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danddymaro · 3 years

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Thankfulness | Jean Pierre Polnareff x Reader

Aftermath of the final battle with DIO

Angsty, but ends well

Romance? Perhaps more friendmance?? (IDEK lol)

Flashbacks are in italics : Example

Thoughts are italics in quotes : ‘Example’

Word count : 2299

Thankfulness

Her (e/c) colored eyes blankly dropped down to the thin layer of blankets covering her lap, and all the while, the deep (e/c) colored hues were dimmed, holding a much duskier tone than they had possessed just a few days ago.

Her bottom lip trembled before it was caged between her two rows of teeth, the woman keeping it crushed between the pair of sharp edges before she swallowed down a horridly tart taste that was very faint, yet familiar.

As the fine ends of her teeth began to dig into the flesh of her lip furthermore she could taste a hint of metal, and she was so close to having it splash into her mouth that she could feel her stomach clench, twisting and turning as it spun to retch the contents back up as soon as it traveled down.

'Blood...' She inwardly thought to herself, holding spite to even the word itself.

Her right hand trembled as she fisted it over the sheets until the material on her lap was wound in a tight ball, and soon after, harsh pants resonated from her as she tried to calm herself down.

'Blood...All of their blood...' She inwardly rambled, trying to rid herself of the thought.

Whereas silence would bring any other person calm, it only brought her more distress, her entire body raking with shutters as she tried to calm the voices in her head, the very ones that were so familiar and precious, it brought her actual pain.

'Did...Did we really win?' she asked herself, struck by a reality that felt as though it'd been basked by defeat.

' because It doesn't feel like it.' She then added, slowly hanging her head, a small, almost inaudible sound that was akin to a croak escaping her parted lips.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

As his eyes fell onto her, he dropped the small flower arrangement, quickly making it to her bedside in a single leap, his eyes brightened by the sight of her finally conscious.

The man had waited what felt like an agonizingly long eternity to finally meet her again, and now that she was fully there, he could drop his shoulders down in relief,

" Thank goo-" he began to speak, but she cut him off quickly,

"- Who do you think you are? ," she said lowly, her voice sharp and seething, making his heart still as she used the tart tone with him, because rarely had he ever heard her speak with such venom.

She had been smiles and cheers, perhaps a clever tongue here and there, but it wasn't anything he really took to heart, and in the end, always found enjoyment in.

- But then again, that was all before their final battle in Cairo.

"Mon Cherie…" he said softly, going to capture her hand when he stopped entirely, regretting doing so.

An action that was always welcomed with a sweet, appreciative smile was abruptly stopped, and it was all because he simply couldn't continue.

It was impossible to.

Retracting his own hand, he fisted it instead, keeping it close to his side as his face morphed into a hard etched grimace, one that was of regret.

"Go on right ahead," she invited him, looking up at him with wet (e/c) eyes, and for just a moment, the sizzling boil she felt calmed to show him more pain than rage,

"why don't you take a hold of it?" She asked him, using the same, soft, delicate voice that quivered, urging him to answer in spite of already knowing why he held back, already aware of the factor stopping him.

With guilt written over his face, he strayed his eyes from her for a moment, uttering once again the endearment, "Mon Cherie ...I…"

"You should have left me there," she breathed, her good hand falling over the side of her shoulder, gliding down to feel it mostly flat, a small bump which was all that was left over from her limb being the only thing there for her to find.

" You should have let him take all of me," She then added, desperately trying to hold back tears, because she knew that once they fell, there would be no stopping them.

'Why did you risk yourself for me?' She asked herself, 'Why did you even bother?'

All the beautiful words he could utter to her would be nothing in comparison to the pain that would consume everything until her heart became a bitter black, and by that point, they both knew it.

But even then, he continued,

"I'm glad you're alright," He said to her, and at that, she choked.

"I should be dead!" She said in a strangled tone, "I miss the point of it all!" She added, closing her eyes tightly, and it damned her to feel the limb there, when she knew that in reality, it was nothing but a ghost now, existing only in her mind.

'I don't have an arm,' She thought to herself, but that was the least of her grievances,

'I don't have Avdol.

I don't have Iggy.

I don't have kakyoin here either.

They're all gone...but I'm still here...' She lamented, knowing that by that point, they were also just ghosts, exiting in her head, haunting her every thought.

'Why...?' She asked herself, soon muttering the word in a breathy state, "Why?" She then asked the silver-haired male.

"I'm missing the point of me still being here!" She heaved, "why am I still here when they aren't?" She asked him, wanting to know just how she, of the handful, was one of the lucky ones out.

' Kakyoin was smarter...,

Avdol was much stronger…

Iggy was braver, a million times more than I am!'

"- I froze! " She reminded the French male, " I could barely move...but I was the lucky one out?" She asked him, and as he watched her, his gaze slowly fell, his blue eyes filling with misery, because he couldn't console her when all throughout the events that occurred afterward, he wondered the same thing.

'It's a pain we'll all bear,' He silently spoke, 'not just you and I...but Mr. Joestar, as well as Jotaro.' he continued on, only finding one single certainty within all the doubt and pain that came from barely scraping by the battle.

"My luck wasn't to make it alive..." He started, "It wasn't to make it out alone," He told her.

"It was to somehow have made it out alive... with you in my arms," He revealed to her, remembering that after the battle with Ice it was his one solace.

"It was to be able to make it out, only because I didn't want to lose you.

-Because I didn't want their sacrifices to go in vain." he added with a voice that wavered, holding a truth that was unmoved.

Even with a dark cloud raining over her, washing away all of her former illuminances, he couldn't look away from her. He spoke to her the only way he could, by looking directly at her, silently thanking the world for giving him the opportunity to do so.

'Even with all this pain...

Even with the dimness in your eyes at this very moment...

Even if right now you feel resentment towards me...

You're still so beautiful. You still hold my heart.'

"I'm glad you're here," he assured her, bending down to pick up the fallen blossoms, the beautiful colors of the batch reminding him of their travel.

'The red reminds me of a comforting glow.' he thought while his eyes immediately gravitated to the most passionate color that was in the collection, looking down at it with fondness.

'It's of his flames.

it's of the ones he'd share with us to keep us warm.

it's of all the protection he provided, right until he last selfless moment.' he reflected upon as his body memorized the comforting warmness.

'And this flower here is the same mix of blue and violet, reminding me of loneliness that fades,' he added while thinking of the younger he'd traveled with, realizing that it was almost the same color as his eyes.

'It's of friendship I never thought I could attain,' he went on, musing at the thought of befriending such a young brat, one so different from him.

' And the thorns that protect this flower are mature, they're hidden beneath the young blossoms, underestimated and burrowed, but always there, hidden cleverly.

Sometimes they are a hassle, but after all this, I don't think I will ever find it in me to remove them,' He thought with amusement, his heart filled with comfort while knowing that the thorny vines of their group remained just as vivacious as ever.

'And then there is this stubborn little shit,' He mused while looking down at a particular, little, yellow flower. Most of its petals were slightly withered, one even torn.

'I don't know how you made the final cut, but you did,' he wordlessly spoke to it, 'You really did fit in,' He then added, for just a moment, his thoughts straying to the expressly annoying beast that had traveled with them.

'Stupid dog,' he thought with fondness.

A black band snugly held the stems together, elegantly tied into a little bow, and he thought about the man that helped him pick it out,

"This one's nice," Kujo commented, his index and middle caressing the silken material between the spaces of the fingers.

"Black?" Polnareff said with skepticism, staring at the ribbon with hesitance, "you really think it fits? I mean... it's such a morbid color," He questioned the younger, finishing off with a grumble.

"...For a bouquet nonetheless," he added, having wanted to give something lovely to the woman, desiring to decorate the room with the various fragrances and colors to liven up the quiet space for when she woke.

'For this situation,' he went on, silently speaking as he watched Jotaro quietly marvel at the ribbon.

His sea colored eyes had dimmed, and for the time being, he looked like he wasn't really there, at least, not in mind.

"...I like it." Kujo repeated, breathing out the words in a flat state before he let a low, blue sigh leave him, one that temporarily washed away the grim thoughts.

"She'll like it," He then added, fully aware it was a color she liked, and much more, would more than likely be something she’d use to accessorize.

'She'll put it in her hair.

Or She'll wrap it around her neck in a little bow.

Or she'll just put it somewhere safe,' He thought with certainty, having discovered how much she appreciated the little things,

'If she gets a hold of one soon, she might just stick it in a book,' He then added.

"this one for sure," He concluded, willing to bet on her loving it.

'- You're missing much more than I am,' Jean-Pierre recognized, watching her sit quietly, noiselessly observing the flowers.

'Because right now... even while I'm still in mourning, I feel struck by luck, just a small hint of it,' He thought to himself, watching as gradually, a hint of a smile graced her gloomy features.

After the outburst, she'd seemed to calm, falling into a somber hush that soon mellowed, and he lived through every moment with her, not bothering to disrupt their peace with any words, because, after all, he understood where she came from.

Just then, the door to her room was tapped, signaling new visitors,

"Coming in," Joseph said lowly, his expression changing from neutral, to completely elated,

"Well, look who's up!" He exclaimed, shooting the female a grin, one that was wide and bright.

Slowly, her eyes went up to watch him enter, witnessing the man's grandson also following in suit.

At the very moment, her eyes met with the younger's sea green, and the action caused a small smile to find its way on his face, giving her a greeting that she took in with appreciation.

"Glad you're ok," the teen said with true relief, and even if he'd held back so much more, she could see the glow in his eyes that spoke much more than he could ever say.

‘I’m glad I didn’t lose you,’ Jotaro said in silence.

Again, she brought her eyes down where the sight of the flowers greeting her.

The little bouquet in her hand was gently held, and as she looked down at it, she watched the little blossoms capture little, fallen drops before they slid off of their petals.

'I'm not,' She corrected him, though not having the heart to tell him, because, she knew that really, he couldn't be in any better state.

'I don't think any of us really are,' She thought to herself, regretful for having attacked the silver-haired male as he'd greeted her, because she was certain he was also in pain.

By then, she'd become understanding of not only her grief but everyone else's.

"Me too," She then told them, not wanting to take for granted the chance she got, much more not willing to make the sacrifices that went in play go in vain.

'I won't do that to you guys,' She thought with certainty. ' I won't do that to any of us.'

"Thank you." She said with gratitude.

'Thank you all...' She added with a loving smile, the gratitude dedicated for everyone in the room, which included the ones there in body, as well as those who now traveled in their hearts.

She then found herself looking right at the blue-eyed male, her gaze especially sweet as it touched him, knowing that if there was one person she really had to thank, and it was him.

'I think...I’m really glad to be here, because of all of you.'

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spirit-of-vengeance · 3 years

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Lights and Loneliness

After decades, Cindy knew better than to Hunt on Christmas. No matter how deep she ventured into the abyss of suffering and evil humans created, during these three days the light, the laughter and happiness filtered through the darkest pits. The Spirit decided humanity can live for three days without her service and almost senseless rampage; still she hadn't felt like she's on a well deserved holiday.

She wasn't used to relaxing, doing nothing; if she stopped for a few hours she already felt the aches creeping into her back, into her knees, the burn of her shoulders. Practice chiseled her perfect. But like this, it was boring. The flame copies of her opponents felt no pain, gave no applause in amazement at her borderline impossible moves. Despite vanity, watching herself lift wasn't enough to keep her attention more than a few hours; besides too much weight training would put unnecessary strain on her joints.

What now? Watch a movie? Nah, all channels keep repeating the same, boring, love solves everything Christmas movies. Watch the news? Where's the entertainment when it isn't about the unexplainable mayhem she caused this week? Try on makeup she has been hoarding throughout the year? And then walk around her castle all dolled up like an idiot. Thoughts dismissed, disposed as soon they formed in her head, nothing seemed to satisfy her craving. Craving for what? Violence? Attention? Company and little bit of love- Singing!!! The life saver idea burst through the brewing storm, Cindy often silently complained that she didn't have enough time to practice because of her eight hour per day job. But the audience...

