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writer59january13 · 5 months

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Ace colonoscopy doctor Kellen Karl Kovalovich

revisited January 23rd, 2024 on the evening before yours truly (the one and only Matthew Scott Harris), a stand up comic wannabe, who historically heartily hales from Schwenksville, Pennsylvania undergoes oh joy rapture colonoscopy.

Three days before that first appointment with estimable gastroenterologist Doctor Kellen Karl Kovalovich regarding upcoming procedure scheduled for August 17th, 2022), unfortunately yielded inconclusive results meaning the excretory material not satisfactorily expelled.

Though necessary to swallow

four Dulcolax laxative tablets,

plus additionally quaff half 238 gram bottle of Miralax

over span of eight hours,

and if necessary

even apply one Fleets

(or store brand) Enema.

Ideally Vaseline ought be applied to the enema tip to avoid abrading sensitive skin surfaces. The missus located lubricating fluid she purchased Trojan lubricants

Continuance Essence at Adult World

when a clearance sale at said store took place.

As a more effective modus operandi aforenamed said specialist strongly advised taking Su-prep in place of Miralax, which two step process already begun

earlier today, which date mentioned in first line.

I grudgingly accept short lived

lower abdominal discomfort linkedin with gushing watery stools

analogous to reasonable and tolerable

assault upon me derriere considerably less severe than shigella

tube be worth knowing

nada worry colon cancer

would pose grave threat.

I remembered first colonoscopy

specialist named Larry Borowsky located 525 Jamestown Ave. #101, Philadelphia, PA 19128 (challenged courtesy hearing difficulty,

hence he wore an auditory device)

treated me some half dozen plus years ago,

yours truly didst solidly waste, rather subsequently spent

a few hours writing, toil letting,

and crafting the following bupkis slightly modified to correspond

with present modus operandi treatment.

Ask any devotee

of above named gastroenterologists officious military licensed cheeky knucklers, ne’er kissed gluteus maximus, they soldiered thru medical school

despite getting pooped out rigorous regimen now both know

vital details regarding bowels of human excretory system, which iz alimentary

and familiar flickering

sleight of hand linkedin

quicken wrist zooms into grab bag of medicinal tricks - mimics

waving magic wand bitta bang prestidigitation abracadabra

of anal scope brings – dang gustatory scenic aerated holy smoker

of a rectum, a wasteland fang less, but the backside seat,

where dingle berries

and/or polyps sometimes hang, whence undergoing this

behind the scenes procedure where smelly silent sonnets

from sphincter sprang

most times flatulence

relieved in private place but, post-op probe forced air into buttucks,

thus encourage patients

to aerate sterile space otherwise known as passing gas

scrutinized faces elicit embarrassment

of elderly folks,

who feel self conscious farting in public

before departing from human race, rearing specialist unheralded doctors

relieves anguish without a trace

which gratitude spurred

crappy attempt to compose verse

to express appreciation

clean bill of health and disperse anticipatory anxiety, this pooper trooper

endured with pseudo “nurse”

actually mine wife, who nudged me

to undergo examination

lest she bare witness

becoming a widow

following mine hearse if hypothetical demise did pass,

deceased would hear loud curse analogous to unstoppable enema,

(brought out from downed colyte

consumed for first colonoscopy) expletives interspersed with my name

exhibiting master card shark cunning never forgiving

nor forgetting how we happened to be broke nearly the entire

coup d’état of marriage –

reaching cheeky tush pinching

catatonic state dien rapport, this generic guy saved

from premature death viz ace sing examination positive outcome tantamount

with flying colors – at least now, our two grown darling daughters can

(in Scooby dooby doo doo time), perhaps if/when they beget

their own children witness longevity

courtesy of exemplary doctors Kellen Karl Kovalovich,

and/or Larry Borowsky, whose honed trained hands and eyes adept to scout out and ticket

suspicious cellular demons, aim of innocuous microbes

to destroy e pluribus unum alone!

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song-gosni · 4 years

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// Closed starter for @wickedxlovely (Matthew)

If he was going to set up a blood bank he might need some connections that are willing to donate. No use having a blood bank without blood. Young had been made aware that Matthew, the same witch he has been dealing with for centuries here. He also heard that he was not a part of his kind. Which certainly made Young curious. From his interactions he remembered he wasn’t overly kind on vampires though each benefitted from the relationship at least on a professional level. So that can only be a messy transition. He found him soon enough and right enough he was a vampire now. The original couldn’t help but find the situation very ironic considering his own turning. However he wasn’t going to voice it. He would not have change willingly which meant it was forced. Rogue clans really were the bane of his life. ❝Matthew, you’ve seen better days,❞ he called out to him in his playfully teasing manner. He thought it best not to change the way he treated him. ❝ have a few favours to ask,❞ he started off pausing to get a better view of him. ❝It will benefit you,❞ after all he was now one of his kind.

#// With fangs bared I write - Matthew #//001

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butternuggets-blog · 3 years

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September Writing Challenge - Monsters

For @adarafaelbarba Writing Challenge Moodboards :)

~Fluff~

Pip bared his plastic fangs for inspection in the bathroom mirror, grimaced angrily, then smiled. He was not typically an outgoing person, but All Souls Night always brought out his mischievous side.

He heard the first screech of protest from his father as he reached the top of the stairs, and stopped short, listening.

‘ABSOLUTELY NOT!’

‘Matthew-’

‘I don’t care how old our daughter is, she is not going out dressed like that!’

‘It could be worse, Dad’ Becca, Pip’s twin sister, wiggled her fluffy wolf ears at him. Pip slid down the banister, and leapt across the room to stand next to her.

‘At least we’re dressed appropriately’

Matthew growled.

‘You are NOT going out dressed as WEREWOLVES!’

‘Oh come on, Dad, don’t be a spoilsport!’ said Marcus, as he and Gallowglass let themselves into the house. Matthew rounded on his eldest, Diana stroking his back soothingly and trying to control her laughter.

‘You too?!’ Matthew pinched the bridge of his nose, breathed out slowly, then fixed Gallowglass with an icy glare. ‘I expected better from you’

Gallowglass shrugged. ‘Family costume for a family event’

‘Exactly’ Baldwin stepped around his nephew, and gave the twins a tight hug. He had refused point blank to wear fake ears, but Pip had persuaded him to at least put in veneers.

‘HAS EVERYBODY IN THIS FAMILY FORSAKEN ME?!’

‘Just for tonight’ Diana said, with a giggle.

#adarafaelbarbaseptemberbingo #adow #baldwin montclair #matthew de clermont #marcus whitmore #gallowglass #diana bishop #a discovery of witches

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antihero-writings · 4 years

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A Touch of Song and Salem (Ch2)

Fandom: Hetalia (Firefly Crossover)

Summary: Earth got used up. They got used up. So the nations of the world had to flee into the black...but they'll only ever be half alive now.

America forgot how to smile at the academy...but maybe a day out planetside is all she needs. Hopefully the people on said planet won't try to burn her down.

(A fusion-style crossover with fem!America and Canada from Hetalia in the Firefly universe, cast as Simon and River during the dance and witch scenes of the episode "Safe.")

Notes: Written for my friend @ladynephthyss’ birthday!! The characterizations of the Hetalia characters are based on her characterizations of them!! (She plans on posting some Hetalia stuff soon, please go check her out!!)

We both love Firefly, especially Simon and River, and as I love writing fusion-style crossovers I thought this would be perfect!!

I’ll reblog this with links to Ch1, as well as reblog ch1 with ch2 soon!!

If you enjoy this fic, please consider commenting and/or reblogging!! It really means the world to me!!

