOW WELL YOU’RE DRESSED, VICTOR. I DON’T SEE A STYLE LIKE THAT OFTEN, AND I QUITE LIKE IT.”

 Sans raises an easy brow when he sees that Victor has a little blush on her cheeks, her eyes widening a little. Her teasing smile had fell too, and it stroked Sans’ ego more than he expected to see her reaction.

  MUST NOT BE USED TO COMPLIMENTS.

 The mood is lifted a little when Mint asks Victor for the papers, rifling through them as he checks if everything is in order. He’s nodding and humming but stops as he gets near the end, an awkward cough coming out of his throat.

 “Oh, wait up a sec. So sorry about this Sans,” Mint exhales. “There’s a lil’ something I haven’t touched on. Just give me a few minutes and you’ll be back on the road in no time.”

 “SURE THING, TAKE YOUR TIME,” Sans says, his voice almost saturated with happiness. Perfect. Just what he needed.

This must be it. This is  her.  She’s the one that Sans has been chasing all this time. He doesn’t have any evidence yet, but he  knows . Try as he may, he’s never felt that little jitter in his soul outside of any encounters with the culprit he’s been after (and he has been, trying to find out what exactly is happening to his soul).

  IT HAS TO BE HER.

 A few minutes is more than enough time for him to get to know her a little.

 “WELL THEN. VICTOR, RIGHT?” Victor had jumped a bit when Sans greeted her. She must’ve not expected him to say hello to her. “I UNDERSTAND THAT YOU KNOW OF ME BUT LET ME INTRODUCE MYSELF PROPERLY. I AM SANS OF THE ROYAL GUARD, AND UNDERGROUND I WOULD’VE TOLD YOU I’VE COME TO CAPTURE YOU, BUT THAT IS NOT THE CASE NOW.”

 Sans sees Victor teething her lips a bit, and Sans laughs. “OH DON’T WORRY NOW, THAT WAS BACK WHEN WE STOLE SOULS AND CONSUMED THEM FOR POWER.”

 Victor blinked at him, and Sans has to hold in a laugh.

 “NOW, I EAT CEREAL. IT’S WAY TASTIER THAN A SOUL AND HAS NUTRITIOUS VALUE TOO.”

 There was silence for a while.

 And then Victor laughed.

 “Wait no…” she snickered, “you sounded so much scarier earlier.”

 “WHAT, A HEALTHY BALANCED BREAKFAST NOT INTIMIDATING?” Sans made a good-natured grin when Victor laughed again. “BUT THAT’S ENOUGH ABOUT ME. I WAS WONDERING… VICTOR IS AN INTERESTING NAME.”

 “Oh, yeah, that’s because it’s not my ‘real’ name.” Victor chuckled. “It’s short for my name.”

 “IS THAT SO? THEN WHAT IS YOUR FULL NAME, MIGHT I ASK?” Sans asks, making sure to make his smile coy.

 Victor eyes Sans’ grin funnily, starting to look a bit nervous from the…  aura  he was exuding. “It’s Victoria,” she tells him. “Victoria Rosalind.”

 “ VICTORIA?”  Victor’s face fell when she hears Sans’ voice, smooth and deep, her name rolling off his tongue like melted chocolate. Sans is quick to memorize her name, repeating it in his skull over and over again.

 “I HAVE TO ADMIT… IT’S QUITE THE BEAUTIFUL NAME. FITTING FOR A LADY SUCH AS YOURSELF.”

 Victor had raised her hand, a finger messing with her lip ring. Sans could tell she was nervous… but she was nervous in the way that had her blushing.

 “Y-yeah, Mint and I call myself that because it’s funny how some people react to see that I’m not a guy.”

 “SO… YOU WOULDN’T MIND IF I CALLED YOU VICTORIA?” Sans tilts his head. “I LIKE TO CALL EVERYONE BY THEIR PROPER NAMES. I CALL YOUR ‘MINT’ AS JAMES.”

 “Uh… I guess that’s fine? Though no one really calls me that,” Victor smiles anxiously, her cheeks now a bright red.

 Sans smirks at her receptiveness, and his natural flair starts to appear. He lays the charm on her, making casual talk with a hint of  something more  underneath it all. He compliments her, asks for her favorite activities, all while keeping his distance, watching all of her reactions.

 “MY, I REALLY CAN’T STOP LOOKING AT YOU. DO YOU ALWAYS DRESS THIS WELL, OR IS IT JUST A SHOW FOR ME?” Sans starts leaning on the empty table beside them.

 “I- uh…” she’s covered her mouth now. Sans would’ve stopped if he found her to be uncomfortable, but she seems to enjoy this new attention, though maybe a bit overwhelmed. “I like wearing these clothes, I guess. This shirt especially is nice for when I’m out.”

 “OH, WHAT DO YOU USUALLY DO?”

 “I like photography! There are some really cool spots I know, and I like to visit them to get a snap here and there.”

 “I SEE. IF YOU’D LET ME, I’D LOVE TO SEE THEM.”

 “Oh… yeah! If you want?”

 With his style and clear display of  interest  in her, to anyone, it wouldn’t look like Sans was trying to probe her for information. Even to him, he really wasn’t doing this just to find out more about her. Yes, that’s what he intended, but now that he sees how she is outside of her little “outings”, Sans finds that he really does like her. She was bold, yet shy whenever Sans brought the topic to her. Talking to her made his soul vibrate, much stronger and in a clearly positive way compared to his previous encounters with her.

 Soon enough, the two get interrupted by Mint.

 “Here you go Sans,” he says, giving the bike a little pat. “It’s all ready for riding now.”

 Sans’ grin twists a little, pondering for a moment if he should make an innuendo out of that, if only to see Victor’s reaction. He isn’t the kind to be so… graphic with his words. That wasn’t really his style, and he’s usually one to avoid being so inelegant, but for her, he’s willing to do a lot of things to get another reaction out fo her. And it appears that Sans didn’t have to say anything anyways- her cheeks have already started steaming just from the look Sans gave her. He turns away, chuckling, and he didn’t even have to look at her to know that it’s got her  thinking  a lot more on the physical side of things.

 Sans turns to Mint. “THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR HELP, JAMES. I WOULD BE LOST WITHOUT YOUR ASSISTANCE, TAKING CARE OF A MOTORCYCLE ISN’T THE SIMPLEST THING. AS MUCH AS I TRY, IT APPEARS THAT LITTLE THINGS LIKE TO SLIP BY EVEN THE LIKES OF ME.”

 Mint scratches the back of his head, finding Sans’ formal language funny, if anything. “Heh.. yeah. It’s no problem. I’m just a mechanic, Sans.”

 “YES, AND DON’T UNDERESTIMATE THE ROLE YOU PLAY! IT IS VERY INTEGRAL, ESPECIALLY WHEN IT’S IN  MY  LIFE, MWA-HAH.” Sans laughs, coming up to his bike. Mint was about to move to help him, but it’s quickly apparent that Sans doesn’t need help as he carries his motorcycle as if it was a bag of rice.

 He brings the bike out to the road and was thinking of going back inside to see Victor, but it looks like he didn’t have to; she’s followed him outside, perhaps to watch him leave. The thought that she was interested in him as he was in her had his soul pumping, stopping him from climbing on.

 “VICTORIA,” Sans calls to her, making her know he noticed her- she looked like she was hoping he didn’t. “IS IT ALRIGHT IF I ASK SOMETHING OF YOU?”

 Sans walks closer to her, an inquisitive look on her face. Sans doesn’t miss the way her lips presses together when he approaches.

 “I FIND YOU QUITE THE CHARMING HUMAN.” Sans taps his chin thoughtfully. “I WAS THINKING… AND YOU CAN DECLINE ANY TIME, BUT WOULD YOU LIKE TO MEET UP AGAIN, PERCHANCE? I WOULD LOVE TO GET TO KNOW MORE ABOUT YOU, AND THERE’S A VARIETY OF PLACES WE COULD HAVE AS OUR SETTING. I WAS THINKING OF A RESTAURANT, BUT WE CAN GO ANYWHERE ELSE IF YOU DON’T WANT THAT. SOUND GOOD TO YOU?”

 Sans stands in that same distance away from her, keeping from her private space. He’d let her come to him whenever she’d like.

 “Oh, uh.. yeah, I’d like that!” Victor grinned at him. Sans felt his sockets light up at the smile she gave him. It was… sweet, and so full of life. Sans wondered how it’d feel if he were to press his teeth to her… and how she’d react if he did so, right now.