"Amber! Where are you kitty?" Cindy called after her companion, the large cat somehow enjoyed her shrill voice, especially when she sang in lower registers like a gritty purr.

Instead of her direction, the leopard raced to the front door, excitedly scratching it as if she felt something, someone on the other side. Dagger smoothly pressed to her forearm, the curl of her fingers hiding the grip as if she was unarmed when she approached her door, old habits die hard.

The sharp chill of the winter wind was in cutting contrast with the warmth radiating out of her castle; instead of a being Cindy found a box of present sitting on her doorstep with a glittery red ribbon. Her head tilted in curiosity and surprise, someone was considerate enough to bring something for the gloomy Spirit? The corner of her lips slowly curled into a small, soft smile as she picked up the box and closing the door behind her. Her eyes light up with almost childlike joy and excitement as her fingers carefully peeled away the red paper to gain access to the mysterious present.

The top came off, revealing...? A paper at the bottom with a smiley face drawn on it? Cindy stared wordlessly into the box, shoulders silently dropping, the previous promise of magic, like ash died in her eyes. The first drop of wetness fell onto the paper, unnoticed at first. The box crumpled in her claws, hot tears of sadness and helpless rage cascaded down freely her cheeks, her mouth pulled into a feral snarl before opening as a silent howl. Acid flames of envy scorched her tortured heart; millions, billions of families celebrated in happiness, only she was struck here, alone and unloved. She deserved happiness, deserved to be loved, or does she?

She knew this will happen and why was she complaining now? She achieved fame, respect and acknowledgement in mere decades, which most beings spend at least centuries to build. Of course no one loved the unapologetically talented and proud being. She could bury the nagging feeling of loneliness into her everyday rhythm, fooling herself she needed no one; only for this damned holiday to show her every moondamn year how she longed for a gentle brush against her face, a little affection, how shattered she truly was.

Cursed heat rolled from the walls of her castle, her creation reacting to her disastrous emotional state, the raging fire swept through rooms, her control slipping from the incredible force. No. Not even at her lowest. She was the one and only true wielder of the cosmic fire.

The flames slowly dissolved, called back, locking, sealing the violent storm back into her once more. Cindy slid down to the floor, the waterfall of tears never creasing; Amber cautiously approached the woman bathing in misery and envy. At the brush of warm fur against her temple as the leopard curled around her, Cindy's lips pulled into a sneer of irony; seems like the only being caring about her is her own creation.

#this is both a tiny story & open starter in one #🔥starter calls; roleplay memes🔥 | play with the fire #if anyone wants to care for a traumatized spirit for Christmas

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isabeaued · 4 years

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hello , world . i’m so stupid & it took me too long to write this & it ? still didn’t turn out good anyway , so that’s just where i’m at . i’m cc , nineteen from the cst w she / her pronouns & this is isabeau , who’s a brand new muse that i’m ? already loving sm & i can’t to develop her here , i think she deserves a little growth fjdslkfjdslfsj . but please like this & i’ll come to you , or let me know if you prefer d*scord !

stats / pinterest

* muse 3 seems like isabeau hwang , a cis female from edinburgh who graduated from oxford with the class of 2019 . apparently she is a twenty - one year old economics & business administration student at st. astor , so they must be pretty smart , or just pretty damn lucky . i heard they’re a taurus & quite hedonistic & gallant , which kinda makes sense , but i also hear that they can be habituated & fleeting , which puts me off a bit , to be honest . what do you think ? i’m not really sure how i feel about them . the fact that they resemble jeon heejin sorta helps , though . three things that immediately come to mind whenever i see them are hiding hot tears while being ankle deep in ocean water while clad in expensive silk , champagne stained dresses , & redacted ; but keep that last one between us , yeah ?

𝓲. 𝕒𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕘𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥 .

birth name : hwang soo min current name : isabeau hwang nickname(s) : not a nickname person . age : twenty - one gender / pronouns : cis gendered female / she / her / hers orientation : pansexual / panromantic hometown : edinburgh , scotland faceclaim : jeon heejin muse : 3 , who is stuck in an arranged engagement .

fun facts : daughter of two business moguls who combined their talents & business into one big company ( HHW – a global financing company ) , was hauled all over the world as a kid but still sports a SCOTTISH ACCENT , annoyingly good at drawing & art – but it’s just a hobby , has a closet full of designer & still prefers ratty old clothes that smell like home , always smells like a mix of jasmine & orange blossom – but doesn’t wear perfume , skipped a year of school & was usually a year younger than her peers in her class , currently spiraling VERY badly .

aesthetic : hiding hot tears while being ankle deep in ocean water while clad in expensive silk , waking up alone on cold silk sheets despite a full list of contacts , floating face down in an infinity pool to see how long she can hold her breath , the wind picking up raven locks that blow around her face as she regains her control , an ever present lump in her throat that she’ll never get to rid herself of , a cursed engagement ring she’s already thrown over a cliff just for it to reappear on her finger & dimming the sun with every step taken toward a future she can’t escape .

playlist : pan!c by audrey mika , to die for by sam smith , cautious by max leone , modern loneliness by lauv , kings & queens by ava max , wicked game by grace carter .

𝓲𝓲. 𝕔𝕙𝕣𝕠𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕝𝕖 .

oh , how the birds sang the morning of her birth . with aphrodite & hera as witness , soo min is born with a strong cry , her mother exhausted after an extensive labor . the first thing her mother does is cry – because she didn’t want a daughter . what a cruel world to be born in as a female , what a barbaric father to be raised by as a daughter . but , soo min is born & she is blessed by the ANGELS ; the cherubs that linger over her as she grows from baby to toddler to child . hair in pigtails , soo min adopts the name isabeau from a caretaker – a nanny in gray who speaks with an accent she’ll soon acquire for herself . her parents try to teach her how to drop the scottish , but it’s her mother tongue – if they didn’t want her speaking that way , they should’ve stepped in & raised her themselves . but isabeau knows , even at a young age , that her parents are busy . mother is starting careers , sending young stars onto stages while father is content with giving out loans to the most corrupt of companies . she’s seven , blowing out her birthday candles while her father makes a deal to give money to the devil – one million dollars to destroy a couple of lives . is there a price on life ? yes , it’s the first thing she remembers .

but not even the devil can dim the starlight that shines within her . pure sunlight , isabeau is raised with a quiet glee in her system . she skips down sidewalks clad in yellow dresses , her hair is pulled back by ribbons while she holds hands with her nanny , excited about her life & everything the world has to offer . the older she gets , the less she smiles , the harder it becomes to see the sunshine through the gray clouds called in by her parents . her mother works with father now , they swindle the poor with promises of a better future , they invest in corporations who shoot bullets at the atmosphere , they dip their hands in blood as long as it gives them a hefty paycheck . isabeau lacks the same fire she used to equip , scarred & hurt by parents who tried to teach a rabbit to be a wolf . she goes to sleep with her nanny stroking her hair , crying over lives ruined by money , greed & corruption . isabeau is GOOD at heart , she wants the sun to shine on everyone that walks the earth . so while she puts on a mask , becomes a predator the way they want her to be , isabeau never loses her soft heart .

& they should’ve chosen their wish carefully . every wish has a price . she can maneuver her way around a conference room before she’s eighteen , can close a deal with men who look down on her before twenty - one . her words masked with honey while her parents look on with pride , unaware that she’s not on their side . deals she makes that harm the company , but nobody will know until it’s too late . isabeau is talented , manipulative for the good – not for the army of evil she was raised in . then , slapped across the face on the day of her graduation with an announcement . marriage , at twenty - three when she finishes her master’s , an engagement ring she doesn’t want to wear , betrothed to a boy of evil . he’s a remnant of everyone isabeau knows , corrupted by the devil , blessed by the demons & she is to join hands with him , join their families so they can continue a path of wickedness on earth . she’s never felt so hopeless , quiet & small while being fitted for wedding dresses at twenty , hiding her tears while she throws a damned ring into the sea – only for it to be fished out hours later . she runs as far as she can for higher education , hiding behind rehearsed smiles & her wealth . the closer she gets to twenty - three , the less the sun shines . isabeau becomes less like herself , waking up in clothes that aren’t her own , acting out of character , losing time . but , a sliver of hope ; because it doesn’t matter how far gone she is , isabeau was blessed by the angels – hope is always with her .

𝓲𝓲𝓲. 𝕕𝕚𝕤𝕡𝕠𝕤𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 .

exterior . almost mirrored to her parents , people know isabeau from her parents – the ruthless , cold financial company holders who are famous for funding the most corrupt companies . equipped with a resting bitch face ( taught by her mother , of course ) exterior wise isabeau is unapproachable , unattainable . her wealth holds her above ninety - nine percent of the population & people know that – from the way she talks & walks , how she holds herself , how she behaves at social gatherings . almost royalty , she’s cut herself off from many friends – most leaving anyway when they find out who her parents are & what they’ve done .

even so , a girl who always knows where the fun is – she’s clearly stuck in a spiral , falling deeper into a hole that she seemingly doesn’t want help with . isabeau is friends with a lot of people , but not many people are friends with her . stuck in a path of self destruction , she’s lost the sunlight that used to lead her life . often found at night , kneeling by the waterside shedding drunken tears because she’s losing control of her life . isabeau knows she’ s worth so much more , but in every way – she’s trapped & locked in for a fate she doesn’t want .

interior . she’s sharp & witty , remnants of the brightness still remain when focused . she excels at classwork , top of her class while she sits front row with glasses on , answering questions & befriending professors . it’s evident that there’s so much more to isabeau than just the daughter of two bringers of evil , but heartbreak & lost friendships hold her back from making new friends easily . a girl who longs for GOOD , there’s no other way to explain that isabeau is good at heart .

she will always fight for the light , stand up for the underdogs in the most elegant ways . her mind is always running , schemes playing out in her head when it looks like she’s spacing out . she is manipulative & always calculated , does nothing without a motive , without a deeper meaning behind it – but there’s no malice behind her intentions . isabeau does bad for good , fights for the just cause by fighting the way she was taught . not to be trifled with , but not to be worried about lest you’re as evil as the devils she was raised with .

𝓲𝓿. 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤 .

these are all most wanted !

betrothed ( m / nb ) , which is a long shot , i know – but please give me the dude who isabeau is engaged to . he doesn’t have to be as evil as described , but his parents aren’t good people either & he doesn’t exactly give off the image of a pristine person ( not , that isabeau does either – but ... you know ) . give me the drama & the angst of “maybe i do care , but i shouldn’t” while she spirals & the “you think i wanted this , isabeau ?” & all the fuckin PAIN !

rich kid trio ( any , 2 ) , people as wealthy as isabeau that she knows of due to family dinners , event galas & being products of the dirty , rotten rich . sure , they’re really only acquaintances , but nobody protects their own like the one percent , so these three have joined forces & have had each other’s backs since arrival at st . astor .

everything else , a roommate ( probably in some high end house they’re renting together ) , a business partner , a study buddy / someone she tutors , party buddies , someone who pushes her further into her spiral , anyone else with a funky accent that she likes to hang out with & their accents get stronger together , anything with angst please !

𝓿. 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕔𝕝𝕦𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟 .

i’d love to get all these plots filled up , or any ones that you might have bc i’ve got sm fuckin’ muse for isabeau & this ! but if you’ve read this whole thing jesus , you’re amazing & i love u sm . please like this & i’ll come to u or lmk if u prefer disc & we can go there !

#euphoriahqs:intro #y'all want a mid - spiral b - i - c - t - h ?#here u go !

