#it's the desperation mixed with the divine mixed with near-success

[trophygony]

Slams hands on desk.... volo.... Falls to the ground.... volo....

[aitarose]

May i please have some Osamu and reader on spending their day at home just making out maybe?

KITCHEN BITS (O. MIYA) pairing: miya osamu x fem!reader

synopsis: routine meal preparations with the so-called master chef, osamu miya—and a little bit of kitchen shenanigans.

word count: 1.3k

genre: time skip, established relationship, fluff

warnings: suggestive, cursing

notes: this is literally just them making out and being thirsty which is fair 

↳ DIRECTORY

The pleasant mouth-watering aroma of Osamu’s nationally famed onigiri steamed above the kitchen stove. The scent was perfection to the nose, a smell that would have any normal person hypnotized in the direction of his local restaurant. 

His recipes were delicious, somewhat of a delicacy that even Atsumu held to godly standards—standards that his twin brother always seemed to be able to meet. Standards that were nothing but small roadblocks in his drive to success.

Some would say that food was the way to a man’s heart, the physical gift being the greatest thing anyone could ever receive—but in his eyes, there was no need for presentation and delicacies to win his love. 

As his love had already been won, it’d been won by her.

“What’re you up to?” She asked, arms snaking around his waist, face pressed against his backside as she admired the concentration he held while immersed in the ingredients in front of him. The smell was divine, that of his signature dish.

“Finishing dinner.” Osamu replied, holding a wooden spoon out to her, passing it as if to say that she was now his sous chef. Taking control of the utensil, Y/N maneuvered to see the beautiful food, feeling a deep hunger rumble in her stomach.

It was a daily thing, cooking together, being in each other’s company for as long as they possibly could after the long hours of their respective work days. He was her favorite sight to come home to—the gentle look in his eyes, puckered lips, and strong stature.

Yes, she was hungry—but her hunger wasn’t thinking of food.

He seemed to be thinking the same thing, staring at her rather than the inflamed gas stove, the fire in his eyes matching the hue of the flame—burning and passionate.

By some invisible force, they stepped towards each other in synchrony, bodies colliding as Osamu’s hands buried themselves in her hair, tangling the already messy locks into knots and weeds. His grip was tight, grounding the both of them, making sure their minds were still touching the ground. 

His kisses were fervent, desperate and needy as her mouth danced against his, biting his lower lip in an attempt to deepen their connection—the wooden spoon in her left hand dropping to the ground with a hollow thud, whilst her palms held his face, pulling him closer. 

“‘Samu.” She whispered against him, feeling his breath on her nose. Her heart was pounding fast, a million beats a minute as her chest began to heave, heavy breathing and all. “‘Samu, the food.”

Ignoring her concerns, he craned his neck down, peppering her neck with sparse kisses, sucking on her skin and creating waning spots of shadows. Closing her eyes, she let him continue, too distracted by the feeling of being in his arms to care about anything else.

They were addicted to the taste of each other, having a physical hunger that could only be satisfied through acts of love—acts of love that stemmed from their emotional connection. The kind of connection that could never be broken.

There was no one else quite like Osamu. Out of all of her relationships, there’d not been a single person that had ever been able to make her feel the way he did. How he pleased her needs and listened to her wants, following the steps of her unspoken recipe, never missing a beat. 

As his lips trailed upwards, stopping at her chin and lingering, his lust-filled eyes meeting hers, she felt time stop. All that mattered was him, all that ever mattered was him and what he needed at that very moment, in that very second. 

Wordlessly, they communicated through longing glances, foreheads pressed together, her lips nipping at his. She jumped up knowing that his arms would catch her, that he was always going to be the safety net to pick her up as she fell.

His hands held her tight, gripping her thighs and adjusting her weight to a comfortable hold. As her legs wrapped around his waist, clinging to his body like it was a support beam, her face leant down to meet his once more, his silver locks mixing with her own.

She’d never grow tired of the way his mouth moved with hers. The way he grabbed at her throat, large palm encircling her vocal chords, guiding her jaw towards his and passionately connecting their lips in repetition. He was the customer, and she was his four-course meal. 

Gasping between kisses, she delved deeper, her already bruised lips fighting for control as she reached down, taking a hold of the bottom of his wine stained tee and yanked it to the ceiling—laughing as it flew across the room and into the sink’s dish water.

“Well, that’s one way to clean it.” She giggled, arms latched around his neck, hands rubbing the bare skin of his back. He really was the prettiest sight in the world, toned chest and tousled hair—not even a model could fare in comparison to his beauty.

Shaking his head in amusement, Osamu hoisted her up higher, her neck now having to crane down to meet his lips. “Yer ridiculous.” He more or less groaned between kisses, being fully consumed by her insatiable hunger, craving for more and more of her—wanting as much as he could get. 

The world seemed hazy, a hallucination that only existed when they were the main characters—a mirage that came to life due to their passion and the overwhelming love that they felt. The overwhelming love that they’d communicate through stolen kisses and endless hours in bed. 

“Gonna pay for that.” He mumbled, nodding at his soaked shirt that’d been abandoned amongst the dirty dishes, cringing as it sank beneath the tinted water’s depths. Though his eyes were distracted, his body was attending to her, reacting to the way she was leaving her own marks along his neck. 

With a seductive look on her face, eyelids heavy and full of lust, she neared his ear. He felt his breath catch, an unexpected moan leaving his lips as she nipped his skin, whispering the one thing he’d been waiting for her to say—insinuating what he’d been getting at all along.

“Then make me pay.”

It was as if a switch had been flipped in Osamu’s brain, his muscles working overtime as his longings devoured her. The sound of her light squeal in surprise drove him further off the rails, igniting the flame in him that eternally burned for her and only her. 

As their mouths molded together, familiarizing themselves with the already familiar taste of one another, he blindly made his way to what he assumed was the kitchen island, eyes closed in blindness to his endless love. 

He set her down quickly, arms maneuvering around her in order to keep her attention, not noticing how he’d gone in the exact opposite direction that he’d meant to. Rather away from the divider and towards the bright and hot stove. 

“Fuck!” She yelped, falling off of the counter and onto the floor, holding her bottom like her life depended on it. Her expression had evolved from pure ecstasy to an overload of red, hot pain. 

Panic on his mind, Osamu kneeled down at eye level to her, and tried to think of any way to make her feel better—a way to apologize for his somewhat laughable mistake. Taking her palms in his, pressing kisses to the tops and closing them around his own, she seemed to relax for a moment.

“Let me draw you a bath?” He asked, hoping that the serene water and soaps would relieve her nerves of their stress, relax her into an easy slumber. An easy slumber that wouldn’t involve him getting his ass slandered when she’d awake—when she’d awake and immediately tell Atsumu all about it.

Pushing his shoulder back lightly and hanging off the side of the counter in an attempt to stand up, Y/N shook her head, finding the situation all the more hilarious. “I’ll draw myself my own bath, ‘Samu.”

“And you’re going to stay here and finish dinner—for real this time.”

© aitarose.tumblr 2021. do not copy or claim my writing, works, themes, copy and paste my words, or headers as your own

[theodora3022]

Merciful(Yandere Dabi Scenrio)

Scenrio: You had let yourself got caught by the Fire prince Dabi on an escape attmempt. Uh-Oh.

Notes: This is a little spicy chapter of my original novel, I just changed same words hahah. I’ll post more old works like this, as long as I can figure out how to change them properly. I dug this out in my folders and it fits Dabi perfectly?? What?

Warning: Implied Non-con, Escape gone wrong, general Yandere content

The sheer terror in your (color) eyes awoken something in Dabi. Your trembling hands, how you falls on the ground, helplessly, knowing there is no escaping him.

“Sugar cube, are you lost? Your room is up there you know.”

No words, you just looks straight to him. That face, when distorted with fear, is even more beautiful. You might not be a great beauty by popular standards, but in his eyes you are divine. 

“I want to respect your wishes, I really do. But if they involve leaving my side…” Cradling your face in his hands, his lip curling into a proud smirk; “You need to learn your place. I’ve been too generous with you.”

You tried to resist, but suddenly found your limbs had betrayed you. The colors in your vision seem to be blending together, like mixed paint on palettes.

Swooping you up effortlessly, he leans near your ears: “You should have been aware what you are eating.”

You woke up in an unfamiliar room. Compare to the last bedroom she was given; this one is larger in size, and at least two time more lavish. You are layed out on a bed, with Dabi sitting on its edge, gently caressing her left thigh.

“You’re awake.” Avoiding his gaze, you tries to turn to you side, with no success; you wrists are chained to the headboard of the bed. Still light-headed from the suppressant drugs. That is when reality slaps you hard in the face.

You are now completely at his mercy. Dabi can do anything he want to you, whether it be beating you , starving you, or slicing you open. Bitter as you are to admit, you belongs to him now, like a toy that can be played with or destroyed.

“If you wish to kill me, do it now.” There is not even a hint of anger in your voice, just completely monotoned, empty phrases. It is clear that he wants to see you squirm and beg, like a lowlife. Keep the urges contained, pray he lose interest in you soon, and target some other poor soul.

“Why would I do that, Sugar cube?” Trailing his index finger up your leg, the cruel fire prince smiled when you shivers from the intimate contact. “I gave you freedom, but all you want do is going back to that weakling. What it is that he has I cannot give you?” You can feel bruises forming on your thighs. You supressed a whimp of pain, despite your efforts tears slides down the cheeks. Teeth sinking into your lower lips.

“You will not leave my room unless I say so. This room is four stories high, so do not even think about breaking out windows. My vassal will deliver you food, any unnecessary interaction with anyone else will not be possible.”

Straddling over you, he begins to unlace his pants.  

Your clothes. Ripping them off like a wild, hungry wolf, his merciless moves startled you greatly. No, this cannot be happening!

“Please, Dabi, don’t touch me!” You cry. Pleading, when moments ago you had convinced yourself you would never. You tried kicking him the abdomen, but it was fruitless.

“You want my mercy now? Where is my mercy? When did you ever consider how I feel? You throw your freedom away, sugar cube. Saving yourself for Shoto? I cannot wait to see the look on his face when he figured you have been tainted. Surely you cannot run away while carrying a child. I never once saw him lose his temper, he was always so composed and reserved.”

“Your endearing behaviours last week, there are all acts, aren’t they? Never I thought I will see you cry, begging for my mercy.”

The onslaught was more intense then you imagined. Sometimes you would indulge in stories where a maiden was to be deflowered by a bandit. Not that you wants these things happen to herself, it was just a pleasant distraction from how you has to be all “demure, chaste, good”. These lecheous fiction works may or may not kept the sadist in you sated.

Now you know how exactly how those girls feel. The desperation, the hoplessness, and the desire to just submit for gentler treatmeant.

It’s going to be a long night, and your savior would never appear. All you can do is praying to your god for it to be over soon. 

[recommendedlisten]

With so much great music being made, some albums are always going to be overlooked come the end of the year. Time is the biggest hurdle with that. Be it a lack there of to cover every artist with a new album cycle, needing more of it to give a great listen the full attention needed to digest, or the timing of a release just not hitting the same way it does months later, it can grow more difficult by the day to take in everything while appreciating it.

