#thank you kind benevolent stranger

[suashii]

୨♡୧ HOOKED — hanma shuji x reader. fluff. college au. delinquent!hanma.

note: this is my first attempt at writing hanma so please bear with me while i figure out his characterization :p ♡

a plastic bag filled with dog food and a variety of pet toys swings at your side as you walk down one of the less busy streets of shibuya, an umbrella held up in your opposite hand to shield you from the downfall of rain. you turn down another street lit by bright, colorful lights that will lead you to the alley you’ve found yourself visiting regularly for the past couple of weeks. it’s coming up now but before you allow yourself to round the corner, you hear rustling coming from the narrow passageway.

keeping your distance, you peek around the building to silently investigate the noise. you hope it’s just the puppy you’ve been stopping by each night after work to see but there’s a much larger, human figure looming over the box the stray was left in. the fingers grasping your umbrella twitch as you hold back the urge to confront the stranger. and you’re glad that you hesitate for two reasons.

one being that it seems that the person means the puppy no harm. from what you can make out, they’re setting up a makeshift dog house using some of the discarded cardboard to keep the helpless animal from getting wet—not an action worth interrupting.

though, the second reason is what really keeps you frozen to your spot. even in the dimly lit alley, you recognize the light blonde streak of hair hanging in front of the man’s face, strands stuck together and dripping drops of water into the puddles beneath him. it’s hanma shuji.

you’ve heard enough rumors to know he isn’t good news. despite the underlying tones of affection in his act, you don’t trust that his kindness will extend to you. you’re contemplating walking around the block and returning when he’s taken his leave but before you have the chance to, a golden gaze is burning a hole in you.

your heart jumps in your chest under the intensity of his stare. hanma’s lips curl up into a grin, one that could be considered friendly if you were ignorant of his dangerous lifestyle. you aren’t though, and the smile gives you the impression that he’s found something—someone—he has interest in playing with.

“here for this little lady, i assume?” he asks, grin still pulling at his lips as he jerks his head in the direction of the box. your eyes flit over there momentarily to catch sight of the puppy curled up in a ball with her eyes closed before they dart back to hanma. he’s still crouched down near the ground and doesn’t look as though he plans on moving. you gawk at him for a little while longer before realizing you hadn’t answered his question.

“yeah, sorry.” the apology falls past your lips as you take a cautious step into the alley. “i didn’t realize anyone else came here.”

hanma hums. “i don’t. i was just feeling unusually benevolent today.”

his statement isn’t very comforting but you nod in understanding anyway, nervously chewing the inside of your cheek. you wish you knew why he was hanging around, why his gaze continues to bore into you. you feel like a specimen under a microscope being examined by his honey eyes.

his eyes narrow but a grin lingers on his lips. “i know you.”

it’s not a question, it’s a statement. his words make your skin prickle; you didn’t think he would recognize you, much less care to point it out. the worst part is that you aren’t sure whether his familiarity is a good or a bad thing. you shift your weight between your heels and clear your throat. “really?”

“i never forget a pretty face,” hanma tells you, lithe fingers toying with the curly tufts of fur on the puppy’s head. both his declaration and his gentle gesture unknowingly lower your guard. you breathe out a clumsy, awkward laugh at his vocalization, the hand at your side fiddling with the hem of your sweater. out of all the things he could have said, you never would have guessed it would be that.

“um, well, thanks,” you stiffly acknowledge his compliment and try your best to ignore the gradually growing heat in your cheeks. your reaction startles you—you shouldn’t be so easily flustered over a little silly flattery, and especially when hanma shuji is the one showering you with it. besides, you didn’t come here to be on the receiving end of some flirting. “i’d love to talk more but i should probably get the puppy inside.”

“of course.” he nods, finally standing up from his crouched position and taking a step back. a few minutes ago, you would have been nervous to approach him—be in such close proximity with such an intimidating guy—but as far as you’re concerned, hanma’s actions thus far have proven to be harmless. so, you close the gap between you, taking his previous spot near the ground so that you can pick up the puppy. you carefully scoop the dog up in your arm, holding her close to your chest as you come to stand. 

hanma hasn’t moved and his eyes have yet to leave your figure. the best option now would be to tell him goodbye and hope that any future encounters of yours are confined to the campus but, it seems as though being in hanma’s bubble has exposed you to his impulsive influence. it’s a bad idea, you’re sure of it, but before you can even think about what you’re doing, the invitation is already in the air. “do you want to come dry off? my place isn’t far from here.”

hanma’s eyebrows raise, if only slightly, at your unexpected suggestion. you had been so wary of him just a moment ago and while hanma was trying to break down your defensive walls, he wasn’t sure it would take such little effort. it would be a waste for him not to take you up on your offer.

he smiles, beads of water dripping off the ends of his hair. “lead the way.”

you never imagined walking to your apartment with hanma in tow would end up being part of your night. despite being the one to have made the friendly proposal, you have no idea what to say. so a heavy silence blankets the two of you, hanma taking hold of your umbrella so you can comfortably cradle the shivering puppy in your arms. you keep your eyes forward most of the way but you’d be lying if said you didn’t feel hanma’s gaze locking on to you every now and then. strangely enough, it doesn’t make you as anxious as it had earlier.

by the time you make it to your apartment, any reluctance you once had to be around hanma has faded. you let him in easily and kick your shoes off as though you’re welcoming an old friend into your home. you turn to him. “wait here, i’ll bring you a towel.”

after quickly settling the puppy in your room, you rush to your linen closet and grab the first towel within your reach. when you return to the entryway, hanma is in the very spot you left him, hands stuffed in his pockets and a bored expression on his face. though, when he catches sight of you, his grin is restored. and instead of your heart jumping in fear, it flutters in your chest at the sight.

you muster up a smile of your own as you step forward to hand him the towel. his grin widens upon taking it and he mutters a quiet “cute” under his breath while he unfolds the fabric to dry off his hair. you initially think he’s talking about your smile until you see the towel on his head—brightly colored and printed with flowers. 

you would be embarrassed if the scene playing out before you wasn’t so endearing. something about seeing someone regarded as so harsh and cold covered in something that embodied the opposite puts a genuine smile on your face. it’s much too soon to say, but maybe there’s another side to hanma—a softer one that he isn’t so keen on sharing with everyone. 

as you watch him towel off, you decide that you want to stick around long enough to see if you’re one of the few people that hanma will let in. 

thanks for reading! consider commenting or reblogging if you enjoyed ❤︎

[sdyd]

* THE MODERN PROMETHEUS. sentence starters from mary shelley's novel, frankenstein ; or, the modern prometheus. from the original manuscript, the original published edition, & the 1831 revision. feel free to change pronouns / terms / tense / etc.

do you understand this feeling ?

I desire the company of someone who could sympathize with me.

I shall do nothing rashly.

remember me with affection, should you never hear from me again.

I will not rashly encounter danger. I will be cool, persevering, & prudent.

will you have the kindness to inform me whither you are bound ?

I have lost everything, & cannot begin life anew.

you may easily perceive, [name], that I have suffered great & unparalleled misfortunes.

with what interest & sympathy shall I read it in some future day !

the world was to me a secret, which I desired to discover.

it was the secrets of heaven & earth that I desired to learn

no youth could have passed more happily than mine.

do not waste your time upon this ; it is sad trash.

I believed myself totally unfitted for the company of strangers.

have you really spent your time in studying such nonsense ?

I am happy to have gained a disciple.

remember, I am not recording the vision of a madman.

a resistless, & almost frantic impulse, urged me forward.

you must pardon me, if I regard any interruption in your correspondence as a proof that your other duties are equally neglected.

how can I describe my emotions at this catastrophe ?

how glad I am to see you !

it gives me the greatest delight to see you.

you look as if you had been watching for several nights.

how ill you are !

what is the cause of all this ?

oh, save me ! save me !

I dare say you wish to be indulged in a little gossip.

are you always to be unhappy ?

my dear friend, what has happened ?

even cato wept over the dead body of his brother.

I am afraid, tears instead of smiles will be your welcome.

I do not know what you mean.

no one believes it, surely ?

did the murderer place it there ?

I cannot go alone.

I did confess, but I confessed a lie.

I hope you do not believe I am guilty.

I cannot live in this world of misery.

Do you think that I do not suffer also?

men appear to me as monsters thirsting for each other’s blood.

I would sacrifice my life for your peace.

devil ! do you dare approach me?

begone, vile insect!

I expected this reception.

all men hate the wretched.

abhorred monster !

be calm ! I entreat you to hear me.

have I not suffered enough?

I do not wish to hate you.

I was benevolent & good ; misery made me a fiend.

make me happy, & I shall again be virtuous.

you, my creator, abhor me ; what hope can I gather from your fellow-creatures, who owe me nothing ?

cursed be the day, abhorred devil, in which you first saw light !

relieve me from the sight of your detested form !

I ought to be thy adam, but I am rather the fallen angel.

I stared back, unable to believe that it was indeed I who was reflected in the mirror.

was I then a monster, a blot upon the earth, from which all men fled, & whom all men disowned ?

cursed creator ! why did you form a monster so hideous that even you turned from me in disgust ?

pardon this intrusion, I am a traveler in want of a little rest.

I thank you, & accept your generous offer

at length the thought of you crossed my mind.

to whom could I apply with more fitness than to him who had given me life ?

I do not intend to hurt you.

I am content to reason with you.

if I cannot inspire love, I will cause fear.

I will work at your destruction, nor finish until I desolate your heart, so that you curse the hour of your birth.

this is what it is to live !

where does he now exist ? is this gentle & lovely being lost forever ?

does it now only exist in my memory ?

I could pass my life here.

I had rather be with you.

hasten then, my dear friend, to return, so that I may again feel myself somewhat at home, which I cannot do in your absence.

had I the right, for my own benefit, to inflict this curse upon everlasting generations ?

what is it that you intend ?

do you dare to break your promise ?

I can make you so wretched that the light of day will be hateful to you.

beware ; for I am fearless, & therefore powerful.

I will be with you on your wedding night.

villain ! before you sign my death-warrant, be sure that you are yourself safe.

why do you answer me so roughly ?

why did I not die ?

are you better now ?

I am sorry that I am still alive to feel this misery & horror.

can I do any thing to make you more comfortable ?

on the whole earth there is no comfort which I am capable of receiving.

persecuted & tortured as I am & have been, can death be any evil to me ?

a fatality seems to pursue you.

do you not love another ?

it is your happiness I desire as well as my own.

if I see but one smile on your lips when we meet, I shall need no other happiness.

you are sorrowful, my love.

this night is dreadful, very dreadful.

why did I not then expire ?