 Sans shakes the thought away.

 “HOW ABOUT NEXT WEEK, I’LL PICK YOU UP HERE AFTERNOON.”

 “Sure!”

 “THEN IT’S A PROMISE.”

 Sans bows to her, extravagantly, in the case she might find his formality funny. “THANK YOU FOR ACCEPTING, VICTORIA. I LOOK FORWARD TO NEXT WEEK.”

 Sans turns to his bike and waves to her, riding home, remembering the way her face looked like it was lit up as he left.

 Sans can’t wait to know all about her… and it wasn't just because he wanted to gather information about her.

 Oh yes, she was an interesting one.

#commissions #SF!Sans/OC #SF!SansxOC #hope its an enjoyable read -u-

[kkachi95]

New canon information from The Rise of Kyoshi

Alright, so I’m little bit over 42% through The Rise of Kyoshi and I’m HOOKED.

This book does a lot of worldbuilding and the new characters are well-developed.

I’ll be consolidating new information I find from this book on this post. I’ll keep updating the list as I progress through the book!

SPOILERS, obviously

1) KYOSHI

Kyoshi was abandoned as a child by her parents, who were leaders of an underground criminal organization.

Her mother was a rogue airbender hailing from the Eastern Air Temple. Yep, you heard it right, Kyoshi is half air nomad. Her mother apparently became a master at young age and fell in love with Kyoshi’s father, an outlaw, while traveling. Kyoshi’s mother modified her arrow tattoo into a serpent and her airbending ability lost its power due to her attachment to worldly concerns. She compensated with a pair of fans, which Kyoshi inherited.

Kyoshi’s father is from a family lineage that traces back to Royal Theater School in Ba Sing Se. Kyoshi inherited her make up and headdress from him.

Kyoshi was very tall even in her young age. In her teenage years, she is constantly described with terms like “giant,” “massive,” and “towering.” Since she’s taller than most men, I’m going to assume she’s at least 6 ft.

She spent her early childhood as a street urchin in Yokoya and was neglected by the villagers until she was discovered and taken under the care of an air nomad named Kelsang, who was a companion of Avatar Roku. She was, and still is relentlessly bullied by other children in Yokoya.

Kyoshi is initially very shy, non-confrontational, has very low self esteem, and inept at earthbending. Kyoshi is extremely strong for her age as she lifts a man by his neck without any trouble. Also, she has distinct freckles!

She is an extreme clean freak with a constant urge to “maintain order and minimize clutter." She starts out as a serveant assigned to clean up after the (misidentified) Avatar.

I believe Kyoshi is 16+ years old in this story.

Kyoshi’s outfit has chailmain armor underneath it, and she started wearing gloves after suffering major lightning wound on her hands.

2) KYOSHI’S COMPANIONS

As a teenager, Kyoshi has two friends: Yun and Rangi, who are both her age. I won’t go too much into their plot.

Yun is the ‘misidentified’ Earthbending Avatar who is a former street urchin. He is said to be handsome, playful and flirty. He has brown hair and jade green eyes.

He is extremely talented in earthbending and is loved by everyone. He ships Kyoshi and Rangi but also flirts with Kyoshi too (and basically everyone)

He was discovered ‘late’ as the Avatar and genuinely wants to do his best as the new Avatar.

Rangi is a Fire Nation noble girl who is sworn and honor bound to serve as the Avatar’s bodyguard. She is military-trained in the Fire Army Junior Corps. She is intimidating and hot-headed, but also very protective of her friends.

She is said to be beautiful, with delicate skin, porcelain doll face and jet black hair. She has a “charred rasp” voice and “dark bronze” eyes.

She is the "straight man" character of Kyoshi's entourage and takes things very seriously, but she's also the unintentionally funniest character of the group. She eventually becomes Kyoshi's swon bodyguard and depite her best judgement, she's dragged into many questionable situations by Kyoshi. Rangi is definitely my favorite new character. Think of her as a more sane, less murder-y version of Azula.

Her nickname: topknot, hairpins, and hotwoman

Rangi’s mother, Hei-Ran, was a companion of Avatar Kuruk, who gave up her commission in the Fire Nation Army, then later her position as headmistress in the Royal Fire Academy for Girls, to teach the Avatar. Hei-Ran and Rangi are said to be spitting image of each other.

Kyoshi is romantically attraced to both Yun and Rangi.

Kirima is a young female waterbender from the outlaw group Kyoshi’s parents founded.

She has wolf-like features and piercing blue eyes. Kirima is also said to be lithe and light on her feet.

She’s easy-going and likes to tease people, especially Rangi.

Wong is a huge male earthbender in his 30s from the outlaw group Kyoshi’s parents founded.

He is very tall, thick, and has smooth, clean shaven face. He has a very prominent protruding gut and isn’t the most loquacious type.

Lek is the youngest male Earthbender member of the group and is said to be 14-15.

He is from the Si Wong desert and was brought into the group by Kyoshi’s parents, whom he thinks very highly of. This caused Kyoshi to resent him initially.

He values his family and likes to tease other people just like Kirima. Lek has very precise control of small earth projectiles, which he uses as bullets.

Lao Ge is an old, mysterious Earthbending assassin who is said to be hundreds of years old. He pretends to be a drunken fool and only Kyoshi knows of his true identity.

He travels with the group and goes off on his own to kill people he deem unworthy of living. Kyoshi asks him to be her Sifu.

3) THE AVATAR CYCLE

Avatar Kuruk died at the age of 33. He was said to be one of the greatest Pai Sho players in history and a highly-skilled bender, but lacked leadership and diplomatic skills. He spent his time traveling around the four nation seeking pleasure. He was also one of the best hunters to have ever lived.

Two of Avatar Yangchen’s friends and teachers died protecting her from the enemy.

Each nation has its own way of discovering the Avatar and identifying a toddler’s ability to bend

Being the Avatar’s companion was considered to be an honor beyond reckoning that only few got to experience. Those who taught the Avatar held massive influence over the world.

Period between the death of the previous Avatar and discovery of his/her successor is often filled with political turmoil. The Rise of Kyoshi is set in a politically turbulent time as Kuruk died in young age and the new Avatar was discovered much later than usual. This led to the rise of many opportunist criminal factions.

4) BENDING

Unlike the show, bending is openly depicted as being LETHAL in this book. People are impaled, burned, crushed, buried, sliced, and so on.

Seismic sense is a skill shared by all earthbenders, not just Toph. Most people’s skills are extremely rudimentary, though.

‘Dust stepping’ and ‘mist stepping’ are abilities practiced by certain earth and waterbenders to create floating platforms that move with them, which allow them to run through thin air. Rangi mimics this move with firebending after having witnessed it.

Firebenders have naturally warm bodies and they can project heat, which allows them to do things like increasing a room’s temperature by several degrees.

Firebenders' "inner fire" allow them to resist poison.

People in the Fire Nation identify bending ability of their children by placing a bowl full of highly-flammable materials to see if their children can resonate with it. This is done as early as possible to prevent accidental fires as young children don't have good control over their flames.

Lightning bending is a skill so rare that people thought it of it as a folktale or a long lost knowledge. Barely any living witnesses who can confirm its existence exists.

Airbender are seemingly immune to the weather.

5) EARTH KINGDOM

Earth Kingdom is highly fragmented and has multiple kings. This is attributed to Ba Sing Se’s failure or unwillingness to actively assert control over the continent. 

Bandits and pirates plague the countryside. Small settlements and towns have to form militias and fend for themselves as the official Earth Kingdom military seems to neglect their plight.   

Earth Kingdom’s Northern and Southern dialect are said to be so different that they might as well be different language. People of the Si Wong Desert barely share any culture or custom with rest of the Earth Kingdom.

Beifongs were known for their wealth even in this era.

Kyoshi Island was originally known as Yokoya. Farming yields little and people scrape by to meet end’s meet. People here are said to wear blue clothes despite their earth kingdom heritage. Kyoshi was left here as a child and initially grew up as a street urchin because the villagers neglected her for being an outsider.

6) FIRE NATION

Apparently, firebenders are notorious for always talking about honor.

Fire Nation was involved in a conflict with the Earth Kindom in the distant (?) past.

Fire Navy is the most capable Navy in the world.

Royal Fire Nation Academy for Girl holds Agni Kais and there are many “accidental” kills.