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jennyfair7 · 5 years

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Thanks @i-penna for the prompt, in response to this post where I sympathized with @rienerose‘s writing woes. ALW E/C, also posted to FFN.

“I’ve waited two years. Two years, and still nothing.”

Erik paused in the hidden corridor, not expecting to hear anything on the other side of the wall. He only ever visited the dancers’ dressing room when it was empty, to tie a shoe ribbon in knots or “misplace” a hairbrush. Harmless pranks to amuse himself and ensure that the Opera Ghost’s salary continued to be paid on time.

“You promised…”

Moving silently like a proper phantom, Erik crept along the passageway until he reached the two-way mirror. There were several like it installed throughout the Opera - his windows into the world above. He peered through, expecting to find one of the petits rats embroiled in some lover’s quarrel, but the young woman was alone. She sat at the vanity, hands clasped tightly in prayer and head bowed before the portrait of a fair-haired man. With a stifled sob, she rose and approached the mirror.

He recognized her from the chorus. Christine Daaé. She was a timid thing, a foreigner and seemingly friendless other than the Giry girl. No patron. No admirers waiting for her with flowers and platitudes after a performance. Her voice was pleasant enough, on the rare occasion he could hear it above the rest of the ensemble. Erik kept perfectly still as she wiped at her eyes and pinched the color back into her cheeks. A private visit from the Ghost would not improve her mood, he was certain.

“I tried to be patient, Pappa. Truly, I did. But I...I’ve waited long enough.” She squared her shoulders and stared into her own reflection. Erik stooped to match the level of her gaze, intrigued by the feeling of being seen while remaining invisible. “There is no such thing as the Angel of Music.”

Her chin was set at a determined angle even as her fingers twisted nervously in the folds of her gown. From her demeanor, Erik sensed that this Angel of Music was sacred to her, and that it had taken a sizeable measure of courage to speak such blasphemy. There was a spark inside this little sparrow, the hint of a firebird desperate to rise from the ashes...but as quickly as it had appeared, it began to fade. He watched as her face crumpled and fresh tears doused the lights in her eyes.

He should have left straight away and haunted some other corner of the Opera. The poor girl did not need a witness to her pain, least of all a hideous creature who lurked so closely now that his breath fogged the glass. Christine Daaé was nothing and no one to him. Why, then, this sudden desire to fan those dying flames? Why this kindred fire set to burning behind his ribs? He knew her, Erik realized. Her despair, her loneliness - they echoed his own.

A single thought possessed his mind. A different sort of trick; one meant to inspire hope instead of fear. An Angel was not so very different from a Ghost, after all…

Erik began to sing - softly, at first, throwing his voice across the room. It was the first Swedish song he could recall from his travels, a hymn about Lazarus rising from the grave. It seemed fitting, somehow. She gasped and spun around in search of the music’s source, the doubt in her expression giving way to wonder as the melody swelled and surrounded her.

“Angel? I hear you.”

#phic #fanfic #mine #e/c #phic prompts #writing prompts

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warringpeace · 4 years

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BOLD any which apply to your muse ! feel free to add to the list ! REPOST; DON’T REBLOG.

C A R O L J O S E P H

[ COLORS ] red. brown. orange. yellow. green. blue. purple. pink. black. white. teal. silver. gold. grey. lilac. metallic. matte. royal blue. strawberry red. charcoal grey. forest green. apple red. violet. navy blue. crimson. cream. mint green. bubblegum pink. sky blue. pale jade. magenta.

[ ELEMENTS ] fire. ice. water. air. earth. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold. steam. frost. lightning. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops. time. aether.

[ WEAPONS ] fists. legs. sword. dagger. spear. bow & arrow. hammer. shield. poison. guns. axes. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knives. pepper sprays. tasers. machine guns. slingshots. katanas. maces. staves. wands. powers. magical items. magic. rocks. mud balls. claws. teeth. stealth. strategy. words.

[ MATERIALS ] gold. silver. copper. platinum. titanium. rose gold. diamonds. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds. amethyst. metal. iron. rust. steel. glass. wood. porcelain. paper. wool. fur. lace. leather. silk. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. brick. marble. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. synthetics. ribbon.

[ NATURE ] grass. leaves. trees. bark. roses. daisies. sunflowers. tulips. lavender petals. seeds. hay. sand. rocks. roots. flowers. fungi. ocean. river. frozen lake. meadow. valley. forest. desert. tundra. savanna. rain forest. caves. underwater. beach. waves. space. clouds. mountains. snow. mist. pond.

[ ANIMALS ] lions. wolves. foxes. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. swans. snakes. turtles. ducks. bugs. spiders. birds. dove. seagulls. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. cats. dogs. bunnies. penguins. praying mantises. crows. ravens. mice. lizards. werewolves. scorpions. unicorns. pegasi. dragons. ladybugs. scarabs. chickens. magpies.

[ FOODS / DRINKS ] sugar. salt. candy. bubblegum. wine. champagne. hard liquor. vodka. beer. coffee. sake. tea. spices. herbs. apple. orange. lemon. cherry. strawberry. watermelon. vegetables. fruits. meat. fish. pies. desserts. chocolate. cream. caramel. berries. nuts. cinnamon. burgers. burritos. pizza. ambrosia. eggs. milk. bird. insects. omelette. cake. honey.

[ HOBBIES ] music. art. watercolors. gardening. smithing. sculpting. painting. sketching. fighting. writing. composing. cooking. baking. sewing. training. dancing. acting. singing. martial arts. self-defense. war tactics. electronics. technology. cameras. video cameras. video games. computer. phone. movies. theater. libraries. books. magazines. cds. records. vinyls. cassettes. piano. strings. violin. guitar. electronic guitar. bass guitar. harmonica. harp. woodwinds. brass. flute. bells. exploring. playing cards. poker chips. chess. dice. motorcycle riding. eating. sleeping. climbing. running. jogging. parkour. studying. yoga.

[ MISC ] balloons. bubbles. cityscape. light. dark. candles. growth. decay. war. peace. money. power. percussion. clocks. photos. mirrors. lighters. pets. diary. journal. fairy lights. madness. sanity. sadness. realism. happiness. optimism. pessimism. loneliness. family. friends. clan. assistants. co-workers. enemies. loyalty. smoking. drugs. kindness. love. hugs. kisses. spring. summer. autumn. winter. farmland. countryside. suburban. village. mischief. stability. lies. truth.

tagged by : @iarnvidiaa ( thank you! <3 ) tagging : @inadxquacy / @blckwales, @starxshine, @anarmyofcanons, @flyingupward, @gloriaregali, @thefvrious, & whoever wants to do this :)

#m: carol joseph #; about #long post for ts

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coffeewithcutcaffeine · 1 month

Note

hello my darling lin 💞 i'm afraid i can't keep it to myself any longer, i must know all about your character tags, they're simply too intriguing 👀.

Ahhh, my loveliest Lizzie! Thank you so much for sending this ask my way, it was such a lovely and generous surprise to find in my inbox today! 🥹❤️ I have a lot of different tags for five separate works so, please, bear with me as I briefly try to elaborate on all of them skdskfjsksfjsk. I apologise beforehand for my seemingly endless rambles, though I hope it will turn out to be interesting nonetheless! 🥰✨️

VOIEVOD:

The majority of my tags come from my medieval magnum opus sksksk because numerous distinct characters are already detailed and elaborate in my mind — let’s dig into them! I do have to confess that some of these tags have yet to make a proper appearance, but I have prepared them in advance, just in case.

( oc: if i cannot move heaven i will raise hell ) — Vlad Dracula. This phrase is a well-known quote from Virgil’s Aeneid: “Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo.” I have always felt that it perfectly encapsulates Vlad’s entire life — he is quite the prototype of a Machiavellian ruler willing to resort to more violent methods if needed (which we know very well from history, after all). Throughout the works, he repeatedly acknowledges his belief that he is destined for hell and expresses his willingness to sacrifice his soul for the greater good of his people. And he is also a very strong-willed and stubborn person who will always find a way to achieve his goals, whatever it costs him.

( oc: sanctuary ) — Cătălina. At first, I greatly hesitated to use this symbolism as I truly believe this remarkable woman is defined by much more than her role as the royal mistress and the mother of the voivode’s sons, and I try to depict that individuality of her character. However, this role does significantly influence her life and defines many of the decisions she makes. Throughout their relationship, Vlad sees Cătălina as his sanctuary because she accepts him as he is, loves him despite his perceived defects, and offers him a sense of belonging and peace. Sure, he loves that she keeps him on his toes, but this acceptance and the notion of having a kindred spirit give him the feeling of healing and safety. He can take off the many masks and let himself be exposed as he is, deep down. She also serves as a sanctuary for their sons, acting as the family’s anchor since they spend most of their time with her.

( oc: golden child; lion boy ) — Mehmed the Conqueror. His tag comes from the beautiful poem written by madzieloss on Tumblr, with the whole quote going, “Golden child, Lion boy; Tell me what it’s like to conquer.” I initially tried to use one of Mehmed’s poems from his diwan to make it a bit more personal, but this particular poem works perfectly because it encapsulates Mehmed’s whole essence — the Sultan of the Empire, the gifted child, the great conqueror. I also love using the recurring theme of gold and sun for his character. Gold represents the splendour of the Ottoman Empire, as well as his personal visuals (a lot of rich clothes and jewellery, the gilded Ottoman armour, his ginger hair and beard). Sun is the lovely little dichotomy seen in his character as it is both radiant and invigorating (his manners, generosity, education, intellect, aspects of rule), and merciless and blazing (his cruelty and the destructive sides of his politics towards other countries). Like the sun, he can either help grow or burn everything down.

( oc: the dragon ) — Vlad Dracul. I hate admitting that I could not come up with anything even remotely unique for Vlad’s dad as his moniker Dracul literally means “the Dragon” skdhskfskdks. However, the nickname was used for a reason, and we do not fix what isn’t broken in this house. The dragon’s role in medieval symbolism reflects a complex interplay between themes of heroism, morality, and the battle between light and darkness — on the one hand, the creature is seen as a protector and symbol of power, strength, and courage, but on the other hand, a dragon also represents a cunning and dangerous figure. He is called “the Dragon” both by people who admire him and despise him, so it shows the double meaning and the complexity of a ruler’s nature. At the same time, the meaning also spills over to his private life as he is both a figure of protection and (unwilling and unintentional) destruction to his family.

( oc: of burning martyrdom ) — Mircea Dracula. The eldest sibling is without a doubt the most tragic figure in the entire story, and I wanted his tag to reflect the tragedy and inevitability of his fate. He was killed at nineteen at the hands of his father’s enemies and in the cruellest way imaginable, and the “burning” part hints at some of the circumstances of his death. In his own way, he dies as a martyr because he dies refusing to give up his beliefs — and he is a martyr figure because the majority of his short life is marked with great struggles.

( oc: keeper of secrets ) — Alexandra. This tag is supposed to represent all the inner turmoil and complexities fighting one another inside Vlad’s younger sister. Because the two siblings share most of their personality and physical traits and are also close in age (there is a three-year gap between them), Vlad has always had a fond spot for his little sister and always considered her his little confidante — hence the meaning of keeping secrets. In return, Vlad has always been the brother who has granted Alexandra the most freedom and experience. She also keeps many secrets because there is a lot of her she has to repeatedly suppress inside of her — as I have mentioned, Vlad and Alexandra are quite alike, but Vlad’s personality tends to be accepted more while the same traits in Alexandra are often frowned upon.