I am satisfied, miserable wretch ! you have determined to live, & I am satisfied.

for many months this has been my task.

my reign is not yet over.

learn from my miseries, & do not seek to increase your own.

do you think that I was then dead to agony & remorse ?

you throw a torch into a pile of buildings, & when they are consumed you sit among the ruins, & lament the fall.

but it is even so ; the fallen angel becomes a malignant devil.

you hate me ; but your abhorrence cannot equal that with which I regard myself.

soon, I shall die, & what I now feel will no longer be felt.

[see-arcane]

Ohhhh, so much to cover in this entry, here we go.

-  First and foremost (to me), vindication for my favorite Victorian solicitor man! It was the doubt of his own senses that was messing with him, not just the Dracula trauma itself. Mina may be more forgiving of that liminal line between ‘Am I Mad? VS ‘Was It All Real?’—she accepts that whatever happened, something traumatic occurred and it was powerful enough to deal a heavy blow to her loved one—but Jonathan was gutting himself over and over and over due to the fact that he did not know which to believe. It left him with the worst of both options rather than allowing his mind to settle; so, now knowing the Count and his supernatural menace are reality, he’s no longer floundering. His mind and sanity are locked in: Your nightmare was fact. = Dracula is fact. = It’s time to fuck up Dracula.

-  Oh, physiognomy. One of those fun old pseudosciences that declares skeletal/skull structure somehow translates to mapping your personality and intellect. Hence Jonathan and other characters’ weird fixations on the minutiae of facial composition and expression. Writers of the time were notably in love with the idea as a quick way to 1) drop in a character’s physical description to get it out of the way and 2) foreshadow that character’s whole deal by what seemed (at the time) to be a reliable visual cue.* (*Or, you know. Just assigning traits to a person willy-nilly due to [INSERT BIASES AGAINST X GROUP HERE]. “This person has Bad Person-face! This one has Good Person-face!” You get it.)

- Van Helsing: “Your wife is amazing! A true 10/10 of a woman!”

Jonathan: “She is a 20, but go on.”

-  Van Helsing is once again filling in a recently-vacated paternal role for yet another young person. First Art loses his dad, then Jonathan loses his father figure. Also once again, filling in a niche that appears to be the Un-Dracula; having such powerful Good Vibes that this young ensemble cast is falling over themselves to join his cause and be his grateful, heroic ducklings. I’ve mentioned this before—Abraham Van Helsing is 110% of a heroic bent among likewise valorous youths. He’s an oddball, but he’s also willingly throwing himself into paranormal peril to help others and putting Knowledge is Power to benevolent use versus Dracula’s longstanding abuse of others’ ignorance.

All of that said, my 21st century sensibilities still mark out these gushing interactions—and future interactions which will be…A Lot—as distinctly weird. It’s theatrical to the point of seeming absurd, and feeling, at best, like Bramward Stoker is abusing his authorial powers to make his characters swoon and applaud and give weeping thanks/adulation to his character insert (who is named after him, no big deal). Which is a straightforward enough reason for the behavior.

…But, because I’m me, and because of [REDACTED] scenes coming up much later in the book, I can’t help picturing Van Helsing as exercising just a smidge of hypnotic influence/cues to make things glide by a little smoother with all these young people. If only because it would also be in line with paralleling Dracula. Not done out of malice, perhaps not even done consciously, but adults, young and respectful and Victorian though they are, simply Do Not Act Like This towards random kooky strangers entering their lives, no matter how nice and helpful they are.*

*Even with Hawkins still raw in his memory, I especially don’t see Jonathan being so immediately 100% on board with Professor Eccentric Old Occult-Intelligent Man (Let’s keep those Dracula flashbacks at bay! Deep breaths, Harker!). 90%, maybe. Even 99%. But certain [REDACTED] scenes-to-be will show he’s probably the only one out of Team Fuck-Up-That-Vampire who shows any kind of true dissent against Van Helsing. Because if anybody knows the risks that come with being led around by the nose, (for good or ill) it’s him.

- Jack Seward is having Quite a Fucking Grieving Period :) :) :)

- Jack: Hey, so, what are we going to do about this unconscious kid we found?

Van Helsing: Well, the right and sensible thing to do is approach the police and give a detailed explanation as to the hows and whys of us being in the graveyard at night.

Jack: Really?

Van Helsing, already ditching the kid at a street corner: Ha ha, fuck no

[jokeringcutio]

Cleopatra and the Cult Leader

Written for @nicktremblaywayfu Prompt: You dress up for a party like Cleopatra. Arthur Harrow’s there, and he’s intrigued. Rating: Teen. Read it down below. Fandom: Moon Knight (2022) Pairing: Arthur Harrow x (Female Presenting) Reader

“My, my,” the sultry voice made you turn around to face the man standing in the corner of the room, cane proudly in hand. His wine-red clothes a peculiar choice and you wondered if he was supposed to be some kind of monk. But then, the hair… “Aren’t you a beautiful Cleopatra.”

His silky voice sent shivers down your spine. Erotic, that’s what it sounded like. Sinful, despite saying nothing of the sort. It was a general compliment, one you had heard many times during the night – mostly by friends and people you knew. But this stranger, he didn’t seem actually that perverse with his remark. Just a kind-looking elderly guy who stood in the corner by himself, weight on his cane, complementing the youth on their costume. You bet he said it to every girl he saw and probably didn’t even notice it could be interpreted the wrong way. But hey, that was your mind filling things in like that. With a blush on your cheeks you watched him and wondered if you could get tipsy just on air and snacks. Why else did his voice manage to sent a pleasantly warm tingle down your spine.

I mean, look at the poor man, standing with his cane. He seemed to be older than most of the people around. You wondered why no one had gotten him a chair yet.

“Thank you, sir,” you said, after some hesitation. You flashed him a smile, eyes already searching for a chair to offer him in the vicinity.

“Oh, she calls me sir,” did he just purr? “I like that.” Your head whipped up to look at him, but there was still a benevolent smile on his face. An expression that betrayed no harm. You felt your inhibitions being lowered by it, felt like this was a man that could be trusted.

“You may call me Arthur, please,” he said while his eyes searched for yours. He did not find them, not really. Because you dare not look in his. Just once glance had been enough to know he had you captured, as pure as the gaze within them was. And so you kept yourself occupied by fetching him a seat, which you luckily found very swiftly. Pulling a chair with a wine-red seating from the nearby table, you offered it to him.

“Come sit down,” you said, sweeping your arm towards the chair which you held out for him, “Arthur,” you remembered. And if you drew out his name, it was because you were focusing on the task at hand. You did not look up, and so you missed the reaction that pronouncing his name had on him.

“Such a kind gesture,” Arthur said after a beat. And when you finally did look up again it was to find how his eyes were resting upon you, a kind smile on his lips. He finally stirred and stepped away from his spot in the corner, using his cain to aid him in his steps. There was a lot of noise around as the party was in full swing, youngsters were brawling, music was playing loudly at the other side of the room. It meant that you could not hear the sickly crunch coming from underneath his feet as he stepped to the chair and sat down. “Though,” he said, “it actually should be the other way around, shouldn’t it?”

You blinked stupidly at him when he said that, with him still smiling up at you.

“In more ways than one, I should be the one to offer a chair to you,” Arthur clarified. “A queen should have servants to help her, not be a servant herself,” ah, so that was he was on about. The costume, you reminded yourself. “And a gentleman would offer a lady a seat. But this has been the other way around,” he said, gesturing at his seated frame. He tapped an unoccupied chair next to his, inviting you to sit down with him.

You looked at him. Like, properly looked now. His red pants seemed a size too large for his frame and he was wearing dark-brown sandals that you could have sworn to be black only a moment ago. Must have been the bad light in here. While your eyes roamed upwards, over his body, you took note of the slight belly bulge that you thought might be beneath his blouse. A blouse, which was annoyingly stiffly collared at the neck. And then your eyes met his again to find him waiting. Your cheeks blushed, not that he could probably tell with the layer of make-up you were wearing.

“Well, perhaps I feel more like a gentleman,” you rebuffed, seeing how your words caught him by surprise. His eyes widened slightly, but only for a moment. He had himself under check really fast, you noted. As if he was used to not showing his emotions to others, but this emotion had just slipped through.

“Then why dress as an ancient queen?” he asked, voice low and husky. He seemed genuinely interested as he leant a little closer to you, hand on top of his cane that was stood resting between his legs.

“Well, she did wear a beard at times,” you retorted, betraying that you had a bit too much knowledge on the subject at the ready.

“You know that?” Arthur asked in surprise. Oh great, this old man knew such a cheeky fact? You couldn’t remember the last time someone you spoke knew about this. Well, perhaps some of your friends who also watched Horrible Histories.

“It’s not the reason I dressed up like her,” you quickly said, biting your lip while you placed your hand on the arm of the empty chair. Perhaps you should sit down and join him. He intrigued you, after all. And apparently he was eager to talk to you.

“No?” he asked, confirming that he wanted to conversation to last. “Why then?”

“I was a great fan of her in the Asterix and Obelix Twelve Works movie,” you joked, seeing his blank expression. A disappointed glint appeared in his eyes and you could not help it. He looked so lost, like a man whose world came tumbling down. It was quite the sight to see.

When he saw you started laughing, the corner of his own lips twitched upward as well. Good, he finally had caught that it was a joke. You sat down in the chair next to him.

“Surely, you would want to be admired?” he said when your laughter bubbled down. “Have boys fawn over you?”

You let out another laugh, this time because his suggestion sounded silly to your ears. “Oh, no. I just wanted to put on something pretty,” you pursed your lips, eyes focused on nothing particular in front of you while your mind drifted off. “I did not think of it to impress others. But I suppose you are half right. Perhaps I did want boys to fawn over me.”

Was that a smirk you saw from the corner of your eyes? When you focused your gaze upon Arthur again, it was gone. He seemed to still be smiling his kind smile. Well, you probably had imagined it.

“You aren’t the first, I’m afraid,” Arthur said, hand gesturing as he spoke. “There are a few more Cleopatras in sight tonight,” you followed his gaze to see another girl, standing near the snacks at the buffet, laughing with her friends.

“But has she met and talked to an expert on the subject?” you said, turning your eyes back to Arthur to give him a wink.

His smile stifled somewhat, not disappearing completely. But his expression seemed to harden, if only just a little. “No, she has not,” here he paused, giving you both time to think. “What makes you think I am an expert?”

“You know who I am dressed as,” you retorted with a smile.

Arthur seemed to let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping a bit. “Everyone knows who Cleopatra is,” he said, voice sounding just a little tired.

“Almost everyone,” you said, then snorted as you thought of at least a few people that had absolutely no idea.

Arthur remained quiet at this, and you took your time to study the other Cleopatra’s outfit again. Now her costume, it looked amazing. An ancient Egyptian queen much like you, but with much more detail and more expensive material.

