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teapartyprincess4two · 2 months

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I need a jealous matt fic from you. like actuallyyyy

Urban Cowboy- M. Sturniolo

pairing: Cowgirl!reader x CityBoy!Matt

classification: fluff, angst

warnings: use of y/n, mentions of jealousy, slight cursing, mentions of alcohol and alcohol use, set in the county/ a ranch

inspiration: request^^, Urban Cowboy (the movie) but with a twist & none of the abuse. Also, we’re taking a different route with jealousy hehehe

summary: Matt, a city boy, tries one upping you, the best bull rider in town, only to be met with a painful outcome.

—

Every summer the triplets were shipped away to their grandparents ranch out in the country. For a couple of months, they left their busy city life behind in favor of days plowing the field, tending to livestock, and helping their grandparents out.

Since they were kids, Matt and his brothers have always loved summers out in the country. They spent their days swimming in the river, attending the state fair, running across acres of land, and riding their bikes down dirt roads. So many of their core memories were made during these summer trips, the change of pace allowing them to unwind and relax.

But, as the boys grew older, they began practicing less innocent hobbies. Days playing in the sun were replaced with long, drunk nights at local bars. They danced with attractive people, got into bar fights, and most importantly, they traded in their bikes for mechanical bulls.

Nick and Chris were experts on the mechanical bull, easily outlasting everyone else, but everyone knew that they were just the warmup. The real show started once Matt mounted that bull, his firm grip on the leather rope enough to hold him for longer than anyone else. He had an unmatched strength that helped him too, and he quickly became cocky about it.

Crowds of drunk people would gather just to watch Matt, cheering him on with each passing minute. They would bet on how long he’d last, each time surprised that he was able to hang on for so long. The mechanical bull thrashed and bucked, but Matt’s firm grip held him steadily in place.

No one could ever outlast Matt, until you came along at least. Unlike Matt, you weren’t a city transplant. No, you were born and raised in the country, spending more than just summers doing manual labor. So, where he had natural strength, you had muscles built from years of hard work. There was also another distinguishable difference; he was bull riding as a serious hobby, but you were only doing it for fun.

Bull riding is a past time you’ve practiced your whole life, you didn’t see the point in showing off, but the second you mounted that bull and beat Matt’s time, he couldn’t help but feel like you were. It felt like you were kicking dirt in his face.

Matt, Nick, and Chris watch from the bar. They’re sitting on the stools, facing the crowd that has piled up around you. The conductor, who sits just behind the bull setup, is jolting the remote aggressively from side to side, but no matter how hard he tries he can’t knock you off. Matt feels the jealousy stir in his stomach as the crowd cheers for you, they were only supposed to cheer for him!

“Who the fuck is that?” Matt grumbles mostly to his brothers, but loud enough for the bartender to hear.

Nick and Chris shrug, how were they supposed to know who you were? Chris calls the bartender over with a tilt of his head, silently ordering three beers with his hands.

The bartender immediately fills up three glasses, the alcohol fizzing and frothing at the top. “That’s Y/n… Her dad owns the mill on the outskirts of town, biggest flour company in the west. I heard they made enough money to buy another ranch last year… Shit, they own just about every business this side of town. Pretty sure they own this damn bar,” the bartender chimes in his deep country accent catching the boys off guard as he slides the glasses to them.

Matt, who’s leaning against the bar counter, crooks his neck to look at the bartender, looking him up and down before quickly averting his gaze back to you.

Matt can’t believe anyone could ever outlast his record time of 10 minutes, but as he watches the clock he notices that you were nearing 15. “She’s fucking beating you, dude,” Chris laughs, taking a sip of his beer before slapping Matt’s chest enthusiastically. The neon clock numbers are taunting Matt, causing him to clench his jaw as his pride gets the best of him.

His whole shtick was that he was the city boy who easily outlasted all these country kids, what good did that do if he was beat by a girl?

The mechanical bull thrashes violently as the conductor tries knocking you off, but you’re using your momentum to push you past the 15 minute mark. You don’t even look like you’re struggling either, a big smile plastered on your face as you grip onto the leather rope with one hand and your hat with the other. Everyone is watching excitedly, suddenly erupting into a loud cheer as you create a new record.

