#chara’s garden *ooc*

[halchron]

thinking about characters in other series that aren't their own like can u imagine leon kennedy in super smash bros

[radixnt-gxrden]

Chara.xn--k07d I do not remember how to write on here for the life of me send help

[summercreolefanfictioner]

the scent wafts in, her name making him beg on his knees chap 1.3

pairing: dabi / todoroki touya x fem!oc / reader (MODERN AU)

summary: He mentions her name after 6 months in therapy, absentmindedly narrating vivid memories of her. She was the only good thing during his darkest times.

(In which Touya returns home after rebelling against his family for 7 years. And no, it wasn't about forgiveness. He wanted to fix himself because of a certain someone.)

themes: nsfw, domestic abuse, violence, alcoholism, cigarette smoking, toxic relationships, mental health, co-dependency and other related themes (YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED)

notes: for this one, pls keep in mind that touya didn't have much scars on his face; mostly are on his body to accommodate the plot; charas might be ooc since this is modern au

He mentions her name in his room after 6 months in therapy, absentmindedly narrating vivid memories of her. She was the only good thing during his darkest times. Touya didn't know why he did it. Maybe because remembering his childhood was bringing him too much sorrow he needed a breather from these drowning emotions. He wanted a reminder of why he kept on living, and it was her. The reason he was here doing shitty rehab and therapy.

To be honest, ever since he opened up about the Sekoto Peak incident and the reasons behind his burnt scars, the darkness swallowed a part of him, reminded him that the past will never die and it will prevent him from moving on because he will never become the same Todoroki Touya he was back then. That's why he kind of listened to that devil on his head, urging him to destroy his soul and forget about healing. He will never heal. He will never get that damn redemption.

Todoroki Touya will never be forgiven as long as he lived.

One time, while he was out at the garden, he saw one nurse slip out a stick of cigarette and secretly give it to one of the patients. There it was in its smallest form. Temptation. The reason humans were slaves to vices. Touya could feel his mouth water at the sight. His head was begging him to walk towards the nurse, secretly get buddy-buddy with them, and grab a stick or two.

No, just one. Just one stick. It will be fine. I will not be addicted. Just to release the stress.

He quietly walked towards the nurse, glancing every now and then around him to see if someone will catch him in the act.

Just take it slow and nice, Touya. You can get your relief now if you do it the right way.

He was nearing the nurse when a question popped in his head.

Is she worth one stick, though?

Guilt. It was embracing him like an old friend, cuddling him like they were the bestest of friends.

Is she worth one sip of alcohol, Todoroki Touya?

Is she worth all those violent things in your head?

Hey, Todoroki Touya?

IS SHE?!

He stood there, in the middle of nowhere, contemplating this one bad decision in his life, the one that will alter the course of his direction. Why was he here anyway? Isn't it because of her?

"Do you want to become a better person?"

"Yes."

He grunted, clicking his teeth in annoyance as he walked back inside the facility and headed to his room, making sure his strides were as normal as they could be or else the staff would be following him around and restrain him. When he got inside, he slowly sank on the floor and let out a deep breath, relieved that he got to escape the clutches of the darkness again as sweat rolled down his body.

Of course, he knew the answer.

She was worth more than that. She was worth more than everything. She was fucking worth more than all the damn he could give.

He got up after a few minutes, slumped down in his bed and took out his mp3 player. This time, he played the song she listened to whenever she wanted to sleep. When they first met, she told him she craved someone to sleep beside her, so she would play this song a lot to sleep. It was ridiculous, but he adopted the same habit one day, when she was out for work and there was her vinyl player in the corner of her room.

He hit the play button and forced himself to sleep, whispering her name.

"K****..."

He smiled.

"... good night."

Drowning away, from the start to the end

Come and take my all away

Words come along to despair

And I'm here craving for your love to save me...

The song plays repeatedly in the background.

------

"She was fresh, white, laundered sheets, and soft skin, and warm smiles."

His therapist was wide-eyed, confused and surprised at Touya's sudden remark, thinking back on their previous sessions if he mentioned a certain woman with these characteristics. So far, the only women Touya had mentioned was his mother and sister. Describing a woman as fresh laundered sheets with soft skin and warm smiles was a lot more than what someone would tell about a family member.