Chapter 2:

Amelia doesn’t remember everything. She doesn’t remember every war between countries, every petty squabble between her family. She doesn’t remember all the things Jackson said when he was angry, and Roosevelt when he was calm. She doesn’t quite remember how she felt when it rained after too-long summers. She doesn’t remember the feeling of wildfire, of too-long winters where they had to eat the men after all. Of every man hunt over silly things like color, if we’d like to share everything after all. Not entirely. She doesn’t quite remember what it was to have fields, open and untamed.

She doesn’t remember Roanoke; she doesn’t remember Salem. She tries not to.

She doesn’t remember how the sea boiled, the earth choked, and the sky burned when they had to move off world.

She doesn’t remember what it felt like to burn.

She doesn’t remember everything from the academy. She doesn’t remember how school was more like that of fish; that they had to stick together or they’d be picked off one by one and devoured. She doesn’t remember how they shoved needles into her brain like toothpicks, and gobbled up the pieces, her thoughts appetizers—(so what was the main course?).

She, smart girl, sane girl, doesn’t remember sending letters made of jumbled notions, speaking of monuments and worlds they’d never seen, events to which they’d never been. A fraud in coded verity. She doesn’t remember laying, eyes open, knowing tomorrow would not be molded together out of sunshine, and rain, and open air, it would be sewn out of blood and their own brains.

What she does remember...fragments. A flash here. An emotion there. She sees ghosts. Some benign. Some…not so. And she’s not always sure what’s a ghost and what’s a figment, a figment of yesterday, or just today’s unlucky daydreams. Though perhaps she’s always seen them.

She feels things. Too much.

She doesn’t remember everything. All of American history is too much for one girl’s head.

But she does remember Matthew.

She remembers how much he risked to save her from the needles. She remembers the feeling of his arms around her for the first time since she left him—(all for the sake of a little knowledge…She hated how she could be so petty sometimes). The way he still, after all this time, smelled like maple, and freshly fallen snow, and cigarette smoke. How he saved her.

(Though some of her got left behind.)

She remembers how Matthew danced with her, long ago—though the occasions bleed together.

They never much liked parties.

She remembers sitting curled up with him, and a good book, by the fire, petting a dog with her toes. Thinking of home. Knowing they were close enough.

So when they take him…she forgets how to smile.

It’s a game, surely. Hide and seek. She remembers that, at least. She must be “it”.

That thought alone keeps her from breaking. Breaking. Breaking the world down, herself in it.

So she counts to ten, and she runs. Through the forest, each tree—(no sweet sap from them this time of year)—like scarecrows pointing no particular way, just there to scare off the birds, and maybe a sensitive child or two.

She remembers the farms, and the wind over the wheat, scarecrows like sentries.—Why do they say ravens are bad omens?—The farms, the plantations, and the songs gliding over them, songs of a home those working in the fields could never return to.

And she finds him. He wasn’t hiding altogether well. In fact, he’s with people out in the open, some strangers—Are they friends? Are they playing too?

“Found you~!” The smile returns. It’s okay. He’s safe. They can go back to dancing now.

The horror in his eyes tells her the world might just have to break after all.

“Amelia! Amelia, no!” He breaks free from the not-so-friends holds, grabbing her too tightly, pushing her away.

“Found you—!” She repeats the words, though the tone is entirely different, choked ang confused, as the men wrap their arms around her, and their grip is not kind, and they smell like blood.

Well…if they are to return to the needles…at least they will be together.

******

Matthew knocks lightly on the door to Arthur’s study and walks in, despite having been given no sign of welcome.

Arthur is sitting at his desk, his glasses on the tip of his nose, scrutinizing a book, his brow creased a little too hard.

Matthew sits in the chair across from him, and sets the letters down in front of him; the topic of conversation.

There is a full cup of tea on the table in front of Arthur.

Full? Yes. Steaming? No.

Arthur never lets tea go cold.

That alone would be enough to warrant the next words;

“Something’s wrong.”

Arthur looks up, those blue eyes stormy and perfectly clear at the same time. “Yes, I gathered that as well.”

“You called me in here?” France knocks lightly before marching in. Despite it being Arthur’s study, Matthew is the one who responds;

“Yes.” The Canadian is tapping his foot a little too much, a little too quickly, a dull ache in his bottom lip. “It’s about Amelia’s letters.…Didn’t they seem strange to you?”

“I’m glad I’m not the only one.” Francis sits by the bookshelf. “They seemed quite odd indeed. Especially the part about the Darbanville’s. We don’t know anyone by that name.”

“What do you think is going on?” Arthur’s eyes fix on Matthew.

Matthew looks between them, then at the letters, the words rearranging themselves on the pages. He hoped they wouldn’t think he was crazy.

“I think there’s a code.”

The two older men exchange a glance, slight surprise on their faces, then resolve. Matthew presses on.

“We get a few letters, then nothing, then this? …She’s trying to tell is something.” The knot in his stomach just keeps getting tighter, the ache in his lip sharper. “Something that someone doesn’t want her to say.”

There’s a moment of thought

“…What do you suggest we do?”

He looked down, fidgeting with his hands before looking up, fire in his eyes.

"We go get her.”

******

The moon is particularly bright this night. Not whole. Almost. Just a little bit off. Like them.

The moon. In the sky. Where it belongs. Something from a spellbook, that would turn them into wolves when drunk on starlight. Not just a dull hunk of rock in the vacuum-shield in front of them.

On better worlds this would have been a quiet night. There would be crickets and frogs, and a brother and sister would have smoked weed or tobacco, lying on the grass and named the stars. On better worlds they would have spoke of life, and politics, and absolutely nothing at all.

On better worlds Salem had ended.

But this is not a better world.

So everything is so loud. The shouts of a people who forgot they lived in a universe where superstition was just that renders the silence speechless. They speak of God, and broken little girls, and this not-Earth resonates with their tones. One word rings through the mob like gunshots, and everything sounds a little too much like yesterday.

The word, the yesterday it conjures, mix into poison in his veins, which turns to venom on his tongue.

Matthew marches up to the patron. A respectable man, with a sense of justice. A cruel man; a sense, yes, but he filled the blanks in the wrong order. The words a bitter demand, and not a plea. No desperation in his voice, no hesitation; his head is level, and he thinks the patron’s is too. The trade would be fair and simple. There’s still hope. There’s no reason to resort to anything drastic just yet. The anger in his voice is barely bleeding through;

“Take me instead. Take my life for hers.”

“The witch must die. God commands it.” He didn’t even ponder it in that thick, empty skull of his.

At those statements, the two fists shaking at his sides, want to take this man’s neck and snap it between them, singing an old war song, and throw his body over a cliff, letting hungry waves devour him, or better yet out the airlock, where he will float breathless into the void for eternity…or maybe just lead him into the fire they’re intending to feed his sister to.

He could do it. He wanted to. He could fly away on Serenity’s wings and never have to answer for such a crime. He’s killed better men in wars before. And sometimes outside them.

But, no. He must sit quietly, and watch, and wait for the end. Amelia may not be very happy if her brother killed a man in front of her. Or…

He tried not to indulge the thought that maybe she would.

And when he sees the other men holding torches, torches licking their lips, about to let them lose on his sister—

—Lighting a poor girl on fire for the simple the charge that there was a demon inside her, like we all don’t all have ten or twelve—

All that anger comes pouring out. And before he fully comprehends what he’s doing he runs to them.

“Get away from her!” that venom drips off his lips, his hands fangs, grabbing at their clothes and wrenching them and their orange beasts away.

One of them throws a punch at him. Matthew may look weak, but he has been in far worse brawls against far bigger men, in far darker streets, and these ones just so happen to intend to hurt his sister, so it’s no trouble for him to knock the three of them down.

Once they’re on the ground or clutching their faces he turns to the crowd, rage boiling in his gut—

—Why? Why? Why is it always her? Why do they do this to her? When she was just a girl who wanted to live her life in peace?—

“She has done nothing to you!”