( oc: cel frumos ) — Radu Dracula. My laziness shows here once again as that is Radu’s moniker, meaning “the handsome” or “the beautiful”. Radu has been given a fair share of horrible portrayals in media over the years, so I aim to further develop his character and show the varied aspects of his personality that are frequently overlooked. I initially tried to find something that would suit his complicated character but eventually settled on the nickname itself as it nicely shows the irony of his life and the most defining issue of his life — always being disregarded and reduced to only a sliver of his being.

( oc: cel mare ) — Ștefan the Great. (Or, as I like to call him, Fane.) There is no possible tag that would fit the famous Voivode of Moldavia and Vlad’s cousin (Vlad’s mother was a Moldavian princess) more than his own nickname, “the Great”. He is considered a national hero in both Romania and Moldova and undoubtedly earned his monicker through his actions.

OPEN HEART:

( c: i rise with my red hair and i eat men like air ) — Laura Levchenko. Her tag comes from Sylvia Plath’s poem called Lady Lazarus and, although I wanted to find a fitting quote from Lesya Ukrainka to represent Laura’s roots (that form a great part of her being), this one has the right amount of sharpness and edge fitting for my darling spitfire. Her fiery hair is undoubtedly one of her trademarks, and the quote also represents an independent spirit that will not be pushed down by being seemingly “inferior”. It also shows her own stance towards men, beginning with the painful experience with her dad and marking her whole life, as well as people who look down upon her.

( c: veni vidi vici ) — E.R. This is incredibly embarrassing because I was desperate to find something better for Ethan, something more fitting for his character… but there it is skdksfksldls. I do not think this quote even needs any introduction, so I will mention instead that “I came, I saw, I conquered” expresses the way Ethan achieves everything he sets his mind to, as well as the ferocity with which he pursues all his goals. When we compare his character to Laura’s, it might also imply the briskness with which he achieves certain things in life as a straight white American man — as opposed to Laura who is not only looked down upon for being a woman but also has to face a lot of xenophobia in her life. (You also want to re-enact the Ides of March on him sometimes but… I digress sksksk.)

CRIMES OF PASSION:

( c: this ghost sitting year after year upon my heart ) — Milena Rosa. This quote comes from Federico García Lorca’s play Yerma, in Spanish being, “este fantasma sentado año tras año encima de mi corazón”. I have to admit that I have yet to get myself familiar with Milena and craft her character in detail the way she deserves, but we know from canon that Jimmy’s tragic death greatly defines not only her own inner life (because she battles with all the demons his loss has inflicted upon her) but also the trajectory of her future career and the purpose she finds in her mission.

( c: bleeding sun ) — T.T. Trystan’s tag is from Lucie Thésée’s Poem, and the full quote goes, “Handsome as life and poison. Sun-blood handsome. Bleeding sun.” This was an instant fit because Trystan is undoubtedly the product of the environment he grew up in — Drakovia is both a place of beauty and vibrance, but we know its regime is bloody and deadly. Trystan will also never suppress the essence of who he is, and his character is both full of life and somewhat fierce (sometimes even violent) in nature. A lot of my worldbuilding for the story comes from my own experience as an Eastern European, and this little corner of the world is brimming with endless contradictions, so I tried to come up with something that would evoke that as closely as possible.

THE WAYHAVEN CHRONICLES:

( c: i am the sea and nobody owns me ) — Kimberley Cunningham. Kimble is my TWC newborn that I have only recently crafted into a character she should have been from the very beginning. Her tag is actually the legendary quote uttered by Pippi Longstocking which, apart from its fierceness, also fits Kimberley’s playfulness and carefree approach to life. She is a rebel through and through in every aspect of her life, which stems from the disastrous nature of her relationship with Rebecca. Her main objective in life is to do the exact opposite of what she is told, and she enjoys shocking people around her. But, just like the sea, she can be tempestuous and unpredictable, and some of her decisions can be quite destructive. Kimble ends up in the love triangle which kind of mirrors the rest of her life — initially harmless fun turns complicated and messy.

( c: a ribbon of loneliness ) — Sydney Brannagan. My poor baby Syd has been characterised through his melancholy since the very first moment, so I needed to find this little nugget that would instantly evoke his inner world. Then I found this quote by Jenny Slate that goes, “I think I’ve come to terms with the fact that there will always be a ribbon of loneliness running through who I am.” Loneliness runs through Sydney not only in the sense that he is such a sorrowful soul, but also because a part of him always feels so detached from others. All his life, he has felt like he has to prove his worth to his mother to feel accepted, and he also unconsciously builds a wall around him as the time goes by. In the professional setting, his personality does not stand out in any particular way — he is diligent and polite, some might even consider him a bit bland.

BLEEDING HEART:

I do feel like I need to give a bit more context for this interactive fiction beforehand, especially because there is only Chapter 1 out so far. The story is a retelling of Bram Stoker’s Dracula through the point of view of Mina Murray, and the first chapter already explores several wonderful themes I cannot wait to get my grubby little hands on! I have a very clear idea of who I want Mina to be, how she struggles in the setting and society she lives in, and how her personality drives her emotions and decisions. I do not know if my personal HCs will align with the story as it progresses, but there is nothing this user cannot tweak to her liking skdhskfjfksks.

( c: growing fruit around cyanide ) — Wilhelmina Murray-Harker. Mina’s tag is a part of a poem from a collection called Swallowtail by Brenna Twohy and goes, “Peach pits are poisonous. This is not a mistake. Girlhood is growing fruit around cyanide. It will never be your for swallowing.” Essentially, it encapsulates the conflict between who Mina seems to be on the outside and who she truly is on the inside. I have always felt like the Victorian times were one of the most suffocating periods for a woman to live in, and Mina always has to suppress a huge part of herself to somehow “fit the mould”, hence how she grows fruit around cyanide. Just like the society, her relationship with Jonathan also suffocates her — her engagement is a choice made out of reason, but she does not feel fulfilled with him in practically any way, which ultimately drives her into the arms of Dracula.

( c: the master of the night ) — Count Dracula. His tag is just the tweak of the quote from Bram Stoker’s Dracula: “Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they make!” Since he commands all the creatures and phenomena of the night, I have changed the bit to the “master”. I wish I had anything interesting to add to his character but, so far, I am waiting to see what he turns out to be like in Bleeding Heart — I know we are able to make him be the big villain or give him redeeming qualities, so I will wait and see which route will seem more fitting to me though I do play around with the idea of making Dracula more redeemable and a different character more villainous). Also, Count Dracula the Vampire has absolutely nothing to do with Vlad Dracula the Voivode in my fictional world — I know merging the two into one character is very popular, there is even one novel that did this that I absolutely love, but… not happening here lmao.

#ask reply #lin rambles #character tags #( oc: if i cannot move heaven i will raise hell )#( oc: sanctuary )#( oc: golden child; lion boy )#( oc: the dragon )#( oc: of burning martyrdom )#( oc: keeper of secrets )#( oc: cel frumos )#( oc: cel mare )#( c: i rise with my red hair and i eat men like air )#( c: veni vidi vici )#( c: this ghost sitting year after year upon my heart )#( c: bleeding sun )#( c: i am the sea and nobody owns me )#( c: a ribbon of loneliness )#( c: growing fruit around cyanide )#( c: the master of the night )

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yuki-yozora · 4 years

Text

Variables - fanfic ( Underswap Papyrus x Reader ) (Chapter One)

: !!: Author's notes ◌ °: !!:

﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎

Hello darlings! ‧ ₊ ° “

If you don't want read the note, please, roll this part.

As I mentioned in the prologue, it's my first time doing an underswap fic, so I'd like your opinion. ˚ ˚ *

I'm doing it the way I think it would be Au if it was complete as well as the fangame, but that doesn't mean I'm 100% following its original forms. ‧ ₊ ° “

That said, I will do my best to stay faithful and make writing interesting and fun. *

The cover image was edited by me, I know it's not the best, but I tried. ° ⸼ ⊹

If I get the link or names of those who created the images I will make available. °

Remembering that I have profiles in tree communities of Undertale in pt br, if you see an Vivinare, something ( skeleton, boned or skelly) with the same post, it's me, don't be scared. ˚ ˚ *

· · ✦ · · · · · · · 1 Notices · · · · · ✦ · · · · · · ·

Fic will follow many of its original creator's ideas with some interpretations and theories of mine. Here's the link about the creator: Popcorn (His profile no longer exists, he made another and left Au, she belongs to fandom, basically)

CENSOR:

Not for fragile hearts.

CONTAINS

(in general): violence, bullying, subliminal jokes, slight depression.

GENRE:

Adventure, Drama, Comedy, Thriller & Romance

˚ ˚ * In this fanfic ⁺ ˚. *

1 Chara is a boy;

2 Has original characters.

˚ ˚ * This chapter presents ⁺ ˚. *

1 slight violence;

2 Citation to depression;

3 drama.

Attention:

Big chapter ahead.

﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍ A year has passed… No news ... No trail ... not even false leads. (That fill us with hope just to take care of us.)

We.

I haven't used those words in so many days when referring to my life. Just one in the back, my brother was kidnapped. Chara was taken from me and taken where no one can find him. Your friends' parents shout accusations, as if I could hurt a single hair on your head:

"- It was certainly the oldest. After all, it's not the first death of the family. -"

Heh. People can be cruel.

We were four. He, the only boy and middle brother, only ten years old. The other oldest, Bianca, and the youngest, Daisy, were murdered by someone we trusted. Bianca's boyfriend, Elric, was on the Wizards Order. And to be accepted, the fire had to be fed with a precious commodity. He spent years fooling us into doing this… so that I could do that to him… That was two years ago. I tried to overcome my sadness, Elric was already under arrest, there was a Chara to be comforted. Gradually, our somewhat lonely new routine took shape. He made good friends who didn't judge him as many citizens: relatives of the children killed by the weirdo. Affectionate surname. We finally started to straighten up ... Until one day a couple broke into the house, terrified Doug, Chara's best friend, while frantically attacking me and the other taking my brother out of me in the blink of an eye. Despite my success in containing who attacked us, the other simply disappeared without a trace ...

It was like magic.

The search began in a human pursuit. All in vain. Police dropped the case in the fourth month, new ones were emerging. And there's no way to blame them for that (in a small, old town near the mountains, Ebottown had its high dose of violence.) The neighborhood avoided me as if infected with the plague and made a point of emphasizing how much I was despised. Escape, death. I thought of all this. But the spark of hope that he could come back kept me from leaving. And for that, I tolerate. All the antagonistic attitude of the neighborhood took me from my daily work. It just wasn't working, and my colleagues got angry every time my presence disturbed their eyes. To ensure basic survival, I accepted the night job offered by Luka, (The intimidating woman, the neighbor of the front house. Tall and powerful, with flawless black skin. Wearing her full hair or brightly colored turban, but there was always a vibrant purple, almost neon. His style of clothing was almost Gothic, spiders reminded me, for a strange reason.). The job was in a very elegant night bar serving colorful drinks and a space for parties or 'dances'. All the darkness and the bright alcohol made it difficult for people to recognize me, and anyone who dared to bother me was quickly arrested by the other bartenders or Luka, who was responsible for security. Strange to say that I felt more comfortable there than in my own home… loneliness ails me. Like now, a rainy day, with strong winds. Typical of the city. Interestingly on my day off. No strolling around, (Y/N).

* The rain outside is cold as your feelings and you know you don't deserve it.

A sigh and a roll of his eyes. I was annoyed myself. This whole situation, as if childhood turbulence was no longer enough, made the most frequent episodes of self-deprecation. Now it wasn't just my huge thighs or scars until I said enough. Or having tires in place of a perfect waist, or my abdomen getting easily swollen. No ... That's what I said, how I said it, how I breathed ... I probably needed help:

* But no one will come ...