Touya looked out the window. It was a sunny day, the same weather on that day when he noted the scent on her. While he knew he had to tell more about how his alcoholism and cigarette dependence, he just couldn't go on not mentioning her. She was the reason he wanted to change, after all.

"It was the morning after we did it for the first time," Touya absentmindedly continued his tale, unknowingly making his therapist slightly flustered that he would mention a bit of his sex life. "I never touched her despite living with her for the first 2 months, and then I just had the urge, and then... the next morning... she just made sense."

She was covered with the white sheets, her hair loose with a few strands slightly covering her face. Her fair skin was soft in his hands, and he felt afraid of breaking her (even though he had originally planned on ruining her before.) And there was that warm smile again, the one she kept showing to him even though he had no idea what he had done to receive those.

"Good morning, Dabi," she greeted, unaware of his real name at the time. "Is there anything you want for breakfast?"

"I should've asked her if it hurt," Touya realized, "you know... doing it with me and all. She told me before that her shitty ex just took her virginity when they were in high school without making her feel good. I wasn't there, but I would like to think she cried a lot."

"Did you ask her if she cried or was sad about it?" the therapist inquired.

"I am not the best person to say the best words."

The therapist was confused, thinking about the meaning behind his lines.

"What did you say... or do?"

"I... I hugged her, and I..."

"And you... ?"

And I smiled for the first time.

"That's a secret."

"O-Okay." The therapist closed his notebook. "What's her name?"

"Her name is... K****"

ps. the song he was listening to was Never Again by Karen Aoki (the link is up there for you to listen)

next chapter

masterlist

[cnnmairoll]

Hello. I was wondering if you could you write a platonic angst story where the reader is Blade's child. I was thinking usually the only thing that could calm Blade down when the mara flared up was Kafka's spirit whisper but what if being around the reader was also able to calm Blade down for some reason because Blade barely spends any time with the reader unless it's during one of his harsh training sessions and one night the reader decides enough was enough and started packing their stuff but they left behind their lucky weapon (that's your choice) and Blade found it the next morning.

A Cup of Cold Tea

Character : Blade Genre : Angst Disclaimer : The relationship between the reader and Blade will be platonic as stated by the request. a/n : This was my first Request, but it didn't take long for me to find out about the anon sending the same request to most of the HSR writers despite their request was closed. I kept it in my drafts since it would be a waste if i just scrap it all out, not to mention my friend helped me out on this one, so I decided, why not just write the final paragraph and post? Things has been quite rough and busy for me so I'm not done with my hiatus, but I hope you enjoy p.s im sorry if he's ooc here, I don't know his chara well

His blade descends on you, striking downwards in a beautiful arc to cleave your skull.

You dodge within an inch of your life, the after image of his sword burning into your retinas as you fall into a clumsy heap on the floor. Still, you spare no moment for yourself as you scramble up, his sword drawing contact to where you lay as soon as you move.

The minutes blends into hours, time being a concept of little value in the face of Blade's viciousness. It takes everything you have to simply focus on the present, dodging and deflecting when you can. You always stay on the defensive in fights like these; any window you have to strike opens itself for only a millisecond before Blade runs it through clean with his sword.

It makes you wonder how you'd fare if Blade gave it his all. You've seen Blade fight on missions enough times to know that he is much deadlier when he is putting in active effort. In contrast, his movements here are much more sloppy and rabid, fueled only by the unadulterated desire to destroy. It is the madness of his mara in its purest form, though it doesn't make his attacks any less fatal, as proven by the countless wounds that litter your body.

Dead within the first minute, probably, comes the stray thought. It proves to cost you when you earn a gash on your arm, blood spilling freely from your left. You grit your teeth; you need to pay attention. There's never a guarantee for your life when Blade gets like this.

Red spider lilies bloom around you like a garden welcoming death. It sings of carnage, reeking of blood that it greedily consumes, begging for more even if it will eventually wilt away. It feels symbolic, in a way. Out of the two of you, only you are the one who is able to experience true death.

Still, you cannot help but find the blooming sea of red beautiful, even if it is always likely to be your final resting place.

