#make my muse fess up meme

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

how do you come up with fic/series titles?

most of it is really leap frogging along vibes until I find a combination of words that I think sound cool

i’ve included explanations of how i came to the titles i did below, because i am avoiding doing any actual work

nature has taught her creatures to hate: this is the first one I named, and also the one that I’d probably change if I could. Technically I can, this is my city, but I don’t actually want to change it—it’s been nhthcth for too long and it’s set. For this, I knew the “vibe” I wanted, and that was a sort of learned desperation/defensiveness. Like, that was key to nhthcth underlying messages—people aren’t naturally doing the things they’re doing in it, they make choices, and a lot of the choices are coerced under extreme pressure. I just googled around for poems until I found this poem, which is a poem about climate change, and how nature had been taught to hate by mankind’s disregard to it. It had the exact vibes I wanted—of this sort of uncaring capriciousness that made monsters of previously innocent things, and that may turn around and bite it’s creator in the ass. But I’ve abandoned the practice or like, using lines of poetry entirely, I dunno, it feels too long and clunky and pretentious now

gaslight gatekeep girlboss/it’s not a whore HOUSE it’s a whore HOME: these were just memes whose tongue-in-cheek vibe were perfect for the vibe of the fic/series. like, guillermo and nadja are the gaslight gatekeep girlboss of the main cast. the sequel (which will happen i swear to god, i started writing it ages ago and will one day return) will showcase where lazlo, nandor, and colin robinson have been and it’s going to be manipulate mansplain malewife, which like--obviously nandor and lazlo of the main cast. the series title was also a meme that had the right vibes. like, they’re awful little nightmare sluts, all of them, but god bless this whore home. they’re a family and it is a bad one. 

flee from your ghosts (burn your house down): this is actually wirt’s and beatrice’s problem solving strategies. god, i love beatrice and wirt. they’re both such ludicrous people. they’re so bad at life in opposite ways. wirt is a total waffler. he sits and he composes poetry and he makes deep philosophical musings and he’s soooo fucking late to the party every time. he spends too long thinking things over and misses the right moment to action. like, he had to literally almost die before giving an oboe mixtape to his crush. part of his journey is overcoming that, but i like to think he retains that quality to a more healthy degree.  beatrice, meanwhile, rushes in and is extremely effective--and then realizes too late that she fucked up. she chucks a rock at a bluebird and now her whole family is bluebirds. sure, let’s rob this fucking guy, the horse wants to do it too. let’s sacrifice this young boy to a witch, I have no qualms about this plan of action--whoopsie, now i like him and his brother, but i’ve spent this whole time lying to them and sort of leading them to doom. She takes immediate, drastic, and decisive action and it is always solving problems and making more problems. she’s the “burn your house down because there’s a spider” of women. I adore her. Wirt spends the entire fic tip-toeing around confronting his problems head on, because fundamentally, he’s running the entire time--from his memories of the unknown, his loss of beatrice, his concerns about whether he did right by his kids. he has to call his brother to come help him instead of telling the stans that it’s his fucking kids and they need to fess up like, yesterday. Beatrice, meanwhile, would have immediately burnt the fucking town to the ground until she got answers. she created more problems but by god she got the solution to the first one. and that’s immediately what she does upon her entry to the fic. she gets like, one scene and fucking immediately stabs someone. she asked no questions. she had no background information. she didn’t even know that this was a situation that like, called for stabbing. she is so lucky this wasn’t a minor disagreement she misread and killed a man over. i love them both. as people they should not exist.  

these stupid hells we keep: this one didn’t take much thinking. The key underlying vibe I wanted throughout this was that we trap ourselves. So much of stick’s brainwashing is about changing how you think in order to get you to effectively do his work for him and isolate yourself, hurt yourself, get yourself stuck in an extremely damaging mindset. But it’s also about how our traumas can effectively trap us inside ourselves, and how it can be really really difficult to let go of it even when we know they’re hurting us. Like, neither Matt nor Lisa want to let go of stick or his teachings. And, at the same time, a part of them doesn’t want to let go of the people they lost, no matter how hard much pain and suffering goes towards exactly that. They’re in this perpetual hell of self-conflict--not able to let go of stick, but also not able to let go of the people that they lost, who stick wants them to let go of. eventually, frank’s joining this party, and his own torment, guilt, and trauma over his family has effectively trapped him in a hell of his own. I added the word “stupid” to sort of trivialize and add a sort of self-frustrated element to their suffering, because that’s what they do themselves.

ghosts haunting other ghosts: the vibe I wanted was one of Frank and Lisa constantly serving as each other’s hauntings. In the punisher, micro calls both him and Frank “ghosts” from their mutual legal state of deadness. Lisa, in that sense, is a “ghost,” because the DA effectively falsified the reports. but, in another very real sense, frank is the one haunting lisa. The moment of watching her father get shot is the one that repeats throughout the story. he was holding her when he died. he was trying to protect her. he’s the one that she carries with her. and we know, in the same way, Frank’s carrying lisa with him, and is haunted by her in an identical way. he thinks she died in his arms. he thinks that he refused to read her bedtime story on her last day on the planet. lisa’s father telling her that she’s going to be okay is her functional equivalent of frank’s penny and dime rhyme. so you have these two people who are effectively haunting each other with deaths that never happened--ghosts haunting other ghosts

therianthropy (and other goddamn lies): this required more bouncing. this fic's vibe was like, werewolf but the problem is it isn’t a werewolf. snake oil salesman for werewolves. like, stick effectively promised them a transformation. that, at the end of his training, they wouldn’t be the people who were hurt anymore. that got me to the werewolf vibe of like--physical transmogrification into something else. so i went to the wikipedia page for werewolves and found out the process of magical transformation is called therianthropy. that’s a fun word. let’s use that. but the problem is the fic isn’t about the transformation, it’s about the fact that there was no transformation. the promised transformation was a lie, and matt’s still grappling with that. he will always be the person who got hurt. there is no way to undo that. the word “goddamn” added a certain bitterness to it. a part of matt still wishes that stick’s promises were true. 