Firebending instructors used to maim their students for insubordination.

Hair is heavily linked with honor. Losers of Agni Kai would shave parts of their head bald as sign of humility but would leave the top knot alone since it’s considered sacred. It was never touched except in circumstances akin to death.

7) WATER TRIBES

The Souther Water tribe is said to be poor, undeveloped, and vulnerable. It’s significantly behind the rest of the world in terms of development. Southern Water Tribe doesn’t have a legitimate Navy because it doesn’t have trees necessary for shipbuilding. It is a peaceful nation, though it is involved in a territorial dispute over an island with the Earth Kingdom. It’s ruled by multiple chieftains.

“Tui’s gills!” - Water Tribe equivalent of ‘Oh my god’

8) AIR NOMADS

Air nomads are regarded with great respect and reverence for their wisdom and spirituality.

Head nomad of an air temple is referred to as an Abbot.

9) DAOFEI (BANDITS)

Daofei plays a huge role in the story. A vast underground criminal scoiety with its own code of honor run deeply throughout the Earth Kingdom, which is "too big to police" for the Earth Kingdom Army. 

As mentioned earlier, Kyoshi's parents were leaders of a prominent Daofei group and Kyoshi herself officially swears her Daofei vows to learn bending skills from her parents' old colleagues. Kyoshi absolutely despises Daofei, though.

Several years before the novel’s start, these bandits staged what is known as the Yellow Neck Rebellion, which is an analogue of the Yellow Turban Rebellion (184–205 AD) during Han Dynasty China. In real life, the rebellion led to the tumultuous time period known as the Three Kingdoms Period, where various warlords fought over control of China.

#the rise of kyoshi #Avatar The Last Airbender #avatar #atla #the last airbender #kyoshi

[porthavenhq]

｡✧*  STATS

Name : Blake Belladonna Origin : RWBY Age : October 30th, 1997 Gender : Cis Female Faceclaim : Sophia Carson Availability : Taken

｡✧*  BIOGRAPHY

In the beginning, there was war.

It was great and terrible, as most wars were, with many lives lost and setting history in the books. Blood was on everyone’s hands, set bone-deep and lingering for decades to come. The war was fought in homes, in the streets, in the government buildings; it grew from discrimination and oppression into something like a feral animal. The war could not be contained, the hatred could not be stopped, the death could not be quelled.

They called it The Faunus Rights Revolution.

Individuals who were gifted with animal-like abilities and enhanced traits once fought a fight before their own with a team that would later turn on them, casting them out to a desert-like island in the middle of nowhere, sequestered from the rest of the world and left to fend for themselves. The humans tried to pass it off as a gift while still undermining their basic living rights. The tension grew and grew until - snap !

There’s always fighting in the world. Blake Belladonna knows this best.

A Faunus girl who grew up near the end of the revolution, the feline-attributed girl was given signs to hold rather than toys to play with, taught slogans to chant rather than songs to sing while skip-roping, fought fights and saw things no one should see while they were so young. But when it’s all you know, when the fighting and the judgement and the violence is passed down like genetics, what more was she supposed to know?

She knows there isn’t always destruction and unkindness in the world - when her father was leading, there was diplomacy and peace, however tense it may have been. But he stepped down, and the new White Fang took over, and she fell victim to one of its member’s pretty words and promise of change. She fell victim to him in more ways than one, something she tries hard not to think too much about in the present, but it just goes to show the impact and influence, how insidious and awful anger truly was.

When the revolution ended, and she looked beyond the words and the promises and the stalemate, she found blood. It was on her hands too, it was everywhere, and she blamed herself. She was as close as she was to the heart of the catalyst, how could she have been so blind? For someone with excellent sight, she sure missed the signs. So, she ran.

When she ran, though, with all of the self-loathing and guilt and sorrow held close to her chest, she found something more than just redemption.

Blake Belladonna found love.

Porthaven was the best thing to ever happen to her, and everyone - including her parents, who saw her off to the sweet little town in Maine - can agree. Her natural habitat has become the local coffee-shop-slash-bookstore in the uptown area, nose deep in a book or helping pass out flyers for a local volunteer project she takes part in, while by night she keeps the shadows at bay with the team of girls she also calls her closest friends. Where she had once been running to escape her past, she’s now running toward a future full of possibilities, hands no longer holding onto all of that pain and unhappiness, but instead holding onto the hands of her greatest companions.

｡✧*  PERSONALITY

✓  righteous, outspoken, focused ✖  secretive, distant, stubborn

｡✧*  SPECIAL ABILITIES

Faunus : Cat ears. Night vision, enhanced speed, and hearing. Mage : Creation of shadow-clones she uses to distract, shield, or hide herself briefly. They are stagnant and don’t last for very long.

｡✧*  CONNECTIONS

None

#RWBY #mage #faunus #disney rp #disney rpg #disney roleplay #skeleton rp #animated rp #cartoon rp #multifandom rp #town rp #magic rp #bio rp #new rp #literate rp #taken

[vagrantblvrd]

Creature Feature 1/1

Summary: Michael hisses when he gets grabbed and slammed up against the wall of a building.

Notes: Not the thing I planned to write today, and yet here we are. Because reasons.

(Read on AO3)

Michael hisses when he gets grabbed and slammed up against the wall of a building. Just yanked right out of his bat out of hell running for his life thing he’s doing by an inconsiderate bastard with inhuman strength and thrown up against a rough brick wall, head hitting it with jarring force and a smug vampire asshole smirking at him once the starts clear from his eyes.

“Son of a bitch,” he mutters, grip on the stake in his hand shifting when he sees the fuckers who were chasing him skid to a stop when they realize what happened.

He watches them look at one another in confusion, young, newly turned and so out of the loop it’s kind of sad. A few days old at this point if he had to guess, match up against the news reports of missing people and bodies showing up.

Dangerous as fuck, what with the hunger for blood gnawing at their bellies and close to feral with it. More instinct at this point than anything else, but still thinking, reasoning beings. (Unless they choose not to be, which is what people like Michael are for.)

Whoever sired them already dead or the kind of fucker who just doesn’t care, left them to fend for themselves without even a basic How To Vampire tutorial which is a dick move in and of itself, okay. Makes things harder on people like Michael who have to clean up their messes because -

A rough shake drags Michael's attention back to the real threat here.

Asshole who snagged him pelting past like it was nothing. Tall, broad-shouldered and that fucking smirk.

Pain in Michael’s ass from day one, thinks he’s – as Lindsay would say – all that and a bag of chips and   infuriating as fuck.

Old, too.

Like.

Just unbelievably, incredibly old. Super fucking old. So old -

The vampire scowls like he knows what Michael’s thinking and lifts Michael until his toes are barely touching the ground like he thinks that’s just so scary.

Michael gives him a smirk of his own, raises his hand to show off the stake he’s still holding.

Not exactly a stalemate, because vampire strength and speed and everything else against pitiful human abilities, but like hell is he going to let the bastard think he’s intimidated.

“Hey!”

It’s one of the baby vampires, voice rough with the effects of being turned. All that screaming they do when it’s ugly the way it must have been with this batch.

Kids, all of them. College students in town to have a good time and running into trouble that got them dead...and then undead, and it’s a fucking mess to be honest. Happens way too often for anyone’s good no matter how hard Michael works to put a stop to it.

“He’s ours, get your own!”

Baby vampire number two, hiding behind his buddies and trying to act tough because they outnumber the vampire that’s got Michael in his grip, sure, but goddamn are they dumb.

The vampire holding him growls, this deep rumbling thing and Michael knows what’s coming. Braces himself for it when the asshole flings him aside like he weighs nothing and moves towards the trio of baby vampires.

It’s a graceless affair on Michael’s part, goes sprawling, heart picking up as he hears the snarling and swearing and dying going on behind him as the older vampire tears into the baby ones.

Too dangerous to be left to their own devices and unwilling to listen to reason, which always sucks, no pun intended.

Hurts a little to see even though Michael’s not supposed to care about that part. (Nowhere in the job description for being what he is.)

By the time he picks himself up it’s all but over. Older, experienced vampire facing down the leader of the baby vampires, other two unmoving on the ground.

The baby vampire looks down at his buddies, and then his gaze slides past the older vampire and locks onto Michael.