There is a lull in Blade's movements, the manic in his eyes glazing into a dull scarlet as he catches his breath. Immortal he may be, but even he has a limit he will reach. It is a mercy; not only does it signify that his mara has not yet reached a point of no return, it also allows you time to recuperate. Had Blade been given unlimited stamina on top of his self-healing, you would surely have died a long time ago.

Now that the man has tired himself, it is time to bring him back.

"Father," you begin. It comes out as a feeble whisper, your lungs still burning from exertion. Still, you must press on. "Are you okay?"

Blade is silent for a beat, then two. This is fine; you can wait for as long as he needs for your words to reach him. You've gone through this routine enough times to memorize his mannerisms, all of which are currently saying that you are in the clear. So long as his grip on his weapon doesn't tighten again, then you have nothing to be afraid of.

Silence reigns within the room, until you recognize the clarity return to Blade's eyes.

"..You," he grunts, voice hoarse. It's scratchy from his manic screaming and laughter, and you make a mental note to add honey to his tea for his throat.

You nod approvingly. "Yes, Father. Are you okay?" You repeat the question, and this time, Blade manages a sharp nod.

You grin, happy at his answer. You open your mouth to speak again, but Blade cuts you to it. "What happened to your arm?"

The man stares hard at something, and you follow his gaze to find the gash on your left arm. The bleeding has mostly stopped from what you can tell, but it's still an ugly thing to look at. You'll have to wash it soon.

You hum, considering. "It's only a minor cut, Father. I can patch it by myself later."

His eyebrows twitch, his eyes narrowing. "Come," he says simply, walking towards the door.

You let your sword disperse into particles of light before following Blade out of the room. You know there is no arguing with him when he gets like this. Any attempt to reassure him that you can handle yourself will only end with him staring at you with unreadable eyes until you inevitably give in. You're not sure if he does this because he is aware of this fact. Blade doesn't strike you as the type to be attentive to such details, but it's worked every single time, so.

You are both silent as he tends to your wound, cleaning it thoroughly before dutifully bandaging it. Blade even add bandages to the smaller cuts you would've left alone, meticulous in making sure all your wounds are taken care of. You know it is his way to apologize, as he is a silent man who prefers actions in lieu of words. That, and that he's always been awkward when it comes emotions like remorse.

"Get some rest," he says, returning the equipment to the first-aid kit. Blade looks at you, expectant, and it is only when you nod does he leave you alone.

He never calls you by name. It's something that bothered you when you were younger, but it's something you've grown to accept. You're not even certain Blade can recall your name if asked. You know it is his way to cope, to always be prepared for the day when you, too, will leave him. Remembering names are a burden on his soul, so the least you can do is spare him from remembering yours.

Your patience reached its limit. In the dead of night, you quietly packed your belongings and left a note behind. It was brief but carried the weight of your feelings: "I need to find my own path for a while. I hope you understand." You didn't sign it, hoping that the absence itself would convey the message more powerfully.

The moon hung high in the sky as you walked away from the place you called home, your steps determined despite the uncertainty that gnawed at you. You had no plan, no destination in mind. You just knew that you needed time away.

The next morning, Blade woke up to find the room unusually quiet. The absence of the usual sounds—your soft footsteps, the steaming sound of the kettle pot when you made his morning tea—was like a deafening silence. He pushed himself up, his senses alert even before his eyes fully opened. His gaze darted around the room, searching for any sign of your presence.

The sight of your neatly made bed and the note left on the table struck him like a blow. For a moment, he stood frozen, his heart heavy with a mixture of regret and realization. He had been so consumed by his own pursuits that he hadn't noticed the growing distance between you.

His eyes shifted to a corner of the room, where a familiar object caught his attention. There, placed with careful intention, was your lucky weapon. The fiery red blade of the sword gleamed in the soft morning light, its hilt wrapped in supple black leather. The pommel, resembling the closed bud of a red spider lily, held a sense of elegance and balance that echoed the bond between you and Blade.

A pang of guilt and longing gripped Blade's chest as he picked up the sword. The weight of it felt familiar in his hand, a stark reminder of the times he had shared with you. The sword seemed to dance in the air, reflecting both its deadly capabilities and the beauty of its craftsmanship—a reflection of the connection he had with you, one he had been neglecting.