the first step of kintsugi: so, this entire fic came out of a general dissatisfaction with how MCU peter parker existed, but specifically with how infantilized he became in fandom and how interpersonal relationships were handled. Like. His relationship with happy and Tony really weren’t healthy, particularly at the start. And they could have been healthy if it their problems were actually addressed and like, fixed. I’m also a big believer in catharsis? Like, air out your shit. Break down the bad shit and rebuild it to be better. get a good relationship out of it. So the vibe was “breaking and rebuilding to be better” and there’s a very pretty real-life thing that’s evocative of that--kintsugi pottery, where you fix broken pots with pretty gold lines and it looks cooler and better than the original pot. but, before you can get to the gorgeous gold pottery, you have to complete the first step--which is to break the fucking pot. 

pottery shards: I named the series after i named the first story. I realized that this would follow like, three complete, self-contained arcs--breaking, rebuilding, and an aftermath arc. i called it pottery shards because that’s the consistent part throughout--whether it’s breaking it into shards or gluing it back together, that’d be the unifying feature. 

porcelain chips: so, the character study divergences weren’t really planned. but the ones that we have so far are all part of the “breaking” part--showing how characters ended up the way they did, how they got to the flawed, imperfect, messy bit. porcelain chips was titled because it was meant to be all the little moments that became peter’s origin story. and i didn’t think it was just the one, definitive, climactic loss of ben that made spider-man--i think it was a thousand little things chipping away at him until he became spider-man. porcelain is something that has such lovely, delicate, beautiful vibes--and it’s something that may get chipped with little imperfections over years of use. It ends up with years of little moments sort of embedded into it. And having too many chips is a reason why someone may make the decision to smash it once and for all, and repair it with kintsugi. 

glaze defects: so, a glaze defect is a mistake that happens while it’s in the process of firing pottery. it’s also a reason why someone may make the decision to smash pottery for kintsugi repair. but, unlike chipped porcelain, it’s more of a “inherent” defect. It was a way of distinguishing peter’s struggles from matt’s. peter was a collection of little moments in his life--the cost of the epi-pen, wanting ben to be proud of him, etc--whereas matt’s always been treated like he was inherently defective. Peter is hurt externally, but matt is treated like he’s internally flawed, which is why we spend so much time talking about buck v bell. 

acts of contrition: so, i have no idea how much of catholicism is like, common knowledge, but an act of contrition is the name of a prayer. it’s the last prayer you say in a confessional, before you’re forgiven. that was the entire vibe of this story, because se this is sort of the last act before forgiveness. it’s jack finding matt and matt finding jack again. and a big theme throughout the entire series is going to be forgiveness and the feeling that you don’t have it yet. so we ended up with the title being named after the prayer that comes before forgiveness. 

toy rosaries: so there’s a bunch of different versions of the act of contrition (almost all prayers have multiple versions, I think it’s a translation thing), but the one I grew up with had this part that had some variation of “and I have greatly sinned, in what I have done, and in what i have failed to do.” and that sentiment was another huge vibe of it, because these are two people who are deeply sorry for everything they’ve done and the things they didn’t do also. But, i hated it. I didn’t want to call the title “what i have done and what i have failed to do.” it’s too long and clunky and pretentious sounding. so i just spent a really long time jumping around vibes until i found the title i liked. i wanted to keep the prayer theme, because catholicism barfed all over this story. i toyed around with like, bedtime prayers or something for a while, but it just didn’t fit. i feel like most people know what a rosary is, but that may be the catholic upbringing, so for those who don’t know, a rosary is a prayer counter. you have to say the same prayer ten times in a row, and you have five sets of it, with a few other prayers interspersed. the rosary beads just tell you what prayer you’re on. and i really liked that vibe of repetition, because looking for matt is borderline a repetitious act for jack. it’s the same thing on repeat. read the same files, have the same nightmares, look for him down every street. and it has a certain prayerful fervor to it that i thought felt well. i added the word toy because it had a sort of childhood vibe to it, and the fear  that jack expresses throughout this, the fear of being unforgivable, is very young--and i want to be clear, that’s not synonymous with childish or immature. he’s dealing with complex, adult emotions and guilt, but i feel like this idea that we’re beyond forgiveness is something that we first experience at a very young age. like a little kid hiding because they broke something and they don’t think they can be fixed. the idea that we are forgivable is something that’s taught to us--and sometimes parents, like jack’s parents, don’t teach it to us. so i added the word “toy” to give it that sort of young aspect--and, it’s important to note, that there’s really no such thing as a toy rosary. you have tiny kid rosaries that are made of rubber or something, but prayer beads are just prayer beads. it’s not gonna suddenly be a toy. and a lot of jack’s guilt isn’t real either. he has all of these fantasies of matt rebuking him the moment he has him back, and he repeats them to himself again and again like a prayer, but that’s not real. so it made me really like the vibes, and i ended up with that title. 

[ducknotinarow]

❤️- For a secret crush ( C'mon, Moxxie - SPILL :'3 )

| Make my muse fess up

Moxxie heard the question and from the pure shock that came over him, the imp felt the coffee from his cup well go in the reverse as his body seemed to be so taken by what he was asked. Coffee soon spurted out from his mouth as the imp doubled over leaning against the counter beside him as he was trying his best to get it all out of him. The last thing he needed was to drow on his coffee order. Reached for the napkins nearby as he start to wipe his mouth and the counter beside him. "Oh crumbs I'm sorry!" he called out to the workers, he felt awful that they would have to clean up after him dropping the napkins onto the ground so the wad could start to soak up his mess as he next looked over his clothes. "Oh please don't stain I can not go into work looking a mess Blitz already gives me a hard enough time as it is" he complained to himself. Sure the coffee spill was something he needed to deal with in the moment but it also meant he didn't have to answer the question posed to him, he thought as he went to blot a napkin to his shirt doing his best not to let the coffee set into his clothes and create a strain. That would be worse than just looking a mess, his shirt was so nice! he spent a lot on it just so he would look professional! "No, I don't have a secret crush on anyone" he went to explain, and yet despite his words...Striker's face flashed in his mind.