Because she never did. She never did anything to hurt anyone, and they always found some reason to kill her for it. Some charge worthy of death. Some reason to light her on fire. They always do that with the good ones. She knows this better than anyone. And he says the words he always wanted to say, to all of them, sadness breaking through the venom—It was so simple, why couldn’t they get that seeing ghosts is no charge worthy of burning?—

“If she dies tonight it won’t be God’s will that killed her! It’ll be you! Your lunacy! Your ignorance!”

He stares out at them, and they don’t respond in word or action: they don’t try to refute his words, or pull him away. They just stare, their eyes blank, a court of zombies. They’re at a stalemate, neither giving up the floor.

And he does what he should have done long ago, what he should have every time, every time he saw her in pain, every time they persecuted her to the point of torture, or death:

He raises his heel, and takes a step back onto the platform beside her.

“That’s not gonna stop us.” Says one of them.

He resists the urge to say Never once did I think it would.

Amelia turns to him, and he expects to see fear and bloody memory in her eyes—

But she smiles. Like she had hours ago. Like nothing’s wrong. Like they’re still dancing. Playing war games. And she says, calling back to something he told her earlier today;

“Post holer. Digging holes for posts.”

He looks at the post behind them; the one she’s tied to. The one that just might be the death of her.

Post holer. For the ground.

Long ago she had ground. In America. When they caged her wild plains in with fences and wire and laws, plowing holes and raking lines across her amber fields, and it wasn’t always bad, some were nice, there were farmers who just wanted to make an honest living, a pair of explorers, once, who just to see a little bit of the world…

They weren’t always bad, no…but she’d rather be free.

And now they dug a hole, and put in a post to burn a not-quite-girl, with her golden locks, and her wild fantasies—wild fantasies like being happy, some day—this girl who, earlier today, was smiling for the first time since the academy. Some savage mob on an innocuous world dug a hole for a post to burn America down.

He wraps his arms around her, and she is warm, and she smells like hay, and summer, strawberries, and gunpowder.

There’s no hesitation, no pain, nor even anger in the words this time. They are sheer resolve:

“Light it.”

He is willing to die for her. With her. If they can die at all. If they can, it’d be fitting it’d happen out here on a twisted echo of a worse America.

They’ve spent too much time starving in the black.

“Time to go.” Amelia says softly. And the words are not pained or afraid…there’s almost longing there.

If this is it, if this is how things will end, he thinks, it’s not the worst way to go. Fire’s certainly better than water, because at least in fire you can breathe. It’s better than the cold, because the cold has a way of ridding you of feeling before the end. At least in fire you can feel something. Because the cold is slow, and makes you rather eat your friends after all…People don’t do that with fire. He always thought burning would be a fitting end for the Great White North. It’s not the worst way to go; by his sister’s side.

This will be how America and Canada end: on some nameless world, tied to a post, devoured by flames and ignorance. And…they’re alright with that.

Then there’s another sound. A sound that isn’t shouts or flames or anything natural. Something that sounds mechanical. If he was delusional he’d think it was the whirring of a ship’s engine.

He feels a gust of wind brush by him, and a bright light forces him to open his eyes, squinting.

“Well look at this,” Out of the smoke a voice breaks through, and he says it like he came upon a good game of cricket. “Looks like the twins have got themselves into a spot of trouble.”

Arthur is marching through the crowd holding a gun, Francis at his side.

“It appears we arrived just in time. What does that make us?”

“Ehh, how would le’Amerique say it?” France puts a finger to his chin as if thinking, then says in his best attempt at an American accent; “Big damn heroes.”

“Ain’t we just.” England does the same. Then, as he arrives in front of the platform, in his normal accent: “So sorry for the interruption, gents. But it appears you have something that belongs to us. And we’d very much like it back.”

“This is a holy cleansing, you cannot think to thwart God’s will.”

“…Would you be ever so kind as to direct your attention to the lovely lady hanging out of the spaceship with the rather large gun?”

Matthew did the same, only to see Ireland; red hair like flames in the light, another line of red piercing the air as she aimed the gun around, looking like she’d like nothing more than to pull the trigger. He’d been privy to such a look on her face only a few times, and he could confirm hesitation was not in her vocabulary.

“I’d like to introduce you to my sister. She has taken a liking to the girl currently tied to the post, and she might just be in the mood to kill one or two of you. So rather, it’s her will you ought worry about thwarting.” He backs up, speaking to the twins now. “I must say, the two of your’s ability to get yourselves into trouble is near miraculous.”

“…Yes I’m very proud.”

“Cut her down.” And there’s a sting to his words this time.

“She’s a witch.” The patron says, as if, upon hearing the words, Arthur will reply Oh? A witch? I wasn’t aware. Go about your business.

“Quite frankly, I’m surprised you’re bright enough to notice. Yes, she is. But she’s our witch.”

His eyes aim at the respectable man, and they’re far more threatening than the gun pointing at his head. The words contain a venom related to Matthews, but it’s the way his eyes blaze that remind Matthew that he’s watched the world burn more than once;

“So cut her the hell down.”

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dndeed · 5 years

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Critical Role Miniature Rollout: C2E67

With Andrew Harshman

An archive and review of the minis used on Critical Role.

Quality episode, particularly in the encounter design department. Encounters with alternate objectives are so refreshing and engaging. In this session we are treated to a timed encounter, a puzzle encounter, and a spider encounter. What a deal. And the maps, as always, are stellar. The offset descending stairway was especially striking, what a smart and sharp way to present the combat. This episode ties the Campaign 2 map number record with three maps. Still holding out for that record breaking four map ep, but in the meantime let’s check out the E67 minis.

Start the clock, it’s time for Critical Role Miniature Rollout Campaign 2 Episode 67!

The List

Campaign Coins DEVEN RUE COMPASS ROSE

Mats by Mars: Shattered Soil

Zeckos Dragon and Pentagram Black Stone Finish Hourglass Sand Timer

Combat Tiers Elevation Set

LITKO Flying Figure Stands

Dungeons and Dragons Condition Markers by thelukec

Wizkids Pools and Pillars

Crown of Fangs Dressing: Lectern

Classic Dungeon Remastered Core Set

Dwarven Forge Double Doors

Dwarven Forge Mountain Peak Pack

Dwarven Forge Rock Cave-in / Rocky Slope

Dwarven Forge Stone Rubble

Dwarven Forge Spider Web

Dwarven Forge Caverns

Dwarven Forge Dungeon of Doom Doors and Bars Insert

Dwarven Forge Large Tower Fortified

Dwarven Forge LED Castle Assortment Valorian Spire

Dwarven Forge Door Pack/Dungeons

Dwarven Forge Chamber of Sorrows

Dwarven Forge Warded Door

D&D Icons of the Realms Miniatures: Waterdeep Dungeon of the Mad Mage - Halaster’s Lab Premium Set

Steamforged Games Critical Role Miniatures

HeroForge Jester Duplicity Miniature

Steamforged Games Cat Claws

Dungeons & Dragons Spell Effects: Arcane Fury & Divine Might

Custom Lollipop Spiritual Weapon

Elemental Evil #008 Wolf Spider

Dungeon Command Giant Spider / Dragoneye #54 Large Monstrous Spider

Dungeons of Dread #54 Deathjump Spider / Dungeon Command Demonweb Spider / Castle Ravenloft Board Spider

Underdark #57 Spider of Lolth

Monster Menagerie #033 Invisible Stalker

Deadly Foes #032 Giant Eagle

Lords of Madness #39 Roc

Rise of the Runelords #007 Ghoul / Undead Horde #003 Ghoul

Tomb of Annihilation #009 Chultan Zombie

Elemental Evil #009 Ghoul

Demonweb #46 Corruption Corpse

Against the Giants #07 Visceral Devourer

Undead Horde #004 Zombie

Rusty Dragon Inn #005 Vampire Spawn

Unhallowed #44 Strahd Zombie

Monster Menagerie 2 #008 Ghast

Monster Menagerie #026 Swarm of Bats

Miniature Chains

The Nonhuman Animals

Giant Spider Dungeon Command Giant Spider / Dragoneye #54 Large Monstrous Spider

Not an especially exciting or interesting monstrous spider. But it does deliver in the biological design department. This spider looks reasonably realistic, like an arachnid that could legitimately exist. The original sculpt is from the D&D Miniatures Game and the onscreen spider is from the Dungeon Command reprint.