“I’ve never seen anyone last that long,” Nick comments, a look of awe and shock on his face. “Then you must not be from ‘round here. That girl is a natural on that thing, she wins the bull riding contest at the state fair every year,” the bartender replies, butting into the conversation once again before shaking his head and walking away.

Matt waits until he’s out of earshot to say, “What the fuck does that mean? ‘You must not be from ‘round here?’” He puts on a dramatic, exaggerated country accent as he says the last part, an annoyed look written all over his face.

You’re standing on the bull now, riding it like a surfer rides a wave. The crowd is going crazy, cheering you on as you continue putting on a show. A smile is spread across your face as you gently sit back down, laying on your back and propping your feet on the horns, your hands weaved between your thighs as you hold onto the leather rope. Everything about your performance was effortless, and it angered Matt.

Matt decides he’s seen enough when you throw both legs to one side, casually holding yourself up with your hands on either side of your hips. He snatches his beer from the bar violently, practically chugging it before throwing it back in the counter. He sucks in through his teeth shortly after at the strong sensation, following it with a burp before throwing his hat back on and stomping over to the crowd.

“I’ll show you who ain’t from ‘round here,” Matt mutters, pushing his way through the crowd until he’s directly in front of the inflatable foundation of the bull machine. You walk right past him as you dismount, making brief eye contact as you drunkenly giggle and laugh your way to your friends. He watches as you stumble, dizzy steps guiding you through the crowd. For some reason this only further upsets Matt, causing him to mount the bull haphazardly.

He sends the conductor a look, signifying that he’s ready to start, before gripping the leather rope so tightly that his knuckles turn white. The machine starts off slowly, rocking back and forth at a pace that gives Matt enough time to properly adjust himself.

But, before he knows it, the bull is gyrating, twisting, and turning so aggressively that he’s struggling to hold on. Matt’s mind is racing with thoughts, the fear of embarrassment causing the anxiety to build up. It feels like the conductor is purposefully trying to knock him off with enough force to hurt him, and it doesn’t help that no one in the crowd is cheering.

After the show you just gave, Matt’s performance was sub par in comparison. He was stiff as a board from the nerves, making it harder to keep his balance. By this point his his hat flew off, bouncing on the inflatable floor beneath him, and he was holding onto the rope for dear life.

“Look at this guy, showing off because he got beat by a girl,” someone snickers from the crowd, the comment being followed by a roar of laughter. That’s when the conductor bucks the machine forward, quickly knocking Matt onto his stomach before pulling the remote and forcing Matt to straighten his back to stay mounted.

Just as he’s gaining confidence in himself, the bull tilts to the right sharply enough to send Matt flying. The inflatable cushion beneath him does nothing to break his fall, the sheer force at which he was thrown being enough to break his arm. The crowd immediately groans as they watch Matt’s body ricochet when it comes in contact with the edge of the ring.

You were facing away from the crowd, engaged in a conversation with your friends, but as soon as you hear the crowd groaning and yelling you turn towards the scene. Matt is laying on the ground, clutching his arm as he tries to breathe through the pain. Everyone watches, but nobody helps, they just stand there either laughing or wincing at the idea of being in that much pain.

“Move!” you exclaim, pushing your way through the crowd and immediately walking into the ring. The spongy ground makes it harder to walk to Matt, who’s looking at you with wide eyes. This was the most embarrassing moment of his life.

You crouch in front of him, using all your force to pull him up from the ground while still being careful not to hurt him.

He lets you pick him up and guide him to a secluded area. His cheeks are burning hot with embarrassment and his eyes sting, the tears threatening to spill from the build up of anxiety and pain.

But he sucks it up and follows you, avoiding everyone’s wandering eyes.

—

“It don’t look broken, just sprained,” you comment, wrapping a bandage around Matt’s limp wrist. He hums in response, avoiding eye contact with you and you can’t figure out why.

“Sorry if I’m oversteppin’. just thought you could use some help,” your country accent is thick, and for the first time since the night started Matt isn’t completely jealous of you. He’s silently grateful that you evacuated him from the embarrassing situation, immediately feeling guilt for trying to one up you and show off.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, wincing as you accidentally pull his wrist. Once the pain subsides he continues, “you were pretty great out there.” The compliment hurts his ego, but you’re being so kind to him that he puts his own jealousies to the side. Matt’s sitting on a bar stool, the both of you in a secluded corner of the bar as you continue tending to his injury.