He sighed out and rolled his eyes "no one especially wanna be cowboy's" He signed with uh that was pretty specific for someone claiming he wasn't crushing on anyone? Gathering up his mass of napkins. "Stupid I think I'm better than you smug ass jerk, and why cause he knows how to work with guns and knives, smart enough to keep a knife on him. Sure it's hot how well equipped he can be and he's good about making sure he can always get out so fine props there for being smart enough to plan ahead as well I guess." Missing over the fact he admitted they were hot and even went on to compliment than "they still had thier hands on weapons they shouldn't have, okay sure it's kind of impressive they got one but also knew how to use it okay fine. Clearly, unlike some imp in wrath, it seems Striker is far smarter" Fumbling the napkins in his hold as he tried to shove them into the trash bin, Striker was fully on his mind now making his face grow hot and fast. "Look I can simply point out another good trait that's it! Even if he is the worse and I never want to see his gorgeous face again!"

[madamhatter]

3, 4, 5, 6, 12!

Vanilla “Sunday” Headcanon Ask Meme | accepting 

“Absolutely abhorring how perfectly fine you are disclosing my private details. Goodness, why must you be so open to sharing it?!”

3) Is your muse good at kissing? Are they experienced? 

While she has her fair share of being physically experienced, and having a handful of partners while in secondary school, she happens to be well-versed in initiating and using all of her body to affect a kiss. But, she is very inexperienced with French kissing, for example, and also being on the receiving end of kisses.

She is familiar and, actually, quite good at kissing someone, be it casually or soon-to-be escalating to something else. She begins at locations that are her partners’ preferred or sensitive spots like along the jawline, neck, or cheeks. Though, she isn’t shy from directly kissing someone and working on maneuvering her partner to rely and follow her actions and movement. The intensity would grow at her pace, as she is giving the utmost importance to do what her partner likes, and it can then spill out to making out (if her partner gave the word/the cue for it). 

She also happens to love and tends to give a bonus with her kisses (when they’re a little more heated) like hickeys and bitemarks. 

4 Does your muse initiate a lot of physical contact?

If not always on guard and creating a persona that naturally distances her true self from others, the eldest daughter can be seen as someone that is nervous and hesitant towards any physical contact with most anyone. However, this is true when she is receiving the affection and any form of touch. 

She is majorly reproachful on receiving as her body naturally braces and freezes up/locks up in the moment that someone (who hasn’t forewarned her/may not know) places their hand(s) anywhere on her. Those are mere seconds before she returns to being reactive; she may even squeak (depending on the location) and quickly and quietly distance herself from the person before apologizing. 

That being said, Sophie is usually the partner of the relationship who addresses and approaches her partner for physical contact and quite a lot of it. It will take a while for her not to feel like she’s imposing herself and not consider herself as being a general nuisance to her partner. Being touch starved plus repressed causes quite a bit of hurdles for her.

But, no doubt, Sophie is a very much an initiator that will have passing affection for her partner. Hugging her partner from behind, kissing their neck, cheek, or hand, and resting her hand on top of their hand are a few examples of what she’d do. Never lasting too long, never too close, it is done at her own pace and would soon become more common as she overcomes certain items in her life. 

5 Is your muse comfortable with public displays of affection?

Attentive and ever suspicious and observant of her surroundings, the young woman is in a constant state of surveillance. Being out in public and acting in a way that will create a discrepency and unwanted attention (which, to her, is any) would not sit well with her as she’s already hesitant and nervous when going out by herself. She already created a system for her to navigate through where she lives or common locations she has to travel to outside of her home. This creates both comfort and security to her, despite the creeping anxiety that weighs on her. Whenever she is following this pattern, it ebbs away this feeling and keeps her relatively calm and functional. 

To put herself out there is a little too much on her, but with the addition of a companion (family member, friend, romantic partner, etc.), she is more than on-edge. She wouldn’t be all over someone or genuinely starting anything that could encourage her to make a sound or get face-to-face with someone. 

In the case of the S.O., she would resort to holding hands or hooking arms to keep eachother close and to keep from getting lost in crowds. Depending on the presence of people, and what she could estimate to be there, she can be actually be calmer and even exchange words of affection or teases into her partner’s ears. 

Still, do not expect her to do anything immediately out of her comfort zone or any “loud” displays of affection as she calls it.

6 Does your muse steal clothing from their partner?

Sophie Hatter is very respectful of boundaries and the property of other’s and her taking her partner’s clothes isn’t quite common for her to do at the beginning of a relationship. She wouldn’t ever do that thing with someone, no matter if they’ve been dating for quite a while. 

That is until she starts or has been living with them and/or they’re in a long-distance relationship. (*Or if she has to mend something for them; she doesn’t keep them for long but boy does she enjoy the time).

She may end up and usually taking shirts and jackets that her partner commonly wears. It wouldn’t ever be worn outside of her house (or their house). Not only that, Sophie would rather be sneaky about it and doesn’t fess up when it comes to missing clothing items. She is particular with what she takes and usually doesn’t take anything of “high interest” (meaning, something her partner doesn’t wear daily/not in season for them to wear). 

The thing is, she doesn’t often wear these items. Instead, she ends up balling them up or holding it against her when she’s asleep. While she claims to be someone who’s used to be being alone and states she doesn’t feel lonely, the latter is a far cry from reality. Spending all her time in the workshop and spending most of her life socially separated from her peers (and family) made her believe that she was fit for/meant for/accustomed to that lifestye. 

However, with the addition of a person so intimately close, emotionally and physically, the faults of her logic begin to show. Hence why she is one who’d lie and throw off any suspicion from her -- because she’s quite insecure about this fact she should be accepting. 

12 Is your muse easily flustered? Do they blush, swear, etc.?

No and yes. 

It depends with Sophie, given that she works a lot with her appearance and how she works with concealing herself/keeping up a persona. It is very rare for her to get flustered and taken offguard in situations where she prepared herself and steeled herself for certain locations and events. 

The best example would be how she handles (partial) nudity. If she’s at work tand needs to do measurements, she’s unresponsive to seeing extra skin or any implications of what’s underneath. If she’s having to patch up wounds, she still isn’t that responsive and is cooledheaded to handle the situation. Seeing someone showing off parts of their body won’t rouse something up in her; she just makes a deadpan expression before continuing on with her day. Romantic gestures and flirtations would also receive the same reactions. It would include verbal acknowledgement that conveys her tiredness and uncaring feelings towards it. The most important thing to note is that, through all of this, there is an emotional detachment/distance she places between herself and others.