I got. Luka was a good person, but I couldn't pour that much on her… I'm not worth it. With a flick of my tongue, I got up from the flowered carpet, centered in a bedroom entrance. I just went in there to clean, other than that, I watched the empty beds by the entrance, in silence. I closed the door carefully, looking back out of habit before going to the bathroom. A few gray floors peeled off the wall (cheap workmanship), the sink still full, but there were leaks in the pipe, the toilet was so bad it clogged up with the urine flush, the boxing was tiny, as if someone was trapping you in the closet while bathing you in cold water. Yes, the shower burned. At least I still have cute cabinets and a mirror….

Ah…

I looked into the mirror.

* After all, it's still you.

Long, curly hair, very messy and (h/c), with all the broken hair floating around (better known as fritz and he was too thin to be soft), reddish brown eyes (which weren't as red as Chara's) were probably the only things I liked about myself. Then we have my skin (s/c) very pale due to lack of sun exposure, random acne spreading, not in excess but bothering, deep dark circles, decorated with today's tear marks. A humorless laugh escaped my lips, his hand moving almost on its own, turning on the tap, rubbing the water over his face carefully. This is kind of dangerous, being alone with my sad thoughts.

" Finally. " I sighed, wiping my face on the nearest towel, hands then, as a painful smile crossed my face. " I have that." I tapped my side pocket of shorts where a deck of cards accompanied me everywhere.

It was like an extra part of me since Luka gave it to me, along with three other never-missing items: the black lipstick that Bianca wore when she came out with us, always in a pocket, the yellow ribbon of Daisy's hair on my head. her hair may look like a rattlesnake's nest, but she was always there.) and the weird book of basic flirtations that featured Chara as a pun and that he liked more than necessary (though small, no longer fit into pockets, so the his usual place next to my hip, between underwear and skin.)

I took advantage and wet my hair a little, as if he wasn't coming back to it later. Finishing up and getting some of the apparent melancholy from my face, I managed a hesitant smile at my reflection, but it returned to the cold look when something seemed to burst in the distance and the light went out. A blackout… when all I have to eat is frozen spaghetti and I'm out of gas.

So ... so ... perfect.

Worthy of a rainy day, which seemed to get stronger by the moment. Making a loud, unfamiliar sound, I emerged from the bathroom downstairs, using instincts to move without breaking anything. A kind of mind map danced in my mind, the matches in the cutlery and candles in the open closet seemed to light up like object-hunting games. I lit three candles that had already been used, then looked at the plate of food waiting to be warmed. Shaking my head gently, I put it in the fridge, even though it had no light to keep it intact, and pulled a jar of yogurt in place. This will be my dinner. Sitting at the round table with a prepared spoon, I began setting up the cards to play solitaire when I heard another noise. Much closer than the last. Slowly I took the cards from the table and stuffed them in my pocket, frowning.

A bang ... Coming from the room. Walking carefully, I approached, looking slowly out the door. My coffee table was split in half, the iron baseball bat stuck in the wood seemed to be the murder weapon. That stick was from Luka ...

More noise came from upstairs, my door still seemed to be closed. A kind of cold rose in my veins. This was strangely familiar. I looked around the room before going to the club and pulling it carefully.

* The Metal gave you a shiver of premonition.

I climbed the stairs, knowing exactly where to step so as not to make noise, but when I reached the top floor, I relaxed. The noise ceased. All doors remained closed, my room being the only exception. I peered through the door and, as I thought, he fled, as he had a year ago. The room was ruined, as if it had been a break-in party. The bed broke, the mattress was torn, as were my papers and the wardrobe on the floor, some scattered clothes, a strange substance staining the rug and writing on the wall: - You know where to find me. - My camping backpack, which I used during the research, and a book on the history of the city were in the center of the room. The open book, an image of Mount Ebott circulated there.

"... All right, all right. "

I grabbed the backpack and the book, going down and putting on my neon blue wellies before leaving. I looked at Luka's house and the staff in hand, then ran, just pushing open the door. I didn't have to walk much, she was in the middle of the room, which had several broken things. Concerned, I knelt beside her, almost panicked, but relieved when I saw her breathing. I used your phone to call the police, but decided not to wait. Finally, I have a clue. A chance to catch him. I needed to do this. I laid her on the couch and left a small note, leaving before I changed my mind.

* You are full of justice.

It was night when I started to cross the forest. The rain persisted above, making the cold run down my back. Sharp branches and thorns scraped my skin and ripped my clothes, but now I barely cared. I needed to continue. It wasn't long before I reached the clearing in front of the mountain, the place that started it all. Immaculate gray dust lay where the eternal fire lay. Not washed by rain, not carried by wind. Right there, waiting. I wiped something hot from my face and turned, the cock getting colder against my skin.

* You need to move on.

Gradually, I felt scratches burning, but I made sure they wouldn't be long enough to stop bleeding. As expected, climbing was not an easy task. The soaked, sloping ground was almost a waterfall of mud that made me slip and lose my balance as I stepped on the loose rocks. My hair, my legs, my clothes had mud on everything. I dropped to my knees as I reached one of the peaks, breathing hard as I looked into the dark cavern not far away. Lightning roused me from the trance I entered, so I started to get up, feeling someone watching me.

- It is not bad. -

With one hard blow, I tried to hit him behind me, a whistling noise was all I could get. My muscles tensed automatically with the evil laugh. " Not bad. " He sneered behind me again, his dark red cloak flapping violently in the wind, mocking his hands saluting me.

" What you want? " I growled. He started to laugh, part of his mouth visible, a large scar on the left side of his face, lips and chin. " Foolish child. You have no idea what you did when you attacked that wizard, do you? Knights are so ignorant. " He shook his head, like I was a lost cause. A gold stick with a ruby top appeared in his left hand. " So we agreed that you should be eradicated, like monsters. But you multiply like rabbits." His voice was thoughtful. " Anyway, it's trivial in our day ... But, how you attacked us ... A massacre is inevitable! " Another laugh followed.

* You have no idea what he is talking about, but decide to face him anyway.

" Does not matter. " I took a deep breath, making a decision. "I don't want to know your motives now." I watched the ruby light up with its magic. " Still ... You must be punished. "

With a speed I didn't know, I advanced and hit the club in his ribs, pushing it aside and giving him a breathlessness. A sigh of pain was all I heard before something moved away from him and fell to the muddy ground. I felt discomfort in my chest and arm, but got up without difficulty. Once again, I set off to attack, but dodging a red sphere he threw. It surprised me and the rodeo was not so successful, it scraped my arm and burned my skin. Others came and it was hard to get rid of them, the mud at my feet making me slip all the time. Adrenaline took over my body and I felt even faster, confident, almost enjoying fighting, the steady pace: side, side, spin, jump, run, roll, attack, lose. It wasn't long before I hit his face, an uncomfortable, muffled sound sounded around us, something that looked like a tooth flew away from him. He withdrew closer to the cave, making me follow him cautiously. That smile sent mixed emotions in my core. Suddenly, many spheres formed and advanced against me at high speed, barely leaving room for evasion. One of them hit me in the belly and the pain I felt was masked by the lack of mobility. No matter how much I moved, I couldn't leave the place.

" Finally. " He hardly seemed to have such a hoarse voice that he seemed. " You slippery trash. " He approached, holding his stomach, sweat mixed with rain, some blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. " Now. " He gripped my face tightly, the team being torn from me and thrown into some dark corner. " Come . " My body began to float, following it to the cave. " Com'on, not look at me like that. I'll tell you a secret. " He laughed. It wasn't too deep, there were flowers scattered all over the floor, all golden flowers, I think, a smaller hole in the ceiling where the rain fell and a larger, very dark hole in the floor. On the walls, several inlaid crystals gave the lighting a mystical feel. Suddenly I was hurled, slipping on the floor and ruining some flowers, stopping right at the edge of the hole. Barely able to move, I lifted my face to face him. I was completely defenseless. There was a macabre smile on his face, his now visible eyes glowing with blood red. "Your brother is just waiting." He whispered. " Go get him. -" And a kick threw me in my death. Soon, only darkness painted my world.

*It's the end.

· · · · · · · · · · · · · End notes

My english is very beginner, so i'm using the help of google translator. If anyone with available time can help me review, I appreciate it. (Y/N) - your name (h/c) - hair color (s/c) - skin color More legends will be added in the future! Word Count: About 2,880 If i use any images similar to the game can be found on the Gamejolt website. They do not belong to me.

#undertale #underswap #undertale au #reader #fanfic #neutral route #chara dreemurr #mages #magic #underswap x reader #swap papyrus x reader #swap papyrus

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facemypast · 5 years

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Do not reblog this.

WHAT ARE YOUR MUSE’S AESTHETICS?

TAGGED BY: stolen from @lcdgerbled TAGGING: anyone!

BOLD any which apply to your muse ! Feel free to add to the list ! REPOST; DON’T REBLOG.

[ ELEMENTS ] fire. ice. water. air. earth. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold. steam. frost. lightning. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops.

[ MATERIALS ] gold. silver. copper. platinum. titanium. rose gold. diamonds. pearls.rubies. sapphires. emeralds. amethyst. metal. iron. rust. steel. glass. wood. porcelain.paper. wool. fur. lace. leather. silk. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. brick. marble. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. synthetics. ribbon.

[ HOBBIES ] music. art. watercolors. gardening. smithing. sculpting. painting. sketching. fighting. writing. composing. cooking. baking. sewing. training. dancing. acting. singing. martial arts. self-defense. war tactics. electronics. technology. cameras. video cameras. video games. computer. phone. movies. theater. libraries. books. magazines. cds. records. vinyls. cassettes. piano. strings. violin. guitar. electronic guitar. bass guitar. harmonica. harp. woodwinds. brass. flute. bells. drums. exploring. playing cards. poker chips. chess. dice. motorcycle riding. eating. sleeping. climbing. running. jogging. parkour. studying.

#★≡【αpprecιαтe тнe deтαιlѕ│αeѕтнeтιc】

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lanzhanhoe · 5 years

Text

Wangxian week

Day 3: Soulmates

In the Cultivation world, It’s apparently easy to find your soulmate. Apparently, because it’s just as hard, or even more so, as for non-cultivators to find them, Wei Wuxian thinks.

You know when you found your soulmate when you’re able to see their scars. And of course people would think that, for cultivators, this would be an easy task, having lots of scars in their bodies and all, but it’s not!

As if cultivators would be showing their bodies off for the world to see, just to find ther soulmate..., ridiculous!

For cultivators, having a soulmate is not a bless, it’s like... an assured broken heart which leads you to be a useless cultivator..., yeah, pretty tragic. Cultivators risk their lives continuallly, and their main priority is to train, be the best and mantain reputation of their clan. Love is not really an important matter, just a burden.

For Wei Wuxian is a different story.

He’s a loud, incredibly talkative, audacious, bold and impulsive young man. The type to lose attention esily, who enjoys teasing and pranking others, a fun lover and a rules hater, always getting in trouble.

But he’s also intelligent, charismatic, caring and protective, and usually hides those last traits behind a goofy smile and a carefree personality.

And as someone who never completely belonged, one of his most profound desires is to have someone who truly accepts him, lets him be who he is and loves him no matter what.

He could not give a fuck about what others cultivators think! Wei Wuxian wanted to find his soulmate, for more stupidly romantic as that sounds.

So, that night, when he met that gorgeous Lan cultivator with a boring face, who tried to stop him from drinking the delicious Emperor's Smile. At fist, he could not understand that almost primitive desire to tease him to no end, just to see what expression he could make, how beautiful he could be.

Lan Wangji was his total opposite, someone courtly and righteous, unwilling to bend rules. Always cold and distant, but despite his apparent annoyance at his presence, Wei Wuxian, at some point in his life, considered him a close friend, someone fun to tease and hunt with.

Someone Wei Wuxian eventually pushed away, and gave up in him, because he finally understood that, at the end, Lan Wangji despised him after all.