Wow. You wished you could have had that.

“She will turn heads,” you said absentmindedly. Did you hear Arthur chuckle or was that just your imagination again? “She certainly caught yours,” you added, and was there twinge of jealousy to it?

You looked at the man by your side again. No smirk. No sign of a chuckle. Just his kind smile and a soft twinkle in his eye. “Perhaps I have a thing for ancient beauties.”

“Are you calling me old?” you instantly said, and luckily, Arthur’s eyes widened slightly as if he seemed to realize his mistake.

“No, no, you are definitely not old. Pardon my bad phrasing. I meant that I have a particular interest in ancient Egypt, and therefore I notice anything that is connected to it. Young ladies dressed as Egyptian pharaohs included.”

You pondered his words for a moment, “You collect old Egyptian artifacts?”

Arthur’s smile turned slightly crooked now, but there was something of enthusiasm latched to his voice. “Let’s say I have a fascination for a particular Egyptian deity.”

“That is so cool,” you said, then looked at the buffet to see the other Cleopatra was being joined by a friend who was wearing similar Egyptian clothes. Katy Perry, you thought amused. Dark Horse. Something that looked similar to it. “Oh, look, there’s more of us,” you exclaimed happily.

Arthur’s wry smile had turned into the standard kind one again. “Ah, seems I am surrounded,” he drily remarked. But you could hear he was loving the fact.

“Cleopatra, coming at ya,” you started to sing, then laughed when you saw the confusion spread on his face. He probably was too old to get that reference. Embarrassing, really. Had you truly started to sing in front of him?

“Ah well,” you quickly said, rescuing yourself from the awkward situation by clearing your throat and wishing you had one of these nice drinks in front of you to look at or at least toy with, so Arthur wouldn’t see how nervous you really were. “I must say, I wouldn’t have minded going as Nefertiti, but I had trouble getting the headdress. So I went for Cleopatra instead.”

You turned to smile at him again, only to meet his calculating eyes. What was he thinking about, you wondered?

“So what if Cleopatra was a female pharaoh? She wasn’t the only one. There were more like her. Well,” here you caught yourself. “Perhaps not quite like her, but at the very least there have been more women in power that I could have dressed up as.”

You were quiet for a moment, not even noticing how Arthur reacted to it. “I could have gone dressed like one of them early Anglo-Saxon saints. But yeah, I admit, I wanted to be a little more exotic.”

“And so you chose Cleopatra,” Arthur said, “for her beauty.”

“Because I did not get the right hat,” you defended, arms folding in front of your chest, unintentionally pushing up your breasts in this dress that had a ridiculously low cleavage there. Did Arthur’s eyes flick down for a moment? No, you must have imagined it.

“Besides, there was way more to her than just her beauty,” you continued, not even giving the old man a chance to say something in between. “What if I said I dressed up like her not because of her beauty or her charm?” You looked at him with a triumphant smile, waiting for his expression to change.

“Not even because of her wit,” you continued, “for she had a pretty good reign granting Egypt stability for years!”

Okay, perhaps you got a bit enthusiastic there.

Arthur’s chin dipped slowly forward, eyes become more intense. He liked what you were doing, you could tell. His right finger was gently tapping the tip of the crocodile’s head that adorned his cane. Fancy, you thought, and wondered at which fancy dress shop he had gotten that.

“What if I said,” you lowered your voice, leaning slightly closer to him as if what you were about to tell him was confidential information, “I dressed up like a murderer?”

“That is an interesting theory,” his retort came swiftly, without a beat for thought. He leaned in a little closer to you, mirroring your movements with his own. “And what would make you say such a thing?” his voice was husky, a whisper that barely reached your ears over the sounds of music and chatting around you.

“Because Cleopatra had to kill her own sisters to get on that throne.” You could see how your knowledge about the ancient queen impressed Arthur, for his brow raised ever so slightly and his gaze became less dark.

“Plus,” you continued, holding up your hand to count down the facts on your fingers, dress slipping temptingly around your frame with each movement you made. “She married her own brother, had him killed, did the same thing again with a second brother she had,” you licked your dry lips, Arthur’s eyes following the movement and this time, you did notice it. He was watching your mouth, intently. “Then she did the rumpy-pumpy with not one but two Roman political figures of importance. I mean, the list goes on. She was an interesting woman with many more aspects to her than just her looks.”

You chuckled and shook your head. It helped, because now you could not see how captivated Arthur was looking at you. “I mean, that is, if you even liked her looks. Have you seen recent days reconstructions based on historical evidence? I mean, the nose!”

And you instantly flushed when you saw his eyes dart to your nose, as if making a comparison in his mind. Eh, yeah. Your hands flew up to embarrassingly cover it up. “I know, I know, don’t look. I mean, hers was worse!”

“I think,” you held your breath while you watched him lean in closer, his cane set aside, while he spoke with a warmness to his voice that send little sparks of electricity down your spine. He raised his hands carefully, as if not to frighten you. Then, with a delicate movement, they came to rest upon yours.

“You know a lot about her history,” Arthur’s voice was a low murmur.

His fingers gently rubbed past the back of your hands, before gently enclosing them. You felt how he carefully pried your hands away from your face. His eyes kept a hold on yours, not allowing you to move away from his gaze so you could not see what he was doing or how he was still holding your hands. You could only feel it. Feel him, and hear his voice while you drowned in the blue oceans that were his eyes.

“And that you have nothing to be ashamed of.”

Did he just call you pretty again? Was that the implication?

“T-Thank you, sir,” you stumbled over your words. When you got embarrassed you instantly turned polite again. Arthur seemed to have noticed and clicked his tongue again.

“Like I said,” he had let go of your hands, but placed one of his on your shoulder in a comforting gesture. You felt the warmth from his palm and it sparked a flame deep within the pit of your tummy. Damn, this man was something else.

“Arthur is fine.”

“Arthur,” you repeated, seeing a smile emerge on his face upon hearing you say his name.

“Now,” you quickly said, afraid of what would happen if you allowed him to manipulate you more. Because that was what it was, right? How else could this man give you butterflies and sent your body alight this quickly with just a touch and his words? “You still haven’t told me what you are dressed up as.”

Arthur’s smile became even wider. But something had changed about it. He was showing his teeth, like a crocodile ready to bite its prey. “Me? Oh, it’s nothing. Want to hazard a guess?” There was a playful glint in his eyes.

“Tibetan monk?” you instantly said only to watch a thoughtful glint pass within his eyes.

“Not quite,” he said, and then the hand was gone from your shoulder and he shifted in his chair.

“But I am on the right track then?” you teased him, smiling at him while giving him another once over. “Hmm, pity you’re not dressed as a Roman leader,” the words came out before you could consider them. “We could have matched.”

“Perhaps we match better than you anticipate, dear,” Arthur said. Your thoughts halted. What did he mean by that? Was it another clue to who he was dressed up as?

“How about this? I’ll give you another chance, but after I got us a drink,” he hesitated, fumbvled as he reached for his cane and attempted to get up from his chair. You panicked and instantly stood up, ushering him to sit down.

“No, no,” you said, “let me get it.” Your hands pressed against his chest seemed to stop him, and he looked up at you with a smile.

“That is so very kind of you,” Arthur said. You felt the heat radiate from his body beneath your palms, as if it could be absorbed by your hands. How come this man was this hot, literally?

You merely returned the smile, forcing your own decrepit thoughts away. “Of course, stay seated. Just tell me what you like,” you said.

Did his eyes just darken again? For a moment you could have sworn there was something dangerous about the man’s expression. But it had passed too quickly. It must have been your imagination.

“Just some soda, that’ll do.”

His hand reached up until you felt his thumb brush past your lower lip. What was he doing? Another spark of something hot warmed your core. A low hum escaped from the depth of his throat, the sound low but feral.

“And get something for yourself too,” Arthur said, his low murmur hardly reaching your ears through all the noise of the party. His thumb was still caressing your lip. “You are parched.”

Then his fingers left your lips and you felt bare again, bereft of the warmth of his touch. “I-I am a bit thirsty,” you admitted, stumbling over your words because your heart was tripping inside of your chest. What the hell was up with that? You silently moved into an upright position again. You had to keep your breathing in check because your heart was beating wildly in your chest.

“I’ll be right back,” you said, slowly stepping away from the enigmatic man. Arthur remained seated, a source of calmness during the otherwise wildness of the party, his cane rested between his legs, his blue eyes upon you as you left to fetch the drinks.

You did not see it, but you felt his eyes heavily upon your back, knowing that he was watching you as you went.

AN: I hope you enjoyed <3 Let me know if you did. The prompt was originally sent by me to Nicky, then we philosophized about different interesting things, and I write this as one of the possible scenes to occur :) So I have many more ideas for the reader dressing up like an ancient Egyptian and Harrow being intrigued.

Just tagging my lovelies @willshipanything-blog and @grabberwife42 for some Ethan inspired (and this time largely innocent) content. I am working on that Grabber fic like I promised you....I'm 3 chapters in. Estimate it might be up to 15 now with the outline. Keeping you up to date.

Want to be tagged when I upload Ethan-characters related content? Just Grabber syuff? Just Harrow stuff? Or only Joker/Arthur Fleck related content? Or idk, I write a lot of stuff, just let me know in my inbox. I used to do tags. I need to do them again.

Want to request a little drabble? I can do more than just dark smutty stuff, I promise! I mean, look at me now :D So please, don't hesitate to send stuff in. Also Reblogging is nice. :)

I'll probably be adding this one to AO3 soon, but not all my works are on there (for instance the Kaiserschmarrn fill for Harrow or the nsfw Joker/Fleck alphabet).

[ingravinoveritas]

heyyy girliepop, i rlly love ur blog. highlight of ma days. u remind me so much of an amazing, brilliant, clever crazy bitch i used to follow on twitter 6 years ago its great i missed her. keep slaying bby. love ya xxo

Hi there! Aww, thank you so much for this. I really do appreciate it! I was going to wait to respond to you until I'd gotten through at least some of the other Asks/Anons in my inbox, but your message came in just when I received this comment on my blog (on this post):

I'm sure this person was just doing a drive-by and has never actually read anything else I've written, but I genuinely felt and feel a bit upset by this comment, so I'd like to address it.

One thing I have mentioned many times on my blog is that I more than welcome people to disagree with me. I've gotten Anons of every stripe and color, and I've never felt the desire to not publish or not engage with people who do not share my opinions. So I am actually sad for this person, that they decided not to do that. I'm perplexed that they saw a post they did not agree with, and rather than engaging in a civilized way--or just scrolling on by and saying nothing, which they absolutely could have done--decided to leave that comment instead.