However, Sophie is not immune to everything; she can get very flustered and it is one that can be either very quiet or very loud. It depends on whether or not she catches herself. If it something that she says and does, something fueled by her stubbornness or her bad habit to jump in action, she would be changing to the darkest shade of red known to mankind in that moment. Eyes averting, shoulders bracing, but she is attempting to keep herself composed over the matter. Though, if that person were to tease her, she will be quick to leave the scene or get away as soon as possible; she refuses to give them the satisfaction of witnessing her being so exposed! Now, she’ll be loud if she is caught off guard -- but it isn’t much of a shout or a scream. She literally squeaks from surprise and shrinks on the spot, drawing her hands to her chest, and is locked in place for some seconds or a minute before her brains starts working again. (In some cases, and it depends on the S.O., like if they have a habit of teasing her, she will stomp her foot right after and sweat quite a bit!)

Now, Sophie is easier flustered when it comes to her partner or someone she has romantic interest in. My goodness! She still has the similar habits as described before when she gets embarrassed/caught off-guard if her partner would scare her (she’ll squeak and hop a bit in her spot) or when her partner overloads their direct affection and attention on her (blush hard, trying to look away or keep up appearances). 

Depending on what the dynamic is too, she can be quite reserved on the receiving end of affection or even adamant to decline it unless she gives some in turn! I consider many of Sophie’s reactions to be her being unused to having affection reciprocated (or having any her way). It still remains the same that she does get very reactive underneath that facade she’s built for herself. 

[makerbound]

♛ fill in the blanks | fluff otp edition

Cassandra & Margaux Hawke

Who’s more likely to find who wearing their clothes?: Cassandra finds Hawke trying on her leather-padded armor once. It doesn’t fit. She’s too small. She looks ridiculous, and Cassandra laughs. Hawke laughs. 

Who initiates hand holding?: They both do; Hawke tends to do it more frequently, especially in public places.

Who likes having their hair washed by who?: Cassandra is a sucker for getting her hair washed. (Reminder that my Cassandra wears her hair long.)

Who likes to slow dance?: Definitely not Cassandra…unless in private. In private, it’s fine, but not where people are watching, Maker forbid.

Muse that’s more likely to fall asleep with their head in the others lap?: Hawke. Cassandra can’t fall asleep on other people; part of her would always stay on alert because she expects them to move. 

Muse that does all the cuddling in a blanket fort?: Hawke…

Who hogs most of the covers at night?: Hawke…if at all. Cassandra might notice but doesn’t care much, unless it’s a really cold night.

Muse who nuzzles the others shoulder to get them to give them a head rub?: Hawke. 

How do they share a desert? Two forks or one?: Whatever’s available; if there’s two forks on the table, then they use them, if there’s only one, then they share. If there’s none, then that’s fine too. 

Who gets jealous more easily?: Neither of them are the jealous type. They’ve seen too much of the world for that, or at least that’s Cassandra’s line of reasoning.

Who gets angered more easily?: Cassandra, but hoo boy, once Hawke’s reached her boiling point, you don’t want to mess with her. Cassandra learnt that early on because their first interactions where beyond tense. 

How do they go to sleep at night?: Independent of each other, usually, although they both try and stay awake until the other joins them.

Who gets the most shoulder rubs?: Cassandra; blame the armor.

What are there arguments/fights like? How often do they fight?: It’s rarely full-blown fights and more like bickering, teasing, maybe a day of tension.

Who is more likely to throw things in fights?: Probably Hawke.

How do they make it up to each other/apologize after an argument?: Cassandra isn’t the best with apologies, so she’ll try to say it without words: be extra attentive, leave little gifts for Hawke to find, stuff like that. 

Do they have nicknames for each other?: Cassandra sometimes calls her Margaux in private. It’s so rare it almost counts as a nickname, and it does feel intimate somehow.

Caring for each other while ill, how does the other muse go about it?: Extra attention, little gifts, shoulder rubs.

Who’s more likely to be patching the others wound?: Battle basics: Don’t go out without a healer mage. 

Muse that says ‘I told you so’, after they come home from the beach and other muse is burnt to a crisp while whining how bad it hurts for not listening and putting on sunblock after the other muse repeatedly told them they’d get burnt?: Cassandra.

Your otp has a newborn baby, who gets up in the middle of the night when he/she cries?: Cassandra would probably fret more, but that’s a hypothetical question; given her age and time-consuming work, she would be reluctant to take in a newborn baby to care for.

Your muse’s of the otp reaction to finding the others crying about something? And how do they make them feel better?: She asks what’s wrong, wants a full description and explanation, and then offers unsolicited advice until Hawke tells her to shut up. 

What would they be like as parents?: Easy, doting, with clearly distinct roles: Hawke would be the jokester mom, the one a child would do mischief with or come to first to fess up when they need to. Cassandra is the stricter one, which also makes her the one the children would reach out to when they’re in need of reassurance. 

What would they have been like as childhood sweethearts?: Probably not much different than now; although a lot of things have changed in Cassandra’s life, her approach to romance and love haven’t.

Who initiates taking a bath together?: Hawke.

Who likes who playing with their hair?: Hawke, probably – Cassandra lets her braid it when she wants to.

The place they mostly likely accidentally fall asleep together?: The Skyhold bannister when they’re sitting up there, leaning against them to watch the sky and talk about every random thing they can think of.

meme tagged: @archontem  tagging: whoever reads this, feel free to tag me to see your post! uvu

[exitiumparit]

the thinking meme for adiri and ferus

@bellassan || send ‘the time i thought of you’ to get a time my muse thought of yours || selectively accepting

It’s in the middle of forests that she thinks about her mom.

It’s in the middle of flower gardens that she thinks about Fess.

Ferus.

Kriff.

So maybe it’s an idiotic thing to do, but there’s no one around to scold her (she’s a Knight, who can?), so Adiri tosses her saber aside, unhooks the holster for her blaster to equally haphazardly throw that out of sight before she lies down in the middle of a patch of wildflowers. There’s one for every color she can imagine--yellowsthat look like Alderaan’s sun and greens that look like Endor and pinks that remind her of the blush of her mom’s cheek and there’s a dark blue that makes her think of Talia and the father.

But, all of her mind is on Fess. Ferus--whatever.