Blade's footsteps were heavy as he left the room, carrying the sword with him. As he went to sit down and process your absence, he noticed a cup of tea placed neatly on the table. The tea, once steaming and fragrant, now languished in its cup, forgotten and neglected. It had been carefully prepared by you before you left, a gesture of concern and care. The faint aroma of the blend, a comforting blend of herbs and warmth, with a hint of honey, still clung to the air around it, a lingering reminder of their intention.

But time had been unkind to the tea, its temperature steadily dropping as it sat abandoned on the table. The steam that had once risen from its surface in delicate tendrils, carrying with it the promise of comfort, had now dissipated into the air. The liquid's once-rich hue had faded slightly, a sign that its vitality was waning, much like the embers of a dying fire.

Blade's eyes fell upon the cup, his gaze drawn to the cold tea that had been left for him. His fingers, calloused from years of wielding the blade, reached out to touch the cup, and he felt the chill radiating from its surface. It was a stark contrast to the warmth he had felt earlier, a reminder of how quickly time could transform something from inviting to forgotten.

As he wrapped his fingers around the cup, he couldn't help but recall the hoarse quality of his voice that had consumed him during their training session. You noticed, as you always did, attuned to the subtleties of his state. The touch of honey they had added was a balm for his throat, a gesture that had been both practical and considerate.

Blade's throat tightened with an emotion he couldn't quite name. The cold tea before him held within it layers of meaning—your concern, your attempt to provide comfort, and a reminder of his own shortcomings.

Regret gnawed at his insides, twisting and churning with every breath he took. Guilt clawed at his conscience, tearing through the facade of indifference he had so carefully crafted. Loneliness engulfed him like a suffocating cloak, reminding him of the void left in your absence. And yet, beneath it all, there flickered a tiny ember of hope—a glimmer of redemption, a chance to right the wrongs he had committed.

Blade couldn't shake the overwhelming sense of despair that threatened to consume him whole. For in that moment, he realized that the hardest battle he would ever face was not against his enemies, but against the demons of his own making—the ones that whispered of his failures and shortcomings, echoing relentlessly in the caverns of his heart.

[aeferkssr]

serendipitous encounters. ━ if the stranger never meddled into your personal affairs, archons know where you would be right now.

‎‏‏ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎i. charas. lyney x gn!reader

ii. an. double uploads!?!!? thats crazy!!?! anyways i kinda rushed the end i hope its still okay tho ><

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏g ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎iii. cw. su!cide attempt, hum4n trafficin (mentioned vaguely), reader wears a dress, ooc lyney (???), hurt/comfort, angst. please tell me if there are more!

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏

the air on the balcony was cool, cool enough to calm you from the several interactions.

the breeze danced around the delicate fabrics of your dress, shoes being long disregarded as you stood on the railings. you whisper faint and final farewells to the very stars that keep you company on your lowest nights, the garden that you would hide away in when you needed some time alone, and to the very life that you have been blessed with.

you doubt you'd be able to live as lavishly in your next life, (you doubt you'll even remember this one, much less make a comparison) but you decided to let fate take the lead.

"you can feel the midnight air just fine from down here, i don't think the need for elevation is mandatory."

fate has got to be fucking with you right now. you didn't even look at him. you respond:

"you needn't worry about me, i'll be careful."

"really?" you could hear the skepticism in his tone. he leans over on the railing and looks up to the stars.

out the corner of your eye you could see the top hat atop his head, intricate designs softly illuminated by the light of the gala and the moon's luminescent rays. a black and maroon ribbon covers the base and is tied in an extravagant bow.

you huff as you look back to the sky, closing your eyes and slowly leaning forward.

well, since he was here, clearly he's entertained by your misery. might as well give him a show.

"what bring you to a fatui ball, stranger?"

archons be damned...

slightly annoyed, you look down to be met with violet eyes and a facial expression you couldn't describe. honest, but sly? guarded, yet vulnerable? who exactly was this guy?

without an answer, he continues:

"clearly you have to have some sort of authority, why lose it all here?"

you take a deep breathe, exhaling every ounce of courage you would of have to climb up in the first place. gently, you make your way down with the help of the stranger, or your savior in this matter.

he takes your hand in both of his as you steady yourself on the floor, he looks worried? interested? whoever this guy is, he's definitely hard to read.

he finally asks,

"excuse my prying, but, what would make someone like you give up?"

you sigh, "very trivial matters, i'm afraid. i'm just a coward running away from my problems"

"a matter worth taking your life over isn't trivial to me."

you stare at him, someone you met for the first time is more worried about you than he was. he's been with you all this time, yet you feel more understood by a total stranger.

you try to not meet his eyes as you told your story, holding his hand a little tighter.