This year, Recommended Listen is taking a look at some of the best overlooked albums on these pages throughout 2020. These are albums that weren’t fully reviewed, found on any volume of Listen to These., on this year’s Best of 2020 lists in any form, and in some cases, not mentioned even in track or video coverage at all. You may already be familiar with some of them, but it would remiss to not given them their due. As the year wraps up, let this be a reminder that discovering new music has no expiration date either.

Arca - KiCk i [XL Recordings]

KiCk i is the the first in a purported four-part series from electronic music reinventor Arca, and with its timing of being released in the midst of the summer’s busy release schedule, it’s understandable how a listen that demands an attentive ear could get lost in the mix. KiCk i, similar to that of Arca’s kindred experimentalist Bjork and her own avant-pop rendering Volta, is still both the artist’s most accessible formation to date, and yet, an alien aural experience by modern pop music standards in the way its human construction collapses and glitches with intention. What we hear here, however, is Arca coming to the forefront of her sound with her voice being used as both instrument and narrator, blurring the lines between any one kind of convention.

Charli XCX - how i’m feeling now [Atlantic Records]

She’s the main reason this post exists, but when she released the year’s first certifiable quarantine album, it didn’t quite hit the same way it does now in December. That’s not to say that how i’m feeling now was not understood upon initial impact -- it seems to be a going theme that Charli XCX works her best experimental pop magic when she’s moving fast and quickly -- but at the start of springtime when the fears of the pandemic were at their most fresh and agonizing, it was difficult to get into the same space as that which she had carved out in the dark using black diamonds and digital euphoria. Time heals, though, and just as Pop 2 sparkled in its own winter, Charli’s isolation feeling wears better forever in the cold just like December.

Dua Lipa – Future Nostalgia [Warner Records]

To call Dua Lipa’s Future Nostalgia an overlooked album is technically a huge overstatement considering it has been near the top of most major publication’s year-end list and she’s earned the title of 2020’s biggest pop star not named Taylor Swift. Future Nostalgia, much like the Weeknd’s After Hours, came into view at the worst possible timing, however -- Those first arduous weeks of lockdown when the last fucking thing on your mind at that time was club music and dancing. Still, the UK songwriter’s energy has prevailed at the end of 2020 with its funky synthesis of disco, electronica, and futuristic pop production. It may be one of the few things in pop culture this year we feel wistful about when we hear it a decade from now.

Fontaines D.C. - A Hero’s Death [Partisan Records]

Another overlooked listen that fell victim to a super-saturated summer release schedule, maybe it’s better than Fontaines D.C.’s A Hero’s Death, in all of its desperate lamentations, be appreciated during these wintry months than late under the scorching July sun. The most surprising revelation behind the theatre curtain of the Dublin post-punk band’s sophomore effort is in the manner which frontman Grian Chatten has sunken his working class shouting matches into the foci of a bleaker state of mind, and yet, not at the expense of dark comedy and appropriate growl. A Hero’s Death may be a quieter raucous from Fontaines D.C., and also one that suggests that the depths of their sound are most visible when methodically circling the drain.

A Hero's Death by Fontaines D.C.

Infant Island - Beneath [Dog Knights Productions]

We are in the throes of a screamo revival, though Infant Island are a whole different behemoth in that realm on their sophomore outing Beneath. Here, the Virginia-based five-piece eviscerate the scene’s intensity through charring post-rock epics and answering back at the void with raw, bleeding screams. Their style -- a bastion of hardcore, black metal, and beautifully atmospheric rock echoes -- barrels in with it the heaviest kind of weight on the soul every time Infant Island awaken from the pitch black craters. Ultimately, it consumes you and leaves you in their ash.

Beneath by Infant Island

LOMA - Don’t Shy Away [Sub Pop]

One of the things we are slowly, but surely beginning to see in indie rock and guitar-based rock right now is that artists are once again gaining confidence in sounding atypical. LOMA -- the trio of songwriter Emily Cross, multi-instrumentalist and recording engineer Dan Duszynski, and Shearwater frontman Jonathan Meiburg -- quietly are making these strange moves in the further out regions of their sophomore effort Don’t Shy Away. Informed by desertscapes, forests, occult energy, and its own divinely defined relationship between earth and soul, the listen absorbs both the physical and spiritual worlds through sound with LOMA acting as its vessel to communicate between each.

Don't Shy Away by LOMA

Peel Dream Magazine - Agitprop Alterna [Slumberland Records]

Some of the most interesting sounds coming from the next generation of shoegaze shape-shifters this year weren’t always the ones that filtered feedback through a dark, brooding punk heaviness. Akin to fellow breakouts Dummy, Peel Dream Magazine -- the moniker of NYC songwriter Joe Stevens -- is veering far away from those boundaries as well as those in some of today’s indie rock traditionalism with a lush, sun-bent projection on the sound that is entrancingly weird and dilates inner elation. On Agitprop Altnerna, Peel Dream Magazine sophomore effort, the band’s music achieves a new level of metaphysical experience through its collaborative cast, enriching the colors dispersed by its prism.

Agitprop Alterna by Peel Dream Magazine

Porridge Radio - Every Bad [Secretly Canadian]

Porridge Radio were a victim of their own buzz here on Recommended Listen upon the UK post-punk band’s release of their acclaimed sophomore breakout Every Bad. It admittedly happens when an indie rock band with all of the press envy going for them already in every place else (especially with bigger publications) equates to putting their work on the backburner here so that other lesser-covered independent artists can get due coverage just as well. Every Bad is very good, though, with guitarist Dana Margolin tapping into a dynamic,, aggressive side of intimate melancholia with her emotional voice as keyboardist Georgie Stott, bassist Maddie Ryall and drummer Sam Yardley steer the storm in the rough seas of life around her.

Every Bad by Porridge Radio

R.A.P. Ferreira - purple moonlight pages [Ruby Yacht]

2020′s rap game was ruled by its underground hive, and purple moonlight pages was part of writing that story. As the restart button for R.A.P. Ferreria, f.k.a. the prolific Milo, this album hears the man behind the moniker, Rory Allen Philip Ferreira, breaking down the barriers surrounding his bars for an experimental foray into jazz-informed rhymes given a brassy luster by producer and multi-instrumentalists Kenny Segal and his crew, the Jefferson Park Boys. Coupled with poetry of both the personal and the philosophical, the limitless rhythm and flow moving throughout purple moonlight pages has found a place for R.A.P. Ferreira's work where the free art and the perfected in prose can coexist.

purple moonlight pages by R.A.P. Ferreira

Samia - The Baby [Grand Jury Music]

Emotional guitar music being vesseled inside finely-crafted indie rock songwriting is once again in a better place than it’s been left these past several years, and an artist like Samia Finnerty is going to be helping taking it further with her own pen in it after releasing this year’s breakout full-length debut The Baby. If you found yourself humming along to the coming-of-age buzz around the glossy Gen Z navel gazing of UK pop-rock export beabadoobee, this collection of songs by Samia may actually cut keeper below the surface thanks to the way she lyrically mediates life’s darkness and young tribulations adulting during a fucked up time in history with a rose-tinted canvas in her sound. She feels its all, and you’ll feel seen, too.

The Baby by Samia

SAULT - UNTITLED (Black Is) & UNTITLED (Rise) [Forever Living Originals]

The identities behind the collective members of SAULT are as hard to pin as the release dates of their albums themselves, which in 2020, had a tendency to drop out of nowhere and made for two of this year’s most enigmatic moments in alluring sounds from unknown places with their breakouts UNTITLED (Black Is) and UNTITLED (Rise). Each listen arrived as bookends between the epicenter of a summer of protest and resistance across the globe, with the UK band’s fusion of house, experimental electronic, and modern R&B creating a document on the ongoing cultural evolution of these Black-centric styles, but as a medium to confront racial issues through an artfully accessible message.

UNTITLED (Black Is) by SAULT

UNTITLED (Rise) by SAULT

The Weeknd – After Hours [Republic Records]

After Hours is another example on this list of an album you would handedly lose an argument in technically calling “overlooked” considering the Weeknd’s Starboy streaming power and chart-topping success is not losing momentum any time soon. It did go up against a huge emotional wall when it was initially released right as lockdown mode was more on the mind than donning fashionable heathen pop, though, even if it's Abel Tesfaye’s strongest collection of post-breakup wreckers and R&B sizzle perfected through the cool currents of his Uncut Gems score collaborator Oneohtrix Point Never and the always-slick singles synthesis of Max Martin’s hand. Grammys don’t mean a thing, but in the pop universe, it's weird when one of its biggest names can't get a nom at the top of their game.

[oneweekoneband]

Lorde, “Sober II (Melodrama)”

Like almost any other production (choir concerts, dance shows, musicals, TV shows), Melodrama is front-loaded and tapers off towards the end. The first half has the most substance while those songs or moves or, to put it in general terms, ideas are modified (i.e. change the key signature, substitute fouettes with alsicones, re-conjugate future tense to present tense) and regurgitated later on as fillers/transitions. It doesn’t mean the program turns into an utter shitshow after intermission (there are exceptions to the rule; the most blatant and recent example that comes to mind is 13 Reasons Why and/or Riverdale), but the experience can start to feel repetitive, lackadaisical.

Don’t get me wrong, “Sober II (Melodrama)” isn’t a “bad” song. The defining theatrics of the album are still there, and in accordance with its self-explanatory title, the song is a sequel to “Sober,” not another rehashing of a night spent wasted. Violins, the choice weapon of operatic drama, deliver the first swooping blow and raise the stakes until the sound collapses, with the piano as Lorde’s only comfort. She tries to bring her vision into focus, put a timeline together of the night before (“You asked if I was feeling it, I’m psycho high”) with little success. Her mind is groggy, near comatose — “Lights are on, and they’ve gone home/ But who am I?” — and she’s not exactly out of her stupor when she starts “cleaning up the champagne glasses,” throwing away the last word as if she’s dozing off.

Where, then, does the next line come from? Is “we told you this was melodrama” a cautionary tale from her friends before “Sober”ing it up? Are these Lorde’s words to shrug off her now-gone lover, the subject in “you wanted something we could offer”? Better yet, what if this is her should’ve-known-better moment before tossing the inevitable collateral damage to the side and going into the fray for the sake of going into the fray: “Our only wish is melodrama.” Disillusionment (“Wonder why we bother”) is the only thing clear enough to be certain in the “kissed and killed each other,” Romeo & Juliet-approved spectacle (“gun fights” included, if Bas Luhrman is reading). From there, the issue isn’t with who is speaking/listening, but rather about love, mainly, is it even worth it? Even if it’s just smoke-and-mirrors “lime lights” and “holy ship divine nights”?