Adolescent Giant Spiders Dungeons of Dread #54 Deathjump Spider / Dungeon Command Demonweb Spider / Castle Ravenloft Board Spider, Underdark #57 Spider of Lolth, Elemental Evil #008 Wolf Spider Mini images in this section sourced from minisgallery.com Yikes. If this were a Call of Cthulhu campaign some party members would definitely have arachnophobia. Quite a few figures in this fight. A proper skittering swarm of spiders with some properly spidery models.

Deathjump Spider basically looks like a giant tarantula in a deadly jumping pose, a Death Jump if you will. A grand sculpt to be sure. So grand in fact that the sculpt has appeared in three different D&D products (two prepainted and one unpainted). The paint jobs look pretty unique, I would guess these are Matthew Mercer specials. Painted copies of the unpainted spider figures from the Castle Ravenloft Boardgame.

So here we have a black widow sorta design with the Spider of Lolth mini. Some quick questions regarding the title of this miniature, doesn’t Lolth hold sway over all spiderkind? How come this one particular spider gets the official Lolth title? What’s so great about this spider eh? Well the eight bright red eyes are a neat little paint detail. But the rest of the paint is nothing to write home about. And the legs are kind of spindly and goofy. Not the best spider, not the worst.

If there were a spider that Lolth would want nothing to do with, it’d probably be the Elemental Evil Wolf Spider. Totally puzzling gray/blue paint scheme, a very blobby, ill-defined sculpt, and an inaccurate name. This does not look like a wolf spider, nor is it the size of an average D&D miniature wolf. But when you have a whole mob of spiders on the table, a few stinkers are hardly noticeable.

Jester Giant Eagle Deadly Foes #032 Giant Eagle

Don’t look behind you Fjord! This figure has kind of a weird flight stand. But it works really well, so there’s not much to complain about. It’s a little wobbly, but the pose is well balanced. Excellent model resolution, all the features and sculpt details are really nicely defined. The sculpt fidelity is high enough that the flat paint actually looks pretty good. On a simpler model this paint scheme would be quite unflattering.

Caleb Giant Eagle Lords of Madness #39 Roc

A glamorous model. Just look at that majestic pose! I’m not especially into the inclusion of a stone on the base. Did the modeler/artist put a rock in the roc’s talon as some sort of delightful pun? Surely this has to be intentional. The paint on this figure is a little messy, but overall it’s a righteous roc.

The Monsters

Invisible Stalker Monster Menagerie #033 Invisible Stalker Mini image in this section sourced from minisgallery.com

A high quality miniature of a rather intangible creature concept. This figure is surprisingly true to the Invisible Stalker 5E Monster Manual art. A slightly funny looking pose on its own. But when positioned behind the mini of an unwitting victim this figure really sings!

The Zombies

A veritable horde of zombies contained in a single combat. Excluding the Mad Mage Preserved Corpse terrain pieces, there are a total of nine zombie representing miniatures. What do you say we rank them?

9. Strut Zombie Monster Menagerie 2 #008 Ghast

A decently good movement pose, but dirty paint and crummy model definition in the face.

8. Shredded Zombie Elemental Evil #009 Ghoul

A boring pose and paint scheme with reasonably defined muscle definition in the sculpt resolution.

7. Lunging Zombie Rusty Dragon Inn #005 Vampire Spawn

If it were not for the extremely kinetic and engaging pose, this model would have a worse ranking. The resolution on this model is pretty poor with bare feet that look like shoes and fists that look like spheres.

6. Neon Guts Zombie Unhallowed #44 Strahd Zombie

A model with perceivable toes and fingers. Fine sculpt fidelity but a terribly flat paint job. This zombie’s guts are hanging out, but they are oddly neon colored. Practically the same color as Caleb’s cat claws.

5. Skull-Wielding Zombie Rise of the Runelords #007 Ghoul / Undead Horde #003 Ghoul

Nice details, fun pose, neato skull and loincloth accessories. This dude kind of looks like he’s bowling.

4. Stylish Zombie Tomb of Annihilation #009 Chultan Zombie

This figure really stands out on account of its costume design. It’s very refreshing to have a generic commoner zombie that’s not wearing the same old generic medieval peasant garb. Also, this sculpt is pretty sharp and sports some clever undead details. This zombie is clearly malnourished. Bones and wasting muscle are visible in the plastic casting. Really nice. Really original.

3. Gnarly Zombie Demonweb #46 Corruption Corpse

Gross! Look at this thing. On second thought, don’t look. This is some Return of the Living Dead basement zombie level nastiness. The resolution on this figure is on point. All the visible bits of the skeleton and the textured filth sloughing off this creature is simply delightful. Of course I wish the paint were a tad more complex, but the simple paint is pretty effective on its own.

2. Left 4 Dead Smoker Zombie Against the Giants #07 Visceral Devourer

A relic from miniature days of yore. When miniatures sculpts were literally sculpted. A relatively straightforward pose with so many beautiful details. The textures of the hanging clothing, the grimy shin guards, and the shredded undead flesh. This is the sort of richly shaped figure that is rarely seen outside this era of prepainted figures. Glorious.

1. Pincushion Zombie Undead Horde #004 Zombie

I’m a sucker for a properly battlescarred zombie. This zombie has a total of three projectiles stuck in him. Totally brutal. And on top of that, the toe of his left boot is busted open and he’s lost one of his gloves. But this undead dude could not care less, look at that expression, look at that pose, he’s having the time of his life (ironically)! This figure always gets a great response at the table. Players love it. I love it. You should love it too.

Closing Remarks

As a DM who recently ran a miniature zombie horde, I really appreciate the variety and sheer quantity of undead in this session. Quite impressive indeed. This dungeon delve is proving to be quite the trek. This is certainly a dangerous place to take a rest. Sleep tight Mighty Nein.

#criticalroleminiaturerollout

#criticalroleminiaturerollout #critrole #crspoilers #cr #criticalrole #critters

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cactiem · 6 years

Text

Mistakes Were Made

Chapter Eight: Proposition For the Ghoulies

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Fogarty!Reader

Requested: Nope

Summary: After two years of leaving Riverdale behind you come back to find that things have changed. You have to now deal with the consequences your mistakes have made.

GIF Not Mine

Chapter Seven <- Chapter Eight

The smell of pancakes wafted through the kitchen. You were at the oven making breakfast for everyone. Fangs and Toni were sat at the breakfast bar tucking in to their stack of pancakes. Laughter filled the room as Fangs recounted the story of his date last night. When you saw Sweet Pea standing in the doorway your smile grew and your eyes lit up. He went over to you, snaking his arm around your waist and pressing his lips onto yours, stealing a bit of food while he did earning a elbow jab from you. In this moment, Sweet Pea was content with his life.

Then he woke up and reality hit. He was lying down on a cold metal bench, that he barely fit on, inside of a jail cell for something he didn't do. He would never get to have breakfast and banter with his friends ever again or kiss you ever again. All Sweet Pea wanted to do was kiss you and call you his but that wasn’t possible. Not with him being in the situation he is currently in.

Back at your house you were pacing around the living room as Fangs and Toni sat on the couch. They looked at each other, having a silent conversation as they did. "Hey, Y/N... why don't you sit down." Toni suggested, having lost the silent debate her and Fangs were having.