"count blanchett of poisson, he's have many wives in his years. there has been rumors of the women he weds only serving as countess for a few months... until never being seen again."

you sniffle as you try to blink away the upcoming tears, you shouldn't be weak right now, you can't be weak right now.

"...i've told father about the rumors but he tells me i'm being dramatic, that there was nothing to worry about and that his past wives were just incompetent, and to never be like them..."

you can hear his stern voice boom throughout his office:

"all of those women simply went back to their homes. to add, they came back disastrous, unfulfilled, disappointments. that will not be you, understand?"

"the stress of the eldest always goes to the weakest" your voice starts to crack as tears flow down your face. "all of my other siblings are just lap dogs, only there as trophies of his blood..."

you finally look him in the eye,

"why did i have to be the disposable one?"

his mouth hands agape, he didn't know what to say, there was nothing he could say. you pour out your heart and soul through you tears, your hand tries to wipe them away but fail as the sheer amount of sadness that flows out.

he couldn't comfort you, but he could distract you. even if it was for a moment.

he takes your other hand and slowly walks into the grand ballroom. it glows with the warmth of chandeliers casting a soft, golden hue over the polished marble floor. the room is alive with the sounds of a live orchestra playing a mesmerizing waltz.

he brings you to the center of the floor and the music swells. he extends his hand towards you as you sniffle,

"don't be shy. you do know how to dance, right?" he teases as you take his hand with a small smile.

you two begin, moving in perfect harmony to the lilting rhythm of the waltz. the stranger leads with finesse, guiding you across the floor with effortless precision.

your bodies sway in sync, a mesmerizing spectacle of fluidity and grace. with every twirl and dip, you two seem to float on air, lost in the timeless allure of the dance. the world around you fades into a blur, leaving only the two of them in their own enchanting universe.

you can faintly see your silhouette through his eyes as he looks directly into yours.

"you're a good dancer." he speaks, breaking the silence between you both.

"i learnt from the best."

he pulls you closer to him, your chest flush against his as he whispers into your ear:

"lyney."

aeferkssr.

[variantia]

BELLUM.   a note about my headcanons for Chara’s speech patterns ?   well why not-

even when they’re being a bit on the rude side, they speak very formally.   they use big words and structure their sentences to be as grammatically correct as possible.

they also tend not to use contractions if they can help it.   they’ll use possessives like “that is Frisk’s” but they will say “cannot” or “I am” instead of “can’t” or “I’m”, 99 % of the time as a rule.

the formal patterns of their speech are because they learned to read from nonfiction books and classics that were perhaps a bit too mature in theme for them, first nonfiction while they were in the cult and most fiction later on.   the books they used to learn how to read, and the ones they favored once they’d already mastered reading, tended to have immaculate grammar and sentence structure.

the lack of use of contractions is something they picked up from Toriel.   they admire her very much, and because she was often the one taking care of the house and children while Asgore attended to his duties as king to keep pressure off Toriel’s shoulders, Chara spent a lot of time with their mom.   after a month or two, they began to imitate the way she spoke, because they wanted to sound more like her.

if someone listens to the way Toriel speaks, and listens to the way Chara speaks, and puts the pieces together that neither of them use contractions very often, they might think it’s a very sweet realization.

and it is !   Chara loves their mom and takes after her in a lot of ways.   some they do unconsciously, but mimicking her speech patterns is one of the very conscious choices they’ve made.

they retain both of these quirks both as a ghost and as an adult ; as a child, it was the way they preferred to speak, and it’s carried over into adulthood.

[solisfated]

|| 🚀so i’m adding two more muses for fun bc multis are so flexible. it’s so nice? to be able to add and drop whatever muse(s) i’m feeling. they’ll be experimental and low-priority until i build them up with headcanons and a few threads! but anyway........[offers you a sanemi and a cat named beans]

[peonypetaled]

what’s this?? a wild tiny tag dump!!