Those answers are for another day (@ “Perfect Places”), but more immediately, Melodrama isn’t without its flaws. There’s a reason why Lorde didn’t sing over a skittering trap beat before: It doesn’t work. The variation comes off as desperation, throwing seemingly random elements into the mix to see what sticks. Against the more-classical backdrop, it sounds disjunct, a Jack Antonoff spin-off of “Mask Off” broken up by garbled “WO-oah”s. At its best though (aka when the beats take a backseat), the song becomes cinematic, the soundtrack that comes on when the smoke blows from Lorde’s gun after delivering the coup de grace. “We told you this was melodrama”; you had your warning. Now, it’s too late.

[purkinje-effect]

The Anatomy of Melancholy, 54

Table of Contents. Second Instar, Chapter 21. Go to previous. Go to next. TW: Surveillance, drugging, lascivious behavior, heavy inebriation. Giving toasts and getting toasted.

______________________________

Outside the rowhouse, ‘Choly mounted Angel, but between the rigidity of his orthotics and the weight of the uniform fabric, he struggled to sustain the jockey-esque crouch he had used to ride the Mister Handy. He knew he’d need to modify they way he rode Angel in order to be able to ride it.

“We’re visiting the storage hangar before we go see Olivia.”

A Mister Gutsy intercepted them before they got to the door.

“State your intent,” Green-One barked. “This is not the destination that’s been requested of you.”

“We wanted to stock up before we left,” ‘Choly began, dismounting with some difficulty. Angel handed him his cane, which he took appreciatively. “Do you... happen to have any straps? I’d take a fistful of uniform belts, if that’s all you’ve got.”

Sticks had decided, after the argument at the rowhouse, that he’d keep his mouth shut for the rest of their time on base, if he could help it. This decision, however, did not prevent a wide range of facial expressions. To the request, the ghoul cocked his head to one side.

“Request to enter the storage hangar has been confirmed,” the Gutsy replied after a minute of floating idly. “Come in, gentlemen.”

Although 'Choly disliked the awareness that she could communicate wirelessly with her network of robots, he, Angel, and Sticks all followed regardless. As the rolling hangar door peeled fully open, the Gutsy sped off into the uniforms section of the hangar, returning with its pincer full of various leather, fiber, and metal.

“I have five belts, as well as lengths of rope and chain, if they’d be of use, Colonel. I take it these are for better affixing what your Handy’s traveling with?”

“No, well, yes. It is carrying me. I’ll take all three things, if that’s all right. So I can figure out what will work best.” It handed over the things readily.

“Will you need any materiel stock?” it pressed gruffly. “I’m instructed to ask if it’s the real reason you came here first.”

“We came here for the belts,” Angel started before anyone else could reply, let alone explain why ‘Choly had wanted to come to the hangar first. “But if you could top me off on fusion cells, that would be truly divine, G-1.”

“Of course, Handy Angel.”

As G-1 worked, Sticks eyed the incendiary laser attachment customization Olivia had done for Angel.

“I could use a fresh tank for my flamer,” the ghoul requested, to deflect G-1 from its tinkering.

“We always try to keep another tank handy for the next time you pop on base, Sticks. Just have to leave the low tank with Deenwood.”

The ghoul shrugged explicitly, setting the flamer on the ground where G-1 could do as asked. Between the physical exertion and soup of charged emotions, ‘Choly’s head had begun swimming hours ago and had yet to stop.

“--And anything else for you, Colonel? Or will the ropes and such suffice?”

“--Oh!” He jerked back to reality with an unpalatable high-brow squint to shove down his mental state. “I don’t-- Actually. If you’ve got ammunition on hand for Sticks, you’ve likely got something for me as well. What variety of Syringer darts might you have?”

“Variety, we do not have, Sir, but we most certainly have darts for your Syringer. Pax darts don’t come free, mind you. They’re not standard military issue.”

The chemist nearly blurted out incredulity that the flamer was considered such, but he recalled the flamethrowing Assaultrons that chased him and Angel onto base. He dry swallowed and nodded as his face tightened, motioning to Angel to gain access to its storage compartment. He rifled in the false bottom, his wallet in many ways.

“You still accept the American dollar, don’t you? Silly of me to ask such an obvious question, but--”

“--Caps only,” it snipped, showing its first impatience with him.

He straightened in an instant with a thin smile and a cap-stuffed paper sack in hand. He disliked affirmation that caps were, in fact, a common currency these days.

“Say no more. How many for a case?”

“Three-hundred fifty, Sir.”

Any color left in his face washed out, but he grinned and simply handed over the bag without counting. In its pincer it scaled out the value of what it had been given. Its programming sounded off in the affirmative, and it left to the aisles and returned with the requested ammunition. The bag of caps had vanished in the shuffle.

“Here are three cases, plus two. You forfeited a little over a thousand, so that should be to your liking.”

‘Choly warmed to the exchange once the ammo cases fell into his hands. He gave G-1 a genuine smile, and nodded, then used the strap-snaps to affix them to the harness under his coat. The loose darts went into one of the incomplete cases already threaded onto his person.

G-1 escorted them to the R&D building personally, but vanished once they had entered. They came to Wing IV to find the heavily encrypted door already open, and Liv on a desk sprawled out atop a recumbent Helen. The ghoul general didn’t wholly unglue from her mate or tidy herself when she realized they had company, but she did sit up. Disheveled and incredibly drunk, she grinned broadly with heavy lids, patting to either side of her to suggest her guests take a seat.

“Oh, yes, please, thank you,” ‘Choly wheezed out without hesitation, slouching back in the office chair.

Sticks did not follow in kind, and crossed his arms to listen.

“So good to see you both again,” she murmured. “I hope your visit to the hangar was benefih-shul.”

“Very.” ‘Choly glanced to Sticks for a cue what more to say, but gleaned nothing.

“The case on that one desk over there is the X-Cell-Root Voire’s requested. There’s enough Furriers partaking in the conflict, that I didn’t have enough inhalers on hand. So! I used ampuoles instead.” She couldn’t keep one hand from wandering the inside of Helen’s thigh while she spoke. “It’s been mixed with adjuice-- advu-- adjuvant. Adjuvant! It’ll last longer. Ideally, long enough to carry over into shepherding maneuvers. My Eyebots scouted the past two days. The Back Central Rust Devils are holed up in the Robert House Charter School.”

The red-headed ghoul kissed the Assaultron on the breastplate, unable to resist another moment without her tongue against its chassis, then stood to retrieve the flare gun from atop the aforementioned enameled metal pharmaceutical case.

“‘Choly, you’re to instruct the Furriers to herd the Back Central Devils off school property and out onto the South Common. Sticks, you’re to use this flare gun so I know everything’s in position for my Sentries to fire. If you don’t wanna get hit, don’t fire unless you’re on the other side of the river.”

“We wouldn’t want to get hit with Rad-I-Canned, now, would we?” Seeing her so inebriated disenchanted ‘Choly, and he couldn’t read whether this was celebratory or as a consequence of stress.

She gave him a dopey smile as she sat again, in Helen’s lap.

“I forgot just how well you clean up, ‘Choly. It suits you.”

“I noticed you did more than edit the RFID in my ribbon rack... What exactly does this ribbon suggest?” He pointed to it.

“Oh, silly, that’s not a new ribbon. Your memory must not be too sharp. Certainly a new concept, though! Much like the addition of stars shows count of things other ribbons signify, I applied a star to your Meritorious Service bar. Consider it simple gratitude for having attended active duty two separate occasions. Though, it will be your first time having attended the battlefront proper, hm?”

She laughed, bubbling into pointed mocking as she sank comfortably across Helen and ran an arm behind the Assaultron’s neck.

“It didn’t have to be civil war for it to be bad and you know it. It was worse here than the front line every day of the Battle of Anchorage.” He gnashed his teeth at her, desperately shoving down anger as he eyed her. Deeply unbecoming of a commanding officer. “Have I missed the wedding?”

“Wedding?” Olivia glanced up to Helen, brow raised. “Don’t we seem already long-since wed?” Sweetly, she kissed the front side of Helen’s skull-plate.

“Olivia has a point,” Helen seconded. “Though my programming predates our meeting, I feel as though I were manufactured just to be hers.”

“And I’m yours,” Olivia beamed.

“And did she--” ‘Choly flinched in recognition, his brain processing what he was saying as he said it. His eyes widened as his volume escalated. “...Take your name or keep her own?” He waved a finger at his commanding officer indistinctly. “You... your offer to wipe Angel’s imprint matrix. That’s not the only way to achieve the same results and you know that.”

“Liquor’s even quicker,” she slurred through another bolt of cognac. She got up again, to pull two more glasses from the makeshift wet bar by the storage closet. “Gentlemen! Join me in a toas-scht.”

A Mister Handy that had idled in the far corner came to her, and with unspoken instruction it mulled the glasses and iced them. She then filled them with cognac. It stirred them and brought them to ‘Choly and Sticks. The ghoul broker’s tension didn’t go unnoticed, but he didn’t interrupt the ritual. ‘Choly didn’t object, either, but the offer of spirits certainly dulled his anger.

“To the success-sh of Deenwood! And to Voire, and their bi-shen-tennial alliance with the base! We’ll stamp out the Devils once and for all.”

Olivia raised her glass, and they followed suit. Once the glasses clinked together, Sticks wrenched ‘Choly’s from him and knocked it back in three swallows. ‘Choly staggered back. Olivia choked on her own drink in incredulity. ‘Choly immediately understood Sticks suspected it was drugged as usual.

“It’s just Daytripper, isn’t it!” The chemist nearly hissed in exasperation.

Furious and fed up, he tried to grab Sticks’s glass for himself. To get it away from ‘Choly, he drank that one too, and set down the glasses on the next nearest desk to catch his breath. When he turned around again, ‘Choly slapped him in the face, but he didn’t budge otherwise.

Olivia stared softly at ‘Choly, nearly sobered.

“Just what exactly do you think I do to the drinks I offer friends?”

“You think of either of us as friends?” Sticks choked out, terse. “Could have fooled me.”

“Well, you two are sher-tainly more than friends,” she quipped, poorly concealing her hurt. “We don’t we all just lay bare some honesty while we’re at it?”

“It wasn’t Daytripper, was it.” ‘Choly began to melt apart mentally, finally forefront with what had been chewing steadily away at him since the argument at the rowhouse. “What did you do to him. All the years you had him here on base, what did you DO to him? It all comes so easily for you, doesn’t it!?”

“He told you I experimented on him?” She laughed, elated again. “Who do you think helped me perfect the Daytripper formula? Most chems aren’t potent enough to work on ghouls. Nerves are deadened, chem receptors broken, by the mutations and keloidal scarring. There’s no short supply of ferals in Lowell, but they’re not viable to test charisma. I needed a shub-ject of like physiology. The day he could convince me to let him out was the day I knew I had it right.”

“...And the artificial hand?” he asked, carefully sitting back down.

“Serves him much better than the Pipboy did, if you ask me.”

The chemist slouched into a stupor, between how bad he ached, and how mentally frayed he grew. He failed to shove down trembling.

“So it really wasn’t Daytripper, then,” Sticks began at last. “And you were testing me. To see that I’d step in, and keep ‘Choly from taking whatever you gave him. If it was meant for me, it had to have been Klutz.”