“Thanks, weren’t too bad yourself,” you offer him a genuine smile, gently placing his arm onto his lap. It was evident, just by looking at him, that Matt wasn’t from here and that made him more alluring. You stand in between his legs, the close proximity building a tension that neither of you know what to do with.

“Can I be honest?” he asks, once again avoiding eye contact and looking into the distance. His eyes train on the mechanical bull, watching as someone else takes a turn on it. You hum in response, trying to move in front of his line of vision to catch his attention.

“I only got on that bull because I was jealous.”

“Jealous?” His statement caught you off guard, what did he have to be jealous of?

“Yeah, jealous. It sounds childish, but I really wanted to beat your time… all I ended up with was a sprained wrist,” he chuckles, fiddling with his fingers. If he wasn’t being so vulnerable, and if he wasn’t injured, you might’ve gotten upset.

“Well, I’ve seen you ride before. You’re better than everyone here,” you reply, trying to keep the conversation uplifting.

“Not better than you.”

“Yeah, not better than me,” you reply seriously, waiting for him to face you before smiling. “I’m kidding,” you laugh, punching his shoulder slightly. He winces before joining you with a chuckle.

“Don’t worry. I can teach you a few moves,” you continue, your eyes wrinkling from how hard you were smiling. Matt’s smiling too, he felt silly for feeling jealous earlier.

“I’d like that,” he chuckles, opening his legs wider for you to scoot in closer. You take the invitation, your hats bumping together slightly. The smile on your face is engulfed by Matt’s lips as he moves in for a kiss, his uninjured wrist resting on your waist.

“Easy there, cowboy,” you murmur as you feel his hands inch down towards your ass. He laughs in response, going in for another kiss.

—

MASTERLIST

a/n:

Cowboy Matt is my favorite. I might make a part two that’s much more angsty bc we need that full Urban Cowboy moment, but for now enjoy this 😋

-L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐

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domoskysplit · 6 months

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///LightSwitch!Zane

(inspired by a load of other AU's I've seen but main one is by spinchips ao3 fic with zane having two diff personalities)

Zane and my boy Zayne! I mostly named ice emperor that because calling him IE just seems either too long or too short but onward to lore.

Lore

Timeline: Post-never realm when the ninjas came back to ninjago.

After zane got fixed up from 6 decades worth of damage and leftover ice that was stuck on his body, PIXAL asked if she could scan him, it was reasonable for him to be scanned and zane agreed since of course. Anything could've been on his mind, and maybe get rid of any rust here and there. But upon checking she found some old persona in him. Soon as she saw it she went to check the switch on zane.

(the same switch zane used after nya becoming the sea)

And the switch was absolutely demolished, as it was close to where Zayne mainly added ice on, meaning that along with his other internal machines and the switch are very broken, PIXAL attempted to fix everything along with Jay and nya but the switch, was unfortunately unable to be fixed as it looked like to be the one part of zane that Zayne kept playing around with out of curiosity and the discovery of flipping it made him far less emotional. To the point it was to no use anymore due to decades of on and off and so forth. Giving zane a constant serious and Unserious and different persona's at all time.

The switch was vitle, and without it could make zane unfixable. So to take it off was just a lose lose situation. And therefore dear ice emperor Zayne became a second persona of zane. Though less hostile after seeing they aren't any harm to him and are in fact his friends, tho still very bitter lloyd technically defeated him by mere words and also Kai for his fire ability which opposed his.

Due to this, every ninja in the temple got used to zaynes sudden appearance even when they were talking to zane, both weren't so far from each other since zane and Zayne are passive, adaptable, hard to beat emotionally, and way too intelligent for robots. Though unlike before, Zayne still has the same voice since voicebox isn't connected to the switch and why his voice was so deep before when he was an emperor was because his voicebox was rusting. They would know if they switched, zayne = a little ruder than zane and zane = less quieter than zayne.

Personality

Zayne: he's far wiser than any of the ninjas, second to master wu due to him existing for 6 decades, and so technically he's older than zane.