[a-mossball-with-a-pen]

“Cuddling hcs for a few twst characters”

Characters: vil, azul, ace, leona, and jamil

Genre: fluff, romantic

Pronouns: he/him(all chara), reader is gn

Notes: I need a nap, will I? No :) also slight warning, possibly ooc writing?

“Vil Shoenheit”

In my opinion I don’t think vil is a very touchy lover, in public at least or when he’s gotten himself all dolled up. the most you’ll get in public is most likely hand holding, unfortunately. though there is the moments where he will let you smother him in attention, like at the end of the day for example.

you gently knocked on vil’s door hearing slightly muffled shuffling behind it, signaling he’s in. soon the door opened revealing vil, dressed down along with his hair gently caressing his face, “oh darling? what did you need?” “just wanted to spend time with you vil”. he smiled gently “how sweet of you, come in” he said as he moved out of the way, back into his room.

as he went through he normal routine you two chatted, until he was finally read for bed. he got into bed and he turned towards you, gently opening his arms “would you like to join me in bed, sweet potato?” you smiled gently, “of course, dear.”. you climbed into bed as he threw the covers over the both of you, his arms gently wrapped around you, pulling you to his chest. vil rested his chin on the top of your head, as he mumbled a soft “goodnight”.

“Azul Ashengrotto”

I take azul as another person that doesn’t enjoy much pda, mostly because of the reputation he has to keep up. and also the fact that it flusters him beyond belief(but we ignore that), though in more secluded places like his office or the v.i.p room he’s more open towards physical affection.

the monstro lounge’s bustling slowly slowed as night drew near, azul having cooped himself up in the v.i.p room. you sat on the couch of the room periodically watching him work, as you payed attention to your own studies. you let out a sigh and rubbed your temple a headache coming on after all of your work. your eyes flickered over to azul before an idea popped into your head, smiling you got up and walked over to his desk.

you tugged on his sleeve standing next to him, as he looked up “yes angelfish?” he slightly pushed his chair back, to talk to you. taking the opportunity you climbed onto his lap, straddling him as you rested your cheek on his shoulder. he tensed up before slowly relaxing, a heavy blush resting on his cheeks and ears. he quietly pushed his chair back into place, opting to keep working.

“Ace Trappola”

I’d take ace as someone who likes pda, just to show you off a bit yk? whether it’s hand holding or having an arm around you, he’ll do it. though if you don’t like pda of course he’ll back off somewhat. I just have the feeling that his love language is physical touch. anyways!

ace threw his arm around your shoulder, going off on a rant on who knows what, as he pulled you to him. you yawned softly and leaned against him, thoroughly worn out from the days events, he noticed your tiredness quieting down just a bit. “hey gem, you ok? you look dead tired” he said slightly nudging you, “huh? oh yeah I am kinda tired” you hummed slightly.

“welll let’s get back to the dorms yeah?” you nodded, as the two of you made your way back to heartslabyul. soon you found yourselves in his room sprawled out on the bed. you’re currently trapped in his arms as he wrapped around you, your legs tangled together. you slowly fell asleep to the sound of his voice as he goes off on a tangent.

“Leona Kingscholar”

I think leona would be somewhat physically affectionate but in very stubble ways. like brushing his hand against yours or having his tail wrap around your wrist(or something similar). though beware he’d probably tease you if you ask for any pda, maybe.

you walked the familiar path to the botanical garden, where a certain lion likes to rest, a small smile formed on your face as you thought of him. soon you opened the door to the garden, looking out for a tail as you walked in. soon your eyes landed on the brunette, his eyes closed arms crossed on his chest as he slept. leona’s ear twitched hearing light footsteps approaching him, as one of his eyes cracked open.

a lazy smirk raised on his face seeing you “hello herbivore, I was just in need of a pillow” he said a hint of playfulness in his tone. you rolled your eyes “yeah yeah, whatever” you walked over to him sitting down, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you to his chest. his tail curled around you as he got settled, soon dozing off, with you not too far behind.