Didn’t matter the name, didn’t it, when it was the same soul underneath? He’d always been sad and lonely, she knew it. As a kid, there had been no way she could understand, had no capacity for comprehending the looks that him and her mom would give each other across a room or how quiet he’d get at times.

He was sad. Miserable. He hated his life and what had come of it, relegated to a life that hadn’t been the one he wanted or had built for himself. But, he’d opened his miserable life to give her and her mom a place to rest. Her mom’s only friend in the universe and a reminder of everything he’d ever lost (and with a toddler, no less) and Fess still let them come.

Did he know that Alderaan was the source of some of her most cherished memories? Did she know, because of him, she saw Alderaan as the only home she’d ever had? In all the universe, it was the only place where she could go to sleep and not worry about her mom waking up the next day before dawn to go to a medbay. It was the only place where she felt like a kid, and that she could be young, and he didn’t have to do any of that for her or for her mom.

But, he did.

He was sad, more sad than anyone she ever knew and she was sure she’d ever know, and he let her sleep with his head in her lap when her mind couldn’t understand a loneliness so deep it turned your hair silver before you were twenty-six. He talked to her about flowers and sometimes he couldn’t talk for long, but when he couldn’t he let her climb every tree she could find around his home.

A botanist. A Jedi. A rebellion leader. A husband. A friend. How many lives had he known? What was his favorite part of Bellassa and how did he know when he had the highest point of his life and how did he know when it was the lowest?

Did he know she loved him and did he know that he made her happy?

She’d been told that her saber was the same color of his master’s. Would he have been proud of her for having the same color, would he have wanted her to be a Jedi, too?

Adiri presses the palms of her hands to her eyes when she felt tears burn the back of her throat. Thirteen years since he’d gone away and thirteen years later Adiri still didn’t know what a home was. Closest it had ever been were the nights she spent sleeping with a flower crown of Alderaan flowers crooked on her head, the hushed voices of her mom and Fess relaxing her.

The Jedi plucks a golden yellow flower and tries to imagine the Fess she knew with the gold hair her mom had described. It isn’t an easy image to paint for herself, years already eroding the clarity of her memories, but a foggy sort of imagination is what she can piece together. Fess, named Feurs, with golden hair and an easy smile and a life he was proud of living. Maybe, one day, she’d be golden like that.

[terriblelifechoices]

omg YES credence/percival "14. “You’re supposed to talk me out of this.”" for the fic meme?

Okay, so, I thought, since you are a fellow Tortall fan, that it might be fun to do a Tortall AU for FBAWTFT.  (If this doesn’t work for you, feel free to prompt something else?)

For those of you not familiar with the Tortall-verse, the things you need to know are that it’s vaguely medieval fantasy, in which noble (male) children are sent to the Palace at the age of ten for training to become knights of the realm.  They spend four years as a page, learning etiquette and mathematics and how to fight with a number of weapons, and then they spend four years squiring for a specific knight, who is supposed to give them real life hand’s on experience and not get them killed.

Some people have Gifts, which is a more regimented style of magic not entirely dissimilar to the HP-verse, minus the wands, and some people have Wild Magic, which tends to manifest as whatever the hell it wants.

I totally recommend checking out the source material.  The early books are a little problematic, because they were written in the 1980′s, but the later ones are freaking amazing.  The first series starts with Alanna, the First Adventure by Tamora Pierce.

Tortall AU

“This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done,” said Credence, still feeling a little numb with horror.  He’d challenged a Scanran warlord to a duel.  Him!  Credence Barebone!  

“I think this might be the dumbest thing you’re ever going to do in your entire life,” Alex told him, checking Credence’s armor.  Alex Collins was closer to his knighthood than Credence was, but he’d always been a mother hen.

“True,” Credence agreed.  “Because Warlord Grindelwald is going to kill me.”

“Grindelwald isn’t going to kill you,” Percival said firmly.  “You’re my squire, remember?  I trained you better than that.  It’s going to take more than some warmongering Scanran upstart to kill you.”

“Oh, gods,” said Credence, looking at his knight master with flat despair.  “You should have bedded me when I asked you to.  I’m going to die a virgin.”

Percival went red and spluttered, stomping away from Credence and Alex and muttering about how Credence was going to be the death of him.

Some days, it was really hard to believe that Percival was the Queen’s Champion – the best knight in all of Tortall.

“Still no luck?” Alex asked.

“No,” Credence said.  “He’s got too much bloody honor to bed me while I’m his squire.  It’d be an abuse of power.  How about you?”  Alex was sweet on one of Queen Seraphina’s handmaidens.  Credence was only a little bit jealous that Alex’s courtship of Dorothy seemed to be going better than his own.

“I’m going to ask her to marry me, once I have my shield,” Alex told him.

Fine.  Credence was more than a little jealous, now.

Dorothy appeared in the doorway, as if mentioning her was enough to summon her.  “Credence Barebone!” she said furiously.  “What did you do?”

Credence hunched his shoulders.  He had almost a foot in height on Dorothy, not to mention quite a lot of muscle mass and training.  She shouldn’t have been able to put the fear of the Goddess in him, but she really, really did.

“He challenged Warlord Grindelwald to a duel,” Percival said, when it became clear that neither Credence nor Alex was going to fess up and risk the wrath of Dorothy.

“You what?” demanded Dorothy.  She smacked him with her project bag.  Since Dorothy’s project bag usually contained at least two knitting projects, her sewing kit, and a half-completed bit of embroidery, getting smacked with it was like getting hit with a very squishy mace, or possibly a porcupine.  A bit soft, a little heavy and full of unexpected pointy bits.

“You didn’t hear the things he said,” Credence protested.  “He was being awful to the Queen.”

“You idiot,” Dorothy said, reaching up to grab one of Credence’s ears and twist hard, dragging him down to her eye level.  “You think the Queen hasn’t heard anything Warlord Grindelwald might have to say before?  She’s an unmarried monarch and a woman, you idiot.  She hears that sort of bile all the time, and you don’t see her picking fights now do you?”

“Ow,” said Credence.  “Ow, ow, ow.  Let go, Dorothy!”  He gently pried her fingers off his ear.  “I know that.  I’ve sat in on too many meetings with Percival not to know that even our own nobles sometimes look at Queen Seraphina like she’s a piece of meat.  But Warlord Grindelwald was worse about it.  The things he said, about the Queen, about Percival – he went beyond acceptable rudeness.  Queen Seraphina can’t call him out for it, because he came here to propose marriage to her and that would cause a diplomatic incident.  Percival can’t either, for the same reason.  But me?  I’m nobody.  Just a squire.  I can call Warlord Grindelwald out, and no one will care because everyone will think I’m just a dumb kid.”