As an autistic adult (diagnosed as a child), I have spent the majority of my life feeling like I need to "fix" myself, like I could never be accepted or have friends--or simply exist as a person in the world--because of who I am. This feeling that something is so inherently lacking from the very core of me that it automatically makes me "the other"--different. Not human. Not the kind of human that counts, anyway.

So to the person who left the comment above: I could easily repeat your words back to you. That there must be something deeply wrong with you as a person to think it is acceptable to say something like that to a complete stranger. But what I will say instead is that I hope you never know what it's like to feel that broken. I hope no one ever throws the concept of therapy at you as an insult, a weapon to tear you down disguised as benevolence. And I hope you know that I realize your ultimate purpose is to shut me up, because you don't want to hear what I have to say. I'm just sorry to disappoint you, because I'm not going anywhere.

To go back to your Ask, @dropsandcandiez: Thank you. Truly, madly, deeply (please tell me someone got that reference), thank you. Your encouragement and that of my other followers means the world to me, and so I will keep slaying as best I can. Thanks for writing in! xx

[forevermarked]

"What will you do now, mysir Dal'Varek?" He leaned back and blew out a gust of air. He rolled his cup on the table, and thoughtfully took a sip. "You know, I'm not sure yet. It seems the kind and benevolent Constantine Firespark has exhausted his need for my services, for the time being. I went down to the harbor earlier, looks like there's a ship leaving for Kile tomorrow. Perhaps my fortune awaits me there." It doesn't. You know that. Eris studied him with an unreadable expression. "Maybe... or maybe something even better than fortune awaits you here in Ark." Don't do this. "Not for me," he responded. "But for you, probably." "Hm..." she tilted her head. "We'll see. I should get back to the Temple, but I wanted to say... thank you. For saving me." "It was nothing."   Nothing. It was nothing. It was nothing. It was nothing. Eris smiled, and stood. "I wish you luck in Kile, or wherever you decide to go. I hope our paths cross again, Jespar, and if not..." She leaned over him. She smelled of bathhouse soap and oranges.  "I won't forget you." She leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. Chaste. Silly. Pure. Then, before he could say or do anything, she rushed out of the tavern, squeezing through the small crowd, disappearing among the backs of strangers. Jespar blinked. His hand went to his cheek, numbly. "What...?"

[handgiven]

3-5 THINGS YOUR CHARACTER CAN BE IDENTIFIED BY.

EMOTIONS / FEELINGS.

01.  unconditional love 02.  benevolent understanding 03.  radical kindness 04.  tender mercy 05.  deeply internalised guilt

COLORS.

01. tangerine 02. honey 03. earth brown 04. lavender 05. searing white

SCENTS.

01. summer meadow (hair). 02. forest soil (skin). 03.  fresh laundry. 04. ozone. 05.  fruits (hands).

FASHION.

01. oversized sweaters 02. earthy and natural colors 03. whirling skirts, wide pants, loose fit jeans 04. overalls, work clothes, blending into the mundane

OBJECTS.

01. a first edition john keats, with a handwritten note addressed to him 02. a teaset made entirely out of different teasets that got broken apart or otherwise lost over time -- each cup a different color and size, none of them matches the pot 03. a favourite sweater given away freely to someone who is cold 04. a thermos with tea to fit the mood & metal cups to bring along 05.  a tangerine shared with a stranger

BODY LANGUAGE.

01. hands fumbling together / touching things for grounding 02. running a hand through his hair when nervous — leaving the lone curl to hang in his eyes when too nervous to do even that 03.  settling down on the ground, in the grass, legs stretched out or crossed underneath him, a palm shading his eyes from the sun even though it doesn't hurt him 04. lips forever parted slightly, not breathing but drawing breaths to taste the world upon his tongue and further ground himself in the moment 05. hand with its palm open, extended in an apology, or an offer of help

AESTHETICS.

01. gardening without any gloves on. 02. washing hands as a sacred act. 03. sunlight, warm and orange, glinting between foliage. 04. the speck of gold inside every living creature. 05. the stranger who does something so kind for you so casually & disappears before you can even realise it or say thank you.

stolen from: @talentforlying tagging: @triicksters @shilohgreen @primordialchoice && anyone who might want to do the thing (as always -- you three feel free to ignore this entirely, anyone else who wants to do this please do tag me so i can see and nerd about your characters with you? thank you <3)

[yzeltia]

Closer to You

Chapter 7 Characters: Natsu Obinata, L'lolamo Lolomori(Hydaelyn), Fuyu'li cen Zwhan, Keith Summers, Carter Summers, @driftward 's Nyx Blackmoon, @mintibunny 's Minti Chocolate, X'ruhn Tia Rating: T for inTerogation Notes: Thank you @driftward for the mechanics pass

After climbing out of the waters of The Clutch, the party made the trek to Blackbrush Station, wet and sore from battle. X’ruhn said his goodbyes to Natsu before heading off with L’lolamo and Nyx to the Forgotten Springs to appraise the village on what had happened. This left the Summers brothers and Minti to watch over Fuyu’li, awaiting Natsu to interrogate him. As the Auri girl approached the inn where her friend was being held, she heard Carter’s voice from outside, “JUST TELL US WHERE THEY ARE!” Hurrying inside, Natsu found Minti and Keith quietly drinking tea outside the bedroom where Carter and Fuyu’li were, the latter still looking a bit shaken from falling off the train and into the waters. Worried that the Hyur might take his anger out on Fuyu’li, Natsu pushed into the bedroom, finding her friend bound to a chair with a dark specter firmly holding him down by shoulders while Carter leaned into his face while Jannie leaned up against the wall and watched quietly.

“Is all this necessary,” Natsu asked cautiously, only to have Carter whip his head angrily toward her.

“He’s kidnapped my fiance and at least two others. He’s lucky he has information I want, otherwise I’d have tossed a stone on him and left him in the reservoir to his fate.”

Fuyu’li audibly gulped at the passive threat before thrashing his tail and struggling. “I will not apologize for acting on my master’s orders! I would gladly bear the weight if it meant finding his sister!”

Natsu pinched the scales on the bridge of her nose, shaking her head as she let out a deep sigh then knelt down in front of the Miqo’te. “Fuyu, as I said on the train: What sense would it make for your master to have traveled all the way to Eorzea? Let alone kidnap strangers?”

Carter huffed, crossing his arms as he impatiently glowered down at Fuyu’li, making the Garlean cowered under his gaze. His tail flicked a bit as he opened his mouth to answer a few times but not finding the words before interrupted as Jannie let out an audible: “Hmm.”

“You got something you add,” Carter asked, turning toward Jannie.

“Perhaps,” the Elezen mused before pushing off the wall to search Fuyu’li’s face, “This master of yours. Is he an Auri boy with a pale complexion and crimson eyes?”

The Miqo’te perked up, eyes wide as he nodded, “You know my master then?”

“Varshahn? Of Radz-at-Han,” Jannie asked.

“Yes! You do know him! Please tell them that my master is kind and benevolent and would not dare hurt his captives! We just want to get back his dear sister!”

“He’s definitely been played the fool here,” Jannie said, not addressing the mewling miqo’te as he excitedly looked to have himself and master exonerated, only to have his head, tail, and ears hang limp.

“Yes, I suspected as much. His encounter fits the pattern of our experience with the imposter,” Natsu said, arms crossing.

“I know what the young master looks like! And how he talks! There is no one more important to me and you think I would not know his face and voice,” Fuyu’li protested.

“That’s exactly the caveat of dealing with the Imposter. They look and sound like the person you care for the most,” Natsu sighed.

“I take it that you separated from Varshahn some time before the events of the Final Days. Your young master has been recently reunited with his sister through the efforts of one of the very people you helped to abduct,” Jannie said softly.

Fuyu’li sat still a moment, looking straight ahead before down at his feet. “I don’t understand…I was on a mission…He said that I was helping him…How could that be true?”

“Someone manipulated you in the cruelest of ways and you believed them because it is hard to see what the heart shields you from,” Jannie said knowingly before tilting the other’s chin up with her finger, “Now, tell us what you did for who you thought was your master and what their intentions are, otherwise, this very angry young man is going to understandably lash out at you for robbing him of his most precious person.”

Natsu watched as Fuyu’li winced then looked up into Jannie’s eyes. For a moment he seemed to struggle again with his words before giving a relenting nod as he sat back. “My young master approached me when Natsu and I were in Ul’dah. He wished to use my knowledge of computers and Garlean resources to help him acquire a means to achieving his goal of finding his sister.”

Fuyu’li furrowed his brow then closed his eyes, ignoring the impatient huffing of Carter as he continued his story, “Looking back I could have volunteered some information about my master, but he seemed to know so much about me and my past…Anyroad, he asked me to help him seek out those who have the blessings of the Echo as before the fall of the Empire I was apart of the Resonance project. I studied those with the Echo deeply and did…unspeakable things to learn about them in the name of the Empire.”

“Enough of this. I don't care to hear some Garlean filth try for sympathy. I want to know where Hayzel is now or I'll,” Carter started, only to be silenced as Jannie reached over to press her finger against his lips.

“Continue,” Jannie said.

Fuyu'li flicked his tail, putting it into his lap to wring as he avoided everyone's gaze, “I wanted to…make up for that. My master saved me when I had been tossed into the sea for dead. I wanted to help people, and most importantly the one who showed me kindness when I didn't deserve it. So when he asked me to use my knowledge of the Echo to help, I jumped at the chance. It was mostly interviews, to see if there were those who had abilities beyond just peering into the past. I met Miss Jinba who could see the future and then Hayzel who could bring about the manifestation of dreams.

“When my master learned of them he took an interest, and brought them to me. He wanted their assistance in helping him find his sister. I promise they're being cared for in the most luxurious manner we could provide!”

Carter scoffed then grabbed the hilt of his sword. Fretting, Natsu moved between him and Fuyu’li, “And what about Leon? Did you do that Fuyu’li? At the Gage Acquisition Headquarters?”

Fuyu'li shook his head, “I don't know a Leon. I tried to hack into their database given their reputation of housing Echo users; however, the system was locked out during my attempts to access it and my master said that he would investigate there themselves.”

Natsu let out a sigh of relief, happy to hear he was ignorant of the murder. Moreso, she remembered that the others had been upset about Y’zel seemingly activating a fail safe due from tampering with the login information. She wondered if he somehow knew that they'd be targeted.

“And I suppose you took Violet for her ability to commune with the lifestream,” Jannie asked.

“Yes,” Fuyu'li answered.

“And where have you taken them,” the Elezen woman asked, shifting to stand beside Natsu, weary of Carter's vengeful intentions.

“Roaming. We made use of the rail systems left behind during the Garlean occupancy. They could be anywhere between the ruins of Carteneu and Gyr Abania,” Fuyu'li answered weakly.

“So nearly half of Eorzea. You better have something more than that,” Carter growled.