Stupid squishy human, and Michael has a moment to think oh, Goddammit, because this always fucking happens doesn’t it? And then the baby vampire flashes forward (fucking vampires and their fucking speed) intent on taking Michael down with him because sure, why the fuck not -

And gets a rude awakening when the older vampire pulls the same trick with him he did with Michael.

Not so much a trick as that experience thing again, old enough to make the most of the reflexes he’s been granted and all that.

Only this time, the asshole isn’t as gentle about it.

No.

Grabs the stupid fucker and shoves him, right into the stake Michael’s holding out like he knew it would be there.

Michael grunts as the impact pushes him back a few steps and meets the baby vampire’s eyes.

The poor bastard looks shocked at this turn of events, like he didn’t think it would go like this for him. All that newfound strength, speed, and it didn’t do him a damn bit of good in the end.

Vampires don’t poof the way they do in the movies, television shows. All the books people have written about them over the years.

Don’t crumble into dust blown away by a convenient gust of wind or gentle breeze all nice and neat and aesthetically pleasing or some bullshit.

They just die.

Ugly and messy and real.

Michael lets go of the stake, lets gravity do the work as the dead vampire falls to the ground.

Looks up at the sound of footsteps and gives ground when the older vampire advances on him. Pushes him up against the building again, less force to it this time.

“Hey,” Michael says as the vampire gets in his face to glare at him. “Fancy meeting you here.”

The vampire thumps him against the wall, a warning, and Michael snorts.

“Okay, so, are we fighting or are we flirting? Because I’m getting mixed signals here,” he says, hand coming up to rest against the asshole’s chest.

No heartbeat, just the steady thrum of whatever the hell keeps vampires going. Magic or something else, no one really knows anymore.

Blood they drink circulating through their bodies and somethingsomethingsomething Unknowable Bullshit to explain what they do know.

The vampire’s eyes narrow.

“My fangs are literally inches from your throat right now.”

Yeah.

Yeah they are.

By all rights Michael should hb reaching for his backup stake, and Jesus, how ridiculous does that sound in his head? Should be going for it, drive it through the asshole’s chest right into his heart, but that would just be all kinds of rude and ill-mannered of him.

Also?

It would fuck up his dating life, or whatever the hell he should call it. (Aside from a blatant conflict of interests, but it’s not like there are rules forbidding something like this, so. Fuck off.)

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Michael says, and this time he laughs when the poor bastard sighs.

Tired.

Long-suffering.

Expression on his face like he has no damn clue why he puts up with such an exasperating annoyance of a pest, and yet?

“Thanks for the save, but I had everything under control,” Michael says, and wriggles until the vampire lets him go.

It’s not ego that has Michael saying that, just. Years of experience dealing with vampires and other things that go bump in the night. Being on his home turf, so to speak and knowing the area better than the poor bastards who made the mistake of thinking he looked like an easy target.

Wanting them away from any idiot who might get caught up in things, make a more tempting target, hostage, and complicate matters.

“You always say that,” the vampire accuses, eyes flicking to that nasty little scar on Michael's neck, souvenir from when he first started out and had no damn clue what he was getting himself into.

That’s...not untrue.

Just.

“Shut up,” Michael says, because it’s not like the asshole doesn’t pull the same bullshit on him.

There’s another little stare-down, and then the vampire sighs. Again. Like dealing with Michael is an ordeal when it’s the exact opposite. He’s a fucking delight, okay.

Michael watches the vampire as he pinches the bridge of his nose, mutters to himself about idiot humans and one idiot vampire hunter in particular. Bane of his existence and so goddamned dumb it’s just. Real fucking sad.

Rolls his eyes as the asshole just keeps going on and on about it and dusts himself off. Checks to make sure his gear is all in order and runs a hand through his hair. Always a jumbled mess but with the earlier chase and being tossed around it’s in an even worse state.

Glances down at himself to make sure he’s more or less presentable and goes over to the idiot grumbling to himself.

Clears his throat to catch his attention and smiles when the asshole looks up at him.

Annoyed expression because he’s worked himself up, hasn’t he. Forced to acknowledge the major mistake he’s made in getting involved with a disaster of a human being like Michael and everything that goes along with that.

“Hey,” he says, because third time’s the charm? “Got any plans for the rest of the night?”

There’s a moment where Michael thinks he’ll pick up his rambling rant about Michael and his stupidity again, but then he just.

Sighs.

Shakes his head because he knows Michael’s stubborn as hell, and just real dumb too when it comes down to it.

Not about to change his ways even if it would be better for him in the long run. Cut down on medical costs at the very least.

“Well,” he says, glancing at his watch. “I doubt the restaurant held our reservation.”

Michael winces, because yes. Okay. That one’s definitely on him.

“Sorry about that,” he says. “Something came up.”

Michael on his way to meet up for their date and strange noises he heard down a dark alley. And yes, he knows that’s how horror movies start. Michael just has this whole thing going in his life where he does the exact opposite of what any sane person does in that situation.

And then vampires. Sometimes werewolves. Other times -

Well.

There are a lot of things that go bump in the night and Michael’s one of the people around who deals with them when they crop up.

So.

“Yeah, I figured as much.”

Michael grins up at the asshole because he’s gone all soft and fond on him. Dopey little smile on his face that hits Michael the same way it always does because Ryan, Jesus, he’s a soft touch.

Plays at being this dark and menacing figure like out of all the worst movies you can find out there. Melodramatic bastards still stuck in their emo goth phase like you wouldn’t believe, but really?

Big old dork.

“I heard the theater down on Lincoln’s playing a Star Trek movie marathon,” he offers, and starts walking in that direction knowing Ryan will follow.

Better to leave the alley and the dead vampires behind before anyone sees them there, connects the dots and lands them in the kind of trouble they don’t need more of.

Ryan tips his head to the side, this dumb game he plays where he wants Michael to convince him. Toss in an incentive to give in to his inner nerd like it’d take much at this point.

Michael eyes him. Tries to figure out what it’ll take this time.

Food-related, because Ryan.

Still loves to eat even though it doesn’t sustain him the way blood does, but he’s got a definite weakness for it. Favorites. Things he loves in the most ridiculous ways.

“And, I’ll even spring for concessions.” Leans in with a little eyebrow waggle as he lowers his voice “All the diet soda you can drink.”

Ryan laughs, quiet little chuckle, and slides a look at Michael.

Old fucker, seen a lot of things in his time and for whatever reason sees something in Michael, which. Time to get his eyes checked, but whatever.

Not Michael's call if he’s going to make a mistake like that, you know? (Enjoy it while he can and try not to think to hard on it in the meantime.)

Not his problem if Ryan’s got a thing for this scruffy little punk tossed into the deep end of things after moving out here, running into trouble and still neck deep in it. (No pun intended.)

Loud-mouthed and obnoxious about it, bound to get himself killed doing what he does one of these days, and no one’s fault but his own.

“Fine,” Ryan says, like it’s such a hardship to watch old Star Trek movies and guzzle down his beloved diet soda. An ordeal to do it with Michael right next to him heckling the hell out of the dumb movies they love so much. “If we must.”

Oh, how terrible it will be. The two of them in the dark watching quasi-terrible movies and enjoying themselves.

The horror.

Ryan huffs, because he knows Michael pretty well by now. Knows he’s making fun of him in his head, and shoots him this little scowl like he thinks that will make him stop.

Which.

No.

“Impossible,” Ryan mutters, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat and sulking, the big baby. “Absolutely impossible.”

Michael will give him that one, sure, but Ryan’s the one who keeps coming back for more, what the hell does that make him?

==========================

Double Feature

#myan #ragehappy #vampire au #vagrant fic #also #i feel like i'm a month behind with all the ~supernatural creature stuff i've written lately? #so there's that too #¯\_(ツ)_/¯ #dorkface vampire au #i guess??? #Things That Go Bump in the Night

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 39

Thank you everyone for your patience as I dealt with computer issues this week!  I was able to get the chapter done with minimal delay, and I hope you all enjoy it.  Fair warning: it has not been run by @parisconstantine, so all faults are my own.

Please give a warm round of applause and welcome to @books-and-cartoons original character, Grandma Kim.  I really hope I did her justice, and I really hope you tell me off if I didn’t give her a fair shake!