“It was meant for you, and it was Magnetizer. I did expect you to drink it, but I didn’t expect you to drink both of them. Have fun overdosing, Hawthorne.” Ignoring the dread in Sticks’s eyes, she instead concerned herself with Angel. “You sure are traveling heavy, Angel, dear. Aren’t you bogged down with all that?”

“--I want to be as prepared as possible on site at Voire,” ‘Choly interjected dumbly. “I’d be remiss to have left something behind, only to end up needing it.”

Sticks disliked the transparency, but let it go unaddressed when Liv shrugged off any tension she could read on the chemist or the other ghoul.

“You always were one to be over-prepared. Mm mmh.” She clicked her tongue.

“We’re going to get going before we lose anymore daylight,” Sticks blurted out in pointed impatience.

“Oh, don’t let me stop you,” she pouted, slinking against her Assaultron again. “Blow it out for anyone but me, Sticks. The faster the two of us can regain our privacy, the better. Isn’t that right, Helen?”

“Affirmative, Tiger. Please leave.”

Angel grabbed the case and carried it behind itself as they exited. On their way off base, the trio all felt like Deenwood’s every eye was upon them, as though every robot set to ensure these potential defectors followed through with their announced intentions. Once off base, the whole perimeter came to life, complete with locking mechanisms, rotating warning lights, and a low bleating siren.

“Deenwood Compound will fully enter DEFCON One in sixty seconds,” the robotic speakers announced. “After this time, approach by any entity, personnel or not, will be met with lethal force.” It would repeat this announcement for the next minute, but the trio did not wait around to observe the final stages of lockdown.

Once they were two blocks away, ‘Choly stopped them so he could catch his breath.

“Guess you were right,” the chemist wheezed, sweating. He remembered the straps he’d shoved into Angel’s storage, and he requested them. Without them in the storage compartment, Angel could fit the Voire crate inside. “About Liv locking us out.”

“We’ll get back on base,” Sticks said, distracted. “We just have to do it on her terms now. What are those straps for, anyway?”

“I’m having trouble, crouching on top of Angel, in this uniform.” He continued speaking as he could, while he worked, in stuttered phrases. Angel helped him string the twist of straps through its car door handles. “I figured, some kind of reins might work better, than the handles. These reinforced gloves, make it easier, to grip things.” He hooked them all together into a loop, then mounted the foot pegs and steadied himself upright with this latest fixture to Angel’s body. “This works much better. Almost like jewelry for you, hm, Angel?”

“It’s for more than simple decoration, Mister Carey. Ha-ha!”

Silence followed as they made their way North through the residential Highlands. Sticks led them a different way than how ‘Choly and Angel had come the first time, but while they passed more housing this way, they encountered no ferals. They ended up again on the street that became Rourke Bridge, but before they got to the bridge itself, Sticks fumbled with the flamer and sniveled, only to snort-chuckle when he picked it back up with some difficulty. ‘Choly wasn’t sure whether to say anything, certain the chem had begun to take effect.

“Should I ask what Magnetizer is? Or what it does?”

“Magnetizer is like Daytripper, but dialed up. All the way up. The mood enhancement is more potent, but the side effects are, too. My muscle power and stamina are both gonna be shit for a few hours.”

“Guess it’s a good thing we’ve planned to unload the majority of our stuff at your place, then.”

“You’re not going to like me once it takes full effect.” Sticks choked up his grip on the flamer, but still didn’t look to ‘Choly. “Fuck, actually-- you of all people might.”

Words eluded ‘Choly, and he stewed on his worries. Sticks pressed on across the bridge, weaving carefully between the weather-rotted vehicles congesting the way.

“...Why did you drink it, without knowing what it was? If you thought it was anything at all?”

“I was confident I knew what it was. And I didn’t want her to poison you.”

“--Why drink it, if you thought it was poison? Couldn’t you have just... poured it out on the floor or something?”

“We don’t always make the most rational decisions when someone’s life might be on the line.”

“Are you... glad it wasn’t poison, at least?”

“That much Magnetizer would have killed a lightweight like you, that’s for sure.”

Silence overwhelmed the trio again, and they crossed the bridge without further comment. By the time they were on solid ground again, ‘Choly hemmed.

“...You had the feeling, too, right, that we were being watched on base?”

“Yeah. Definitely. Why?”

“Do you still feel it?”

“I want to be wrong, but honestly? Yes.”

“I didn’t want to mention it,” Angel agrees sheepishly. “I still don’t trust my sensors, I’m afraid.”

“What is it?” ‘Choly asked his Handy.

“Something robotic, I believe.”

“Fuck-me-in-the-mouth, she tailed us.”

An Eyebot rattled through, with a prerecorded script on loop. Anytime a specific name or noun came up, a different quality of voice and recording interrupted with it. The spherical hovering robot, with a grill plate guarding its front and a myriad of antennae jutting backwards off it, did not seem bothered at all that it had an audience, and announced its information readily and repeatedly without a care. ‘Choly unclenched when he realized it was just an Eyebot, but Sticks remained poised, watching.

“RobCo Industries. A household and industrial power-House since 2042! Are you looking for a rewarding career in computer technologies? RobCo Towers is now hiring for a variety of positions specializing in data processing! Apply--”

The ghoul lost his composure and let loose with the flamer, immolating the robot. It turned hostile, and got off a single unaimed laser shot in their direction before it crashed to the shore sand. Its speaker crackled and sputtered, and at first the three of them thought the sound an indicator how quickly the robot was melting, but then a third voice came through.

“--Olivia, it doesn’t have to end like this--”

The trio jerked back when the Eyebot exploded.

‘Choly started to yell at Sticks for having destroyed it, but the ghoul cut him off.

“--I haven’t seen a robot Pawtucketville side in decades. Can’t be a coincidence. And it didn’t come from Deenwood, that’s for damn sure.”

‘Choly’s face slacked. “...The Devils. They know we’re mobile.”

“No, they think The General’s mobile. I guarantee you, she’s about to get some very surprised unannounced visitors. I don’t think the DEFCON One was for us.”

The chemist dismounted, to walk the remainder of the way to the Sampas parlor. He didn’t like what Sticks was insinuating the Eyebot signified.

“...She dressed me up as a high ranking officer to decoy the Devils’ surveillance. They think I’m her. They think no one’s home. Am I really that disposable to her--”

“--Ideally, she’ll have knocked out most of their robotic assets before we have to deal with ‘em. Stressful as it sounds, it’s bought us a little time for me to let this stuff wear off before we get to Voire. Let’s get inside, hm?” Sticks thumbed at the parlor expectantly. Once he had the security mechanisms disarmed, he held the door open for the Handy and its owner. “Angel, get in there so we can unload ya. We’ve got some time to kill, and a lot to get done today.”

Go to Next »»»

[roxannepolice]

But yah rey as a character is just so frustrating you know? Cause like, yeah sure she could be complex with a powerful arc where shes forced to come to terms with the fact she wasted years of her life on self-imposed delusions in a cathartic way, or she could be a flat piece of marketing cardboard which Disney is banking on vagina+superpowers=profit without having to go through that persnicty character flaw overcoming or the like. Because like you said, hearing shes a nobody (which ngl, her assuming she was a somebody wasn’t really ever supported in tfa, just that her family was coming back and she desperately wanted them to) is apparently the worst thing but it changes absolutely nothing, not her approach, not her demeanor , if vaguely sad is the absolute worse a character is gonna experience in a goddamn space opera then yeah, full offense ill take the l on Mary sue discourse but her character will definitely be a boring ass wash. We all make fun of whiny new hope Luke but him being a kinda nuisance to both the audience and those around him is what made is transformation into full blown Jedi knight so powerful. With Rey so far what weve got is badass perfect cinnamon roll finally get her due as such, which is clearly working for some people, but I fail to see how that isn’t spectacularly tone deaf to make a protag in this genre such. Operas about drama, not patting you on the back. Rey (assuming she remains as is) would’ve been fine as a protag s the only piece of Star Wars media we ever got was a new hope. But rn she a chosen one architype (and I know that bunch of ppl are gonna go but the series ‘but shes not the chosen one, Anakin still is, the new series isn’t trying to make her one!’ but lets not beat around the burning bush, if u got a character that walks on water and the reason why is because god said so, ur dealing with a chosen one trope and if a character is star wars is made ultrapowerful in lore breaking ways because force said so? Yeah were dealing with a chosen one.) when we had both the deconstruction and the reconstruction done. Shes a straight hero when the success of the ot rest on hitting the formula near perfect the first time. What exactly is Rey, the individual character, bringing to the table? What makes her story supposedly so important the a perfectly good ending had to be made invalid to tell it? A bunch of ppl will say heroines’ journey! But if that’s the case I gotta say, wheres all the feminine shit? Im serious, if the heroines journey is reintegrating the feminine and realizing ‘oh shit mom had a point’ there where is both the feminine skills/coping mechanism and the mom? I mean I saw some ppl arguing for leia in a ‘reys Persephone!’ meta (she isn’t, you can make a much better case for ben himself as Persephone to be quite frank, yall are focusing so much on the trees ((girl gets abducted by guy)) that u forgot the forest existed, the actually story ((girl winds up queen on the underworld, well gee whiz which character just took control of that after leaving the world of living and a grieving divine mother behind, it’s a mystery apparently) behind, it’s a mystery apparently) ((but seriously though even if we hope for dark rey does anyone assume its gonna be taking control of a dark/dead coded org at least partially at this point, do you, do you really??). but given the fact she had what, one line of screen dialogue that’s breaking ur arm with that stretch. As far as skills go I guess you could make an argument for scavenging, but if that’s the case dlf did a shit job of conveying that as female-coded. Everything about rey in tfa seems deliberately androgynous, and yeah, she had her hair let down/mascara moment, but that’s tied to her ‘failure’ on the supremacy thus something nw.SPEAKIGN OF FAILURES ON THE SUPERAMCY AND LACK THERE OF. I find it kind funny that bunch of reylo bnfs (you know who they are) are all ‘hur dur fanboys/antis are dumb and don’t get story structure.’ And then going, ‘why are yall asking how/assuming rey fucked up in throne room/climax of her story in the second portion/darkest point of her character arc? Why do you hate women/ur own ovaries so much?’ because it like walking into a prefurnished house and being told by the relator ‘HERES THE LIVING ROOM’ and having no damn couch. It’s a living room, I expect a couch here. And in a movie where it’s the low point of a character arc and they drag puppet yoda out to tell me the movie is about failure, I expect a damn failure in whats clearly the climax of the characters arc for this movie. As it stands now there are three possibilities imo. 1st, rey had no failure, she is the pure badass maid o light ppl want and every inch the boring cardboard she is accused of by fanbros, remains static, and is relegated to an also ran to benlo taking the most compelling character trophy this trilogy in 10 yrs2nd possibility and the one im hoping for, failure speech wasn’t just thematic explanation but also foreshadowing, rey fucks up big and dramatic in a way that makes her manage to stand out as unique with both her contemporaries and her predecessors(last part, if its ever to much lemme know pls im sorry i just gotta get it out) 3rd and most likely possibility, rey isn’t the main character, benlo is and that’s why his failure both moral in the throne room and logistic on criat take center stage for the last third or so of the movie. Rey is merely a pov character to tell the dramatic villain protag story they wanted and have their very marketable unproblematic Disney heroine cake too.