“Sadly I do not…,” Fuyu'li said before letting out a cry as the shadow sank sharp claws into his shoulders.

“Mr. Summers, while it is a crime to apprehend another against their will, it is not one punishable by death; however, in Thanlan, murdering someone is. As it stands Fuyu'li is the only one who has any insight into the whereabouts of our friends and loved ones. Maybe it'd be best if you moved on to scout Mor Dohna to see if you can find a lead on train sightings. I'm sure Miss Rowena will have had her people watching what has been coming and going.”

Carter stared then grunted, turning his attention to Natsu. “You're pursuing this right? If he gives you anything useful you better linkpearl my brother.”

Natsu simply nodded, letting Carter storm out to fetch his brother and Minti. Exhaling, she looked back to Fuyu'li, “You're going to make this right or I might very well let him do as he pleases. I can't believe you could fall for such a thing!”

“You just don't understand what my young master means to me,” Fuyu'li pouted.

Natsu frowned then hugged herself, unable to forgive her friend. Jannie sighed then gently collapsed her hand on the girl's shoulder. “I will see about getting us something to eat. Do not leave. I will find you.”

Fuyu'li gulped, having not had words land with such fear in his stomach since his mother scolded him as a boy. He turned to Natsu who refused to face him. “I'm…sorry.”

“You should be.”

“I know.”

“You abandoned me.”

“I know.”

“I've been…so lonely.”

Fuyu'li’s ears dropped as Natsu started to rub her eyes. He could do little more than apologetically stare up at her and wait for her to compose herself. Sniffling, Natsu looked at him then turned away again. 

“There was another that was kidnapped. Patient Heaven from Old Sharlayan. A Roegadayn woman.”

Fuyu'li tilted his head, “That name doesn't sound familiar. The only three we enlisted…er…are the three I disclosed.”

Natsu turned, “Are you certain? She was among the first to have been reported missing and did not turn up after.”

“No. I have a pretty good memory. I don't remember anyone like that. We never left the main continent.”

Natsu started a moment, her friend's genuinely confused face assuring her of his ignorance of the matter. Jannie soon returned with bowls of stew on a tray, raising her brow at the girl as she looked up. “Did you get something useful out of him?”

“I think so. We should make for Old Sharlayan and find out more about the first abduction.”

“Alright then. And him?”

Natsu sighed, “If I don’t keep an eye on him I’m afraid he’ll just find a way to get into trouble.”

“What? I am perfectly capable of-” “Do I need to remind you who helped you out on our visit to Costa De Sol,” Natsu snapped, not turning back as he cowered.

“Ah…but I should return to my master-”

“Not until we clean up the mess you made!”

Jannie sighed, putting the tray aside and helping herself to her bowl of soup while watching the two, unable to avoid thinking that the two fighting reminded her a bit of Violet and U’rahn. 

[bwobgames]

Previous First

They go upstairs

After processing the knowledge that he basically asked for a one night stand, even though he is the kind of man who is afraid of such levels of intimacy with strangers, Detective Beebo is once again facing a fear

"I didn't think this house was gonna be so big... well, it is a mansion, so I should've expected it, but still!

So unsettling... especially this particular corridor. It's dreadful

"I'll just ... keep my eye on the rooms"

"Let's stick together. This house is too big"

"I agree, i don't like it either"

Oliver walks towards the room on the right, but the man quickly changes his direction to the door on the left.

He had a strange expression.

They open the door

"And there was only one bed"

"We can find another room with more beds"

"No, it's fine, let's just sit"

"So! This is a murder mystery party, right? Are we gonna be given roles like in Clue? I've only heard of these puzzle solving parties from other mystery fans on forums and I always wanted to be in one but you either needed an invitation or a ton of money so I never went and- So sorry, I'm rambling, anyways you could be the rich girl and I could be the butler, he's the guy who knows everyone's bussiness!"

"I just hope it's not an Among us party, I've heard those dont end well"

"Haha, yeah, I ... I don't think that's what's happening."

"Thank god, honestly, I'd be satisfied with a simple escape room"

"No, no, I mean

this is not a party at all"

"... Go on"

"This is a fundraising for a museum, something about a great hospital in a time of need.

But the invitation said nothing about it, and it seems the host didn't approve of the invitation either"

"Also, my reporter friend has told me that no one has seen or heard of Mr. Eugene Coli until this party, coincidentally, all of the guests here are related to him somewhat"

"Well, except you, for some reason"

"Do you see what I'm getting at? Eugene Coli reunited all of us here, and I don't think it was for good intentions"

"In fact, I think we are all in danger"

"Oh, this is serious, I should take off my hat to show respect to his hypothesis"

"That's a big accusation to make, but ... I can see some merit to it. A gut feeling of sorts"

"He did upload a video speedrunning OSHA violations, some even reaching workplace abuse, so it wouldn't be a stretch to assume he isn't the most benevolent person around"

"So... what? You think he might be making another weird speedrun with us instead?"

"I don't know, I'm not as good as you at detective work. All I know is that this man might very well be hunting us for sport, and we need to get out of here as soon as possible"

"... Even if what you're saying is true, we can't. There's a giant storm outside. We would get lost on the way to the village or straight-up freeze"

"We have to investigate this further"

"But what if that only puts you in more danger??"

"It's a risk we have to take. Once we figure out what is happening, we can counter it. I mean, we don't even know why or how he would harm all of us!"

"For fun, probably."

He looks angry

"Maybe, but we have to make sure, if we know more about the man, we can predict his moves"

"Don't worry, We'll do it together! This is not the first time I've heard someone wants to kill me"

"... I believe that.

I just. Would prefer to just be safe"

Seems like this guy is a rookie. Poor guy must be really stressed

"Don't be scared

I'll protect you"

He looks a little sad

"We should start by investigating his speedrunning stunt and see if something correlates. No one really knows what motivated that either"

"... I think someone here knows"

"... Who's that"

"I'll take you to them"

[16woodsequ]

(For the writers truth and dare ask game)

I was unsure how many I could pick so I chose two, 🍓 because I’m genuinely curious and 🍦for the fun of it!

Also excuse me for not interacting as much as I usually do, but now I’m back :)

(From this ask game)

Thanks for the ask! I always love them :D

🍓 how did you get into writing fanfiction? 

Oh that's something I haven't thought about in a while! Okay, so my first introduction to fandom was through DeviantArt. I grew up on transformers and went looking for cool fanart. I found some but couldn't comment without an account, so I made my first fandom account. I wasn't planning to post anything, but a stranger followed my empty blog and sent me an encouraging note saying they couldn't wait to see what I did. (I still think of them, we never became mutuals or anything, it was like they were a benevolent fairy godmother telling me to create, and then I never saw them again, but I owe them a lot!)

So I posted a few drawings and followed a bunch of people and groups on DA. I began reading fanfiction there. But I still never even thought to post my own work at the time.

But circa 2014 I am very invested in reading fic and I have a favourite Transformer character (Starscream) whom I have created an entire backstory for (sparked by a take I didn't agree with in a fic). I'm deep into mentally writing stories, with my own Mary Sues and everything. It's my daily pass-time, daydreaming these stories and meta.

It still doesn't occur to me to write any of these until one day I'm watching The Hobbit, and Ed Sheran's I See Fire plays and hits me like a lightning bolt. This song is perfect for my fav character!! Someone's got to have written about it, right???

So I scour fanfiction sites (I can't remember if I'd started reading on Ao3 yet, but I'd definitely been on FNN) but No One had written this Very Niche idea???

And that's when the concept of writing my own fic started. I just had too. The idea was too good. So my first fic was a song fic writing on the DA STASH program (not even Word lol. This thing didn't even have a word count, and my editing process was to read the wip backwards word for word, searching for misspellings or other typos).

And after that I suddenly realised that if I wanted people to see my fav character in the same light I did, I had to write it. And so it began.

I eventually started posting on FNN, and then in 2016 on Ao3. My first Marvel fic followed a similar process where I got an idea and it was just too good and people needed to know about it, so Lessons Learned was written on STASH. (I think around then I finally moved to Word XD). I still have an old account on DA, but I haven't been active on it in many years. It does hold a special place in my heart for being the place I started learning about fandom and writing in though.

So I guess I started writing fanfic because no one seemed to be writing my stories, and I had Opinions that needed to be shown.

🍦 name three good things about a character you hate

Oh geez, lemme think.

Quickest name comes to mind is Rumlow. But that's in a Love to hate situation. I know some people like to redeem Rumlow, but I love how he can shorthand so easily as just the worst guy you know.

He's just the worst (positive). No matter what AU you're reading you know any character named Rumlow is going to be the worst scum ever.

I mean, I've heard about what it's like to live with large, bad burns. So good for him for making it through the acute period and living with it I guess.

Kind of ties in to the first point, but there's not much he wouldn't believably do. You want an unhinged bad guy? Rumlow will help you out. Does he have morals or did he lose them with the burns? Your choice writer! He's up for anything.

Hope you enjoyed the ask! Oh and don't feel bad at all about engagement! I know how life can get sometimes and I'm not ever going to get mad for something like that.

[piduai]

back in 2021 when i was studying to get into college i would stalk your acc everyday i kinda developed a parasocial relationship with fr sorry girl i just enjoyed your strong opinions and ur sense of humour anyway a year later i actually got into college i am doing what i wanted and all and for some reason i thought it somehow would fix all of my lonely problems but it didnt. ive always been weird but more than ever i dont think i can hide it anymore, i try being normal sooo hard but i feel like everyone can see through my act and they get weirdedout, like they can see that i am trying so hard when to them is so natural and the only girl i kinda made acquaitance with is thinking abt leaving so idk what to do. i truly envy normal people, i take no pride in being different i would trade all of my "uniquiness" to be able to fit in this world fr. sorry for venting, i remember you had a post kind of giving tips on how to ""survive" college but i cant seem to be able to find it. anyway thanks queen keep your head up.

congrats on getting into college, especially if it's something you like doing! i hope your academic career is going smoothly.

if you're in your second year of college you're what, early 20s? being 21 is as bad as being 14 but now you can legally take out a loan. being a weird loner at 21 is ^2 that. i think a lot of lonely teenagers have this college fantasy where they'll finally become social butterflies once they get their psych 101 schedule, but it's rarely the case; people don't change overnight. what i'm trying to say is that it's normal and fine even to feel that way - the disappointment, the frustration, the feeling of something lacking and of losing out. you're in a transactional period, not fully grown into your brain, so it's rather normal to feel bottomless despair in your situation. a lot of your problems will pass with age.