And then his life went from bad to worse. Wei Wuxian was now The Yiling Patriarch, a demonic cultivator, evil and hated by all. Except for Lan Wangji, who treated him the same as always, wich was actually a relief, even if he knew that Lan Wangji just tolerated him, nothing more.

He slowly drowned in his dark power, losing control, feeling alone and hated, misunderstood and powerless. Alone, alone, alone...

'Go away, go away, go away!- I don't want to hurt you, I'm evil, I cannot control it, it's so hard..., no, stop! help me, don't leave me, I can't do this...'

'Get lost, get lost, GET LOST!- It's late, I lost, you don't need me, everyone hates me, I'm just a burden, leave, leave, leave...'

And he died, miserable, hated and alone. After so much pain, loss and loneliness, it finally stoped. The world was free of his existence, and no one would hurt him ever again.

Sadly, he never got to meet his soulmate...

But destiny had other plans with him, after all.

And at the end he came back, in Mo Xuanyu's body, and he decided to make that sacrifice worth it. He would take this second opportunity and do things right.

And with Lan Wangji, together, searched for the body parts, and in the pace of their adventures, he slowly fell head over hills for no other than Hanguang-Jun, who, he discovered, never hated him after all.

The matter of soulmates was slowly forgotten by Wei Wuxian, it now only mattered to him that his dear Lan Zhan loved him as much as he did.

Until their first, of lots of nights, being intimately together.

Their bodies were laying in the soft grass, both of them out of breath. Wei Wuxian was under Lan Wangji, both lovers kissing each other passionately, tongues brushing against the other, light bites in lips, low moans and breathy little laughs, caused by sweet inexperience and love.

Both, after the long mystery of Nie Mingjue's body and Jin Guangyao's past being resolved, decided to follow their desires for the other, and touch, get to know their partner's beautiful body, loving the sounds and sensation of their lover's skin.

And in that process, Wei Wuxian could not suppress the want to touch that strong, wide back of Lan Wangji, it reminded him of all the times Lan Zhan defended and protected him, and the desire to know how soft that skin would be, made him crazy.

So he lifted up the white clothes, and felt it.

Scars, and lots of them.

He already knew the severe punishment Lan Wangji was put through because of him, and his guilt and lots of love for this man surged.

Wei Wuxian could not believe how lucky he was.

But for the way Lan Wangji tensed, he remembered what scars really meant, and after all those years, he remembered that tiny but important matter.

Soulmates.

"Wei Ying..., there is no need to be sorry." he spoke, looking ate him in the eyes.

His ribbon was crooked and his face was just right there, looking at him with so much love and want, it made his heart melt.

"I- y-yes! I already know that, Lan Zhan, ahahahah, but I can't help but feel a little guilty."

"What's wrong?" Lan Wangji noticed that guilt was not really tge problem.

"C-can I... would you let me see them? Your scars, I mean."

But before the other could answer, he was interrupted. "Y-you know what? It doesn't matter! I know is something intimate and you don't have to show me, I'm just being stupid... ahahah..."

"Mn."

"What?"

"You can, I'll show you." He kneeled in front of him and took his clothes off.

And Wei Wuxian could now fully appreciate the beauty of Lan Wangji's body, and avoided to look at his back. What if he couldn't see the scars? What if what they had was just a mistake?

What if they weren't meant to be together?

But he tried to be brave. If they're not soulmates, who cares? They love each other, have gone through a lot of things together, enjoyed to be with the other, wanted to be by their side.

No one could make him not love Lan Wangji.

So Wei Wuxian opened his eyes, and looked. Lan Wangji's back was full of scars, each of them looked painful, protectiveness and rage surged inside of him.

How dare they hurt his Lan Zhan like this?

Hesistantly, he placed a finger in one of those scars, and caressed it. And he did so whith the other ones. Until he could not resist it, and started kissing each scar he would catch his eyes.

Wei Wuxian hugged him by the waist, and kissed, touched, kissed, touched. It felt as if time stopped, just both of them where there, in the middle of those trees, having this intimate moment.

Lan Wangji let out trembling sighs, enjoying the soft touches and kisses, feeling comforted and loved.

"Lan Zhan," he whispered against his back. "We're soulmates... I can see each one of your scars, and I'll treasure them for tge rest of my life, I swear. I love you so much..." and kept kissing.

"Wei Ying... hah... love you too."

In that forest, they consummated their love. With little whines, trembling sighs, high moans and low groans. The sound of skin against skin and wet kisses.

And incessantly repeated "I love you, I missed you, I want you... don't leave me"

"I won't."

---

For the @wangxianweek

Late again! Sorry hehe, i had a really busy day ㅜㅜ

Remember! This is not edited, hope you enjoy it tho ^♡^

#wangxianweek2019 #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #wangxian #lan wangji #wei wuxian

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olympivnshq · 5 years

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congratulations mona ! you mentioned cat called artemis and L lost her heart immediately. mine followed suit about 10 lines later. there is an ache in HELEN that you showed through your writing in ways we had imagined, but not quite delved into the way you did. we were curious to see what applicants for her would make of whether the trojan war was a result of an affair, or a pure abduction. we’re glad you picked one route and stuck to it. we’re excited to see how helen fares in the midst of the gods who started it all with your first faceclaim choice: ROSIE HUNTINGTON WHITELEY.

☆ﾟ*・ﾟ OOC INFO.

hi hi! i’m mona, i’m currently in the gmt+2 zone, and i actually own a cat called artemis :)

☆ﾟ*・ﾟ DEITY — GENDER. AGE RANGE.

HELEN OF SPARTA — FEMALE. 28-32

☆ﾟ*・ﾟ MORTAL NAME. JOB/OCCUPATION. BOROUGH/NEIGHBORHOOD.

HEDY HATHAWAY, ACTRESS/SOCIALITE, UPPER WEST SIDE, MANHATTAN, NY

☆ﾟ*・ﾟ AESTHETICS.

classical statues, paintings covered with dust, a silken ribbon forgotten on a bench, the clatter of a spoon against porcelain when stirring tea, the sensation of velvet against skin, pearls from a ripped necklace spilling on marble floor, rose petals, old perfume, gold and pearl jewelry, fields of roses and peonies, hazy afternoons & warm vanilla ,gold highlight & shimmer, lost momentos, soft wind, sad smiles, warm hugs, choral singing somewhere far away, sun shining through big windows and flowy chiffon curtains, gentle and loving touches, dancing with your eyes closed, equal parts mysterious and electric.

☆ﾟ*・ PLAYLIST.

i. will you still love me when I’m no longer young and beautiful? will you still love me when i’ve got nothing but my aching soul? // ii. housewife, beauty queen, homewrecker, idle teen. the ugly years of being a fool, ain’t youth meant to be beautiful? // iii. helen of troy is that your name stupid girl, stupid game - she cries all day, cries all night // iv. when i’m dead and gone, will they sing about me? dead and gone, will they scream my name? // v. mama said, you’re a pretty girl, what’s in your head it doesn’t matter - pretty hurts, shine the light on whatever’s worse, perfection is the disease of a nation // vi. in the land of gods and monsters i was an angel, living in the garden of evil // vii. she’s made of outer space and her lips are like the galaxy’s edge, and her kiss the colour of a constellation falling into place // viii. can nobody hear me? i’ve got a lot that’s on my mind, cannot breathe, can you hear it, too?

☆ﾟ*・ HOW WOULD YOU PLAY THEM?

helen of troy has always been defined by her face, a face that launched a thousand ships and started a war, and yet no one ever seems to care about the girl and soul hidden behind that mesmerizing face. beauty is a curse, a burden that comes in a disguise of a gift from gods, and helen knows this better than anyone else. she only has a face, but not a voice. she spends her whole life being controlled by various powerful men, ushered into their companies and later beds. there’s no one more alone in the world than helen of troy as she’s trapped in gilded cages and kept as some exotic bird. there are only those who wish to use her as a tool, such as her parents, husband and even the cruel gods for their little games of war, and then there are those that judge her and try to put all the blame on her, paint her as a whore, seductress and bringer of destruction in their songs, tales and poetry. but next to paris, she feels safe, understood for the first time, like she can finally make a choice in her life. and she does, she finally is allowed to make choices, she’s on a quest to enlightenment and a better life, a life in which she can decide what she wants. helen wants to have her voice heard and she wishes is to be free. she’s mostly been passive her whole life, unable to speak or take matters into her own hands, but rather she must follow the strict protocols and obey the rules others have written for her. yet helen isn’t a cruel woman despite all the loneliness and abuse, but she’s hopeful and free-spirited, always carefully waiting for the perfect moment to flee. if she could, she would trade her face with any other lady or princess, just so she could have a normal life.

a life filled with beauty, wealth and splendor was once again bestowed upon helen or rather hedy, but it all came with a very similar price indeed. hedy was born in a family filled with successful and ambitious people; a famous businessman for a father and a wealthy model for a mother with a keen eye for the finer things in life. as their only child, hedy had always struggled to live up to the high expectations of her parents, had always tried her best to make them happy while completely pushing her own happiness aside. from an early age, her mother started taking her to pageant shows, modeling and acting auditions, wishing to make a profit on her strikingly beautiful child; from a charming baby to a stunning toddler and teenager, people were practically climbing over each other to get a piece of hedy and make her their new shining star. hedy didn’t like any of it really, even in a room full of people and photographs she always felt profoundly alone, yet she never really had much courage to speak up to her parents. instead she would sneak out at night or when no one else was around and attend painting courses, cooking lessons, even parties, anything and everything that made her feel alive and less lonely. when she first got into the acting business, she had expected to finally be recognized for her hard work and not just face. but of course, she was a fool for thinking that. no matter how hard she had practiced or worked, she always got picked for similar roles, the beautiful damsel in distress, the pretty girlfriend of the main hero, the bond girl, a stunning girl without a name, the provocative but stupid blonde bombshell. her parents however were entirely pleased and so was the media and her fans. but her parents didn’t stop there as they went a search for a fitting husband. almost one year ago, she got engaged to a businessman who’s practically 15 years older than her, and while she does wear a pretty diamond ring on her finger just to please her parents, she knows that she will never marry him. among her peers, she’s known as a bit of a heartbreak among her peers, but that of course is only a facade as she wants to find someone who will truly love her for what she is and not just like her for the way she looks or what she owns. she’s learning how to be more independent and free, she’s learning how to grow and escape her parents’ shadow. she’s also become an advocate for women’s right and equality and with the help of other women, she’s learning how to love and respect herself, and never let anyone again use her as a puppet. most do see her a joke, a young, wealthy and beautiful girl like her simply cannot be unhappy, she is not allowed to be unhappy. they all claim she has everything, judge her at every possible opportunity, but hedy won’t let them get to her this time. she will fight for herself. she’s not happy, but she wants to find it, and she’ll try to seize it. one step at a time.

answer these questions: 1. are they more likely to stand with the pantheon or against it? she is more likely to stand with the pantheon, but truth be told, now she’d be quite indecisive. sometimes she feels as if the gods are simply playing with her for their own sickly-sweet entertainment. 2. what is their stand on mortals? she is a mortal and she’ll always be more fond of her own kind that the gods.