A few days after forwarding the group of approved candidates to the rest of the Council, I found myself pacing my quarters while my stomach clenched painfully. I had been trying to calm my nerves for nearly an hour, but to no avail. Even worse, for the first time since I left the medical bay, I was completely alone with my thoughts, which swirled and screamed at me with increasing urgency as time ticked by.  I was frightened, angry, betrayed, and anxious in turns.  My hair was a mess from running my hands through it, although I had resisted the urge to tug on it – if only out of worry that I would collapse into a sobbing, drooling heap on the floor.

I had finally given in to my family’s insistence and was waiting for Grandma Kim to arrive.

Conor was on shift, still working to get the platforms completed in BioLab 2 after the delays caused by losing some of the people assigned to the project. I had begged my sister to wait with me, but she put her small foot down with enormous resolve. “I know you are nervous, and that’s expected,” she had sighed. “But, Sophia, I’m exhausted.  I’ve been doing my job and the job of your assistant for months now, plus not being able to sleep without knowing you’re okay.  I need to just – not exist for a few days.  Go to my quarters, keep the lights off, and just let everything that’s going to happen, happen. Your quarters are recorded within an inch of your life and mine: video, audio, and doppler recordings are constantly running. Noah is going to be nearby so they can respond at a moment’s notice if needed, but this is Grandma Kim we’re talking about. There isn’t any safer place to be on this ship, honestly.  I promise that you won’t die, but if I don’t get a break, I might kill you myself.”

Conor had been horrified at her bluntness, but I quickly explained to him that my sister knew I needed a kick in the pants if I was going to get back to something resembling normal, and only meant it with love. Despite so much time around us, he was still adjusting to the way we were so open with our feelings while not hesitating to define our limits with each other.  And, to my utter horror, she was right – she had every reason to be exhausted, and I admired the fact that she knew not to work herself into collapse like I so often found myself doing.

So, in the end, I had agreed that at least meeting with Grandma Kim was best for everyone involved.  It would take a load off of my sister, give Conor a break from being my personal bodyguard, and give me someone to lean on who I wouldn’t feel guilty about needing. After all, helping people through trauma was apparently her job.  

Nonetheless, when the chime sounded to announce that someone was waiting to enter my living space, I nearly shot out of my skin and through the bulkhead above me. Two deep breaths and a lot of shaking later, I signaled for the door to allow her in.  I don’t know what I had been expecting, but the visage that greeted me could only be described as “As Advertised”. Long hair streaked in dark and light grey tied in a practical plait, medium height, just too young to be ‘elderly’ even though I knew she was at least seventy years old. Ramrod posture, gentle smile, and the biggest German Shepherd I had ever seen in my life sitting patiently at her side. “You must be Grandma Kim,” I stated dumbly, trying to sound more confident and in control than I felt.

“Hello, dear,” she tilted her head slightly in acknowledgement. “And this is Lyric. May we come in?”

Flustered, I stepped to the side. “Right. Yes. Please come in.  Would you like me to show you around?”

She hummed softly before gently rebuking Lyric. “Yes, your friend Mac lives here. But you still have to be alert.  Be a good girl and keep your ears up, but don’t bother the grown ups while we talk, okay? Keep it down.”  With that, the admonished pup padded over and nosed Mac, receiving a disdainful look before being allowed to start wrestling quietly.  “That’s a good girl.”  Glancing up, Grandma Kim shook her head with a small smirk.  “Those two are thick as thieves, just a knot of trouble sometimes. But Lyric knows to behave at a guest’s house, so she’ll mind her manners.  And don’t worry about showing me around, Miss Reid. Why don’t you sit down so you’ll be more comfortable, and I’ll get us something to drink and snack on while we talk.” Without waiting for a response, she glided into my kitchen area.

Not knowing what else to do, I sat on my couch and tucked my legs beneath me. No wonder everyone just calls her ‘grandma’, I mused. I just got told what to do by an old lady in my own home. Grandmother powers, indeed.

“This is a lovely kitchen,” she called as she moved around. “Do you cook?”

“Yes ma’am,” I answered, grabbing my blanket and wrapping it around me as a sort of armour.

“I would love to see you cook sometime.” Gods, I could literally hear her smiling. “I always found cooking to be quite relaxing.” She came back into my public area with two mugs and a tray of small pastries.

As she handed me one mug, a scent filled my nose and set my mouth watering. “I’m not allowed caffeine yet,” I apologized wistfully, not yet setting the beverage down.

She tutted! She actually tutted! “Yes, I know. Anxiety and all that. But, excuse me for being blunt, you look like you’re exhausted, and your file lists your favorite beverages as all being coffee-based. A nice warm mug of sweet coffee with plenty of milk will do you right, I think.” She threw me a wink. “Besides, professional nurturers are allowed to override medical restrictions to a small degree.  One cup of coffee definitely will do you more psychological good than it will do you physical harm.”

Needing no other encouragement, I took a long sip of heaven and sighed.  Grandma Kim chuckled slightly before taking a sip of her own and setting it to the side. “Now that we have that out of the way, I know you want to ask me some questions.  Let me go ahead and take the liberty of answering the usual ones right out of the gate.  I know you’re more familiar with what I do than most people are, seeing as your sister and Antoine are partners.  He specializes – or specialized – in providing physical non-sexual comfort and basic care.  Making sure people with deep depression don’t cause themselves harm through direct action or neglect, cuddling, that sort of thing.”

“You say ‘specialized’, past tense,” I stated slowly. “He wasn’t fired for his relationship with my sister, was he?”

“Oh, dear no!” she laughed. “On the contrary.  He recused himself, feeling it would be wrong to continue his duties due to their relationship.  Something about donuts. In any case, he is currently overseeing our policies and general practices, while guiding assignments to ensure better quality of compatibility than simple chance.” I blew a breath of relief as she continued. “My specialty is quite different from his.  I don’t cuddle, really, for starters.  What I provide, instead, is a different kind of comfort.  The comfort of knowing you are safe, beyond a shadow of a doubt, and the comfort of reassurance.  Also, if one of my clients has an episode of hallucination or paranoia and attacks me by mistake, I can both defend myself without harming them and also restrain them if necessary.  It happens rarely,” she held up her hand to fend of my objection, “but it has been known to happen, and I have had several people concerned they will hurt me. You will not, I promise. Before everything went ass over teakettle, I had combat training for unarmed, close quarters, and long-distance weapons.  Very few people on the Ark can land a strike on me once, and none can do it twice.”

I sucked a breath between my teeth.  That was unexpected.

She continued. “Now, I clearly did not learn all that for the fun of it, or for peaceful reasons.  However, I find it a shame that so many people in the After and on this ship live what they call lives unable to shake the idea that someone will hurt them.  Even more shameful is that they all have good reason for that.  I can’t let it continue.  If I, a very harmless looking little old lady can take care of them and give them the reassurance that they are safe?  Well, I feel I would be a horrible person if I didn’t do exactly that.” She took a sip of her coffee as nonchalantly as if she were discussing the weather. “You, however, are a little more unique than that, aren’t you, Sophia Reid?”

“Yes ma’am,” I muttered, glancing down at my own half-gone beverage.

“None of that,” she chided gently. “Grandma Kim or GK will do fine. But as I was saying, you had an attempt on your life made by someone very close to you, and I can imagine that you are hesitant to let anyone else be close enough to hurt you like that.  I don’t blame you, frankly.  What happened to you was an evil thing, done by someone who thought herself a hero. And now, you have the weight of being a figurehead jammed on your shoulders, whether you want it or not, while trying to shore up your own foundations at the same time.”  I nodded as she blew a breath threw her nose. “Well, that won’t do, will it?”

“I don’t really have a choice,” I answered ruefully.

“Of course you do.”

“How do you figure that?” My head tilted to one side, puzzled.

“Well, for starters, I think you need help setting boundaries with the people around you,” she stated firmly. “And I can help you with that.  Not in the way your sister or an assistant can, by managing your schedule, but by reminding you to rest, to take time for yourself. Right now, you may be too afraid of your own mind to do that, but with me and Lyric here to keep you company? Two people who you don’t have to help, and who you aren’t being a burden to by needing us? That alone usually removes a huge weight from people. You have a history of forgetting to feed yourself if you have no one else to feed.  But you also find it distinctly rude to decline food that is prepared for you.” She gestured at the half gone plate of spanakopita. When did I eat that? I must have, to know what it was. She never told me, and it wasn’t something you would serve with coffee.