"How is FP expecting us, me, to just sit here and do nothing whilst Sweet Pea is sitting in jail right now." You huffed, ignoring Toni's suggestion.

"FP won't let Sweet Pea go to jail. He's probably doing everything he can to get him out." Fangs joined in trying to get through to you but to no avail so he tried again. He got up from the couch and went over to you, placing his hands on your shoulders bringing your attention to him. "Y/N, look at me. This is what Ryan wants. He wants you to spiral and do something stupid so you get yourself arrested. We need to be smart about this."

"You're right." Your voice was small as you finally acknowledged what your brother was saying. "Tomorrow you go and see if you can get any info off Kevin on what they're charging Sweets with."

"And what about you?" Toni asked.

"I'm going to go and see him."

The doors opened signalling someone was coming into the room. Sweet Pea, who was sat on the floor with his back to the wall, didn't make an effort to move assuming it's an officer. "You look like crap." You spoke up after you took in the site before you. A disheveled looking Sweet Pea looked up seeing you standing there. He blinked a couple of times to ensure that you were there and not a figment of his imagination.

"Y/N." He breathed. His face lit up immediately in your presence. You sent him a forced smile and sat down on the floor beside him with only bars separating you. "What are you doing here?"

"I bribed a cop to come and see you." You shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal making Sweet Pea let out a small laugh. After the laughter died down you asked the question you were dreading the answer for. "What have they got on you?"

"Its bad Y/N. They think I was behind the explosion."

"But it wasn't though! It was Ryan!" You exclaimed angry that Sweet Pea was being blamed for something he didn't do. "This is all my fault. I should just tell the sheriff it was me."

"Don't, okay?" Sweet Pea slid his hand into yours and gave it a squeeze. "If I'm going to jail I'm glad it's to protect you."

"Don't say that." You sniffled, tears welling up. "Damn it. I promised myself I wouldn't cry." You furiously wiped the tears that fell away but more came. "Look, you're not going to jail. I won't let that happen."

Sweet Pea sighed. He knew he was going to jail. He was a realist. He didn't have your ability of positivity or faith. "I can't believe you snuck in to see me without bringing Pop's." He said changing the subject.

"Well excuse me for being too concerned about you that I didn't think about going to Pop's." You retorted with hint of playfulness in your tone.

A silence fell upon the two of you. It was a comfortable one as opposed to an awkward one. The silence gave Sweet Pea time to think about you. Most importantly the two of you. You had bribed a cop and snuck in to see him yet Sweet Pea doesn't know the definition of your relationship. Were you just friends? Or was it something more? Were you dating now? Sweet Pea couldn't keep these questions in any longer. He didn't want to ruin the moment but he had to know. He didn't think he could face a life of solitude without knowing. "We kissed." Sweet Pea blurted out. He intended to ask a question but instead came out with that.

"I know. I was there."

"Y/N..."

"We'll talk about us over some Pop's when you get out." You told him. You wanted to kiss him but settled on squeezing his hand before standing up and brushing off any dirt on your jeans. "I should go. Fangs will probably be wondering where I am." You told him not giving Sweet Pea a chance to say anything about not getting out of jail.

When you got home you threw your keys in the bowl and made your way to the living room where Toni and Fangs sat waiting for you. "And?" Toni asked, biting her nails from nervousness. You didn’t need to ask her what she meant by her question. You knew she was worried for Sweet Pea.

"He’s doing as well as expected all things considered." You answered flopping into the arm chair.

"And you?" Fangs wondered.

"Sweet Pea wanted to discuss us. He doesn’t think he’ll get out." You said, your tone laced with sorrow. Toni reached over and gave your hand a comforting squeeze.

"We’ll get him out, don’t worry." She assured you and you sent her a grateful smile.

"How though? Apparently the evidence they’ve got on him was sent in anonymously, which is obviously Ryan, and they’ve got a witness but their identity is kept under wraps. Even Kevin doesn’t know it." Fangs told you and Toni what he found out off Kevin.

"Then we need to discredit Ryan or whoever it is." You hummed as you made a plan in your head. "Ryan has videos on everyone to use as evidence in situations like this. We need to get those videos and send them to the sheriff."

"How do we get them?"

"You’re not going to like it. It involves the Ghoulies." You started, then explained to them your plan.

"Absolutely not!" Fangs exclaimed shaking his head furiously. "Sweet Pea would kill me if I let you do this. Besides this is a stupid plan. We can’t even trust the Ghoulies on a normal day let alone when we’ve got so much riding on this."

"Trust me, okay. I know what I’m doing. I’ll just go on my own so if the plan goes sideways it won’t backfire on you or Toni." You said, adamant on doing this. Fangs reluctantly nodded letting you do this because he knew you’d do it anyway. You were stubborn like that. The rest of the afternoon was spent perfecting the plan before you went to change into something more suitable.

As you walked into the House of Dead you held your head high, feeling all of the Ghoulies eyes burning on you. The place in general felt grim and icky and when you get home you knew you’d be taking at least three showers to rid yourself of the stench and feeling of the place. Out of the corner of your eye you saw someone head to the back room where you hoped they went to get Malachai because you didn’t want to be here any longer than needed to. You were brought out of your thoughts by bellowing coming from the Ghoulies leader bringing a hushed silence over the room. "Well, well, well. If it isn’t the Serpents girl. What are you doing here? The snakes get too vanilla for you, Y/N?"

"Keep dreaming, Malachai." You sassed back. "I’ve come here to give you a proposition." He bobbed his head and ushered you to his back room where you could chat in private.

"What kind of proposition?" Malachai asked once it was just the two of you. An associate of the Serpents giving a Ghoulie a proposition piqued his interest.

"I know of someone encroaching on your turf and your business. Why not help get rid of our common enemy." You told him only a snippet of the information you held so you could reel him in.

"Who?"

"Where’s the fun in that? I’ll tell you if you promise to help me in return."

"I gotta admit you’ve got balls coming into my house asking for a favour. How do I know you’re telling the truth?" He quirked an eyebrow, folding his hands and leaning back in his chair. You stared him down for a few seconds before throwing some photos onto his desk. Malachai leaned forward taking the photos in his hand and flicked through them. "What do you need us to do?"

"To get me a laptop."

"Is that it?" He asked in disbelief, not fully believing that what you wanted him to do was so simple. You nodded in response. Malachai mulled over the offer before accepting it.

"His name is Ryan Matthews and this is the address." You said writing down the details on a scrap piece of paper. "When you’ve got the laptop leave it at my place."

You stood up and started walking away but was stopped by another question being asked your way. "Why not do this yourself?"

"Lets just say I’m not welcome there anymore." You shrugged, opening the door and leaving the House of Dead behind.

When you got outside you jogged over to the parked car across the street and slid into the backseat. "How’d it go?" Fangs asked looking at you through the wing mirror.

"The plan was a success." You smiled, giddy that you may actually get Sweet Pea out of jail.

Two days later, two long days may you add, and you were standing outside of the jail waiting on Sweet Pea’s release. The Ghoulies came through with the laptop and after removing any incriminating evidence on you, you sent it to the sheriff. Shortly after Ryan and the rest of the gang were arrested which was a sight you have desperately wanted to see for a long time. It was just as satisfying as you thought it would be.

When you heard the doors opening your head shot up and a huge grin appeared on your face. Without warning you ran over to Sweet Pea and almost tackled him, smashing your lips on his. He responded by wrapping his arms around you and returning the kiss. It wasn’t long until you were interrupted by someone, Fangs, clearing their throat making you pull away from the kiss but not his embrace. "I missed you." You said, slightly out of breath.

"I missed you too." Sweet Pea returned. Before either of you could say or do anything else Fangs and Toni came bounding over.