☆ﾟ*・ SAMPLE PARA (OPTIONAL)

’’ – miss hedy, miss hedy,’’ a man in a black suit calls, steady hands gripping a white phone ready to capture her every word and motion. she snaps out of her beautiful reverie, forgetting almost for a few brief moments that she’s supposed to be answering inquires and not imagining that she’s on a sunny beach somewhere with warm sand tingling beneath her toes. ’’yes?’’ she looks up, blue eyes steadily focusing on the impatient man. ’’this year you were once again named as one of the most beautiful actresses in the world, tell me how does that make you feel?’’ when she hears his inquiry, she sighs, chest trembling with disappointment.

didn’t anyone come to ask at least one single question about the movie? she asks herself, unwilling to face the truth. is that all she is? a pretty face that’s meant to be ranked with the others? a girl only born to be on display? she can almost hear the cry of thousands of women across the world, women only valued for the way they look, now for what they truly are. ‘’i’m honored. really. next question please.’’

an older woman from the audience raises her hand and with a soft smile she starts to form her question, and the more she talks the more hedy can see that her smile isn’t genuine. ‘’recently, the young and beautiful margo vera has been compared to you, from your similar career paths to looks, it’s sometimes hard to ignore the resemblance. do you see her as competition, miss hathaway?’’ she refrains from rolling her eyes, knowing that such behavior doesn’t suit a proper lady like her. in that instant she wishes they could all just leave her alone. hedy’s cherubic smile falters, but her lips are still curved upwards. ‘’no, of course not. why would i?’’

‘‘so are you saying that she could never match your looks?’’ the woman immediately jumps, searching for tiny pieces of flesh that she can fest upon like a true vulture. ‘‘no, no, i think she is extremely beautiful. i wish her nothing but the best. i’d even love to work with her,’‘ but what she wants to say is, i hope she’ll be more beautiful than me, i don’t want this, i don’t want this beauty, i’ve been carrying it all my life, but it’s too heavy for me. i want more from life. don’t you see that beauty isn’t everything?

‘‘with the recent beauty standards in the industry, do you think…’’ another man starts, but hedy stops him with a wave of her delicate hand. ‘‘that’s all for today. thank you all for coming. see you next time…’‘ she announces wearily. the wave of flashing lights before her is almost blinding.

–you look so beautiful today, smile for the camera one more time, miss hedy

– smile, i love your face

–hey over here, over here, stay for another question

it’s always like this. she’ll never be free.

☆ﾟ*・ ANYTHING ELSE?

pinterest board <3

#ohq:accepted #semi appless rp #lsrpg #literate rp #helen #helen of sparta

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decadentrpg-blog · 5 years

Photo

WELCOME EM, YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF GENEVIEVE WOOD

Admins Note: Wow what a powerful, bad ass woman you’ve developed. I love the insightful head cannons exploring her curiosity and her urge to understand the world in her unique perspective. Her relationships have been beautifully explored - from Darius to Ophelia to Proserpina, all being a special fragment of her existence. She’s everything I could have hoped for! I can’t wait to see her on the dash, breaking and putting things back together! Congratulations on your acceptance again, please make sure to head your way to the checklist and submit your account within the next 24 hours!

Out of Character

Name / Alias: Em

Pronouns: She/Her

Age: 24

Timezone: EST

In Character Application

Full Name: Genevieve Wood

Sexuality: Pansexual

Gender/Pronouns: Cisgender Female, She/Her

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Headcanons:

ONE :: GIRL QUESTING, GIRL QUESTIONING. Your childhood days are perhaps characterized best by a reluctantly unbound exploratory curiosity. Your family is not old blood or money in the way other families are, but it hardly matters; the place you call home is deceptively expansive, leaving you nooks and crannies and rooms to make your own. You are young the first time you realize your home violates the principles of reality — bigger than it ought to be when you see it from the outside you are five the first time you really understand what magic is in a physical sense. And though five is thought to be too little to grasp the finer points, you question and you question and you question until the finer points start to unravel themselves. Perhaps this is where it all begins, because when you finally understand, there’s satisfaction of a sort before you realize something that imprints itself into your memory: there is so much you don’t know and you want answers for all of it.

Over the years, you become adept at destroying, learning and then in a twist, creating things new. There’s a certain pleasure gained in tying your hair up with a ribbon, destroying something, studying the pieces and then improving upon it as you rebuild. Such tendencies—often mechanical in nature—exasperate your mother profoundly because she dresses you in pretty things and you inevitably make ruin of them, because she would prefer you be more the quintessential pureblood daughter, soft and dear and obliging, but there is no stopping you.

Through trial and error, through exasperation, time outs and threats ranging from laughable to somewhat terrifying for your youth, your mother and father learn that there are only two ways to stop your questioning: one) give you answers until you’re satisfied or two) provide the means by which you can obtain answers for yourself. Punishment only silences you temporarily, and rules, both new and old, are ignored with equal fervor. And so, your parents, though they love you dearly, often opt for the second of the two options, if only because you try their patience with their questions, because you are enough to make their heads spin. Perhaps you ought to feel badly for that, for the way you are trying, but the truth is like so: questing girls pursue their aims without regard paid to consequences, questioning girls need answers and you, you are a questing girl, a questioning girl, fearless and insatiable.

TWO :: ON THE MYSTERIES OF A HEART. There are societal conventions that speak to what love and attraction should be in various forms, but you reside well outside any of them. In this, like so much else, you are a thing ill-defined and seemingly without particular rhyme or reason. A curious woman, wont to interest bordering obsession as regarding whatever catches your eye, you have a penchant for inquiry that leads you to the heart of things, of people. Like so, for you the appeal is not a type, the appeal is what lies beneath.

This leads you to Darius, to a sweet, almost chaste kiss as a venture into exploration, an answer to questions you don’t dare ask aloud, but wonder about all the same. Though, perhaps, calling it chaste is unfair because that implies a lack of passion; perhaps it’s better to say innocent and questioning, for like so much else, the knowledge and experience earned helps you evolve, though it comes at a cost. You want to learn about Darius, and you do, but what you learn you do not entirely like; Darius is not like you, questing and questioning, unabashedly true to what the heart demands. He is cowardly in his devotion and though you might have fallen for the facade once, for those golden curls and a winsome smile, you’ve never been attracted to what you see underneath.

And it leads you, eventually, to Proserpina, though that path is somewhat winding with other boys who possess features and traits that make you look twice before you see her. There’s a naïveté to what exists between you, at first. Again, it’s curious and curiously born, a bright-eyed interest and a first of a different sort. She is an answer to questions about yourself, the beginning of an unbinding from traditional labels, but she is so much more than that; she is ever fascinating. Perhaps you’re a fool to fall for a woman who whispers lies as she breathes and does it so convincingly, but hearts are not meant for rationale, they want as they will and yours has been long undone by the puzzle of Proserpina. After all, didn’t you once trail fingers along her form if only to touch her and whisper, “my dear heart”? Would you not do it again were you allowed a chance?

Ultimately, there are those less true than their word, but you are absolute, an unerring truth in a world of lies and falsehoods; reckless as it might be, you fall in love with the heart of people and you pity anyone who loves for less.

THREE :: THE PATH NOT TAKEN. Before you even think about stepping foot in Hogwarts, it is clear you will belong in one of two houses: Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. It might be Gryffindor for the way you play with a certain reckless abandon, even in your childhood, unquestioningly certain of your right to what pleases you no matter what the rules might say, unafraid of the truths such recklessness might show. But then, it could be Ravenclaw; with an insistent sort of curiosity that is equal parts your greatest virtue and your worst vice, you are, in some ways, quintessentially of the sort that cannot make a home anywhere but the high tower, wearing blue and bronze.

You are a coin flip, two distinct parts that ought to be at odds, but come together to make a wild, bravely questing girl, so much so that even those who know you best cannot decide what you will be. Your mother says Ravenclaw, your father Gryffindor, though his choice might be more pride and a desire to see you follow in his footsteps speaking than a true reckoning.

You yourself hardly know what to think, except it doesn’t matter. When the time comes, you unintentionally oblige the Sorting Hat well and make yourself known. There are children in this world that are chimeric mysteries, who might truly belong one place and another, who might be influenced or even created, by the choice made for them, but you are not one of them at heart. No, you sit under the Sorting Hat, not thinking of what might be, not telling yourself to be brave for what will come or trying to want one future over another. Instead, you find your thoughts tangential to the moment, in that you simply wonder about the Sorting Hat’s magic; it’s a shame, you reflect as you wait for your future, that the hat is something you cannot destroy and remake until you understand it. The hat only laughs at your thought process, says, “With curiosity like that, it better be Ravenclaw!” and that is the end of that.

For every question and option, even for that singular moment where your world is a coin standing on edge and Gryffindor is an equally acceptable choice for that earnest reckless of yours, Ravenclaw is where you belong. Unquestioningly.

FOUR :: A LADY’S GUIDE TO IMPROPRIETY & NON-MALICIOUS RULE-BREAKING. The older you’ve gotten the more the style in which you display your non-compliance and unconventionality has changed. Only don’t be fooled. It’s not about that. It’s never about that.

In childhood, it’s always about understanding. Rules are a prison that stymie intellectual curiosity in the name of safety, a thing for which you’ve never had any use; with a world full of possible paths for exploration all about you, you hardly have time to think about something so foolish as caution, nor patience for the very same. These years are full of solitary time, of wild adventures, of incessant questions, interspersed with necessary socialization, which sounds lonelier than it feels. You suppose you have friends, but truly, you prefer the solitude of your own seeking and the satisfaction found in answers to the play-pretend games others your age want to play.

School and adolescence change everything. You could hardly be called quiet, with the way you so vocally wonder, but in truth, by comparison to others your age, there is something lacking to your social skills. A mess of a contradiction, introverted in social interactions, extroverted in inquiry, the two resolve into something between when you learn to find people as interesting as things. It’s different, of course, because you cannot destroy and rebuild people in the same way you can do things, but it’s that very condition that proves to make people all the more interesting. After all, things are as they are while people are variable, changeable, manipulatable. Perhaps that’s why you come to get along so well with some of the Slytherins, like Ophelia, during your later days at Hogwarts. You aren’t afraid to say things that are less than polite, or do things that are less than kind if only to find out what will happen. It’s not a matter of hearts or feelings but one far more linear; A leads to B and then on to C and you like to know what reactions will occur. And if you’re being honest with yourself, when it comes to the unbinding of people, there’s something messy in it that you’re loathe to delve into; far better to have someone else spill the guts and leave them for you to study.

Adulthood has different rules too, because it’s here you are taught the questionable virtue of propriety. The older you get, the more you ought to simply know better as if being older means being better, as if curiosity is not justifiable cause and lies are acceptable means by which to make it through the day. You never quite mean to become a beacon of truth, to become something unflinching blunt, but as you leave Hogwarts behind, you come to realize that the real world is not half so simple as the walls of your school were — there’s privilege and wealth and the delusions born of it and there’s fervency and new causes and a belief in change. Perhaps you fall in line with the latter because at least there you find more truth, or perhaps it’s because you like to see how things shake and stir and propriety is not a world lilted off tongues and praised profoundly. To make change one must be true and improper. Is there anywhere else you belong?

In Character Paragraph:

The ballroom was the oddest battleground she had ever encountered, though to call it that was perhaps inaccurate. Hypothetically, this evening had been proposed and planned in the name of charity and was being attended under the very same guise, but underneath the glitz and the glamour and the music, there was a subtle rippling, an divide amongst the younger generation that did not echo in their older American counterparts — it was a world of differing problems and concerns, though Genevieve darkly figured everyone would be dragged into it in the end.

Problems had a habit of eventually rearing their ugly heads at the least convenient moments, as she well knew, considering she had, more than once, done her part in bringing the truth embedded within them to light. It had earned her a reputation of a sort, though she hadn’t ever bothered to give that much thought. She acted as she did not because she wanted to harm, but because she simply valued the truth enough to make sure it was known, and, perhaps too, because when it was all said and done, she liked to be able to step back and watch the consequences of unpleasant truths unfold as they might.

It was so interesting to watch people react.

Tonight, however, was not a night for such a course, not that she didn’t think on it for a moment; there was interest to be had, in making the divide between them terribly plain, but what was the point? To bring it into the open would only ruin the cause that brought them all here, which even she wasn’t heartless enough to do. Plus, there was loyalty to be had yet, and perhaps, maybe, a kernel of a belief in the just nature of the cause to which she had aligned herself. Change was worth sitting on the truth for, at least for now.