“Antoine told me it’s one of your favorites,” she explained. “He also wanted me to get you to eat, even if you decided against allowing me to assist you. But I do ask that you consider things. You don’t need to give a response now, since I’m certain this has been exhausting for you.  Go to bed, take a nap, and think about it after you’ve had some rest.  My feelings will not be hurt, either way, but I do think that you would benefit from having a companion, even for a brief time while you adjust to everything.”

I nodded dumbly.  She definitely was right about being exhausted, but a nap seemed like an impossibility at the moment.  “I – I don’t know if I can sleep,” I admitted through clenched teeth, forcing myself to say the words.  “I haven’t been able to sleep by myself since – since I got home….”

“How do you usually sleep?” she asked.

“Conor sleeps next to me,” I admitted. “I don’t like taking medicine to sleep, and I know he won’t let anyone hurt me.  It’s not anything sexual, just – more of a protection than anything else.” Nonetheless, I felt my face flush hot and red.

“Do we need to send him a message?” she offered.

I shook my head. “He’s working. They’re already behind schedule, and I know he would come, but I don’t want to pull him away any more than I have.”  I blinked way the sting that was coming to my eyes.  I was not about to cry over not being able to do something as simple as take a nap.

Grandma Kim hummed to herself for a moment. “Well, I have an idea, if you think you may be interested. And I promise it isn’t medicine.” I nodded for her to continue. “This will in no way obligate you to take on our services, but would you be more comfortable if Lyric slept on the bed with you? Or even on the floor by the bed? I would sit out here while you rested, unless she came to get me if you need help.”

I glanced at Lyric, where she wrestled with Mac, while I thought the idea over. While I barely knew this woman, Antoine recommended her highly – specifically when it came to safety.  And I couldn’t deny there was a certain novelty in having an actual guard dog protect me while I slept, rather than well-meaning construction worker-cum-botanist who did his best imitation of one. “What the hell,” I relented. “May as well take your services for a test drive.”

“That’s the spirit, dear,” she smiled.

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#the miys #humans are weird #science fiction #humans are space orcs #earth is space australia #original #aliens #apocalypse

[comicbooksidecharacter]

Hiraeth [Part 23]

Bucky Barnes X OC (Amelia Stone)

Hiraeth: (n.) “longing or deep yearning for a place, time, feeling or person long gone; or that never was.”

Summary: Bucky Barnes had left Avengers Tower because he was ashamed for having seriously injured his best friend, Steve. The OC wonders if he will even come back, Bucky pays her a visit.

*:Long long long

A hundred scenarios played in her head, a hundred conversations. Maybe he didn’t want to be found, maybe he had completely turned to Winter Soldier and vanished. Maybe Tony was right and he was back with HYDRA. Maybe he had done something bad.. to someone else, or himself. Maybe he was hurt, maybe he had lost his memory again and didn’t know how to come back. Maybe Steve knew.

The spy knew how to hide, and there was nothing they could do about it. This was what she told herself one night, distracting herself from everything by reading a book up until 3AM. Everyone else was asleep because they had returned from a small mission in Zimbabwe. She had stayed home, as per the disciplinary action.

The night was calm, and cool. She had opened the window because stormy clouds were approaching and the wind smelled of rain. She wanted the night to stay for ten more hours. A truly peaceful night.

Reading a particularly thrilling part of the story made her close her book for a moment and stare into blank space, mouth open and eyes wide, trying to gather what had just happened in the story. Before she reopened the book, she felt something move in her peripheral and looked up, stopping herself from screaming when she saw a familiar face standing at her door.

Her heart was leaping in her chest with excitement, and fear. His metal arm glinted under the small lamp hanging on the wall, his blue eyes looking a dark shade. She didn’t know who this was though.

“Bucky..??”, she called out in a very timid voice, as if calling him out of the frame. “Is that you..?”

Hearing his name, he walked out of the shadows, resembling very faintly a scene from one of her nightmares where the next step would have been him, chasing her around the tower and then the grounds outside, until he finally holds her by the throat and throws her into the river. She would fall into the river and when she hits the bottom, she would be in the cold room floor of the HYDRA facility where she was kept as prisoner.

But he didn’t lunge at her to choke her out, he didn’t throw her out the window or anything for that matter. He just walked out and she remembered the beaten broken man she had seen the first time.

He looked like he had not slept for days, or eaten for that matter, his eyes were still red, as if he had been crying, and his body looked tense, like he had been pushing its limits deliberately. He was unsure of himself, and whether or not he could even be standing before her like this

“I’m here…”, he said in a raspy voice; his speech sounded as if slurred, maybe he had drunk. She didn’t know if that could happen. “Everyone… was sleeping…”

She almost pulled her sheet off and stood up, looking at the Winter Soldier, now looking no better than a tramp, still buff but significantly overwhelmed. Quickly but cautiously she walked over, till she stood right across him, looking at him head to toe and feeling nothing but pity and compassion for the man.

“They just came back from a mission. How are you?”, she asked, wanting to touch his face, but she didn’t. He might shudder away. It would be awkward.

“I’m…”, he spoke but didn’t speak for a few seconds. She didn’t want to overwhelm him into speaking or thinking what he didn’t want to. She lightly touched his shoulder, his skin tensed up a bit, but he let her guide him to her bed.

“Where were you?”, she asked quickly, “We were looking everywhere for you. You just vanished without a word. We…”

“How’s Steve?”

“He’s okay. He is probably going to be discharged next week or something.”

Bucky didn’t look at her. He looked at his hands, rough, warm, slightly trembling. She knew his mind was screaming at him, but he would never tell anyone else what it was. And then his mind would proceed at beating the hell out of him anyway.

“Have you been okay?”, she still asked, hoping he’d talk, but he didn’t. She proceeded to put her hand on his shoulder.

He didn’t shudder away this time, but still his mind was very conscious of her hand on his skin, small against his large frame, but certain against his own unsure self. He was shocked how she had welcomed him into the room, how she had told him about the search for him, how she touched him to reassure him of the real things in life.

“I’m hungry”, he said, out of the blue. Truth is, he had not eaten for days, trying to punish himself for doing what he did. He had also not slept, but that was beyond his conscious control at this point. He never thought he would pronounce such a basic need of his, out loud like this. There was nothing to it, but for someone who is used to fending for themselves, he didn’t usually tell people what he wanted. But after saying it he felt very vulnerable.

“Oh”, she said, realizing the same thing, feeling a sudden small sense of happiness at hearing him ask for something he wanted. “Let’s go in the kitchen then.”

She brushed it off as casual so that he wouldn’t feel highlighted. He felt less guilty about asking for food now. She led him to the kitchen. Before he could fend for himself, she put the plate on the counter before him, took out the leftovers from the fridge and put them in the oven. He felt weird just standing there but she wasn’t making a big deal out of it, trying to make him comfortable.

Soon, a feast was prepared for him. Roasted chicken, roasted vegetables, jasmine rice, juice, a bowl of fresh fruit and yogurt and a piece of chocolate pie were laid before him to eat. Letting him be comfortable, she turned away from him and began to put the dishes in the dishwasher while Bucky devoured the food. She had heated extra food for him, a good call on her part because when he was done, none was left.

While he ate she was thinking about him. Whether he would even be able to stay here or not; what Tony would think of his return in the tower. She wanted Steve to be there. Even if it wasn’t spoken out loud, Bucky felt a sense of security and acceptance when Steve was around. His friendship with Sam was special to him too, but Steve had the ability to tackle multiple roles according to Bucky’s needs. A friend, a leader, a guide, a caretaker; and Bucky was more grateful than anyone could imagine.

“It’s late. You should go to sleep”, she said, picking up the plates for him too, while he sat there and stared at the counter. “If you wanna take a hot shower though that’s fine…”

He continued to stay there, even though Amelia was done. She wondered if she should stay or leave. A part of her was worried that if she left him alone, he’d leave the tower again. But you can never hold someone against their will. Announcing her departure, she passed by him but suddenly felt his hand grasping her arm. Momentarily she was a bit afraid, but she could tell he meant no malice because there was no cruel force behind his touch.

Before she could tell though, she felt her breath hitch in her throat when both his arms enveloped around her hips, and she felt his head, leaning against her back. Her hands, very naturally, flew to his as he held her with the most uncertain touch. Feeling his touch, she could practically feel him fighting against his mind. It was very minute, but his hands and body trembled, as if they would leave her in a second, but they would stay on her in a second. A very gentle push and pull.