“Jamil Viper”

I think jamil wouldn’t enjoy physically affection in public, because I feel like he’s a much more private person. also probably the fact he doesn’t want to malfunction infront of someone/j. anyways he’s much more open in private because he doesn’t enjoy showing his more vulnerable side to the public.

you walked into the kitchen spotting jamil quietly stirring a pot, kitchen counters full of ingredients and dishes. “well this is defending a lot” you mumbled as you walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning into his back. jamil only hummed in agreement focused on the task at hand.

hours later after the party and cleaning up, you sat on jamils bed as he brushed out his hair. once he was finished he joined you in bed, both of you laying face to face. hands gently intertwined as your legs tangled together, the two of you drifting to sleep after the big day.

[gen0kill]

new dossier / verses!

[bottledbloods]

tag dump. 

[radixnt-gxrden]

‟ The Garden has welcomed you! ”

Please pull up a chair and take a moment to go through the rules and enjoy a cup of tea. This is a home of multi-muses you can be accompanied with and enjoy a brisk time together. But do not forget to know the organizer behind this function of course.

Please enjoy your time here and your cup of tea! Thank you for participating in today’s tea party!

Mind helping anyone else find the function too? A like and reblog will do greatly!

Tracking tag: radixnt-gxrden

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5.13.22: Rules have been updated. Please read them over.

[magursa]

OOC. okay guys, i really wanted to write today, like i’m super excited to write all those starters but my hands hurt from the garden work.... (lmao i am weak) ;-; so, i’m gonna be on disco. if we’re mutuals and idk you wanna chat or talk about our charas feel free to add me: brownie.#6045 i’ll be back tomorrow. ilyall! xo

[daneanja-blog]

       ❝            GLOWING     dim     as     an     e m b e r   !            ❞

- ̗̀✰ •【 KATIE LECLERC / CIS FEMALE / 27 】announcing the arrival of her royal highness, ANJA HOLSTEIN, the PRINCESS of DENMARK. I’ve heard that she is SENSITIVE & NERVOUS but can also be CHARITABLE & GENTLE. ANJA is arranged to marry CAIDEN PICHLER. Rumor has it HER TUTOR TOOK ADVANTAGE OF HER FINANCIALLY AND EMOTIONALLY. We hope you enjoy your stay at London !【 OOC: holly, 21, aest, she/her 】*

hi everyone ! i’m holly, and this is anja ! she’s a sweet gal and i would absolutely love to plot with each and everyone of you ! give this a like or message me here / on discord ( sunflower queen#1244 ) and we’ll plot some stuff !

tw: death, mentioned anxiety disorder, mild ableism* * anja is hoh, as am i ! i promise i write my gal respectfully :’)

about !

name: anja magdalene holstein positive traits: sweet, generous, understanding, open-minded, reasonable negative traits: too careful, unassertive, quiet, awkward, unsure interests: baking, reading, doing work with the unfortunate fun facts: hard of hearing ; loves children ; volunteers with the unfortunate citizens of denmark ; loves to write and read poetry ; history lover ; is known to spend all day in the gardens ; can easily make friends with staff and guards, but struggles with her peers aesthetic: modest clothes, old books, detailed maps, late night reading, stargazing, pastel colours, subtle jewellery, sunflowers, filled diaries, hair ribbons, sunrises, floral scents, working hard, annotated books, deep conversations, blushing cheeks, thick cardigans, lace socks, curly hair, thick blankets, handwritten letters, freckles, wicker baskets on bicycles, early-mid twentieth century pop music, photographs, clean sheets, daisies, lip balm

biography !

⏤ ♕ anja magdalene holstein was born the adoring second child of the danish king and queen, and when she was born, she was born hard of hearing. it took about three years before her parents realised she wasn’t a rude little girl at all, she just couldn’t hear them. she was given hearing aids and was allowed to sign amongst her family and staff, but when it came to public affairs, it was made quite clear by her father that she had to talk. she was made to do speech therapy which went alright, but it was never enough for her father. eventually, anja would come to disregard her father’s opinion of her hearing loss, but it certainly took a toll on the first decade or so of her life.

⏤ ♕ alternatively, she was given full permission to embrace deaf culture by her mother. the woman insisted on tutors on deaf history and dansk tegnsprog / dts ( danish sign language ) tutors so that anja could explore the culture as she should have been allowed to to begin with. thanks to this, anja’s best friend was her mother. she never felt safer or more wanted by anybody else than she did with the queen. at sixteen, the queen encouraged her daughter to become more seriously interested in royal affairs, to which she responded by taking an interest in the danish people, especially those in need.