That being said, aligning herself to a cause and alienating herself from people she was fond of had never been her way; though she stood with The Coalition, she didn’t ignore The Pride Society, the way others did, the way others might have wished her to. Perhaps that marked her as wrong, Darius certainly liked to assert that sentiment, but she was truer to her heart than any sort of external ideal and there were women across the room who certainly held pieces of hers.

Firstly there was Proserpina. Decorum and discretion dictated she wasn’t supposed to stare, yet the secret that was bound between them all but commanded otherwise. Perhaps that was only fair, that she stare if she so please because the fact that it was secret was neither Genevieve’s desire nor her demand. Secrecy meant so little to her, but it meant so much to Proserpina; it was a fool’s game, one without reciprocity of a kind, but she cared profoundly for what the other woman wanted.

Tonight the other witch was as radiant as ever and it made her want in a way she couldn’t explain. What was she to do about Proserpina when the woman somehow took her words? It was equal parts intriguing and irritating to love a woman that simultaneously defied explanation and stole the words that might allow an honest try at making one.

And secondly there was Ophelia. Though dear to her, despite the fact that they were no longer children and the difference in their lifestyles at this point, Genevieve had begun to view the other woman with dread of a sort; her marriage was not doing her the wonders sometimes advertised and the woman Genevieve had once known was gradually slipping away from her. She pitied her, but no matter what words she had tried so far, she had been frustratingly without effect. Genevieve was beginning to think that Ophelia, the friend perhaps dearest to her, would prove to be another puzzle she could not solve.

The very idea made her heart ache and yet, she would greet the woman all the same, and use their proximity as means by which to, perhaps, steal a moment with Proserpina. It was likely unfair to use Ophelia this way, but if Ophelia knew, Genevieve felt fairly certain that she would consent willingly; one of them deserved a moment’s happiness, no?

The band swung into a new song and she found a familiar face in front of her, a hand outstretched and an offer put to air: “Will you dance, Genevieve?”

For a moment, she barely heard, thoughts elsewhere, intent on women she wasn’t supposed to associate with. And yet, the sentiment repeated itself, so her gaze flicked across his face, noting a warning there. It was a subtle thing, resting in the muscles somewhat tense and a certain gaze in his eyes, but once she saw it, it couldn’t be unseen.

It made no impact.

“No, thank you,” she replied simply, before side-stepping him, intending to stay true to her course. She wanted what she wanted, damn the costs. Only, before she could take a step forward, she found that previously outstretched hand, now resting on her arm, holding in place, albeit gently in obedience to the concern of appearances on a night like this.

“Don’t go over there. Don’t talk to them.” It was a low warning and were she more an ideologue, more devoted to the cause itself, she’d heed it unthinkingly.

“Let go of me,” she returned in a soft warning; she was not known for her temper, but a hint of one flashed in her gaze at the idea of being denied. And when he didn’t move fast enough for her, she wrenched her arm from his grasp and said bluntly, “If you think you can stop me from going to greet my oldest friend, you are sorely mistaken. And to pretend they don’t exist or that they’re monsters and therefore easy to hate is the coward’s way. I disagree with her, but I care for her still.”

Before he could reply, because really she didn’t want to hear whatever would come of it, she walked away. She had intended to skirt the room, to cross an unspoken, undrawn boundary with a measure of discretion simply for the ease of it, but now it felt like there was no choice but to be openly true in a way that made a statement. That was fine, she wasn’t particularly bothered by that; perhaps she was always meant to be the one who walked across the invisible line with her head held high and an unerring certainty that it might have been breaking unspoken rules, but the rules were inconsequential when compared to a heart’s desire.

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belzinone · 5 years

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Basic Details

Full Name: Isabella Minerva Zinone Bel Zinone Accolades: La Guillotina Age: born c.823 Gender: demi femme, gnc femme, nonbinary woman Pronouns: she/her/hers Ethnicity: Mixed & Unknown (Italian, Romani, Egyptian, Russian, etc.) Nationality: Paradis Nicknames: La Guillotina Birthday: March 8th (International Women’s Day) Occupation: (various) medical, mechanics, entertainment, modeling, sex work Intelligence Level: average Spoken Languages. native language (english or german), some italian & french

Physical Details

Body Type: muscular, overweight, hourglass, thick (ref Christina Hendricks & Stefania Ferrario) Height: 5′0″ Weight: 140lbs Skin Tone: cool medium with grey/olive undertone (ref Jhené Aiko) Hair Color: medium brown Hair Texture: curly, medium thickness, prone to frizz Hair Style: shortly cropped (child), long & wavy (adolescent-young adult), side braid (early soldier career), medium undercut/mohawk (middle military career), long undercut/mohawk (late military career) Eye Color: hazel (golden/amber, emerald specks) Eye Shape: narrow almond, deepset & wrinkled Dominant Hand: left Defining Features: widow’s peak, facial moles Face Shape: short, heart, round Face Claim(s): Iva (Karneval), Marie-Joseph Sanson (Innocent/Innocent Rouge), Antonia Thomas (Actor) Mannerisms: reserved, sits on things not intended for sitting, still, psychology squat Posture: body conscious, occasional slouch, occasionally masculine, generally open Scars: throat, left torso line from 3dmg whipping, full body wear & tear, calloused hands Tattoos: spinal cervical & upper thoracic vertebrae with eglantine roses (applicable verses), other various floral & medical inspired that vary with verse Piercings: hips, potentially nipples & christina Birthmarks: right ribcage, faint full body freckles Neurobiological Divergencies: post traumatic stress, pituitary adenoma & resultant chronic amenorrhea / infertility, gender dysphoria Most Noticeable Features: widow’s peak, facial moles, hair style, body modifications (in the context of Paradis: detached earlobes, darker skin tone) Scent: light musk, alcohol disinfectant, jasmine flowers, machinery, worn leather Voice: soft, soothing, calm, low, raspy (ref Juliet Simms, Izzy Hale) Accent: native w/ occasional foreign slip Style Preference: subtle, sensual, practical, relaxed Clothing Preference: leather, lace, lingerie

Then (childhood & late adolescence)

Place of Birth: remote Underground City (San Francisco, California) Hometown: remote Underground City Birth Weight: small Birth Height: small Manner of Birth: natural First Words: “no” Siblings: Beau Zinone (older half-brother), Milius Zeramusky (estranged younger half-brother) Parents: Risa Zinone (biological mother), Dmitry Zeramusky (estranged biological father) Parental Involvement: solely raised by Risa, strict but unavoidably negligent (varies by verse) Pets: lab rats First Memory: Beau’s guitar music Most important Childhood Memory: escaping home, learning medicine from the town doctor Childhood Hero: Beau Dream Job: medic Education: doctorate / phd Religion: subtle spiritual / pagan influence from Risa Political Affiliation: forced subjection unto subterranean fascism / noble dictatorship, believed in anarchy Finances: severe poverty

Now (adulthood)

Current Residence: Scouting Legion Headquarters Currently Living With: soldiers Pets: messenger dove, Scouting Legion horse, occasional animal rescues Religion: agnostic Political Affiliation: Scouting Legion Occupation: Scouting Legion Head Medical Officer Finances: military grade Close Friends: Leo Castile (former Garrison comrade, current Military Police Officer), various Garrison & Scouting Legion comrades, verse & muse dependent Driver’s License. motorcycle & ambulance (modern verse), potential aviation training in fanonverse post-Marley arc Criminal Record: manslaughter, gang affiliation, fraud, treason, possession of forbidden knowledge & materials, murder, dismantling military property, theft, soliciting (as applicable to modern verses) Vices: adrenaline

Favorites

Color: morning sky spectrum (pale blues, oranges, yellows) Music: dance, upbeat Food: bland, Italian, cinnamon, bitter, acidic Drink: alcohol, black coffee & tea, water Literature: nonfiction Entertainment: documentaries Transportation: motorcycle, 3dmg Loves: jasmine flowers Hates: ignorance, arrogance, preventable harm Hobbies: origami, tinkering, sketching, dancing, studying, gardening (medicinal herbs & jasmines) Social Media: instagram Musical Instrument: percussion Sport: belly dancing, field hockey, weight lifting, pole dancing, burlesque Spending Habits: conservative, occasional splurges on lingerie & gifts

Habits

Smokes: verse dependent Drinks: occasionally Other Drugs: verse dependent Diet: lax, cheap convenience, prone to mooching Extremely Skilled At: medical treatment, innovation, sewing Extremely Unskilled At: self-care, cooking, swimming Nervous Tics: (rare) bouncing, hair twirling, pacing

Talents & Skills

Combat: average Physical Strength: above average Coordination/Reflexes: average Fighting Style: invertive Unusual Abilities/Powers: n/a Weapons/Other Gear: switchblade, Wallflower bladed fan

Sex & Romance

Sexual Orientation: asexual (as an umbrella term) Romantic Orientation: aromantic (as an umbrella term) Preferred Emotional Role: submissive | dominant | switch Preferred Sexual Role: submissive | dominant | (service) switch Libido: low Turn On’s: undefined Turn Off’s: impact play, humiliation, arrogance, selfishness, bigotry, immaturity, & potential others Love Language: acts of physical care & service, gift-giving, quality time, unconditional support

Themes & Alignments

Right or Left Brained: left Moral: chaotic good MBTI: INFP-A MBTI Role: mediator Temperament: phlegmatic Western Zodiac: pisces Chinese Zodiac: rooster Primal Sign: frog Tarot Card: the empress TV Tropes: adaptation personality change (by verse), admiring the abomination (titans), caged bird metaphor, collector of the strange, deconstructed character archetype, functional addict, interpretive character, jack of all trades, kitsch collection, literally prized possession, now let me carry you, #1 dime, (a metric fuckton of others too hard to tease out from the masses) Representative Songs: Half God Half Devil by In This Moment, Inside Out ft. Charlee by the Chainsmokers, The Song of the Caged Bird by Lindsey Stirling, Meet Me on the Battlefield by Svrcina, Safe & Sound by Taylor Swift ft. The Civil Wars, Deep in the Meadow by Jennifer Lawrence, Shatter Me by Lindsey Stirling ft. Izzy Hale, Call of Silence by Hiroyuki Sawano

Views

Self Image: morally & skillfully assertive, personally self-conscious How others picture her: tbd How she views the future and the past: important to one’s current situation, but irrelevant to one’s character

Perception

Public face: mildly concerned Mood most often in: neutral Sense of humor: dry, sassy, deadpan Temper: mild

Miscellaneous

Hopes and dreams: become a mother, have a family, save lives Fears and Nightmares: loneliness, inadequacy, emptiness Best Quality: reliability Greatest Flaw: self-conscious Character Strengths: medical care Character Weaknesses: pvp combat Quirks: half smiles, nonconventional sitting Greatest Joy: spending time with children, young soldiers, loved ones Greatest Fear: aplatonic intimacy (as well as its lack), loneliness Biggest wish: soldiers to arrive home safely Soft spot: children, the vulnerable Biggest regret: murder Biggest accomplishment: escaping from a titan’s stomach & jaws Most valued possession(s): switchblade, notebooks, red hair ribbon Darkest secret: gender & sexuality troubles Motivation: her soldiers Immediate goals: survive & ensure the survival of others Long term goals: mechanical/medical improvement, family Polite or rude: dependent/neutral Stingy or generous: generous Leader or a follower: as needed Alone or in a group: alone Optimist or pessimist: realist Introvert or extrovert: introvert Logical or emotional: logical Messy or neat: neat Working or relaxing: working Confident or unsure: realistic Animal lover: yes

// updated 7/24/2020

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