He couldn’t find in himself the courage to ask for forgiveness. How could he ask forgiveness for repeat offenses? That would be an extremely daring thing to do and that kind of oblivious bravado hadn’t been bestowed on him yet. Instead his head lazily rested against her back, and he sighed.

Her heart broke. She didn’t want him to say anything. She wasn’t sure she could hear him right now. She just wanted to let him know that he was okay.

“Bucky…”, she said in a calm voice. “It’s okay…”

She felt wet fabric touch her skin. It was her shirt, soaked in his tears. Her fingers rested on hers and she wanted to turn around and comfort him. But she also felt that he wouldn’t move; even though he had dared against himself to grasp at her frame in an urge to seek nothing but only to state his apology, he was still not open enough for her to see him breaking down. And that was fine, for now. It was his grief eating him inside, and she couldn’t force him to break out of his shell. She just eased more and let him cry, while she repeated the words “It’s okay… I forgive you.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky #winter soldier imagines #winter soldier imagine #winter soldier #winter soldier scenario #sebastian stan #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagines #avengers imagine #avengers #avengers imagines #marvel imagine #marvel #marvel imagines #hiraeth #hiraeth part 23

[serene-gale]

Shrouded Journey Part 2: A Tale of Poachers

Previous

The hum of wildlife filled the air of Gridania as night fell upon it, the stars twinkling in the sky as fire lanterns washed the buildings of the city in a warm glow. Serene always liked visiting Gridania. It was always such a nice change of pace and scenery from the bustling and arid Ul’dah, however, as much as she wanted to relax a while and drink in the atmosphere, she had work to do.

‘Mother Miounne’, as she was typically called, was busy pouring drinks for the sizable collection of patrons that had gathered in her tavern, the Duskwight humming softly to herself as she finished up with orders, giving her some breathing room, or so she thought until she spotted a red-clad Roegadyn enter the establishment and jovially wave at her. The woman merely shook her head, chuckling, before picking up a Guild Book.

“Serene Gale, Momodi from the Ul’dahn Branch told me to expect you. You slated yourself for a quest in South Shroud, correct?”

“Heya! Yeah, I did, no details on what it was though, mind if you fill me in?”, Serene gave a quick greeting before getting down to business.

Miounne nodded before flipping through her book, taking a few seconds before coming to the quest in question, “Indeed. The quest in question is to deal with the Keeper of the Moon tribes and their illegal poaching. Apparently they are now calling themselves the Coeurlclaws, and have been practically ravaging the wildlife.”, Miounne explained. She took out a writ and started writing down the basic details of the quest, while Serene cocked an eyebrow in confusion.

“Huh...Albex always told me that for as long as he remembered the Keepers toed the line, but never outright performed illegal poaching for as long as he remembered...I’m assuming this must be a splinter group, I highly doubt the entire community decided to up and forgoe their aggrements with Gridania.”, Serene pondered to herself quietly, her words catching the Elezen’s attention as she handed the Roegadyn her writ.

“Oh, you know Sir Couldair? He did make Thanalan his home I guess after...”, Miounne gave pause, much to Serene’s confusion, “Well back to business. We can’t say for certain if it’s just a small splinter group or not, but considering the circumstances, I’d say your assessment hits the nail on the head. I’m impressed Miss Gale, I took you for one of those brawn before brain types, I’m happy to be wrong on this occassion.”, Miounne smiled, her backhanded compliment doing little to budge Serene smile as she laughed.

“Well my pops always said to train the noggin’ as well as your muscles. Or was it mum? Aaah, I think it was more a family saying, you know?”, Serene laughed jovially, causing Miounne to second guess her opinion on Serene’s intelligence. However before any more could be said, Serene asked another question.

“May I ask something? You know Albex through the Guild yes? Where is he now?”, the Roegadyn asked inquisitively.

“Oh? Albex Couldair? Well last I heard he was tracking a high priority target with a large posse of Guild Adventurers. For all I know they could be anywhere but the last bit of information I received told me that they made way for South Shroud.”, Miounne speculated, tapping her cheek lightly, before smiling.

“Who knows, maybe you will meet up with him. Why do you ask though?”, she asked, to which Serene smiled softly at her.

“Oh curiosity’s sake, it’s been a while since we last talked so I figured I’d ask around to see where he is. Anyways, thank you and goodbye for now, I shouldn’t be more than a few days with a request like this. Bye!”, Serene said, waving in an exaggerated manner as she walked out of the tavern, her words causing the Guild Receptionist some concern.

“A few days? But she was on her own and this quest is for two...”, Miounne expressed her worry before shaking her head, “I’ll just have to keep the quest posted in the likely event of failure.”, she muttered to herself before scribbling down notes in her book.

Serene wasted no time in pursuit of her quest, setting out for the Southern sector of the Black Shroud posthaste. Figuring using a hired Chocobo to be the best course of option, she coughed up enough gil for a trip to Quarrymill, one of the larger settlements in the South Shroud. The trip was relatively painless, a few errant monsters stood in the way though Serene deftly fended off such feeble threats with a few menacing looking swipes of her Bo-Staff. Eventually the Roegadyn found her way approaching the village’s borders, spotting the large circular wooden gate that was Quarrymill’s entrance. Hopping off the hire Chocobo, Serene led the bird to one of the public feeding pens and let it partake in some food before running back to it’s starting location. Having left around early to mid morning, the sun was cresting it’s peak and afternoon was setting in, Serene figuring that her time was best spent gathering information on these poachers and striking at them at midnight.

And so Serene got to work enquiring, going about the locals first and asking about recent events, before turning the to the Wood Wailers stationed to guard the village and asking them directly about poaching activity in recent days. Hours passed and slowly but surely Serene started to get a picture of the situation. From what she had gleamed from the village gossip, the Poaching group consisted of a good two dozen members at least, easily the size of a typical Keeper tribe, they were an offshoot of a larger tribe, unhappy with the laws regarding poaching and figuring it only logical to take what wasn’t being taken. She further learned that while the poachers certainly had numbers, most incidents involved with them had members display poor teamwork and a heavy reliance on the decisions of the clan matriarch.

And so it was that Serene’s plan came together. Despite the dangers that came with the Keeper’s exceptional vision, the Roegadyn decided to strike in the dead of the night, while the bulk of their forces were occupied with their poaching. Taking out the clan’s leader would throw the entire hierarchy into disarray, no one individual having the strength to lead the others, and making the sect fall apart.

And so as twilight settled on the treeline of the South Shroud, Serene made her way to the edge of the encampment and lay in wait, using a collection of thick brush off the side of the poacher’s camp for cover. Hours passed with no notable activity on the Keeper’s part, only the occassional patrol served to keep the Martial Artist alert and deathly quiet. Eventually, Serene heard a horn and the hunters of the tribe all began to pack up and leave camp for another night of poaching, this was it.

Waiting a good couple of minutes until all of them seemed to have departed, Serene moved. She had counted 12 heads leave, that meant there was at least 12 left, manageable. As she snuck towards the main encampment, Serene spotted a total of 4 Miqo’te men armed with crude, but efficiently made spears born of the bone of their hunts.

Serene attempted to make her advancement as quiet as possible, making movements that tried to mimic that of a small beast in the wilderness, however the snapping twigs and rustling leaves, while eluding most of the guard, caught the ears of one of the more veteran members of the tribe, who turned and spotted the large Roegadyn sneaking around.

“Oi you! Get that woman!”, the guardsman yelled out loud to his fellow guards and all of them immediately took chase after Serene.

“Shit...”, Serene cursed under her breath and began sprinting. She wouldn’t get another chance at this, if she fled now they would be ready for another sneak attack. The only thing that made sense for Serene was to charge in headfirst.

A pursuit broke out, Serene sprinting at top speed and leaving the guard in her dust, though they weren’t so easily deterred. Eventually, Serene broke through the brush into the clearing of the Miqo’te encampment, in the wake of about 5 to 6 non combatants and the tribe chieftain herself, who was sat upon a large stump which served as her throne. Serene skidded to a halt in the middle of the camp, surprising all around her until the guard finally caught up, a little winded from the chase. The Martial Artist had herself surrounded, much to the amusement of the Chieftess.

“Pffhaha, what’s this? A rat has been chased out of it’s hiding hole. Though by the sheer size of you i guess I should call you a Capybara?”, the Chieftess sneered, to which Serene smirked.

“Well at least your lackeys can see a ‘moving’ target, may need to train them better in the future though. Maybe then you wouldn’t get any pests...also their lack of cardiovascular endurance is worrying.”, Serene jested right back, causing the Chieftess to scowl a little.