His way of speech is different and due to speaking the language of the never realm so much, he has an accent. I don't even know if the never realm/ninjago is supposed to be Chinese or Japanese but I like to think Zayne would Have a slight old Japanese accent similar to master wu.

Knowing the ninjas are his friends, he's not as hostile but still is, talks unnecessarily rude to them when he feels like it, and his pride grows 10 times a day since he always shows up when it's sparring time, beating one by one since his knowledge at fighting is further than any of them, usually being alot more fierce when sparring with Kai, though being slightly careful with lloyd as lloyd always seems to back off if Zayne asked for a spar. So he'll be more gentle at beating lloyd compared to everyone.

When zane and the others have a conversation, sometimes the person they're talking to don't realize it's no longer zane they're talking with but none other than Zayne. Zayne and zane share a mind and are just as intelligent or more so in zaynes perspective but either way it's sometimes hard to distinguish them if Zayne isnt showing the normal differences with zane and as long as he controls his accent abit.

Zane: he isn't much different to Canon other than being more timid but due to also experiencing being the ice emperor too, he unconsciously talks alot more, and his morals are a little more cuckoo than before.

Whenever it is his turn to switch. He's alot more indecisive as he had vex for so many years and when he switches, hes always be greeted by zayne. his feelings for Zayne is complicated, he resents Zayne and he really doesn't like him but he can't blame Zayne much at all, because Zayne is him. They were still the same person before the switch broke, and if it wasn't, its his fault.

Hes usually in the kitchen, with PIXAL or with master wu. It's now uncommon for him to be with the other ninjas, and most of the time he is with them, he's very timid, he loves making plans with them but the fact he hurted them back in the never realm always came to haunt him, and sparring with them was even worse especially with lloyd, so he usually gave the job to Zayne with the condition he doesn't injure them too badly.

Though he's less social, he talks like a king, which is funny for the other ninjas, mostly because he uses alot of high honorifics on himself, sometimes accidentally calling himself emperor, by this point he doesn't even know how to stop it.

(also before closing, his appearance is different, and as much as it just looks like a mix between zane and zaynes style, it's just Zayne feeling uncomfortable wearing the things zane wears regularly and asked if zane could at least give harder protection even if he does know he and zane aren't human and aren't physically weak since they have tough bodies, by the end of the day zane was forced to ask master wu for some)

I'm sure soon enough I'll be making more of these two and how they interact. Feel free to give me questions.

(also if you're someone who's seen my Dual emperor AU, I'm sure I'll talk about it later on)

Too-da-loo!!

#LightSwitch!AU #ninjago #ninjago au #ninjago zane #Don't mind me disappearing for another couple months #Again if there's any questions go ahead

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toxoiddiamond · 3 years

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T H E B A S I C S Given Name: Ryoga Zaizen Nicknames: Ryo Age: 38 Birthday: September 5th Zodiac Sign: Virgo Birthplace: Hakodate, Japan Current Location: He recently moved to Gzira, Malta, after having lived in Yokohama, Japan for nearly thirteen years. Speaks: He is fluent in both Japanese and English. He is starting to learn Maltese, but can only have a very basic conversation at this point. Dominant Hand: Right Education: He completed junior high, but opted not to continue on to high school and started working instead so he could help out his family. Occupation: Voice actor, mostly in anime and video games. Most of his voice work is in Japanese, but he occasionally does some in English as well. Every once in a great while, he does some live action acting, but it’s not his preference. Vehicle: 2018 Peugeot 5008 SUV in navy blue. Worldly Possessions: Some very nice recording equipment that allows him to do his voicework from home. A small family altar that he doesn’t actually pray to, but likes having around for nostalgic reasons. Lots of toys and things for his kids. Lots of DVDs and blu-rays of various films of all genres, with a whole shelf dedicated to family-friendly movies and shows. Pet(s): He recently got a one-year-old Shikoku Ken, partly to try and distract his kids from all the upheaval and turmoil in their lives at the moment. He wasn't too sure about having a dog at first, but now he really enjoys having a pet. The dog's name is Kotaro, meaning "small boy."