Ok, so this discourse kinda died down by now, but thanks to that it’s possible to maybe have a calmer look at it I’m totally not trying to justify my late response.

Anyway, the good result is that quite recently my brother, who’s not overly taken with Rey - or the sequels in general, for that matter - said something which really stuck with me as a possible crux of the problem: 

She’s neither comical nor tragical. Just bland. 

This neither comical nor tragical really struck me. And the more I though about it, the more it was appearing to me that this qualm really applies to the sequels as a whole. The thing is that DLF are essentially telling a straightforward story that they’re trying to make captivatingly convoluted. And not just make, but keep this appearance over four years. And this is... a narrative teeth crasher. Like, when you’re honest about the endgame (in the context of the most structural meanings of comedy and tragedy), you can maintain a decorum, though you can also play with it, of course, whereas when you don’t want to be honest about the endgame, you end up mixing the styles somewhat messily. You can’t break or discuss with the rules without acknowledging them, so to speak. Because the originals were honest about the happy/hopeful endgame (the first episode is title A New Hope ffs), they could allow themselves deeply tragic moments like Larses’ deaths, Han getting frozen, destruction of Alderaan, etc. Because the prequels were open about being a tragedy, they could allow themselves lighthearted comic relief for the sake of lighthearted comic relief. 

The sequels... badly want us to consider the possibility of FO winning and Ben dying unredeemed while simultaneously insisting we root for those things not happening, while appearing conscious we’re definitely not buying the former and the latter only somewhat. And it’s tiresome. Dishonest. And indeed, bland. If the story is a tragedy it will be a bloodcurdlingly real one, if it’s a comedy it will be a borderline grotesque one. 

But yeah, returning to Rey, I guess as the main character she’s a lens which focuses the above problems. A very bitter tragedy of what her parents did t her prevents her from being comfortably comical whereas whoohooos I like thats and prancing like a husky on red bull over idols and visions because it’s for children so it must be hopeful prevents her from being intriguingly tragical. So I guess the intentioned effect was tragicomism but, from pov of an engaged casual fan that is my bro, it’s neither. 

As far as Rey’s heroine’s journey lacking some of the usual elements, I blame it on Disney being... a bit too ambitious, maybe. I think they tried to make a heroine’s journey that isn’t ostentaciously seeped in traditional feminine/masculine traits, maintains the structure without what could be called accidentals. On the one hand, I would point out that hero’s journey has pretty much desexualised itself over time, we are rather accustomed to “shero’s” journeys, but on the other... maybe Disney set out on a too novel a territory and may crack their teeth on it, alongside trying to out-Vader Vader at redemption. To elucidate, “toxic femininity” in which a heroine is supposed to find herself in the beginning of her journey, in Rey’s case is uprooted from any of our usual concepts of feminine-masculine social roles (it’s space, duh). My interpretation is that Rey’s version of toxic femininity kind of exists in contrast with Kylo Ben’s version of toxic masculinity - and since the apparent focus of the story is the attitude towards the past/parent figures, toxic femininity would mean her clutching onto the past. Which is why I predict that some act of IX will find Rey inebriated with apparent success in masculine world, meaning she’ll be the one rejecting the old gods this time - and I would point out that panel in Poe comic where she shows herself more sceptical towards idolisation of past don’t mind me, I’m just expressingmy trash dreams for a proper sith lady Rey.

Then again, Rian Johnson said she already found perfect balance between Luke’s clinginess and Kylo’s rejection of the past, so... idk, maybe I’m giving DLF too much credit again.

As for the Persephone thing, I guess the rub is that this reylo reading focuses less on the traditional reading of the myth (where Demeter is the actual main character and Kore is a Princess Peach MacGuffin) and more of an interpretation of it as one of the eldest (at least in Europe) versions of story depicting a transition of a girl into a woman, making Persephone more of a protagonist. 

Like, y’know, this Persephone (D. G. Rosetti, source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Proserpine_(Rossetti_painting))

I’m no expert, but myths can lose their original meanings because of power relations (anyone still remember about Dionysus, the god associated with excessive drinking, going through a very Christ-like death and resurrection?) and I think it’s possible that this is the case with the story of Persephone becoming a pre-scientific explanation of seasons changing over the year. So teah, that’s how I always understood the Persephone theme regarding Rey.

But yes, I must agree that I’m confused about Disney’s handling of the mother figure, which... Look, SW became a legend of a modern myth because of how epically Lucas handled the hero dealing with his very explicit father. So yes, I don’t understand what exactly is their game with Rey Nobody from Nowhere in this regard. It’s one thing that they had a cool idea with giving her no lineage, another that parent figures are an essential element of archetypal journeys and from symbolic viewpoint the case of a female character the biological relationship is even more crucial than in male’s. And I swear to all the ewoks and porgs in the galaxy, I do hope Disney’s idea of Rey healing the mother/daughter divide isn’t through her healing the divide between Leia and Ben. Again, this isn’t the idealistic sphere. Just... no. 

Anyway, I still maintain hope (this whole meta blog is built on hope) that Rey will indeed turn out to have a proper personal mistake which will make her stand out in the saga. I do have to admit, though, that I find your last theory very likely. I mean, even when I read all the reylo metas going oh, Rey is going to have such an exciting arc in IX, she has so much to deal with though of course it’s not going to compromise her morally, it will be sooo exciting, I just... f*ck’s sake, what you’re describing isn’t a dramatic character only a dramatised role model. It’s great if that’s your thing, but don’t claim it is space opera-worthy, in operas people drown themselves because of cursed sailors, kill over a break up, decapitate over a bad dream and get dragged to hell over a dinner, not persuade their fallen lovers to change their ways, let alone patienly wait for them the understand the error of their ways (and if they do it’s doomed to end in someone dying).

[delicrieux]

divination

PART 2: MY GIRL

PAIRING: charlie weasley x reader

summary: charlie has a crush on (name) and tries to act normal around her. surprise! it appears (name) has a crush on him, too also, requested by anons and @ghostwriter050402. a/n: this may or may not be a set up to another fic lol. ANYONE THAT WANTS TO BE TAGGED LEMME KNOOOO!!! ALSO! y’all are THIRSTY FOR CHARLIE!! TBH CAN’T BLAME YOU i love myself a man w a ponytail. i’ve gotten a lot of requests so i put them at the end of the fic as to not take up too much space :) what else what else...oh! thank you everyone for loving my fics! means the whole world to me, really. your comments make my day <3 THANK YOU TO MY BAE @slytherin-princess1 FOR THIS MOODBOARD! SUPPORT MY WIFE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! xoxo

feedback is always appreciated xoxo

MASTERLIST.  ko-fi (i chug coffee as i write these fics, and another cup would make me happy <3)

Charlie Weasley never really had the chance to talk to you during your first three years at Hogwarts, and he blames it on Quidditch and his lack of suave charm for this ordeal. Bill always raved about how absolutely fantastic you are, what a smart witch, good friend, and a passionate person. He was not even sure how you looked until he saw his brother rush to a short Slytherin girl with the prettiest eyes he had ever seen. He was about to take a sip of pumpkin-juice, though his hand, seeming to have a mind of its own, had halted near his lips and the liquid drizzled helplessly onto his shirt. He hardly even noticed the mess he was making, instead his attention now stuck onto you as his eyes trailed you and Khan wave bye to Bill and take a seat by your table. Bill, too chipper for such an early gloomy morning, sat down next to his brother idly chatting about this and that when—

“Charlie…” Bill started gently, “Are…Are you okay? What happened to your shirt?”

That is how it had all started. Rita Skeeter’s competition made you even more of a target for the public eye, and he suddenly started seeing you everywhere. Perhaps noticing you is the better term to describe it – you are not a ghost, nor have you deliberately taken routes where you knew he was loitering about. If you were missing your usual group of friends, which consisted of some of the brightest and most mischievous students of the time, you were sneaking around the castle looking like a suspicious girl trying to act as inconspicuous as possible. Even before regarding you fully, not just in passing indifferent glances, he had heard of your mission, your brother, and the dangers and chaos that followed after you.

You are just…so cool, how could he not crush on you?

Andre is friends with everyone. He has connections and he knows how to use them, and he also happens to be Charlie’s best friend. Keeping crushes a secret from bothers is easy because they are mostly preoccupied with other things, and Bill is drowning in his Prefect duties as it is. But from best friends? It took exactly five minutes for Andre to notice the dreamy look in Charlie’s eye during dinner one night, and ten minutes to coarse it out of him. With his secret outed, Charlie had desperately shushed his friend when he giggled not so subtly, and only after Andre swore not to say a word about this to anyone did he ease up. After a bit of deliberation, Charlie then asked Andre for a bit of help. Nothing drastic, just something to get your attention, or at the very least inform you of his existence.

And Andre had helped him. In a conversation, which Charlie demanded be described in great detail, that Andre and you had had at Hogsmeade, Andre had named dropped Charlie, completely out of place and out of context. You must have either not noticed or not cared, because it sure as hell sounded weird and awkward.

But as fate has it, he is seated next to you in one of his least favourite lessons – Divination. Though, upon noting your tiny form plopped on a seat by his table, he soon came to change his mind.

The room is hazy and full of light pink and purple smoke, lavender incense, and crackling fire. It’s hot. Fumes stick to his skin, and he has to shake off his robe as in a last attempt to feel less warm. You have long lost yours. No windows are open. The Professor mumbles ghastly into her crystal, her soft whispers a mix of fright and awe. Students mumble quietly amongst themselves. No one dares to break the silence with a laugh, because they know that the professor will freak if they do. The crystal ball resting on his and yours table emits an alluring lilac hue.

The two of you had shared formalities and then fallen into silence, focusing on the task at hand – seeing the future. The Professor had promised that vision would come to all who gaze into the crystal’s depths. Charlie did not buy it for a single second, he even grinned dumbly, about to strike a conversation with you about what absolute bull this class is, only to find you greatly immersed and glaring at the crystal. It then dawned to him that you are, most likely, trying to see your brother in that small glass. That or you are greatly interested in checking out your reflection.

“Is it working for you?” You inquire, your eyes finally lifting from the crystal to him. He shrugs, rolling up his sleeves.

“The only thing I see is me sweating.” He comments dryly. You grin.

“I suppose it is a bit silly,” You agree, “I was hoping to at least get a snippet. The Professor was really into it. Thought I give it a genuine go before wanting to throw it out the window.” Your voice turns bitter, “I think my face is going to melt off.” You mumble, pressing your palms onto your red cheeks. “Do you think we could sneak out of here?”

He chokes on fumes, they burning his throat. We.  Plural. Should he be excited, or are you simply nice enough to want to break him out this horrible class and send him on his merry way? After a few contained coughs, and you giving him a sympathetic look, he nods, “I think if someone came close to death or caused a diversion, we could book it.”