i can relate to your "i wish i was normal" bit so bad. a lot of boring losers on here who haven't stepped a toe out of normalcy their entire lives will talk about being proud weirdos because they play dungeons and dragons and have a porn addiction. god's #real strongest warriors know that there's nothing worse than deviating from the norm, a life of alienation you feel down to the bones. even if you mask exceptionally well and manage to blend in it doesn't go away, you know that you're abnormal and are the odd one out, and struggling with things that come naturally to the majority is downright humiliating. when i was younger i used to resent all of this, i resented not being like other people, resented being unable to be like everyone else, resented having to invest excruciating effort to not stand out like a sore thumb. but eventually you just have to come to terms with it, accept that there's something wrong with you, something that makes you different from most people you'll meet casually, and live with it. once you don't hate yourself for it anymore all you have to do is remember the scripts to follow during regular meaningless interactions and you're peachy. weird people have always existed, you're not the first or the last one, and they lived somehow so we can manage too.

and i know that the self-consciousness makes you think that everyone can sniff you out like a hound but the truth is that most people don't really care about you, they have their own lives to worry about. and it's a good thing, great in fact! if you just exist quietly but try to blend in (as in, don't behave in erratic or abnormal ways and don't create trouble) THE meanest thing people will passingly may think of you is "oh she's a bit awkward/shy/unfriendly" like i promise you those around you don't secretly look at you and go like... wtf.... look at that FREAK walking here..... gross..... because they simply don't care. like i think that strangers are much more benevolently indifferent than we're giving them credit for.

as for practical advice you never asked for, the good old "go to a place many times and you'll meet someone" method typically works. actually the best would be to join some sport of your liking, it doesn't have to be like, competitive or anything, swimming or badminton are good. but if you're bad at that maybe try chiller hobbies, like maybe your uni has some kind of clubs? anime/manga clubs, reading clubs, whatever you like. usually the people you meet at those particular clubs suck, but it kind of works like lesbian dating - they can introduce you to their friends, which can be nice encounters. there's also the option of frequently volunteering at events or getting a part-time job, stuff like bartending can introduce you to a lot of young people, especially if you're in a student town, but barista/waitressing can work too.

the problem with all of the above is that it does require you to be proactive, which is i think a difficult feature if your sense of self is fluctuating and you're being eaten alive by shame/self-doubt/self-hatred/insecurity. it's very hard to live that way. first and foremost you need to stand solid on who you are, to learn to accept your own quirks, to accept that you have to put up with hardships others will never know, and to respect yourself. different doesn't mean worse, or even bad. you're not a bad person. bad people don't have this kind of thoughts, they live life guilt free while demeaning and stomping on others. so even if you're a bit unusual you're still a decent person, you're deserving of dignity and respect and kindness, of good things, of connection, of love. meaningful encounters are rare, but they happen! keep searching, there is no other way. there are other people like you. i wish you the best of luck!

[joandfriedrich]

I don't think that Jo is demisexual. Her reaction to meeting Fritz is "Hnnngh; I liiiike. No wait. He's not remotely conventionally attractive. WTF me."

This ask is honestly bewildering to me. If you don’t think she is demisexual, then what do you think she is?

The way you worded it make it seems like Jo is only interested in conventionally attractive people, and I am not sure what makes you think that, especially since she is described, even by her own words, that she is not conventionally attractive either, and we know she isn’t vain in that way. If this was the case, how come she didn't see Laurie like that when he was described as being conventionally attractive? It’s again that weird idea that only conventionally attractive people can only be desirable, and if you find someone sexy that isn’t attractive then there is something wrong with you.

For those who do not know, demisexuality is when a person does not feel sexual desire for a person unless they have developed an emotional connection to the other person, and only after that connection is made will they feel a sexual desire for that person. Looks do not play a part in the demisexual’s feelings of desire, so the “He's not remotely conventionally attractive. WTF me” doesn’t work because she never desired anyone before him.

The first time she ever sees the professor, though it was not their official meeting, it was him doing something that immediately touched her and made her like him.

“As I went downstairs soon after, I saw something I liked. The flights are very long in this tall house, and as I stood waiting at the head of the third one for a little servant girl to lumber up, I saw a gentleman come along behind her, take the heavy hod of coal out of her hand, carry it all the way up, put it down at a door near by, and walk away, saying, with a kind nod and a foreign accent, ‘It goes better so. The little back is too young to haf such heaviness.’

Wasn’t it good of him? I like such things, for as Father says, trifles show character.”

After that, she begins to learn more about him before properly meeting him, and finds that he is a good man despite his unconventional looks. Just as it is said in the novel, she questioned why people liked him, not he’s unattractive and therefore can’t be liked.

“Why everybody liked him was what puzzled Jo, at first. He was neither rich nor great, young nor handsome, in no respect what is called fascinating, imposing, or brilliant, yet he was as attractive as a genial fire, and people seemed to gather about him as naturally as about a warm hearth. He was poor, yet always appeared to be giving something away; a stranger, yet everyone was his friend; no longer young, but as happy-hearted as a boy; plain and peculiar, yet his face was beautiful to many, and his oddities were freely forgiven for his sake. Jo often watched him, trying to discover the charm, and at last decided that it was benevolence which worked the miracle.”

“ ‘That’s it!” said Jo to herself, when she at length discovered that genuine good will toward one’s fellow men could beautify and dignify even a stout German teacher, who shoveled in his dinner, darned his own socks, and was burdened with the name of Bhaer.”

Does this sound like Jo is thinking to herself “WTF me?” No, it’s her understanding why everyone else likes him, and through what she observed of him. Also, here is the passage in which she writes to home about her first time of seeing him, and this is one of quite a few moments in which Jo is checking out the professor.

“I was thanking my stars that I’d learned to make nice buttonholes, when the parlor door opened and shut, and someone began to hum, Kennst Du Das Land, like a big bumblebee. It was dreadfully improper, I know, but I couldn’t resist the temptation, and lifting one end of the curtain before the glass door, I peeped in. Professor Bhaer was there, and while he arranged his books, I took a good look at him. A regular German—rather stout, with brown hair tumbled all over his head, a bushy beard, good nose, the kindest eyes I ever saw, and a splendid big voice that does one’s ears good, after our sharp or slipshod American gabble. His clothes were rusty, his hands were large, and he hadn’t a really handsome feature in his face, except his beautiful teeth, yet I liked him, for he had a fine head, his linen was very nice, and he looked like a gentleman, though two buttons were off his coat and there was a patch on one shoe.”

“...she coolly turned round and studied him—a proceeding which would have much surprised him, had he known it, for the worthy Professor was very humble in his own conceit.”

Jo was totally checking him out, and not at all thinking “Ugh, he’s not attractive, why do I like him?” She ends her letter with “On reading over my letter, it strikes me as rather Bhaery, but I am always interested in odd people...”

So, yes, I maintain Jo is demisexual, and she very clearly is into the professor, even if she doesn’t quite know it or even willing to admit it until much later. He may not be attractive in the same way that Laurie is, but that doesn’t stop him from being perhaps the most attractive male in the book, as his good heart and gentle ways enthrall not only the other characters, but to many readers everywhere.

[saintgoths]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ-ᴏɴᴇ

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - KAI.

WORDS - 2,533.

RATING - G+. [canon typical violence].

SUMMARY - as the appearance of tora rattles isabella, isabella finds ways to have tora scared of her status while ivy quickly figures out who joel meant when he said he knew someone who was also immune aside from venus.

if you want to join a the last of us discord/joel miller discord here you go! 𓆩♡𓆪

14TH OF FEBRUARY 2014

Lilith could barely see what was happening around her as the azure sky was dim and aphotic, alone, Lilith had just gotten away from a bunch of infected, paranoid and low of tools, shortly after, Lilith had heard the deranged and maddened noises of infected that hastily overwhelmed her, out of luck for her gear and appliances, Lilith had thought to run for her life until noises of bullets pierced through the darkness, the weapons took out of what was left of the creatures.

A man, about her age exposed himself to Lilith’s sight, briskly urged the woman to follow him before anymore of the infected could chase after them, the two scrambled and raced away from their current location and to a zone where the man was sure they two were going to be safe.

They had reached a discarded coffee shop that seemed to have much supplies the two could collect from, the man had closed the coffee door shop while Lilith had placed her bag against the closest dusty table whilst the man had done the same.

“Thank you,” Lilith kindly thanked the stranger, genuinely grateful for his conduct.

He welcomed her as he brought out his hand for the woman to shake, “I’m Kai,” he benevolently introduced himself, “short for Kaileen.”

Lilith sneered at his introduction, humoured by his identity. “My mother named me that,” Kai smiled entertained by her diverted state.

“Now why would your mother name you that?” Lilith questioned, authentically curious on his mother’s thought process. Truthfully, Isabella thought the name Kaileen was a woman’s name.

Unbothered, Kai shrugged his shoulders, “I guess she was in a funny mood,” he happily retorted, unoffended by Lilith’s amused stance. “Now, it’ll be rude if you didn’t tell me your name,” he chiefly said, notably curious about Lilith’s integrity.

Quiet, Lilith had concepted of her integrity, the silence between them stiff and inept. Lilith herself didn’t even know who she was, her identity blank and artless, but furthermore, she had thought of the identity she would supply to the man in hopes to get it over with.

“Isabella,” she thoughtfully replied, confident and assured of her new coherence.

Perhaps she didn’t want to be associated with Lilith anymore, amidst all the pain and suffering she had to endure when she was under that name, Isabella no longer wanted to be corresponded with that handle.   

“Just Isabella?” Kai asked, his eyes bright with curiosity.

Isabella confidently had nodded her head, convinced of her new moniker.

“Do you know where you’re off too?” Kai impertinently inquired the young woman who had paused once more, unsure of the path she had to go. Aware of her hesitant and custodial deportment, Kai supplied her with an innocent smile to brace and console her that he wasn’t danger to her. “I just want you to be safe to wherever you’re going.”

Still confused and guarded, Isabella had furrowed her eyebrows, unsure to keep her walls down around Kai. “Why do you care?” She briskly questioned, stiff and suspicious of the man who innocently stood opposite her.

“I’m just being kind,” he genuinely replied, he kindly bounced his shoulders, precise to make her comfortable.

Isabella had thought about it, he had saved her life, if he wasn’t good, he would’ve left her to die by the hands of the infected.

“I have nowhere to go,” Isabelle shortly replied, “I’ve just been on the run, that’s all.”

“Well, I’ve been looking for a society,” Kai had told her, “I’ve been told that they’re welcoming and safe. Stay with me, and let’s go together to find them.”

Hesitant, Isabella had theorised of all the debatable and hypothetical “what if” moments, if she had accepted his proposal, but she had thought that it would be nice to have someone accompany her in this decimation; Isabella now sanguine about his invitation had smiled at Kai, hopeful and secure of the two being together. “Okay,” she had agreed, hopeful for future events.