“So what do you want here, you giant brute? You don’t seriously believe you’ll get out of this situation you blundered into with witty banter?”

Serene stood up straight and looked to the Keeper Chieftess dead in the eye, “Nah, I don’t have any intention on ‘getting out’ of this situation. No I’m here to put you in your place and knock the daylight out of you so hard your little posse won’t be answering to their precious leader anytime soon. Serene Gale of the Adventurer’s Guild. I’m here to put a stop to your illegal poaching racket.”, Serene pointed at the Chieftain confidently, whom merely smirked and chuckled in response, standing up and sizing up to the Roegadyn, grabbing a gnarled looking axe that sat beside her stump.

“Oh are you? I’d like to see you try that five on one. I’ve always wanted to acquire a giant’s hide, looks like tonight is my lucky night.”, the Chieftess raised her massive waraxe high in the air with one hand before resting it on her shoulder, the lancer guards surrounding Serene all readying their own weapons too. Serene looked around her, smiling to herself before drawing out her own weapon, extending her bo-staff’s length to max with a twist of it’s handle and winking at the Chieftess.

“You betcha.”

Next

#The Guiding Winds #Serene Gale #Shrouded Journey

[theworlda-blaze-blog]

Task - Blaze

THE BASICS:

Full Name: Blaze Hilson

Nicknames: None

Birthday: October 31st

Birth Place: London, England

Gender: Male

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

Occupation: Arithmancy Professor

INTERIOR:

Blood status: Pure Blood

House: Ex-Slytherin

Wand: 10 inches, walnut with dragon heartstring core

Boggart: His father

Patronus: Fox

Amortentia (added bc important 😉): Leather, musk, strong coffee

Pets: A Maine Coon cat named Charon

Moral Alignment: Chaotic Evil

Tarot Card: The Chariot

Goals / Desires: For the ministry to fall and for the Death Eaters to take control of the wizarding world. Eventually, to rid the world of muggles, muggleborns and blood traitors entirely.

PHYSICAL:

Height: 6ft 2

Weight: Not sure on exact weight but his is of average build, on the slightly more muscular side

Eye Color: Brown

Hair Color: Dark brown

Clothing style: Extremely dapper, it’s rare to not see him in a suit or a shirt and tie. He generally wears a black cloak when travelling.

Left handed or Right handed: Right handed

Distinguishing Features: Well-kept facial hair

Tattoos or scars: A dark mark on his left forearm.

FAMILY:

parents: David Hilt (Deceased), Lisa Hilt (currently serving time in prison)

siblings: None

children: None

FAVORITE:

Book: The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde

Movie: None

Food: He’ll stick to a fire whiskey

Flower: Red hellebores

Season: Autumn

Animal: Foxes and Wolves

Memory: Blaze has few memories that make him ‘happy’. He has memories of torturing mudbloods that have made him feel fulfilled, or faded memories of sexual encounters, but none of those he would call his favourite.

THIS OR THAT:

Cats or Dogs: Cats

Mornings or Nights: Nights

War or Love: War

Smoke or Drink: Drink

coffee or tea? Coffee

writing or reading? Reading

THOUGHTS:

Dead coming back: Blaze would have to deal with his Father if the dead came back. He wouldn’t know whether to confront him or kill him all over again.

Enemies coming back: Blaze isn’t afraid of enemies. All his enemies are easily defeated, in his opinion.

Loved ones coming back: Blaze has no loved ones to return. He wouldn’t have an issue with this one.

Love At First Sight: Absolute bullshit. You cannot fall in love with someone the first day you know them, let alone the first time you look at them.

One True Love / Someone You Will Always Love: He finds this very hard to believe. He has never felt love, only lust, and doesn’t think this will change.

QUESTIONS:

What is their family history like? How does it affect them? How do they feel about their family? How does their family feel about them?

(GET READY FOR A FULL EXPOSITION DUMP)

Benjamin grew up as an only child. His Mother was a typical housewife, and his Father worked in the department of mysteries. For as long as he can remember, his Father would come home and drink. He would drink until he could hardly stand up. He would drink until his anger could no longer be contained. Often, Benji would watch as his Father got out of his favourite chair, and began to shout at his Mother. The shouting soon turned into hitting, the hitting into punching. His Mother would just take it. She always had new bruises. Benji would just hide away and watch.

Then, at the age of seven, Benji's Father hit him for the first time. There was no reason for it. All he had done was be born. A choice that wasn't even his own. But Benji didn't just take it. He fought back as best he could, but his Father only got stronger. Then, he reached for his wand. ‘Cruci-' His Father began to say, his wand pointed at little Benjamin. But he never finished his sentence. For when Benji looked up from his cowering stance, there stood his Mother. Wand drawn, standing over the dead body of her husband. A single tear rolling down her cheek. That was Benji's first experience of the killing curse.

After that, Benjamin's Mother couldn't deal with the guilt. She spent every day crying in her room, unable to look after her son. Years passed. Benji fended for himself as best he could. Meanwhile, his Mother went crazy. She would talk to herself, scream in her sleep, and hurt herself just like her husband hurt her. When he was 13, Benji's Mother realised that all she could do to protect her son, was to turn herself in. She was a criminal, a killer. So she did what she must do. Everyone in the Wizarding World learned of the case of Lisa and David Hilt. A wife that murdered her abusive husband. No one knew of the son that Lisa left behind. And no one ever would.

Benjamin changed his name, and moved away from his family home. From now on, he would be Blaze Hilson. No one would know his past.

Blaze feels pity for his Mother. She saved him from experiencing the cruciatus curse, and was brave to stand up to his Father. He’s glad his Father is dead. He hasn’t seen his Mother since he was 13, so he has no idea how she feels about him. She’s probably too crazy to even remember him.

who were their first love and do they feel the same now as they did then? As stated before, Blaze has never been in love. The first person Blaze had any kind of relationship was when he was 18, his first year at Hogwarts. He and a boy named Adam Wentworthy, also a Slytherin, slept together several times and Adam developed feelings for Blaze, asking him to be his boyfriend. Blaze declined as he couldn’t return those feelings. He broke Adam’s heart and did not speak to him for the rest of the time that they attended the school.

Do they believe that a person can redeem themselves from mistakes of the past? Some people cannot be redeemed. Mudbloods have attempted to infiltrate our pure world. Muggles were born to be slaughtered. And blood traitors, well, it’s obvious what they’ve done. Supporting people who should not exist in this world. No, some people make mistakes that cannot be forgiven.

What scares them? The abuse that he and his mother endured from his father. The image of his Father. It is a dark secret of his.

How do they feel about death? Have they been significantly affected by it? Blaze is glad that his Father is dead. He is also glad to be ridding the world of those who shouldn’t belong, like muggleborns. He has no fear of dying himself, he believes there should be death before dishonour.

What is one thing in their past they’re ashamed of? One thing they’re proud of? Blaze feels ashamed for never stepping in when his Mother got abused. He was only young, so there was hardly anything he could’ve done, but he always feels like the situation could have been different. He’s proud of the work he has done for the Dark Lord. The murders, the torture, you name it. He has no shame for doing those things.

Pride, envy, gluttony, lust, anger, greed and sloth. If your character was a seven deadly sin, what would they be and why? Blaze would be pride - he takes great pride in his appearance, and sees himself as better than others. He also takes great pride in being a Death Eater (and doing the dark lord’s bidding), though he unfortunately has to keep it secret to keep his job.

What is their goal? To rid the world of muggles, muggleborns and blood traitors entirely.

Do they believe Voldemort is back? They know he is!

PICK THREE:

Lyrics that describe your character best

“There’s blood in the water but it tastes so sweet.”

“I am a human being capable of doing terrible things.”

“My peace has always depended on all the ashes in my wake.”

quotes that your character lives by

“I don't want to be at the mercy of my emotions. I want to use them, to enjoy them, and to dominate them.”

“And though I can hide my cold gaze and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable, I simply am not there.”

“Kiss me and you will see how important I am.”

fictional characters that your character can relate to

Patrick Bateman. Dorian Gray. The Joker.

people who have changed your character’s life immensely

His Mother, Lisa Hilt.

Clara Jones, the first person he ever murdered.

Lord Voldemort.

#hqc:task #tw: violence #tw: death #tw: alcholism #tw: domestic abuse