"Okay, that’s enough lovebirds. It’s time for our reunion." Fangs said pulling you away from Sweet Pea so he could get in there and hug him with Toni joining in as well. After the short reunion, everyone walked the car with you and Sweet Pea trailing behind.

"Are you free tomorrow night at seven?" You asked. Sweet Pea gave you a confused look not knowing what you were on about. "For a date at Pop's."

A smile graced his lips when you said that. "Seven sounds great."

Your smile grew even more. It was finally over. You could be a normal teenager without having to worry about Ryan or anything else. You could go on dates with Sweet Pea and call him your boyfriend. You were finally content with your life in Riverdale

Requests are open

A/N: This is the last part of this series :( But the mini prequel should be out soon (once I’ve planned it 🙈) Anyway thank you for all your amazing support during this series 💕

Tag List (Still Open): @taliajromanoff @mayasmedberg @lunarmoonwolf @princess-of-the-fandoms @live--aloud @betty-dale @thejulietfarciertlove @fangirling-central @angrykittty24 @kytty27 @rhyxn @notalwaysfair @walkingkhaleesi @rochyu @inspiredbynewt @pharaohkiller @sweet-fogarty-topaz @aya-fay @southsideicons @superchals @serpent-squad @cvvlxx @ijustwantahugfromtennant @gingertalksshit @lady1505 @fiestypassion @cookiecakeslive @jcc04220

#sweet pea imagine #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea #riverdale imagine #riverdale

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quartusbellum-blog · 6 years

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SAMPLE APPLICATION

As promised, here is my application for the role of Marcus McKinnon. A couple notes before you read it: this app is not to be used as a guide on how to fill in the application. Every writer is different. I seem to favour long drabbles and bios in my own writing, but quantity is not a measure of quality, so you do you. It is purely an insight into how I plan to play Marcus. Secondly, any background information about Marlene and the McKinnon family can be adjusted to suit any Marlene players.

ooc details

Name: Elva

Age: Twenties

Pronouns: She/her, they/them

Activity Level: I check the dash daily, and aim to post at least one reply a day. Obviously there’s the odd day where I don’t manage that, but that is what I strive for as a bare minimum. I’ll be doing mod duties as well, but there should be plenty of time for interactions.

Other: No triggers, but I will be mindful of other players’ triggers and tag accordingly. This application requires content warnings for: death, murder, racism, bigotry.

Acknowledgement: I acknowledge that the themes of this game may include triggering elements. I also acknowledge that my character may be harmed, coerced, or even killed (with player’s consent) during paras/events or may cause harm to or kill others during paras/events.

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general ic details

Name: Marcus McKinnon

Age: 19

Ships: I’m not going to lie, I would love to see Marcus in a relationship because he would be so spectacularly bad at it. He needs roadmaps for everything, but romantic and/or sexual attachments would throw him way off.

Gender/Pronouns: Queer cisgender male, he/him pronouns.

Face Claim: Noah Centineo.

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biography:

Marcus McKinnon is the kind of person who would never travel without a guidebook. He likes to plan out his whole itinerary, marking spots along the map so he always knows where he’s going and if he’s on track. It’s like he needs external permission before following a certain road. Even as a child, the youngest of the McKinnon children, he wouldn’t wander off the paths cut into the fields and dive into the tall grass after Marlene and their older brother, Matthew. There’s something comforting about routines and familiarity. It keeps Marcus’ grounded. Like if he just follows the rules and does what he’s supposed to, he’ll get where he needs to be.

It’s probably why Marcus finds the act of swimming so thrilling. Growing up near the coastline, Marcus equates the cry of seagulls and thick salty air with home. But he wasn’t always fond of the water. Marcus learned to swim in public pools, and the first time he was taken to the sea, it took his mother a full morning to coax him in. But once he was in to his waist, then his shoulders, letting his feet slip away from the seabed and the water carry him, Marcus couldn’t get enough. In the water there are no paths to walk. The rules are different, no ground beneath your feet, only invisible currents, the kiss of the tide on sand as it draws in then bids it farewell again. It’s one of the few instances in which Marcus can let go and just exist in the moment, no thought for what comes next beyond the setting sun or wind picking up; just the elements and him, water warm against his skin, and his own muscles burning as he swims, proving himself a worthy match for the sea.

Needless to say, Marcus isn’t fond of surprises. At school, he would ask numerous questions before any important assignment or exam, feeling blindsided when the homework proved too difficult. He was never a particularly good student. His anxiety made it hard to concentrate, the information hard to take in, and in his frustration Marcus found it easier to simply slack off altogether. He turned to his Hufflepuff peers for permission or approval rather than teachers. Marcus never went his own way, never paved a path of his own. Not until war came knocking and he had to.

Marlene and Matthew had fought in the Order, while Marcus was merely grateful he didn’t have to; grateful that school kept him safe. Then he graduated, and the world rapidly descended into chaos. Dumbledore captured, the Ministry taken over, the Order hunted. His parents, Matthew, and Marlene, all murdered by vampires in Voldemort’s service. Marlene survived in the end, but not before Marcus watched her die like the others. Now she’s a sister who feeds off humans; who fed off him. Marcus loves her, would do anything for her. But she walks a path he wishes never to join her on.

Two weeks after losing their family, Marcus split from Marlene. He didn’t want to live as a fugitive, always running for his life, never knowing what tomorrow might bring. And though he didn’t admit it to Marlene, he didn’t want to live with werewolves and vampires, even if they weren’t the ones who killed their family. He wanted to go home. He wanted back in magical Britain. And so Marcus persuaded Marlene it was where he would be most useful, that he would gather information for the Radical Alliance but he couldn’t live with them. He returned to magical Britain where he was promptly arrested and interrogated by Death Eaters at the Ministry, but being a halfblood who showed little resistance, a mere boy grieving for his lost loved ones, repellent but no real threat, he was pardoned on the condition that he serve the Dark Lord faithfully for the remainder of his days. Only a few weeks later, Marcus’ arm was tattooed with the Dark Mark.

It was a mistake, or so Marcus had thought in the first weeks after his return. His parents’ resistance to the Dark Lord--their shame, as it was remembered-- and Marlene and Matthew’s involvement in the Order; everyone seemed to know Marcus’ history, and as a consequence many refused to hire him. Nevermind that he was marked and that he walked with Death Eaters. Marcus spent the first few months taking whatever job he could get, dishwasher, nightclub toilet cleaner, pet sitter to some of the biggest pesks in the world of magic, test subject for potioneers, sometimes even dinner for hungry vampires looking for a consenting victim. For a time he lived in the ruins of his old home, the burned down cottage by the sea. But as the winter came, it was leave or freeze to death. Marcus could have followed his family then, but between the familiar and the unknown, Marcus will always choose the familiar, and in this case that was life.

Marcus moved from one dingy apartment to another, always thrown out of at the drop of a hat, sofas of sort-of friends from whatever job he was working at the time, until finally, a room he rents on the third floor of a crooked building on a winding side-street just off Diagon Alley. Marcus has the Malfoys to thank for that. They’d been trying to recruit him for some time, halfblood Marcus, just needy and gullible enough to let himself be preyed upon, still intelligent and attractive enough to be worth their time. It was the hope of his name on a lease that finally persuaded him to join the Silent Daggers. He needed help and they were offering it in the form of a recommendation for the position of Wizengamot Administrator. Marcus can finally afford a steady life, but it all hinges on his loyalty to the Malfoys. They haven’t tried to exploit his position yet, but Marcus has seen too much cruelty to think they did it out of sheer kindness. And yet it saved him, giving him a home, (a place for Marlene to run to if she’s ever desperate,) an income, something resembling a life even if it doesn’t feel like one, the hole left behind by his family’s murders too big and all-encompassing. Marcus owes them.

He feels stretched thin, his allegiances pulled between the Dark Lord whose mark he bears, Narcissa and Lucius he’s sworn to, and Marlene. Marcus has no map for this life. It died with his parents and Matthew and all the other victims of the first war. But Marcus needs one. Maps don’t just show Marcus where to go. They show him how to get back.