“What if I pretended to faint?” Your voice tints with glee, which is a bit morbid but he doesn’t mind. Your eyes twinkle mischievously in the lilac glow, “You could call the Professor and then carry me to the infirmary or something.”

Carry me. He chokes again. Your hands lands on his upper arm, soothing gently, your voice now laced with concern, “Are you alright, Charlie?”

He nods dumbly, “I think I’m allergic to this smoke.”

“Well, if you faint first I will try my hardest to carry you.” You say with a smile. He grins.

“Yea, good luck with that.”

“I know a few handy charms.”

“Use ‘em often?”

“Only when desperate times call for desperate measures.” You look him in the eye, “You ready?”

“Try not to hit your head on your way down.”

“I am hardly that reckless.” You state and he stares at you expectantly, “Yea, alright, I get it, I’ll be careful.”

Just as you are about to start your act, his eyes catch the strange mirage in the crystal. Curious, he peers into it, and his heart skips a beat – in the haziness he manages to recognise his figure and yours, but it is dark and blurry and hard to understand but he thinks that you and he are in a chamber of some sort. He blinks stupidly, alert and uneasy, about to call your name but once he looks up he sees you lifeless leaning off your chair before you fall and knock the crystal off of the table.

The whole class hears you slump  - it is more the clatter the ball makes as it rolls off of the table and onto marble ground – and a series of gasps along with the Professors confused “What happened?” echo in the hot classroom. Charlie is quick to your aid, jumping from his chair and circling around to lift you, “I think she fainted, Professor.” He explains, worried. Soon he has you in his arms. He notes you trying your hardest not to grin, and he has to fight off a smile too. With you safely in his grasp - honestly, light as a feather – he turns to the Professor, “I will take her to the infirmary.”

“Yes, please do…But be back quick!

Yeah, that’s a no, the two of you share the same line of thought. You and Charlie are only coming back long after class is over, and only to get your stuff back.

After a successful mission the two of you were free for the period. He was a tad disturbed of how good you were at this acting thing, but the adrenaline over being your partner-in-crime had taken hold of him and he could do nothing but smile dumbly at every word you said. The two of you lazily spent the period, lounging in the cooler part of the castle and letting exhaustion take hold of you. The air was fresh and crispy and the ground radiated with cold. The two of you had plenty of time to relax, and once conversation was done with, pleasant silence settled. Which got him thinking back to before you gracefully knocked the crystal ball over with your award winning act. About the two of you, venturing alone, in what he presumes is a dangerous and deadly place. Was that a Cursed Vault? Or perhaps a doorway to it, a room that holds a clue to where it might be. You had taken Bill on an adventure…

Will you be taking him, now?

His eyes then found your form, slumped in one of the beanbags, dozing off. A pang of worry had tugged on his heartstring. You must be so tired, he realised, sleepless. He can only imagine what kinds of nightmares you have about your brother. How painful it must be not knowing where he is. He shuddered at the thought of harm coming to one of his siblings. He would be devastated, a complete mess.

For the rest of the period he thought about you, Jacob, and the Cursed Vaults. His resolve to help you all but became stronger.

The meetups between you two were more frequent. He still mostly conversed with you during Care of Magical Creatures, since it was one of the few classes the two of you had together, but now Divination, instead of being the typical annoying class it used to be, was a thoroughly enjoyed joke fest. Your hello’s, ones that, at the very beginning, were bright and energetic, gradually came to be breathless whispers of ‘…Hi’ accompanied by a lovely smile as you met him in a hall or elsewhere.

He fit in perfectly in your group of misfits. And after nearly half a year of growing closer, it was finally time to explore the Cursed Vault hidden somewhere in the Forbidden Forest. The only problem was locating it, but thankfully, Tulip had snooped around and found a chamber that might contain a map. Bill was supposed to accompany you. That idea did not sit well with Charlie. So after thinking it over, the same night his older brother was supposed to meet you in the dungeons, he had caught him in the Common Room.

It was a clear night, starry. It was four in the morning and only ashes left in the fireplace. The Common Room was void of life, just books scattered, pillows lying on the floor, and blankets messily thrown to the side – they were remnants of activity. Charlie called his brother in a raspy, sleep ridden voice, and Bill had nearly jumped out of his skin, already near the portrait.

“Can I go, instead?” Charlie asked. Bill had frowned, about to question why on earth he would want to, but Charlie quickly interjected, “Please.” He mumbled, “You already went with her…Can you just…give me a chance?”

Surprised and a bit reluctant, Bill had agreed.

That’s how it had happened. Of course, when you had gasped seeing Charlie loitering about the dungeons and not Bill, he had explained to you that “Bill’s busy. Completely forgot about the essay he put away for the last day. Woke me up ten minutes ago, to be honest.”

The dungeons are damp, cold, and quiet. Your footsteps echo off of the walls and short ceiling, almost creating vertigo. It’s dark. No light, just a dim glow of the glossy walls. He can’t make out your face, just your silhouette, and even then only after a while of walking in complete darkness. It is a bit eerie. You can’t afford to shine Lumos – that might give you away. If Snape is even anywhere near these parts, he would surely notice the odd change in lighting.

He grows unease by the minute. You are uncharacteristically quiet. Granted, you might just be scared to speak in case of a spy lurking about, but still, not even a comment? Joke? Inquiry? Completely unlike you, and he knows you well enough by now that you are a chatter box that will argue her way into her grave so having you not whispering or giggling is highly disturbing. He figures you are scared. That’s fine’. He is, too.

“Don’t worry.” His voice never grows higher the sound of your soft footsteps, as his hand, clumsily grasps yours in the dark, “I’m here.”

Your fingers intertwine with his firmly, and he feels warmth spread through his whole body, “You were so silent that I forgot.” You murmur. He practically hears you smiling.

The walk to the secret chamber grows ridiculously short. He feels as if he had just gotten used to feeling your small hand in his when, inevitably, he had to let you go. The passage way had opened with a charm that fell from your lips and a spark from your wand. Once the two of you entered, it closed shut behind you, solid as stone and as if never there to begin with.

The room is airy and cool; a familiar lilac glow illuminates the scarce décor and he has to shut his eyes hurriedly as they sting from the sudden change in lighting, Once he adjusts, he is alert and ready to assist you. He finds you immersed in some letters found in a nearby bin.

“This…” You start, eyeing the papers warily, “Might take a while.”

Charlie shrugs with a sympathetic smile, “I’ve got time.” He assures you.

“Up for some light reading?”

“Define light.”

“Thousands of pages.”

“…Can I skim?”

“If you find the map or at least an allusion to it, you can eat these papers for all I care.”

“Don’t say that to Barnaby. He might be tempted.”

He felt emotionally and physically beaten after thirty minutes or so. The letters you had given him were mostly about books and taxes and other boring things alike, and before long he had sat down onto the ground. There are no seats here, after all, and the floor is hardly the most comfortable, but it beats standing. What is more, he is tired, and sleepy, and if it was not for the pinching cold he is reminded of each time he exhales a puff of smoke, he would surely be snoring.

He notes you squirm after a while. You had been sitting next to him, then away, and then close by again, lastly you had laid down, but even then your attempts were futile. It was painful watching you. So ridden with stress, sleep deprivation, and his feelings for you, he had, without even contemplating, suggested that—

“You can sit in my lap.” That promptly woke him up; choked up, he added, “I already carried you…so…it’s like that. Just…I’m sitting. And it’s cold. I could start a fire, though.” He suggests awkwardly, a bright red blush blooming on his freckled cheeks. You simply stare at him, void of words, the letters between your fingers long forgotten. After a pause, he notes you blush like a rose and nod shakily. You pick yourself off of the ground – and the letters that spill from your grasp – and make your way to him. He watches you approach with a racing heart. Merlin, why can’t he be cool and collected like Bill is?!

Your body is like a furnace, heating his frosted fingers and making him smile shyly into your shoulder. His arms wrap around your waist and your back hits his chest. You hurriedly pull the parchment to hide your face, and he wonders can you even read anything from so close. He catches a whiff of your perfume and his heart skips a beat. Really, this was not a good idea. How will he focus now?!

“…Hey…Charlie?” You squeak. He clears his throat.

“Yes, (Name)?”

“You know… The Yule Ball is coming up, and I…wasn’t planning on going, but...” You tilt your head to get a look at him; once your eye meets his, your lips quirk upwards into a lovely smile, “If…you wanted to go…”

“I best get my suit ready, then.” He grins at you, squeezing you closer. With a pleased smile you turn back to the letters, “But…shouldn’t I be the one to ask you?”

“Were you going to?”

“Well…no—“

“My point exactly.”

 BONUS:

The windows are dotted with snowflakes; outside a storm rages over the castle, icy wind howling. A glimpse of it can be caught once doors open. It is usually Hagrid carrying Christmas decorations, or an occasional pine tree.  Festive music echoes in the halls. The students whisper amongst themselves what they will do on holiday, who they will invite to the dance. The atmosphere is sweet and gleeful. Couples in love use the odd mistletoe to smooch and be screamed at by Prefects and teachers alike.

It’s late in the evening and you had just picked up some Potions books from the Library once you ran into Bill. If you hadn’t known any better, you’d say he was waiting for you to emerge. You greet him with a smile as you pull the heavy tombs closer to your chest. He returns the grin with a nervous twitch, and falls into step with you. The two of you chat the whole way to the staircase leading to the dungeons, where you stop to give him a quick hug. Once you turn to leave he calls after you, breathless, a question leaving his lips.

“Do you want to go to the Yule Ball with me?”

You freeze in place. Gulping, a tad saddened to be the bearer of bad news, you look at him helplessly, offering an apologetic smile, “Oh, I’m sorry, Bill…But…Someone already asked me…” You admit, “And I said yes.”

His face crumbles a bit, but he soon glosses over the obvious hurt of rejection with a cheery, “Oh! Well, save me a dance, then. Catch you later?”

“I’m sorry, Bill—“

But he’s already on his way back to the Gryffindor Common Room.

 requests:  can you do a cute lil charlie weasley x mc?? it can be about anything tbh,, i just love him so much and i adore your writing!!! /  Your “won’t he?” gave me soooo many feelings! In the part 1 I saw you hint (sort of) a Charlie/Reader. I love Charlie since forever, so could you write a OS with him, pretty please? /  HEY ITS ME THE CHARLIE/MC ANON IVE HEAD REQUESTS ARE OPEN gfgfhg so if its really ok to request what about charlie with the biggest crush on mc ( a slytherin girl like in won't he? ) and just. he is such a dork. idek what to write im too excited just plz gimme lovesick charlie fghgh /  OMGGGG YOUR HOWARTS MYSTERY FANFICS ARE SO GOOD ITS JUST..AHH! SO SO CUTE! BUT broke my heart with bill, i do love felix ❤❤❤ but what if you try write a what if bill did tell her how he felt?? or more a one shot where charlie finally got the guts to talk and spend time with mc??? its all so good i cant wait for more! /  Heyyy can you write a Charlie Weasley from hogwarts mystery please? /  can we please get some charlie weasley fics going ? or one shots ? 😩 hphm charlie has me head over heels 😭

forever tags: @scarletraine- @brahwhytho- @smilesfromabove- @pharaohkiller - @victoriaelvendorkweasley-@onehellofdevilotaku- @eyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy- @phillipas00- @xxcrowfeatherxx- @cupcakestyleshood- @invisibilityrocks- @nephalem67 - @chwechwechwe - @porpentyna - @lesbianheartbreaker - @banjosanjo - @madswheelers - @sombodymaybeawatson - @disneyfanatic77 - @superanonymousreader - @aliypop​ - @slytherinyour-chambers - @onehellofdevilotaku - @victoriaelvendorkweasley - @pharaohkiller - @smilesfromabove - @brahwhytho - @scarletraine

[pesachyonah-blog1]

Winter is Coming And It’s OK

“.וַיֵּשְׁתְּ מִן-הַיַּיִן, וַיִּשְׁכָּר; וַיִּתְגַּל, בְּתוֹךְ אָהֳלֹה” Genesis 9:21 - “And [Noah] drank from the wine [he had made] and became drunk; and he was revealed within is tent.”