“Oh,” Dorothy said, her expression softening.  “What did he say?”

Credence set his jaw stubbornly.  “I’m not repeating it.  It was vulgar and rude.”  Just thinking about it made him tremble faintly with rage.  He wasn’t sure what he objected to more – Warlord Grindelwald’s casual assumption that Queen Seraphina was somehow beneath him, when she had royal blood and he had none, or the fact that Warlord Grindelwald assumed that Queen Seraphina and Percival were lovers.

They had been, once, when she was a princess and he was her father’s squire.  Everyone knew that.  But that was over a decade ago, and they were friends now.

“I don’t care if you keep bedding him, so long as you give me an heir,” Warlord Grindelwald had said.  “Frankly, I’d like a go at him myself.  He’s a comely looking creature, your Champion.”

That had been when Credence slapped him with his gloves.

“I hope you don’t expect me to fight your squire, Champion,” Warlord Grindelwald had said.

“It’s the honorable thing to do,” Percival had pointed out mildly.  “Credence is the one who challenged you, not me.”

Warlord Grindelwald had stared at him.  “I’m fairly certain you’re meant to be talking me out of this,” he’d said eventually.  “Or do you value the boy’s life so cheaply?”

Percival had smiled at him, all teeth.  “On the contrary, I value Credence’s life very dearly indeed.  I also have faith in his training.”

“Fine,” said the warlord.  “On your head be it, then.”

“If you get killed,” Dorothy said, “I will be very upset with you.”

“Not half as upset as I will be,” said Percival, stepping up to tie one of his handkerchiefs around Credence’s elbow.  “If Seraphina gave you a favor, things would get political again,” he said.  “You should have something, though,” he added, as though Percival’s favor was some sort of consolation prize.

“I’d rather have yours than hers,” Credence told him.

“Don’t get killed,” Percival told him.

“Is that your advice?” Credence inquired.  “Don’t get killed?”

“It’s good advice,” Percival said.  “Also, he’s partially blind in his right eye.  Use that to your advantage, if you can.”

Credence nodded and stepped into the training yard.  They had an audience.  Other Scanrans from Warlord Grindelwald’s retinue.  The wild mage Newt, who cared for the palace menagerie and spoke to animals as if they were people.  Percival’s friend Dame Win, and the newly minted Dame Tina, who had been Dame Win’s squire not long ago.  Dame Tina’s sister Queenie, from the kitchens, and her husband Jacob.

“Last chance to back out, boy,” the warlord taunted him.  

“I’m no coward,” Credence retorted.  “But feel free to back out, if you’d like.”

“I’m going to enjoy killing you,” Warlord Grindelwald mused.

“May I remind you, Grindelwald, that your duel will go until one of you yields,” Queen Seraphina interjected coldly.  

“Of course,” Grindelwald said, feigning gentility.  Lower, so only Credence could hear him, he said, “Death is a form of yielding, after all.”

“Begin!” Queen Seraphina commanded.

Grindelwald attacked first.  He was older and more muscular than Credence was, fighting with a heavy broadsword it would be suicide to try and block.  The Scanrans favored heavy weaponry, like spears and broadswords and maces.  Their fighting style was completely different from the Tortallan one, but Credence had spent the last year on the border fighting bandits with Percival.  He knew how to deal with Scanrans.

“Broadswords are great in a melee,” Percival had told him.  “Especially if you don’t care about inflicting collateral damage.  But they’re shit in close quarters combat.  Their length and the fact that they’re unwieldy make them impractical weapons for a knight.”

“The bandits like them well enough,” Credence had pointed out.  A broadsword seemed like a decent weapon for a mounted knight.

“Of course they do, they’re idiots.  They think the size of the sword is what matters, not to mention the muscles it takes to swing the bloody things.  You have to out think the bastards.  Get in close, where their range limits their maneuverability.  Finish your opponent off quick, and get out of range if you have to.”

Credence sidestepped Grindelwald’s initial strike, moving in close.  He meant to draw first blood, just to humiliate Grindelwald, but he hadn’t counted on Grindelwald being so fast.  He dodged another blow, ducking beneath it the way the Shang Hippogriff had taught him to.  He wasn’t as good at tumbling as Theseus was, not in armor, and Grindelwald landed a blow that was going to bruise like hell on his shoulder.

Credence gritted his teeth.  He wasn’t going to let Grindelwald defeat him.  Grindelwald was fast, but he was pretty sure that he was faster.  He had the advantage of youth and flexibility on his side.

He ducked in close again, using his sword to parry the broadsword away and managing to knick Grindelwald with his knife.  Grindelwald hissed at him.

Credence laughed and did it again, alight with glee.  Grindelwald had made himself a warlord by conquering anyone in his path, but he was no match for a proper Tortallan knight.

If he hadn’t been so out of his head on adrenaline, Credence never would have thought that.  The gods punished hubris.

No one had mentioned that Grindelwald was Gifted.  He gestured at Credence, his hands glowing white, and Credence fell over screaming, every nerve in his body screaming with him like he’d been struck by lightning.

“Using your Gift during a fight is dishonorable,” Percival shouted angrily.

“Bah,” spat Grindelwald.  “You Tortallans are so hung up on your honor.  It makes you easy to kill.”

“You’ve got magic,” Credence said, rolling over onto his hands and knees.  “That’s nice.  I’ve got magic, too.”  Credence had wild magic, like Newt, although his didn’t manifest with animals or anything found in nature.  He was pretty much a one trick pony, although it was a damned impressive trick, if Credence said so himself.

He let the magic take him, his eyes leeching white while his body became insubstantial, like smoke.  He curled his fingers into claws and leapt towards Grindelwald, laughing when Grindelwald’s sword passed right through him.  Grindelwald couldn’t hurt him when he was like this, but Credence could hurt Grindelwald.  He batted the Scanran’s sword out of his hands and pounced on him, slamming him to the ground and curling his clawed hands around Grindelwald’s throat.