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my character is:

Please Describe a Belief your character has that is wrong. Alternatively: How is your character lying to themselves (and how is is it shown externally).

Marcus is kidding himself that he went back and joined the Death Eaters for Marlene. In his arguments, he emphasised how much good he could do from the inside. But Marcus’ reasons were more selfish than he will let himself believe. He’s afraid of Marlene, as he’s afraid of all vampires. The fact that they’re related and that he’s known her all his life doesn’t change that; he feels safer in the Death Eaters than in the Radical Alliance, because they’re not known vampires. This is partly PTSD, and partly racism, but either way, Marcus can’t be around the Radical Alliance long before the scar on his shoulder, a bite from Marlene he acquired the night she turned, begins to itch, then ache, until all Marcus can think about are those fangs, his dead family lying in the grass. Marcus doesn’t want to be like this, but he can’t overcome it without facing up to it first.

Please Provide a description of Your Character’s Job.

Wizengamot Administrator. Since leaving Hogwarts and the tragedy that befell him afterwards, Marcus’ main ambition has been to stay alive, and to remain in the wizarding world as long as possible. To get a flat of his own, earn enough to pay the bills, and if he can feed himself too, even better. None of that was possible for long before the Malfoys became a common presence in his life. Marcus knows he owes it to them. Lucius and Narcissa might be tactful but the message is clear; he’s in their debt. Marcus doesn’t know when he’ll be expected to pay up, and for now, he lets himself enjoy the small comforts, food in his belly, a roof over his head, a bed instead of some moth-eaten sofa, quiet. He is an Administrator in the Wizengamot Administration Services, meaning he carries out the secretarial work for the Wizengamot, maintaining court documents, scheduling hearing dates, managing the Wizengamot members’ schedules and carrying out the administration of all legal proceedings. In this position at the Ministry, Marcus is well-situated to one day study to be a solicitor, but he’s already pretty valuable as an administrator. More than once, Marcus has been asked to reveal to the other Daggers what information has crossed his desk. He is also in a position to corrupt information, though as of yet Marcus has yet to be asked to do so, nor had the nerve to take that initiative himself. For not only might his position benefit the Silent Daggers, but it could benefit the Radical Alliance too.

ooc questions

Writing Sample:

Marcus breathed on his fingers, rubbing his palms together. His cloak was second-hand, threadbare, and beneath it he was shivering. He’d need a better one before long if he was going to keep being called out for long cold nights outside. Nights spent waiting, hunting, focusing on the task ahead to keep his thoughts from wandering; to dull the constant remembering.

A rattle from behind the bins made Marcus flinch. Never had he been stationed alone. Now that the Death Eaters didn’t operate in secret, now they were legitimate subjects carrying out their duty to society, they didn’t have to hide their intentions and could travel in packs. So where were they, whoever they were?

Every sound and shifting shadow caught Marcus’ attention. He couldn’t stand still; paced the length of the chained gates separating him from a humming train line. And he was cold. So cold.

His summons had arrived as soon as he sat down at his desk that morning, coal black paper folded into an airplane. It used the space bar of his typewriter as a landing strip. The message was simple: patrol duties, 8:00pm, Harrogate Train Station. Whether his mark burned due to some magic carried in the paper or because he’d simply imagined it, Marcus could never tell. He slid the paper into his pocket, where it felt like it was burning a hole through the fabric, he was persistently aware of it.

A train blasted through the platform behind him and all of a sudden he was reeled backwards, a gag spelled across his mouth. He drew his wand, but in the same second the spell dissolved and laughter filled his ears.

He threw the first curse that came to mind, the air exploding with a gush of water. It hovered in the air as it met a blocking spell, then dropped to the ground with a splash. White stars marred Marcus’ vision and he coughed.

“Evening, McKinnon.” Alecto Carrow stood before him, robes shining like satin under the streetlights. Everything about her made Marcus feel mocked.

“Are we back at Hogwarts now?” he asked, rubbing his lips with rough fingers. He spat on the ground. “Who are we waiting for?” As much as he didn’t enjoy his outings with Death Eaters like Carrow, he was glad to see her, and in her usual spirits. Any more time standing alone like that and he’d start to believe he had a bull’s eye on his back. His eyes slid past Carrow to a silhouette peeling away from the darkness, a man with ragged clothing, dirty skin, imperiused from the looks of him. And a werewolf, or at least associated with one, judging by the silver scars slashed across his face.

“Radical Alliance?” he asked through the roar of panic rising in his head. His mind strayed towards Marlene, hoping she was inside, and that she was safe; knowing that she wasn’t, even if she was a thousand miles from this town.

“Close enough.” Carrow whispered into the man’s ear. Marcus leaned forward hoping to catch a word. Nothing. The werewolf walked towards the gate, and begun to climb. When he tumbled onto the other side, he headed straight for the tracks. Then stopped. “Come along, McKinnon.” Carrow began to walk away.

“Wait.” Marcus’s grip on his wand tightened--sickly yellow sparks hissed from it’s tip. “You’re just going to leave him there? He’ll-- when a train comes...”

Carrow didn’t spare her victim another glance, turning around only to glare at Marcus. “Would you rather curse him dead?” After a moment’s silence, she let out a quiet scoff and kept walking. “We don’t have time for this, McKinnon. There are other wolves in Harrogate.”

Marcus turned to the tracks and the werewolf standing like a statue, eyes fixed ahead. A soft, dreamy expression held his face captive; if he knew deep down that something about this was amiss, his face didn’t betray him. It sickened Marcus, to see him so at peace. He stepped toward the tracks, but something stopped him from going all the way. Shove him off the tracks, he thought. Break his legs if you have to. Bones heal.

But the mark, his arm, branded forever; the cut, binding him to the Malfoys; his flat, the warmth of his bed, food in his fridge, a job, a life. It was a package deal. He couldn’t have one without the other.

“Smart boy,” Carrow said as he stepped into line beside her. Marcus could hear the smirk in her voice; that was how well he’d come to know her. And she him, apparently. She reached a hand towards his hair, knocking his hood off as she ran her fingers through it. Marcus jerked out of her reach, hatred boiling up inside him, and, with it, relief that at least it wasn’t him standing on those tracks staring death in the face.

Exploration:

One thing I’m always eager to explore in fiction is war and belonging to an army as a means to financially bettering one’s life. How political groups prey on vulnerable or desperate individuals to create destructive forces in society. Marcus was overwhelmed by his new circumstances. Those first few months when Marcus was utterly alone, desperate, and striving to return some normalcy in his life, define who he is today. He got a lucky break--but at what cost? Everything he does is to ensure he doesn’t go back to that.

There are things Marcus does to maintain his quality of life. And then there are the things he does because that’s the person he’s becoming. I’ve played Marcus as a wholesome and naive character, a member of the Order of the Phoenix. In this game, I would like to see how far Marcus will go as a Death Eater and a Silent Dagger. He’s currently lacking strong attachments to any one group, and he doesn’t possess a firm awareness of who he is. He’s in pain and he doesn’t know where to direct it. As such, he’s easy to manipulate. And he’s learning bad habits. This could lead him down an extremely dark path, which I would relish the opportunity to explore. But I would also like to explore the opposite side of this one. I would like to see Marcus forging attachments to conflicting individuals or groups. The messier the better. He doesn’t like surprises, but how does he handle the pleasant ones?

Marlene and sibling drama. This is part of the reason I chose Marcus, so I could get the sibling drama I so crave. I want siblings who squabble, but also fight their enemies together. I set up Marlene as an assassin type character, with a desire for vengeance. Does Marcus play any role in this, tipping her off to where her victims are? If he gets in trouble, would he ask for her help? What shape does their relationship take now that they’re both close acquaintances with death? I imagine that they’re closer than ever, being the only surviving McKinnons, but I want to see plenty of friction between these two. They are fighting for opposite groups after all, even though Marcus assures Marlene he keeps no secrets. They love each other, but do they trust each other?