The “revealed” I italicized is the standard translation and it makes perfect sense in context. However, the Classical Sages of blessed memory noted that the Hebrew word “וַיִּתְגַּל” (also italicized above, and often pronounced va’yitgal), here translated as “revealed,” could also be understood to mean “exiled.” What does this have to do with winter? I’ll start with a story.

As many of you know, I didn’t grow up Orthodox but chose to become “observant” in my late 20s. When I first went to Jerusalem in August 1999 and started learning at a place called Machon Shlomo, I was in a very depressed place. In fact, my main motivation for deciding to become religious may have been sheer desperation; I no longer felt I deserved to live except by serving God as I understood that service. 

What I didn’t and couldn’t have understood at the time was that I had a large amount of subconscious resentment about feeling forced to change my life so radically. Believe me, it was radical - my decision to begin keeping Kosher by itself upended my life and my relationship with the rest of my family in ways that we struggle with even now. Not to mention the fact that may brother had already intermarried two years previously. My sister in law is a really lovely woman, but I understand fully how much my brother and sister in law must have felt threatened by my embrace of a perspective that, to put it lightly, really really disapproved of my brother’s choice of spouse. Throw in my own natural passive aggression mixed with conflict aversion, I just couldn’t commit myself fully to prioritizing my religiosity over my relationship with my family. 

Once I was in yeshiva, this tension was very hard for me to deal with - especially after I came back to America shortly before Purim in 2000 - not on official yeshiva “vacation” time, mind you, and against my teachers’ advice - to celebrate my brother’s 30th birthday party. The end result was that even though I was in a very peaceful and liberated situation filled with astonishing intellectual and spiritual growth, my depression never went away. I still couldn’t commit to the radical degree of self-transformation I saw in some of my classmates. I was jealous in particular of the reward their higher commitment had brought them: much better success and growth in their learning. 

And so, my depression didn’t get better even though I was now doing exactly what I thought I was supposed to be doing, namely, learning with near-total immersion how to be the better Jew and servant of God that I felt I had to be in order to justify my continued existence. 

A year at Machon Shlomo, and most other yeshivas for that matter, begins with a great deal of anticipation and festivity. Students show up a few weeks before Rosh Hashana, and then spend the next three weeks in a frenzy of consecutive “holyday” activity. Two days of Rosh Hashana, seven days of dread, Yom Kippur, followed five days later by more than a week’s worth of consecutive joyous festivities - Sukkot (Tabernacles) and Shemini Atzeret (the eighth day “assembly” holiday following 7 days of Sukkot) slash Simchat Torah (the joyous celebration of the Torah). Believe me, it’s a *very* busy time.

And then it stops. Life goes back to normal, and even Chanukah two months later isn’t that much of a change. The initial buzz wears off, and the students are now faced with the hard work of maintaining their focus through the winter, while Jerusalem becomes increasingly wet and dreary. I found this long period particularly difficult because of my underlying depression. And I cannot imagine that I’m the only person ever to have become religious and ended up in Machon Shlomo (or one of a number of similar institutions in Jerusalem for the newly observant) while also dealing with major depression, and particularly depression that, like in my case, played a major role in their decision to become more observant.

So what does all of this have to do with Noah getting drunk? Here’s a syllogistic explanation.

1) Noah was clearly suffering from PTSD after the Ark. For instance, he didn’t leave the Ark until God told him to, even though I imagine that anyone of normal  mental health would have wanted to get out as soon as possible. Similarly, God promised not to repeat the flood, but then God had to create the rainbow to really convince Noah to trust that promise. And then there's the whole business of ceasing and desisting from the child-bearing and Earth-spreading God commanded to Noah and his family. What did Noah do instead? He planted grapes, fermented wine, and got drunk enough that he was too stupefied to notice his middle son Ham doing something that embarrassed Noah enough to make him curse Ham once he woke up. (That recent Darren Aronofsky flick starring Russell Crowe, Jennifer Connolly, and Emma Watson, actually depicts the Sages’ perspective on the tail end of Noah’s story quite faithfully, actually.)

2) Then there’s the interpretation I mentioned at the beginning that Noah became “exiled” rather than “revealed” [in his nakedness]. Exiled from what? The Sages in their exigeses understood that according to this interpretation, Noah became somehow exiled from a perception of God’s love and compassion. Furthermore, look at the verse’s order - the exile comes *before* the drunkenness, i.e., Noah drank as a response to his inner pain from no longer feeling connected to divine love and compassion. That inner pain was Noah’s own projection. God never told Noah explicitly that he was a failure - Noah just assumed that God no longer loved him because he was a failure before God.

3) One of the things that Jews have incorporated into their Sabbath morning services for thousands of years is a public reading of a portion of the Torah called a “parsha;” each week the parsha advances through the five books of Moses. The cycle typically lasts a year and begins with the beginning of Genesis, on the Sabbath immediately following all of that holiday frenzy I mentioned earlier - which as it turns out, is two days from now this year. The story of Noah comes in the weekly parsha immediately following. In other words, we learn and think about Noah and his struggles right as Winter is Coming. 

So how do we put this all together? I believe that one of the functions the parsha of Noah serves is to remind everyone settling down for the long, dreary winter, that no matter how inadequate you feel, no matter how lost and depressed you feel, no matter how disconnected you might feel from a sense of divine love and compassion - God is still there, still loves you, still feels compassion towards you, and if you give into despair like Noah because you don't feel connected to or worthy of God’s love and compassion, that's entirely your projection. 

Yes, Winter is Coming, but you’ll be fine. Just remember that no matter how hard and dreary winter is, no matter how distant and disconnected and depressed you feel, God is still there for you.

May we all find strength and inner peace during the long months ahead.

[komatsunana]

Uncommon character dev asks for the main ladies in the lovely adventuring party: 2, 6, 11, 12, 14, 18, 21, 22, 23, 25, 26, 28, 29, 30. Feel free to split this up by character or number!

Hm, I’ll split it up by character since that makes more sense to me.

* means unofficial name(this was run, esp answering some of the questions I wasn’t sure of yet myself - thank you!)

Ausra:

2. Does your character have any noteworthy features? Freckles? Dimples? A scar somewhere unusual? etcShe has splotches of molten purple all over her skin from a deadly illness  (that I haven’t fully expanded on yet) in her youth. She has a special paint that she puts on the center of her forehead that would change from blue to red if the illness became active and contagious.

6. If you were to pick one song — and only one song — to describe your character, what would it be and why?She’s one of the characters that building a playlist has been hardest for. I dubiously say Warning Call by CHVRCHES11. What do they think of creation? Do they believe in evolution or do they believe in God? What is their religion like?

Gods in this world are all ascended mortals but are just a fact of life, nothing to dispute since interaction with them is pretty frequent. I’m unsure of how this world approaches Creation and evolution atm. Despite growing up in a religious setting though, Ausra serves no god/deses personally and is embittered by them.

12. Describe 5 unusual characteristics your muse has.- Always wears her hair in a tight ponytail to keep her hair out of her face but ponytails give her a headache and headaches make her cranky. She’s always cranky. This might be connected.- Her cooking has healing abilities.- Has very good luck.-  The most important thing you need to know about her? Accent: Valley girl.

14. Are they a team player or do they prefer to be solo?Will do anything to ensure the people around her survive to her own detriment (which is often to their detriment as well) but she is difficult to work with in a team and is prone to making things more difficult for everyone by complaining.

18. Are they a leader, do they prefer to follow, or would they rather just stay on the sidelines altogether?She makes a difficult leader but she’s hardly a follower and questions everything. Her only concern is getting everyone under her protection out alive and unharmed and she’ll sacrifice a mission to ensure that.

21. Your character has been granted 3 wishes; what would they wish for and why?N/A22. Does your character trust people right off the bat or does it take them some time to warm up to someone?She doesn’t hold people at arms’ length from lack in trust in others but lack of trust in herself.

23. Do they prefer romance or affection? What is the quickest way to your character’s heart?She’s very affection starved but it’s hard for her to accept it.  The easiest way to heart is probably just acquiescing to her fussing for a bit and then thanking her - that’ll gobsmack her. So’s a big appetite, especially if someone asks for seconds of her food - not that she’ll give it.

25. Do they have any weird bedroom habits? Any unusual kinks?Tbh, my OCs are like my kids so I haven't really thought about it deeply. Just taking a quick think on it… Ausra has a tendency to doctor people and not in sexy way.  I can see that following her into the bedroom. Shirts come off and she feels a lump and she’s like “Gotta get that checked out.”  Might be into hair-pulling? idk

26. How does your character prepare for bed? Do they sleep at all or can they stay awake for days on end without trouble?She has a whole bedtime routine with tea and scented lotions. She sleeps easily and quickly - helped by her aforementioned bedtime routine. She doesn’t want to let her own exhaustion cause anyone else’s death so she ensures she gets enough sleep.

28. Are they afraid of death? Do they have any regrets?Despite having a bit of a death wish and feels guilty for surviving through several events for which she was the only survivor for, she desperately wants to live.  She regrets surviving at the expense of others though.

29. Does your character get restless when things are too quiet or do they favour solitude and silence? Why?She says she hates when things are hectic but she tends to wallow if she’s left in solitude and silence too long, stewing in her own guilt.

30. Finally; if your character was forced to eat one thing for the rest of their life, what would they choose and why?Probably potatoes lmao. Because they contain all the necessary nutrients to live and she’d know that. She’d hate it though.

Baby:

2. Does your character have any noteworthy features? Freckles? Dimples? A scar somewhere unusual? etcHas a facial scar that she tries to keep covered at all times. Gets sun freckles easily.

6. If you were to pick one song — and only one song — to describe your character, what would it be and why?I have plenty of choices on her playlist, but I gotta go with P!nk’s So What

11. What do they think of creation? Do they believe in evolution or do they believe in God? What is their religion like?Rather than worship a Deity of the water or Ocean like most pirates, Baby worships the Ocean itself which is unusual.