A P P E A R A N C E Height: 6'1" Hair: Ryoga enjoys trying all sorts of different colors and styles with his hair. He's had just about every color of the rainbow in his hair at some point, and when he was younger he experimented with having super long hair, mohawks, all kinds of things. Nowadays he tends to keep it cut into a more sophisticated, conservative style, but he still enjoys dyeing it various colors. Currently it is a light blue-gray. Facial Hair: He prefers to be clean-shaven. Eye Colour: Dark brown Skin Tone: He enjoys spending time outdoors, so he isn't super pale or anything; he has almost an olive undertone to his skin. Clothing: Most of the time he dresses in a fairly casual manner; his go-to look is skinny jeans paired with a graphic tee and either Vans or combat boots. But he also cleans up very nicely when the occasion arises. He has a few suits in various colors, patterns and styles and they all look amazing on him. Ryoga has a good sense of fashion and always manages to dress perfectly for any occasion. Distinguishing Marks: He has tattoos– like, so many tattoos on his arms, hands, chest, back, legs, basically everywhere except his face tbh. Face Claim: Miyavi

H E A L T H Physical Health: For the most part, his health is pretty good– he takes good care of himself, exercises, eats well, etc, especially because he wants to set a good example for his kids. However, he has had mild issues with his heart ever since he was a teenager– he has a slight arrhythmia and bradycardia (slow heart rate), but has managed both conditions fairly well throughout his life. He has had to stay in the hospital a couple of times after his heart rate slowed enough to cause him to faint, but he now tries to stay active and take his medication regularly so it (hopefully) doesn’t happen again. Physical Abilities/Limitations: He has a lot of upper body strength, partly from working out and partly from carrying his daughter around all over the place. He is also surprisingly flexible and enjoys doing yoga and tai chi as a form of gentle exercise. He’s always been good at imitating people/doing impressions and putting on different voices, which is what eventually led him to becoming a voice actor. Addictions: He used to drink a lot, but completely gave up alcohol in his mid-twenties, around the time he got married. This was partly because he wanted to try and be a more responsible person, and partly because his doctor recommended that he give up, or at least cut way back, on alcohol for the sake of his heart. Allergies: Shellfish Mental Health: Ryoga is under a lot of stress right now, so he’s not at his best. He’s had a lot of anxiety over his (very messy) divorce, then a brutal custody battle (he ended up getting sole custody), and then having to get a restraining order against his ex-wife when she kept showing up at their home and trying to get the kids to come with her, then throwing fits when Ryoga stopped her from taking them. Now that they’ve moved to a whole other country, he feels a bit better, less nervous, but he’s still constantly worried that his ex is going to show up any day. He has done his best to drill it into the kids’ heads that if their mom shows up, they are not to go with her and they need to come get him or call the police right away.

H I S T O R Y Summary: Long or Short Job History: His first job was at a small, hole-in-the-wall beef bowl shop when he was fourteen– he started as a busboy but was quickly moved into a kitchen staff position. A couple of years later, he was scouted by a modeling agent and ended up falling into the world of fashion modeling. He wasn’t super famous or anything; he mostly modeled alternative/goth/street fashion rather than anything too mainstream. This allowed him to network with a lot of people who were able to pull some strings for him and get him auditions for voice work, and within a few years, he had transitioned fully into voice acting (which he is now actually pretty famous for– in Japan, at least). Fondest Memories: Some of his childhood memories, such as family trips, or evenings when everyone was home and actually hung out together instead of going to their separate rooms. His wedding day, which is bittersweet to look back on, but at the time was one of the happiest days of his life. The births of both his children. Various anime conventions he’s gone to– he loves meeting fans and talking to them. Worst Experiences: His father losing his job– it sent the entire family into a downward spiral of anxiety and Ryoga always felt he had to walk on eggshells around them. Having to skip out on high school so he could work and earn money to help his family. His parents being more than a little angry with him when he became a model, started getting tattoos, etc., since they thought he was “ruining his life.” His parents later disowning him when he told them he was dating a man. And, of course, the slow and painful death of his marriage which resulted in a very, very messy divorce.