Kai happily gleamed at her, optimistic and upbeat about their future, he had directed Isabella to secure any tools that would be useful for them for their travel to the private civilisation. She had obeyed his command and picked up anything she deemed helpful as Kai did the same, when they were confident about their gear and machinery, the two left the abandoned coffee shop and began their route to the community.

Isabella had silently speculated and questioned herself on how stiffer and more incompetent the circumstance could get. Confused, Joel had wondered why the strange man had known of his name, and questioned him about it, and Isabella couldn’t have strayed the perplexed glances Joel supplied her with.

“I accompanied Isabella on her trip to Miami, we grew close throughout the travel,” Tora happily explained, mislaid of the intense glare Isabella had provided him with.

Curious, Joel clicked his tongue. “How did you two find each other?”

“He tried to steal Lana from me and I almost killed him for it,” Isabella promptly responded, fervent and bitter with her gaze that was essentially fervid enough to turn Tora into stone.

“Isabella knows how to pack a punch for sure,” Tora comically joked, “I’m pretty sure I’m still sore from all the action.”

Isabella had grinned, insightful that Tora’s statement was two-sided. “So, are you passing by with the travellers?” Isabella inquired, prurient of his arrival.

“No, I’m actually moving to Jackson,” Tora nimbly replied and Isabella’s discernible reaction was enough for Joel to speak.

“If you want Tora gone, tell me and I’ll settle it,” Joel soothingly allayed Isabella who was adequate to Tora’s stay.

She shook her head, passed on to Joel’s suggestion. “It’s fine,” she had muttered, “go to your duties,” she had ordered ere she delicately pressed her lips against the edge of his jaw, “I have a dinner to attend to.”

The rest of them had waited for Robin’s arrival, the dinner had started not too long ago but Isabella was convinced that Robin wouldn’t take long to come back home. Throughout the wait, the rest of the people had hushed conversations as Isabella placed down the remainder plate of foods she had made, as she prepared the table, Robin had entered the Rosalind home with his blonde friend beside him.

The two had sauntered into the dinner room, Scarlett timid to meet Robin’s family members had kept her figure close to the boy’s body, Scarlett slightly behind Robin’s physique, eyes shy and away from the rest of the people who sat around the bureau who were each as curious to the young lady who entered the Rosalind lodge.

“This is my friend, Scarlett,” Robin amiably introduced, noble and gratified of the new friend he had introduced to his family, the young man had also observed that Ellie had been invited to their dinner.

Honoured and content to meet Robin’s new associate, Isabella had forwarded herself gracefully to Scarlett, her smile deep and friendly as she brought herself to greet the blonde-haired girl. “Hello, Scarlett, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Hello Mrs. Rosalind,” Scarlett still shy and kept to herself had acutely blushed at the strong and prestigious charisma and style Robin’s mother cultivated.

Scarlett had heard how much of a refined and radiant woman Isabella was, even though she had this mysterious shadow that cloaked her, there was something ideal and sublime about the woman that drew people in.

The dinner had progressed and the chatter was loud and amiable; Isabella grateful for the guests and ecstatic of the peaceful and comedic energies that was passed around, Robin and Scarlett had given each other brief slants that Isabella easily peeped. Both of her brows raised, curious to what hidden information the two young friends shared, yet, Isabella wasn’t as nosy in her children’s life, she knew her healthy boundaries to her children’s privacy. Yet, Isabella was able to tell that the brisk glances Scarlett and Robin shared were the looks people would hold whenever they wanted to say something.

“Scarlett is staying for the night,” Robin hastily explained, his hand immediately reached for the glass cup that contained apple juice in the see-through chalice; Scarlett silent and nervous of his mother’s response who sat there confused.

“Why?” Isabella urged genuinely inquisitive to the stay over.

Once again, Robin and Scarlett looked at each other, Robin heedless on how to word Scarlett’s situation without exposing what was going on in front of everyone. The room silent and interested, Robin had shrugged his shoulders in hopes for someone to change the subject.

“Does the girl know how to speak?” Venus analytically questioned which had got her to earn a nudge from Ivy who then reminded Venus of Scarlett’s name.

“Oh, you come from the Lucille family?” Ellie had questioned the curly blonde who sat opposite her, in truly, it was to remind herself of Scarlett’s background, Scarlett had nodded at Ellie’s truthful inquiry, eyes kind and indulgent to the auburn-haired woman who sat across from her, who implied engaged with the younger girl’s identity, “oh I’ve heard about your mother, gossip said she’s not the best.”

Quietness had reached the dining room again as all eyes flickered to Scarlett who was unsure if she were to frown or keep away her emotions, “those are rumours,” Scarlett briskly replied, her reply curt and fast, Ellie mumbled an apology ere she resumed eating her food while Isabella silently observed Scarlett’s body language, during the time of her turbulent life, Isabella had grown to become a master of understanding the language of bodies. Moreover, right now, Isabella could see right through Scarlett.

“You can stay at Ivy’s room tonight,” Isabella generously replied, her smile there to comfort the girl who seemed more confident due to Isabella’s response.

“My room?” Ivy had complained, imperceptibly against the idea.

Isabella had eyed her, pretty annoyed at Ivy’s critique. “Ivy, you have a lodge to yourself.”

“Fine, I was going to be at my lodge anyways,” Ivy hastily retorted, promptly over someone sleeping in her room. Appeased by Ivy’s adaptable behaviour, the dinner continued on, harmonious and equable to Scarlett’s taste who hastily found herself comfortable in the presence of the people around her.

His home was small, yet, big enough for one person to occupy the newly built residency, the resident was built in land that had been recently opened for the newcomers, quite the walk from Isabella’s home, knowledgeable that the size difference of the house was vast compared to her Rosalind home.

She had knocked on the door, once again had examined the surroundings around her, it was night and the area seemed endless, the woman had noted there were other properties being built, some looked like shops, some looked like other homes or places to hang out.

“Izzy,” Tora happily greeted, content to her arrival, taken aback that the woman would even use her time to visit him, amidst her hands behind her back, Isabella gently smiled at the Moroccan man who briskly approved for the curly-haired woman to walk into his home.

With her free hand, Isabella had sealed and locked the door behind her, hardly gave Tora the time to speak once more fore she had begun to strike him with the bat she hid behind her with her attended hand. Her hits hard and harsh, merciless and cruel.

He had struck his hand out to protect himself from her upcoming blows, his voice pleaded and urged the Rosalind woman to hear to what he had tried to say.

“I just want to start a new slate! I don’t want to cause no trouble!”

Unmoved, Isabella had hoisted her bat, ready to swing, her eyes barbarous and cruel to the man who dared to trail her back to the private society. “Then why here?! Why Jackson!”

“The way you spoke about Jackson,” he quickly replied, “it inspired me to come here, even though you precisely mentioned for me to not come, I promise I won’t do any weird shit.”

Immediately regretful about telling Tora about where she resided, her grip had cemented around the tail of the bat, prepared to strike the man who rested helplessly below her, “are you really going to kill me?”

-She glowered and scowled at the curly-haired man, speculated if he tested her savagery. “Yes,” Isabella firmly replied as she readied herself to beat the bloke who thought of every possible variation to stay alive.

“What if I taught your children Arabic? Would you allow me to live?”

Isabella pulled herself back, in thought, ever since Kai had died, Isabella had been unlucky to teach her children Arabic hence she only knew a few words, Ivy did understand and speak Arabic better than her mother but it was limited and the oldest Rosalind sibling had taught her siblings what she could.

Having someone fluent in their father’s native tongue was conclusive and beneficial for her and her kids. “Get yourself to the Hospital and get yourself cleaned and stitched up; you teach them on Monday mornings.”

Past bothered about the state he was in, Isabella had exited Tora’s home and rebounded to her home without any extra thoughts of the chaos and turmoil she had put through the Moroccan man and had composedly slept in her bed.

Ivy couldn’t sleep, even if being cuddled up with Ellie made it easier for the Rosalind girl to fall into a trance, but there was something different about today, perhaps it was the cold wind that blew in from the open window in Ivy’s lodge. On the other hand, Ivy liked the cold, so that couldn’t have been it.

Ellie was fast asleep, like Ivy, Ellie found it comforting to sleep next to her lover, especially after their intimate sessions, Ellie loved it when Ivy would clothe herself in Ellie’s flannel even though Ivy had commented she felt low about Jackson’s fashion, it was Ellie’s attire she always found herself in.

Another thing about the Williams girl Ivy liked was her tattoo, the colouring, the patterns, the way the ink without flaw healed, Ivy had wanted to ask Ellie what the tattoo had meant but Ellie was private and secretive of the ink. The only information Ellie had told her about the emblem was that it was a chemical burn, Ivy had pondered how did she burn herself with chemicals but her girlfriend was already distant about it.

Upon as she examined the emblem on Ellie’s skin, the words from Joel Miller had filled her mind, and the right thumb of Ivy had trailed the chemical burn that heavily imprinted Ellie’s arm and had noticed that the pattern had resembled the mould and design of the bite on Venus’ lower left leg.

“I know someone else here in this community who is immune.”

The words had repeated in her head and Ivy’s contemplation and concept was fast, stunned and stupefied that the person Joel was talking about had always been around her, Ivy was balked and dissatisfied that her observing nature was lessened enough for her to not grasp that the immune person was Ellie.

masterlist

♆

[acealistair]

1. What kind of person is your OC in a crisis? Are they calm and collected? Do they panic? Or are they chronically the cause?

4. Does your OC have a failed friendship or relationship they still think about? What happened? Is it an unresolved regret or is there a chance for reconciliation?

6. Does your OC know magic? Were they born with magical ability or did they train to acquire it? What is their favorite type of magic? Least favorite?

10. Is your OC sentimental or pragmatic? Do they keep mementos or only what they need to survive? Have they always been this way or did something happen to make them change?

13. How important are romantic relationships to your OC? Do they prefer casual sex, short flings, or long term relationships? Do they want to get married or are they content with what they have? Or do they have no interest in romance whatsoever?

14. How important is friendship to your OC? Do they prefer to have one or two close friends or a large group of casual friends? Or do they prefer their own company over that of others?

For Cosette and / or whoever you like (:

Yaaaay thank you!!

1. What kind of person is your OC in a crisis? Are they calm and collected? Do they panic? Or are they chronically the cause?

I think it depends on who/what the crisis is centered on. Namely, if it revolves around her friends or strangers in need, Cosette is very concerned and eager to help. However, if it's centered on herself, she does have a tendency to shut down and internally panic.

For example, with all the companion quest climactic/emotional moments, Cosette is right there ready to comfort and give advice to her friends. On the other hand, when she was forcibly "evolved" and the weight of the consequences fell on her, she had a full-blown panic attack and totally withdrew into herself, even though she had comforted Wyll after his unwanted physical transformation. I'm not sure I'd use the word "calm" but she tries to stay strong and hopeful when people she cares about are having a crisis.