“Yield,” he hissed, claws drawing blood.  “Yield, damn you.”

There was nothing but hate on Grindelwald’s face.  “I yield,” he snarled.

He would be trouble.  Credence could see it in his eyes.  For a second, he was tempted to drag his claws against Grindelwald’s throat anyway and spare them all future sorrow, and then Percival’s hand closed around the bit of smoke currently functioning as Credence’s shoulder.

“That’s enough, lad.  You’ve won.  Let him up,” Percival said quietly.

Percival could touch him, when Credence was his shadow-self.  Credence didn’t know why he could, but Percival had always been able to.  Credence let himself go human again, his nerves still twinging in pain from whatever Grindelwald had done.

Transforming always made Credence feel wobbly and weak.  Jacob was already moving towards him, pulling a pastry out of his apron pocket.  “Good fight,” he told Credence.

“Yes,” Percival said.  “You did well.”  He cupped Credence’s cheek in one hand, and for a second Credence thought that Percival might kiss him.  Then Percival ruined the moment by ruffling his hair.  “It won’t be long before we’re calling you Sir Credence,” he murmured.

Credence grinned, because Percival could hardly complain about a power imbalance between them if Credence had his shield.  “I can’t wait,” he said.

One corner of Percival’s mouth quirked up, a there and gone wry smile that happened so fast Credence almost thought he’d imagined it.  “Me neither.”

The way Credence fights as the obscurus is inspired by Emily from Dishonored 2, with many thanks to @halcyoncoast for showing me the trailer and inspiring many new Credence headcanons.

[ducknotinarow]

📒- For a secret journal/diary they keep (Bonus: Share an entry from it!) ( Also Striker wants to knooowww - for Stolas )

|Force My Muse to Spill Their Secrets

Stolas twirled his dip pen between his talons a moment as he gazed down to the blank pages of his journal. Speaking could be so hard sometimes, the words he needed were never quite there when he tried to express his thoughts. Often caught in his throat even so he had taken to writing things out when the thought in his min became far too knotted up for him to deal with. Pen dripped into his well of ink as he began the glide the tip across the pages as he started to write it out. Thinking only he would see this little did he know this very same page would have another pair of eyes looking over it.

"I'm used to having demon paint targets on my back, such is the cruse of being a prince even more so when you are of the Ares Goetia, Being Crown price paints an even larger one. Granted I was not quite expecting this current hitman to be so well good at his job. Most of the demons who try to attack me are so low on the food chain that they are more of a group of pests at best than anything even remotely close to resembling a threat." Stolas thought a playful smark on his bill as he thought of all those little demons who seemed to think they could end his life, "it's a little funny I must admit though, entertaining the idea has gotten to be a bit of a bad habit but it's why they think they even have chance to hurt me so I play along for my own enjoyment. I guess it's true about how royal demons grow bored so easily. But it just shows the lack of intelligence of thier part so easily turned into decor for my garden. Until a certain imp seemed to pick the job up."

The tip of his pen rested on his beak as he took a second before returning to his writing this is where his thought was the most complicated. "Striker, at first they seem like just any imp. Good with thier hands and skilled in war. Making sense considering the sort of work many imps have been hired to do in the past compared to now where more work either under demons like myself. This one is different. Deadly different, where others' only reason for my death was money it seemed Striker was looking for more than some cash. I'm sure if it were just money paying them off would be simple." a slightly blush hit his face as he thought of that imps face now.

"I'll admit they are also devilishly good-looking and quite commanding." the faint hit of red against his white face grew more and heated up, his cheeks felt like they were burning red. Recalling how easily they had him pinned to a bed gripping at his feather from under his clothing. Feather fluffed up at the idea alone. "Is it wrong the night we spent together? the enjoyment I got out of it?" Stolas wrote out of course the pages and ink wouldn't answer this for him. Of course, it likely was wrong, and yet. "What was it he told me seeing the grey?" did that justify things though?

"I think my heart is so easily swayed or I fear it can be have, I never been one to be cautious considering my previous misdeeds and how open it was made know I feel that is easy to say. This though? if I pursued it further..could be treading somewhere far more dangerous. Even if we did cross some lines that time how long till the whole he was meant to kill me comes back? If money isn't what he seeks out of that what do I have to offer to in the least secure my safety." But that wasn't even the thought that weighed on him heavest was it?

"What may be more dangerous than a possible meeting with my end is the fact I find myself wondering..no hoping to see them again. I am starting to wonder if something isn't seriously wrong with me for such a thought to cross my mind. But I can't help it I keep thinking about that imp. His smirk, those eyes, the smooth feeling of his skin brushing against my feathers." and that blush on his face was even harder to ignore anymore. "I just long to see him speak with him even a little. I think I'm falling to quite a dangerous situation and it's not because Striker is a hired hitman for my head."

[ducknotinarow]

🌟- For a secret wish or desire of theirs ( & For Cherri :3 )

| Force My Muse to Spill Their Secrets

Cherri had to say when it came to living in hell it was a blast. Free to do as you wish? Who could pass up on that? Running around causing havoc just because eit was a Tuesday and she felt a little extra spontaneous and had a few extra bombs she was just itching to get to tossing. Course her favorite was when she got to cause trouble with her best friend Angel Dust. So many people in hell could be so ducking lame but not Angel, and he had been in hell far longer than herself. Where so many were old and stuffy blaming it on when they died and couldn’t change their ways Angel was a blast, pun intended there, to hang out with. She thought as the two of of them had drove behind a car listening to the sound of glass shattering. After the explosion from one of her bombs had gone off. She looked overt watch the Spider demon laugh away second eat of arms were slung around their sides as they were just near about ready to bust a gut.

But as soon as the fun had started it came to an end.

—————-

Walking through Pentagram city once they had given the slip to the loser shop owner whose place they had just finished blowing t bits, hey that’s what they got for trying to talk trash about the strips on angel’s outfit or Cherri’s torn-on-purpose style. Some people just seemed to think that had a say on what others wore, eh guy is just jealous they couldn’t pull of these trends clearly. When Cherri finally noticed the look on Angel's face as they had their face buried in the screen of thier phone. "You okay there Anges?" Cherri went to ask as they shoved the phone back into thier pocket watching how the look on thier face changed like a flick of light. They crossed thier topped arms and well Cherri knew from the look alone it was Val who messaged them just now. She reached out a hand and gingerly set it on to her friend's arm. "Hey just blow 'em off we can go cause more trouble? I know some goons trying mess'n with my turf." She knew better though soon as Angel went to give some dumb spill about how he should go in tonight at least he'd been blowing work off a lot.