The Silent Daggers are currently secret, and they’ll remain this way for a time, probably until we get more players. But I would rather like to see the Death Eaters split once and for all, with Voldemort completely out of the picture. What happens if Voldemort is undone, with the Silent Daggers standing at the ready? I’m not sure what all the pieces are yet, but I would like to see how the magical world is reshaped and groups merge, or dissolve, or fracture. It’s something I’ll be thinking about, at least.

Confronting his questionable attitude towards vampires. Marcus doesn’t think less of muggleborns, but his opinion of vamps is shaped by his experience, and its not exactly kind. What will happen when he discovers he’s been allied to a vampire all along? If he ever discovers Narcissa is more than just wix, Marcus will have to confront his false belief, and by extension his grief. It’s that latter part that means he doesn’t want to.

Extras:

Aesthetic: [ x ]

#quartusbellumaccept #marcus mckinnon bio

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coxinhadoce47-ocs · 3 years

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Acronyms/Abbreviations

Explaining what each story/universe name abbreviation/acronym means, and the explanation behind the names

SW- Shockwave (I don’t usually call it SW but sometimes I do so it’s good to write about it here). It’s Alan’s superhero name. It used to be A&A, Alan & Aiden

EAD- Entre Anjos e Demônios (Between Angels and Demons in portuguese). Provisory name since 2014 and I’ve grown too attached to the acronym to change it, even though there’s a thousand stories and fanfic with this name to the point that I got accused of stealing the title from someone else’s story on a fanfic site

BRY- Blue, Red, Yellow. Just that, it’s RYB but I arranged it in away that sounds fun! and it’s also the order that i usually use when talking about Douglas (blue), Robin (red) and Flavian (yellow).

WTML- Where The Monsters Live. Also a provisory name that I got too attached to it, even though there is quite some other contents with this name. Also I don’t call the characters monsters, and the monsters in the title is more like how it’s used in Undertale, it means just magical/supernatural beings

HCWT- Hot Coffee, Warm Tea. @bernardo-draws-and-cries gave the AU this name, since Asgore drinks tea and we headcanon Gaster as loving coffee. It’s cute, I like this name :3

VM- It doesn’t mean anything anymore. It came from my old discarted minecraft au MVM (Minecraft Viver ou Morrer aka Minecraft Live or Die) which was then turned into a dystopia/revolution thing so it just became Viver ou Morrer/Live or Die but now I don’t like this name but I like the acronym so idk, maybe I’ll find something that fits the acronym

BTTW- Blood is Thicker Than Water. Not in the sense of “family is more important than friends and stuff”, it’s just that they’re vampires and there’s blood on this saying fjsjsfjk. And I like how the acronym sounds.

LZZ- It used to mean Linth, Zack, Zee, the name of the first characters when I first made this story. But y’know, Zee doesn’t exist anymore, but I like the ring that LZZ has so I kept it even if Zee doesn’t exist anymore.

BP- Blue Peppermints. I almost never call it BP except if its for the sake of not having something be too long. I called the story that because both Sam and Antony have a lot of blue in their color schemes and also that I like peppermints and I wanted to put it in the name of one of my stories

Pluto- Doesn’t have an acronym/abbreviation because it’s very short. I just like that Pluto’s name is the name of the story, even if it made tagging kinda weird until I figured out a last name for her

F&P- Fangs & Paws. Fun fact! It used to be WTML’s old story name but I discarted it and I then reused on this story, which takes place on the same universe. F&P came about because in the early WTML there was just Hunter and Annie, a vampire and a werewolf, so, fangs and paws. And this continues on F&P, since Ester is a vampire and Matthew is a werewolf.

OOE- Othelo, Orian, Elias BUT now it also means Onto the Ocean’s Edge. Yes I am very smart/j (but honestly it does sound good and fits OOE). It’s fun and chalenging to figure out a name based on an acronym which is the initials of your ocs.

SC- Starchildren. I don’t usually call it SC, but very few times I do. Starchildren came out because most of the characters are kids/tweens/teens that came from stars. Maybe I saw this term somehwere and really liked it, I still do like it a lot.

WS- Witchery Shenanigans. Because they’re witches and have shenanigans. I really like this name, it’s funny fdnndsn

C&B- Cats and Butterflies. Max is an entomologist and likes butterflies and both (but it’s more meant for Clover in this title) like cats a lot. It’s a very nice name

R&P/BirbLove- R&P is just Raven & Paloma and BirbLove is the affectionate nickname bê came with becaue both Raven and Paloma have their names based on birds

P&D- Phoenix & Dominic. Just that. I don’t have a name for this one yet.

DH- Dead Hearts, it came from the song by the same name because I really love that song and I feel like it fits this world! Also it’s old name was soft apocalypse because it was a not-that-extreme-apocalypse concept (still is)

Leo doesn’t have a story/universe name because he’s just a fansoul and there’s only him so I just use his name because there’s only him fsnsfdn

WTAE- Wasn’t The Apocalypse Enough?. I really like this title, it wasn’t based on anything, I just thought of this phrase and loved it. Before it was just GPA which stands for Gabriel, Pedro, Apolo.

FND- Friends Not Dates. This title is fun, and I was firstly thinking about doing Mates Not Friends or something like that but it didn’t sound as good as FND

CS- Not my story, sonnilione here on tumblr created the name, ConnectedSim. I just have my ocs on this universe because it’s an open universe where anyone can makes ocs there

AGG- Ariest, Garcodeu, Ghaterieu, BUT a few days ago I came up with the name A God’s Grief which fits really well with the story and original acronym and it’s also kinda of a pun which is fun (good grief -> god grief)

BD- Blessed Damnation. I used to share this story with an old friend but not anymore. I cam up with the name because Leslie is dealing with a deal he made with Arkak but it ends up really helping his life all that happens after he makes the deal, so his soul is damned, but it was a blessing on his life, so, blessed damnation. And also because Sarandiel and Arkak are respectively an angel and a demon so having a heaven associated word and a hell related one really works

CB- Catboys, This is a provisory name for the universe of two of my catboys ocs, Kevin and Sammy

FF- Flower Fairy. I barely use the acronym

Eddie also doesn’t have a story/universe acronym/abbreviation because Eddie is a stand alone oc, there’s only him

SWAN- Story Without A Name. It’s Bruno’s 2 story and I don’t reference the story as SWAN if it’s not like when i described it on my carrd or if it’s on a story introduction, I usually just call it Bruno and Vitor’s story. This needs a name

MCOCs- Minecraft OCs. Just that

SWAN2- Story Without A Name 2. It’s Jasper and Isaac’s story, which really needs a name too

Leaf is another instance of only one characters for this category (vessek oc hollow knight) and Edrian is the same (D&D)

VH- Valiant Heart, again I barely use the acronym. It came from Val’s name, and again I didn’t realize there’s a lot of Valiant Heart/Hearts stuff out there

TDS- The Demon’s Shadow. It’s just how it happened that Zagan dissapearing left a (metaphorical) shadow on Elijah’s life. Or something like that. Idk how to explain, I just like the name, doesn’t need to make sense

Hyacinth doesn’t have a story name because I made them as a blog mascot so I just refer to his universe and stuff with mlm/nblm blog. And soon he’ll get a partner which I’m still developing

RD- Royal Demon. Bê also came with this name here. It’s pretty simple the origin. Jed is a demon and Sammy and Tadeu are royalty so, Jed is kinda of a royal demon fnnsnsd

Changeling- Charlie is a changeling, that’s it.

#oh boy this is long #long post #alec talks #story basics

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