(Rest is under the cut since it's long!)

4. Does your OC have a failed friendship or relationship they still think about? What happened? Is it an unresolved regret or is there a chance for reconciliation?

Honestly the person that best fits that is the Emperor by the end of the game. He was the first friend who ever seriously broke Cosette's trust and she's a little heartbroken about it. Also the fact that he couldn't see reason regarding Orpheus upset her, since that just broke whatever friendship was left entirely, and even long afterwards she low-key clings to the thought of what if I had been able to convince him? rather than accepting that those choices he made were his true colors.

Orpheus was not exactly the forgiving, all-benevolent soul she was hoping he would be (so that she could feel better about her choice to betray the Emperor) so the stark difference of how much easier it would have been to resolve the situation had she stuck with the Emperor wasn't lost on her. But ultimately she knows she had to stand up for Orpheus, for the sake of Lae'zel's people. Obviously, no chance of reconciliation since she had to kill the Emperor in the end. petty bitch

6. Does your OC know magic? Were they born with magical ability or did they train to acquire it? What is their favorite type of magic? Least favorite?

Her class answers half the question; being a warlock, she was not born with innate magic. That being said, whether she studied or not is more complicated, because she does technically study magic, it's just not where she learned it from. If it hadn't been for her encounter with the archfey she made a pact with, she likely would have become a traditional wizard! Honestly multiclassing into wizard would totally make sense for her, but I didn't want to miss out on the higher-level warlock stuff.

If you asked Cosette her favorite type of magic she would say "all of it!" lol but she does tend to lean into enchantment spells, partly by virtue of her patron but also because I think it comes more naturally to her as a person. I imagine her sheer will to want to be friends with people helps boost her enchantment magic.

10. Is your OC sentimental or pragmatic? Do they keep mementos or only what they need to survive? Have they always been this way or did something happen to make them change?

Oh, incredibly sentimental, not very pragmatic at all. I will say towards the end of the game Cosette has become slightly more pragmatic via her character development but not that much. She loves collecting little things that remind her of pretty much anything, and is rather materialistic in general. This is absolutely a product of her upbringing so she has indeed always been like that.

13. How important are romantic relationships to your OC? Do they prefer casual sex, short flings, or long term relationships? Do they want to get married or are they content with what they have? Or do they have no interest in romance whatsoever?

Romance is incredibly special to Cosette; she has a very classic view on it and it would take a lot of convincing (or manipulating 😬) to get her to have a casual fling, and even then she would get attached far too much for it to be truly casual. Definitely a hopeless romantic that wants to settle down and live happily ever after with her partner. Though she's able to shift her view depending on the reality of the romance she's in; if her partner doesn't want to get married for a good reason, she can very much be happy without it, so long as she gets to be with the one she loves.

14. How important is friendship to your OC? Do they prefer to have one or two close friends or a large group of casual friends? Or do they prefer their own company over that of others?

Friendship is equally as important as romance for Cosette! She's very gregarious so she loves having a lot of friends, but some are definitely closer than others. She ended up having a very deep and special friendship with each individual companion in BG3.

[fourtymart]

Welcome to FourtyMART, your one-stop-shop for some real goofy bastards, at equally goofy bargains!

FourtyMart - Independent Multimuse RP Blog by @transitpresident - Multifandom - Semi-Selective - Lit to Semi Lit - 18+ Admin

Rules, extra info, and characters below the cut.

FourtyMart is a warehouse home to a handful of colorful characters that you- yes, you!- can potentially interact with! Here's a few! (Images still in transit from our distro center...) CHSR GT#40 - he/him/his Ground Telecom Unit #40 - Channel Fourty Showrunner The face and main physical workhorse of Channel Fourty, CHSR does his job with style, quality, and a smile on his face. As an android built for the purposes of television journalism, he’s perfectly engineered with all aspects of that task in mind, especially his “top-of-the-line” social skills, which grant him a friendly disposition, a curious nature, and a kind desire to help others, especially if all strangers are just future friends. This loyal hard worker sticks to his allegiances and his work, always toting around his equipment should a prime opportunity to create content arise. Despite his high-tech nature, he still does have a lot to learn about others, the world around him, and himself, all of which he’ll discover through the viewfinder of his cameras and the lenses in his eyes. Tanfour - he/him (she/her determinant) Kevin Fouris-Tan - Fouris Variant #35 - early 20s A mall-based wasteland fixer from the SF Bay Peninsula with the tenacity, spite, and gay audacity to do whatever he can set his mind to, for better or for worse. With a well-stocked collection of questionably-acquired goods, he distributes, trades, and otherwise sells weapons, vehicles, garbage, knickknacks, and information. He claims to be able to sell anything- which may or may not be true, and whether or not you'd actually like to buy what he's got will depend. Other than be the guy offering you a steal for a crate of corned beef, he’s known to be resourceful and he’s got a knack for making things work- old cars, computer rigs, fashion statements, blatant lies- even if they do end up being held together by twine and duct tape. While he’s decent enough to tolerate in passing, it’s only up to you if you’re willing to stick around for his smug and mildly sleazy attitude, bad and snappy comebacks, ill timed pop culture references, and blunt personal statements. (Note: Tanfour's got a handful of AU variants, including but not limited to the realms of Valorant, TF2, Overwatch, and Cyberpunk 2077. See below for more fandom info.) Mols - she/her/hers 2017 Tesla Model S P100D From a far-future world where cars have outlived humans and have taken on humanoid-android forms, Mols is a laid-back, clever Tesla with a love for lazing about and enjoying the simple things in life. Despite her usually calm nature, she is prone to sparks of excitement- and she's quick in more ways than one. Quick to call things out as they are and even faster to run away from trouble thanks to her swift acceleration speeds, she's the queen of "if it sucks, hit the bricks'. President Tanner - he/him (she/her determinate) Jason Carson Tanner - Tanner-Markov Variant #14 - late 30s The 'eternal president' of a small, heavily militarized but extremely glamour-coated nation-state, President Tanner is a mostly-benevolent leader of his tech-forward and economically successful light-cyberpunk country. Though polite, he's known publicly for having a bit of a fun side, as he very much indulges in his assorted vices and is known for being more approachable than most world leaders- but under his layers, there is no doubt an ability for cruelty and a swath of dark secrets. His words are weaselly, sweet, and long, but all to hide the true meanings of what he has to say.

For now, this is our current selection- but as we stay open, new arrivals will be available in-store! Before grabbing your cart, your membership card, and gearing up for free samples and bargain hot dogs, please go over the rules of our establishment!

Rules

- Please don't hassle me for any responses. Turnaround time will vary due to my fluctuating life.

- I aim for literate and semi-literate responses and prefer not to do one-liners. Length will sometimes matter depending on what you give me, so I'll either match length or just do what I can. If you don't give me much to work with, I may not be able to give a longer response

- No unreasonable "godmodding", if for the sake of your plot, you need my characters to go somewhere or do something, that's fine, but don't just make him do things that I haven't made him do. "Unreasonable" is at my discretion.

- If I am uncomfortable with something, I will contact you, and you should do the same! However, I still do reserve the right to end communications if I feel the need to do so for my own well-being, with only a follow up message afterward.

- "Dark" or suggestive topics aren't off limits, but please communicate this to me beforehand and I'll decide on a case-by-case basis. Any suggestive situations especially must be outlined explicitly beforehand (and don't even think about it if you're under 18.)

- If you want to stop RP, no problem. Just let me know.

- Multiship is allowed! Just talk with me- but I have many characters that would like to have a relationship build over time, rather than just have an instant ship.

- Feel free to PM me either here or @transitpresident if you want to plan things out or ask questions or give context, anything really! If you want my discord contact or want to RP there, PM me for more details. Multifandom/Crossover Info - Many characters have alternate versions, some even specifically tailored to certain fandoms. CHSR, Tanfour, and Prez especially have these, so if you reach out to RP with a character from a fandom- we can arrange for an AU version of them to meet! And even if they don't have one for your source, I don't mind interacting at all! Current Familiar Sources (off the top of my head) [* indicates there are alts available]

Overwatch*

Valorant*

Cyberpunk (2077/Edgerunners/RED)*

Pokemon*

The Stanley Parable

Portal

Splatoon*

Evangelion

Detroit: Become Human*

Houseki No Kuni*

And more! Just PM me! Plus, I have variants that are just generally compliant for specific settings, like modern ones, fantasy, etc. Feel free to ask! Thanks for reading through, and enjoy your time here at FourtyMart! - The Manager

[acacia-may]

Ooo for the “If it was a Hallmark movie” How about one for…Zera and William 😁👀? This little game sounds like so much fun and is limitless in possibilities for characters 😁!

Thank you so much dear 🥰💕!

Hi Lyra! I'm so delighted that you think the game sounds fun! It can get a bit silly sometimes when I play with my sisters, and I'll admit that I've definitely come up with some wacky Hallmark Movie AU ideas for various characters and relationships, but we always have a lot of fun with it in the end, so I really hope you enjoy it as well 💕

Thank you so much for the ask and for the opportunity to play with Zera and William a little bit! 🥰💕 I'm very flattered that you would entrust them to me to come up with a fun little Hallmark Movie AU for them. I had a lot of ideas since there are a lot of Hallmark Rom Com plotlines that would be incredibly fitting for them, and I waffled a lot on which one to choose (I actually started writing out a couple of them before finally deciding on this one). I really hope you like it!

ZerWilliam If It Was A Hallmark Movie...

A Prince's Wish: William is the prince of the tiny country of Aurelius (A/N: Latin for "Golden"). He is a kind and benevolent ruler who cares about his subjects, but he just wants to have a normal life. While visiting his friends in another country, he tries to drive to the beach, but he gets lost and wanders into a flower shop a couple of hours away. He meets the owner, Zera, who doesn't recognize him as royalty. William is immediately smitten by her, but he stops himself from asking her on a date since he didn't want to explain that he is really a prince and possibly change the way she sees him. As he makes his way back to his car, he wishes he could have a quiet and normal life in a small town with her, and he is so busy daydreaming about his wish that he does not pay attention to where he is going and is hit by an ice cream truck.

When he wakes up in the local hospital, he has no memory of anything besides the most recent two hours. The hospital calls Zera since William says he remembers her, but she swears he is a stranger she only just met. Still, Zera feels bad for him, so she takes him back to her flower shop and gives him a job. William finally has the simple life he has always wanted (though he isn't aware of it), and as the country of Aurelius frantically searches for its lost prince, Zera grows to love him as a just an endearingly awkward florist. When the truth of William's royal identity is finally revealed, however, will their love survive?