Sure Cherri could try and talk them out of it, drag him away maybe even but she knew how this would go. As the familiar limo pulled up despite the smile on Angel's face as he climb in. She could feel a pit in her stomach. But waved them off and watched the car pull away.

"Oh Angie" Cherri said under her breath as she lifted her hand to her moth and chewed on her nail. "If it weren't for that fuckers status then maybe I could help ya more..If i could just become one of em? then maybe I'll be able to get you away from him finally."

Maybe it was a foolish thing to wish for but she knew better than most what angel dealt with being with that stupid moth, Valentino. She dropped her hands down and started to check to see how many bombs she still had on her. Enough to get by for now. "I ain't got much of turf, not yet at least Angie but I tussled with an overlord already once before. I can take on more soon once I got enough ground under my name. I'll get you away from him we can..we can ran it together laugh and cause as much trouble all we want."

[ducknotinarow]

🌟- For a secret wish or desire of theirs ( Lucifer :3 )

|Force My Muse to Spill their Secrets

Strolling up the walkway leading up to the front door of his family's home. Well as of late only he and Lilith lived here. Charlotte was now living off on her own. He strolled on in pushing the idea away as he made his way inside, a few glances into rooms as he made his way in. "Oh darling are you hooome~?" he asked, hand to his ear waiting for an answer.

As seconds went by however and no answer was given he dropped his smile and lowered his hand as he hummed in disappointment. Lips purse as he stood in the center of one of the many, many long empty hallways of the home. Idly tapping his cane to the ground., he wasn't still waiting on an answer he was aware his dear wife was busy with her own thing. Once she got home he'll get all the attention he was craving now. Now it was more because of where he found himself now, side glancing to the door that lead to thier daughter's bedroom. Well, her old one.

It wouldn't be wrong right? he questioned finding it funny to even worry about the moral behind the action, turning to face the door he took the handle and pushed it in so he could see. It was mostly empty outside a few things she didn't take, likely not needing them. Seeing how she was living in that run-down rinky-dink building. One breeze alone was likely to send the building crashing down on her and her girlfriend. It was an old estate of the Morningstars. But still, it hadn't been used in so long but if she wanted the building she could. She just would not allow herself to be deterred from this idea of hers. Making his way over to a window in the room, you couldn't see the hotel from here but he did know where it was so he just stared out over the bit of the city he could see. "In part, I am glad you are so stubborn dear, I just don't see why you care so much for these people?" he questioned "or the option of leaving here to go" his attention shifted up to the planet far in thier sky. A slight snarl came over him as he narrowed his eyes that way. "there." A sigh followed soon after though, as he made hs way to sit on the foot of her bed. Lucifer Idly looked around a moment at the bear shelves and the dust layers that had settled over in place of what once sat there. This room could use good cleaning he figures. Eyes looking to the floor eye a drawing? He bent down to grab at it. A closer look seemed it was more like a mock-up of a poster, for the "Happy Hotel" as it said just over the childish doodling. Yes, this was made by Charlotte for sure. He hummed and turned the page over in his hands. "I do want to see you succeed Charlotte, I just don't agree with this idea. It seems pointless to me. Not to mention all the hm let's stick with the attention you have been drawing to yourself as of late. Still, I know despite that all despite what I have said to you on this whole little dream of yours...I hope you also find happiness." Gently holding the paper as he folded it up and slipped into his suit jacket. Finally moving back up to his feet as he gave the room one last once over before heading to the door. He hesitated a moment but standing around in the room wouldn't do a thing, a bit of force needed to get out as he pulled the door behind him shut. "Maybe you can make it happen. Outlandish still but maybe just maybe."

[ducknotinarow]

Raphael: If you like the butterfly woman so much, why don't you just tell her directly? Stop hiding in your shell and say what you feel. [this isn't even a mean one i'm simply impatient u_u]

| harass my muse meme

"I uh I don't I mean it's not that I" he starts to stutter and mutter tripping over his words as he tries to process the question just aimed his way. "It's just..I just got my friend back and well I don't have a lot of those? I've only ever had my family and I know how special that is not to mention everything they need from me. I know Leos in charge now sure but he still needs me too." The snapper thought it over as he quirked his beak a little in thought about what he was saying that sounded like an excuse when he thought it over more in-depth. Soon he sighs out thinking a bit more, eyes shut as his brow knots up. "I don't wanna lose her again and knowin' that I got all these feelings for Yvonne? what if I do?" eyes open now that he got the truth out of him. "I mean what do I even got to offer her? I'm a giant mutant turtle that lives in the sewers! for one." holding up a finger as he explains "two Yvonne came from this big luxury life gal got this expensive taste..I don't think I quite fit into that all." His bottom lips hang and his mouth soon tugs into a frown. "Three I ain't all that bright or smart even. I'm kind of big olf too. Yvonne should have someone who." He thinks what dose she deserves?

"Well someone who cares about her, who can see past her looks. Shes beautiful those deep purple eyes, her wings the way she laughs, the funny words she says in a made-up language." It wasn't made up it was slang he didn't know but it sounded made up. "I mean it makes sense why she was a model before. She works hard, even after getting mutated she tried to get back on her feet." HE smiles softly "She may be this small butterfly but she's tough. I don't think many who yelled at me got me feelin' so off the balance before like she did that time." He chuckles a bit well pushing that away he rather not recall when she called him a freak. Going back to his main point "She should be with someone who sees past her looks and her like for her looks. Who can look at her and see all the great stuff bout her and loves it all. Who would do anything they could for her, no matter what it is. Rather it's telling her she looks nice that day or just listening to her problems. Yvonne is great and she should be with someone who wants to know all that and wanna learn more bout her too! I want to so that has to be others.." He pauses.

If thats what she should have and it's what he wants to be? then can't Raph maybe?

"Know what! you're right. Why can't I tell her I like her? I like her a lot and I wanna know her more. Maybe I am just some trash turtle but I'm Raphael Hamato! I gotts go!"