⏤ ♕ one of her tutors, one that specialised in sciences and mathematics and other things she was awful at, noticed from an early age that the princess wasn’t great at socialising. she found her friends in the staff and wasn’t ashamed of it, but when it came to other nobles, anja was quiet and unsure. the man, handsome and charming, was quick to get onside with the princess, which worked out in his favour: he was more than happy to encourage her little crush on him, especially when it meant he was invited as a guest to parties and was given expensive gifts that he later sold. this went on for years until she was eighteen, heartbroken, and had him fired as a result.

⏤ ♕ of course, when her mother was assassinated, the princess was inconsolable. arguably, she took it the hardest of all her siblings, remaining melancholic and locked up in her room for weeks before emerging with no hearing aids and no proper clothes. she had lost her first real friend, her mother, and the one person she was sure she could rely on despite everything. now a girl that was already unsure of herself was entirely lost, drowning in grief and anxieties. the girl would only sign, which was her preferred language as encouraged by her mother, and did so in memory of the woman -- and to keep herself afloat.

⏤ ♕ when she had begun to get used to the grief, as the ache dulled and the throbbing lessened, anja threw herself into volunteer work amongst the people. the girl had already been called denmark’s darling for her soft nature, regal features, and strong values, but now this was a very fitting title: she began to spend time volunteering with the homeless, at deaf schools, with those affected by illness, wherever she can. it’s a great passion for her, and a fantastic distraction from her former embarrassment and heartbreak, her mother’s death, and her father’s looming presence. 

⏤ ♕ anja is a very kind, thoughtful woman, who is quite open to listening to people’s thoughts about the world -- it just takes a while to get close to her, if you want to know what she’s thinking. despite being entirely naive to romance and marriage and all that follows, the princess is looking forward to marriage, eager to get away from her father. she will miss her siblings, who she adores, but all she wants is a home where she can be herself without worrying about it for too long. and really, isn’t that what everyone wants ?

wanted connections !

✰ family ✰ friends ✰ best friend ✰ unlikely friend ✰ a childhood friend ✰ an almost-betrothed  ✰ an older brother-type figure ✰ someone she once had a crush on ✰ somebody who wanted to marry her  ✰ somebody she keeps meeting sporadically  ✰ literally anything you think would suit our charas

[triumphdestined-archived-blog]

     VERSE NAME: A DOSE OF REALITY

     VERSE TAG: WWEADOR.

SHORT DESCRIPTION;

los angeles, california; a city where nights start late and go into the early hours of the morning. A city that never sleeps with it’s practically blinding bright lights and it’s even louder passion for rock n roll music. While that sounds exciting, everyone resides in a small town on the outskirts of the city called madison county. It’s a fairly quiet little town surrounded by the beach and locally owned businesses all nestled along the sidewalk of garden street.

RULES;

I. this is a real life au meaning that your character will no longer be an athlete but will live a normal life !!!! your character can own a business, work for someone else, be a convict like w/e do what your heart desires like its your chara man also like it’s cool whether you wanna do kayfabe name or their normal name !

II. if you’d like to join the group please feel free to contact me and you will be added ! make sure if you have an original character you tell who the faceclaim but also like if your character owns a business make sure you have some sort of a name for it and if your character is working somewhere make sure you tell where and etc.

III. duplicates will not be allowed whether it be the duplicate of a faceclaim or the duplicate of canon character, duplicates aren’t gonna be a thing bc like that would make it hella confusing, yeah? but also your character limit is there and if your a multi muse you can have multiple characters from the same blog.

IV. honestly the last rule is just to have fun man like we’re all here to have a good time and no one needs any of those bad vibes going on !!!! like do what you want like have multiple ships for this just make yourself happy ! this list is also not in alphabetical order wow

V. both ic and ooc interaction is highly encouraged for this verse unless you’re uncomfortable with a certain person or you don’t like them for whatever reason but interaction is highly encouraged !!! try to follow and make everyone feel welcomed into the verse !!

MEMBERS;

the rock n roll bar & restaurant;

owner - chris jericho: @licntamer  ( biography )

sinfully sweet;

owner - amelia runnels ( josephine skriver ): @triumphdestined ( biography )

[heartlocketed]

tag dump.