12. Describe 5 unusual characteristics your muse has.- Hates carrying money and jewels and stuff - as a pirate it’s weird- Isn’t sure what she did but she’s definitely cursed from approaching the ocean rn - it’s like repelling a magnet and she bounces back- Always wears something that shows off either her boobs or legs… but it’s one or the other- As a former sex worker, she now uses their services herself- Baby is actually a diminutive petname from an ex that she kept when she became a pirate.

14. Are they a team player or do they prefer to be solo?She’s treated as if she’s a loose canon by the rest of the squad but she was first mate as a pirate and highly trusted by those under her employ - she’s always there for the team when it counts. 

18. Are they a leader, do they prefer to follow, or would they rather just stay on the sidelines altogether?She’s good at giving and following orders, but she cannot stay on the sidelines.21. Your character has been granted 3 wishes; what would they wish for and why?One of them would be to break the curse on her. Others are secrets.

22. Does your character trust people right off the bat or does it take them some time to warm up to someone?It takes time for her to trust people but she has a soft spot for abuse victims and children.

23. Do they prefer romance or affection? What is the quickest way to your character’s heart?After her ex-husband ran out on her leaving her in a bad position (after years of abuse), Baby tends to take the lead in her sexual ventures. She’s not looking for romance (rn), just to show women a good time.

25. Do they have any weird bedroom habits? Any unusual kinks?Hm, not much that I can think of that I haven’t already mentioned. She’s tried a lot of shit as a sex worker.  Doesn’t like mixing pleasure with pain in the least.

26. How does your character prepare for bed? Do they sleep at all or can they stay awake for days on end without trouble?Tends to go until she passes out.

28. Are they afraid of death? Do they have any regrets?Her only fear is never being near the ocean again.

29. Does your character get restless when things are too quiet or do they favour solitude and silence? Why?She loves partying but the quiet doesn’t bother her - it’s good for her to ground herself sometimes and actually think ‘cause otherwise she acts on her emotions.

30. Finally; if your character was forced to eat one thing for the rest of their life, what would they choose and why?Idk, some kind of fish dish. I don’t know anything about eating fish though so I can’t answer more than that right now.

Coda:

2. Does your character have any noteworthy features? Freckles? Dimples? A scar somewhere unusual? etcSpoiler. :3

6. If you were to pick one song — and only one song — to describe your character, what would it be and why?Applause by Lady Gaga

11. What do they think of creation? Do they believe in evolution or do they believe in God? What is their religion like?Her whole deal is convincing other people to worship her and to ascend to godhood.

12. Describe 5 unusual characteristics your muse has.- Even her appearance is a lie- Won’t let anyone touch her- All of her speeches are pre-written- Writes hymns and shit for her followers to sing- Tends to prefer the underdog

14. Are they a team player or do they prefer to be solo?She’s a team player by necessity but she’ll take credit for ensuring the other’s success by her divine power. 

18. Are they a leader, do they prefer to follow, or would they rather just stay on the sidelines altogether?Well she’s trying to be the ultimate leader.  She’s been a follower before and she’ll never stay on the sidelines ever again.

21. Your character has been granted 3 wishes; what would they wish for and why?She spent a long time trying to find wishes and miracles to bring back to life the 3 most important people in her life.  Now she’d just use all three wishes to become a god, because she knows the primary wishes are impossible.

22. Does your character trust people right off the bat or does it take them some time to warm up to someone?Trusts absolutely no one and feels constantly persecuted.

23. Do they prefer romance or affection? What is the quickest way to your character’s heart?After a childhood of isolation, despite being in her 30′s, Coda is very childlike when it comes to love. She still just craves family, rather than romance. Sees the worship and faith of her followers as love.

25. Do they have any weird bedroom habits? Any unusual kinks?Covers up completely so no one can see her as she sleeps.

26. How does your character prepare for bed? Do they sleep at all or can they stay awake for days on end without trouble?See previous. Also she *needs* her beauty sleep.

28. Are they afraid of death? Do they have any regrets?She doesn’t fear death, wants oblivion. Regrets? She has those.

29. Does your character get restless when things are too quiet or do they favour solitude and silence? Why?She can lay up on the act she’s playing when she is alone so she doesn’t mind it.

30. Finally; if your character was forced to eat one thing for the rest of their life, what would they choose and why?idk................ Grapes?

Esca:

2. Does your character have any noteworthy features? Freckles? Dimples? A scar somewhere unusual? etcHer eyes are milky white and hair is oily.

6. If you were to pick one song — and only one song — to describe your character, what would it be and why?Beekeepeer by Keaton Henson

11. What do they think of creation? Do they believe in evolution or do they believe in God? What is their religion like?Serves Goddess of Death, as her family has always done.

12. Describe 5 unusual characteristics your muse has.- Never left the forest she grew up in- Leads people through the forest for money but if she doesn’t like them she’ll let them get killed by the animals that live there- Had a lantern named Ghostlight with magical properties- Found her son abandoned as a baby

14. Are they a team player or do they prefer to be solo?Solo.

18. Are they a leader, do they prefer to follow, or would they rather just stay on the sidelines altogether? - Prefers the sidelines - leaving the sidelines to find her son right now.

21. Your character has been granted 3 wishes; what would they wish for and why?Specifics are secrets, but they’d all be for her son’s benefit.

22. Does your character trust people right off the bat or does it take them some time to warm up to someone?Doesn’t really even know how to relate to people. Has good intuition.

23. Do they prefer romance or affection? What is the quickest way to your character’s heart?N/A

25. Do they have any weird bedroom habits? Any unusual kinks?N/A

26. How does your character prepare for bed? Do they sleep at all or can they stay awake for days on end without trouble?Can go as long as needed without sleep without being impeded upon.  Can sleep sitting up and will wake up at the slightest hint of danger.

28. Are they afraid of death? Do they have any regrets?She serves death so no. She just wants to be laid to rest with her lantern to guide her into death. Has many regrets for how she raised her son.

29. Does your character get restless when things are too quiet or do they favour solitude and silence? Why?Prefers solitude because it’s what she’s used to - being around people is overwhelming.

30. Finally; if your character was forced to eat one thing for the rest of their life, what would they choose and why?Idk like.......... Venison?

Helga*:

2. Does your character have any noteworthy features? Freckles? Dimples? A scar somewhere unusual? etcShe doesn’t have any birthmark tattoos which is noteworthy because her people all do.  She also has 4 scars over her lips, where something big clawed her face.

6. If you were to pick one song — and only one song — to describe your character, what would it be and why?Augustine by Vienna Teng

11. What do they think of creation? Do they believe in evolution or do they believe in God? What is their religion like?Serves the Goddess of Justice.  A relatively newly ascended Goddess, it’s a small community..

12. Describe 5 unusual characteristics your muse has.- You’ve heard of the mom friend… now meet the grandma friend! Knits in her spare time and always has hard candy on her.- Won’t shut up about religion- Trying to purge herself of her feelings of love for someone she shouldn’t love- Has multiple step siblings, doesn’t know who her mom- Teaches civilians how to defend themselves in her spare time

14. Are they a team player or do they prefer to be solo?She’s a great team player unless the team is doing something against her morality. Then she’s impossible.

18. Are they a leader, do they prefer to follow, or would they rather just stay on the sidelines altogether? A good leader, a better follower. She’ll stay at the sidelines if commanded to.

21. Your character has been granted 3 wishes; what would they wish for and why?She’d want to wish away her romantic, ‘sinful’ feelings but she’d feel that was selfish. She’d make her wishes all for the good of others and re-double efforts to rid herself of her feelings.

22. Does your character trust people right off the bat or does it take them some time to warm up to someone?She gives all people the respect they deserve - if those in authority are not using their power kindly she dispatches them. Warms up pretty easily, but doesn’t let people in necessarily.

23. Do they prefer romance or affection? What is the quickest way to your character’s heart?She denies herself romance, but if the right woman swept her off her feet…

25. Do they have any weird bedroom habits? Any unusual kinks?Her culture has many customs, including touching fingers or even hands to each other’s necks be the ultimate form of intimacy and trust. I just want to take this moment to say it’s not a breathplay thing lol.

26. How does your character prepare for bed? Do they sleep at all or can they stay awake for days on end without trouble?Always bathes before bed if possible. Wears special silk armor for pajamas. Likes to have a bed time because she likes routine but can skip it if needed. Doesn’t sleep much regardless. Typically goes to bed after midnight and gets up before the sun rises.

28. Are they afraid of death? Do they have any regrets?No fear for death. The only regrets she would hold is that she could never quench her secret desires.29. Does your character get restless when things are too quiet or do they favour solitude and silence? Why?Likes her solitude but she enjoys the distraction that other people provide.

30. Finally; if your character was forced to eat one thing for the rest of their life, what would they choose and why?Idk probably some kind of bread in connection with her Goddess.

Lois*:

2. Does your character have any noteworthy features? Freckles? Dimples? A scar somewhere unusual? etcUh, probably has dimples. Maybe freckles. Definitely has a prominent cowlick. 

6. If you were to pick one song — and only one song — to describe your character, what would it be and why?Shoot I don’t have a playlist for her...... Idk something like Hero by Pegboard Nerds

11. What do they think of creation? Do they believe in evolution or do they believe in God? What is their religion like?Serves a Cow Farming God or something like that

12. Describe 5 unusual characteristics your muse has.- Middle child of 13- 28-ish and has never left her family farm until now- When I say family farm, that includes extended family - her farm has 200+ people and all of them are related to her or married in or want to- Befriended the Giants living behind her family farm eventually- Family loves and supports her and she gets care packages on the road

14. Are they a team player or do they prefer to be solo?She thinks she’s ready to go for either but she tends to get into trouble when she’s alone.

18. Are they a leader, do they prefer to follow, or would they rather just stay on the sidelines altogether? She’s not ready to lead.... yet. She’s a total Shounen Hero though and gains peoples respect and trust easily.

21. Your character has been granted 3 wishes; what would they wish for and why?N/A

22. Does your character trust people right off the bat or does it take them some time to warm up to someone?Trusts people implicitly - due to an upbringing with virtually no hardships - distrust is earned instead over time.  Except with Family Cow Secrets. She trusts no one with those lmao

23. Do they prefer romance or affection? What is the quickest way to your character’s heart?Wants to sweep a girl off her feet like a real hero.

25. Do they have any weird bedroom habits? Any unusual kinks?Idk would probably be into roleplaying in bed

26. How does your character prepare for bed? Do they sleep at all or can they stay awake for days on end without trouble?Gotta get into her jammies and drink a glass of warm milk every night. She’s used to a happier and cushier life than the others but she’s always used to not getting a lot of sleep and doesn’t lose steam easy.

28. Are they afraid of death? Do they have any regrets?Doesn’t really think about death much - probably doesn’t realize she can die. No regerts!

29. Does your character get restless when things are too quiet or do they favour solitude and silence? Why?Likes when things are exciting and fun but she uses the quiet to study and write in her journal/letters to her family

30. Finally; if your character was forced to eat one thing for the rest of their life, what would they choose and why?Cow’s milk from her family’s dairy farm.