C O M M U N I C A T I O N Speech Pace/Style: It depends on the situation. If he’s working or in a more professional setting, then he is very respectful, using only polite language. When he’s with friends, he’s louder and more outspoken, and far less polite– not that he’s rude, just that he has a bit of a mouth on him. With his kids, Ryoga is very laid-back for the most part, speaking calmly to them and keeping a patient, gentle tone. Even when he scolds them, he doesn’t raise his voice much, though he can be very firm when he needs to be. Accent: Ryoga has a noticeable Japanese accent when he speaks English, but it’s not so thick that it’s hard to understand him. He speaks very clearly and enunciates well. Favorite Phrases or Words: Tends to say “Aa! Sou?” when he’s surprised about something, which just means “oh, really?” Also tends to say “ehto” instead of “um” or “uh.” Usual Curse Words: He tries to watch his language when he’s with his kids, though he does slip up on occasion (and they always call him out for it). He does have quite a mouth on him though, both in English and in Japanese, and uses whatever curse word feels most appropriate for the moment.

P E R S O N A L I T Y, M I N D S E T, A N D B E L I E F S Personality Type: INFJ-T Sense of Humor: With his kids, he’s pretty goofy and silly, always joking around with them and keeping them entertained. He does a lot of voices that make them laugh. When he’s around adults, he’s more sarcastic but still on the goofy side more than anything. Habits: He is hardly ever barefoot– he always wears socks or house slippers when he’s inside. He tends to eat rice with every meal if possible, in some form or another, or else it doesn’t feel like an actual meal to him. If he’s wearing any nail polish or anything, he tends to pick at it whenever he gets nervous or stressed out. Quirks: Ryoga really enjoys treating himself to things like spa days, mani-pedis, massages, anything along those lines. He doesn’t do it all the time, but once a month or so he gets someone to watch the kids and just takes a full day to himself to relax. He also loves taking baths and keeps various bath salts and oils around so he can take a nice, long bath at home if he’s had a rough day. Fears/Phobias: Anything happening to his kids; he worries about them constantly. His ex-wife finding him and showing up, even though he has a restraining order against her. He also tends to be a bit secretive about his sexuality, after facing some backlash/discrimination for it in Japan– he’s not exactly afraid of anyone finding out that he’s bi, but there’s a reason why he doesn’t offer that information very freely. Strengths: Something Flaws: Something Hopes/Desires: Something Wildest Fantasy: Something Self-Esteem: Something Religion: Something

R A N D O M Sleeping Position: Something Boxers or Briefs?: Something Day or Night?: Something Top or Bottom?: Something Partying or Relaxing?: Something

R E L A T I O N S H I P S Closest Friend: Something Relationship History: Something Sexual Partners: Something Thoughts About Sex: Something

P A R E N T S Name(s): Mom and Dad Age(s): Ages Social Standing: Blue collar, white collar, whatever Occupation(s): What they do Religion: What do they believe Quality of Relationship With His Children: Is good or bad? Living/Deceased: Maybe they dead

S I B L I N G (S) Name(s): First Last Age(s): Ages Social Standing: Blue collar, white collar, whatever Occupation(s): What they do Religion: What do they believe Quality of Relationship with Character: Is good or bad? Living/Deceased: Maybe they dead

D A I L Y L I F E Living Arrangements: Where they live

#character: ryoga zaizen #character sheet #ship: trizen

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folerdetdufoler · 3 years

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hey kerry!! would you ever write a fic set during the pandemic? or would that be to stressful? what kind of fic would that be?

ah, i think this was prompted by this tweet, and i didn’t want to answer until i had updated that au.

officially? no. or at least not yet. It feels weird like…romanticizing a situation that is killing people across the globe. i don’t watch or read horror/thriller/sci-fi to have any other base knowledge on how a pandemic happens or is contained, even in a fictional setting, so i don’t know if creating a different kind of pandemic would feel less weird and/or accurate.

but i’ve been thinking about it. It’s hard not to, to not exist in a literal nightmare and use comfort characters to mentally survive it. i’ve projected my desires onto them, i’ve hoped for the idea of love to be enough to change people’s behaviors and move them to protect each other. i’m interested in how people have built and destroyed trust, how it’s shaped relationships, and how it’s challenged different worldviews. add a dash of competent government and i go feral. so like, technically…yes. vaguely.

it should go without saying, but it’s (always) a skam AU. it’s always isak and even. i don’t know how it’s being handled in norway, so it would have to be set in america. isak and even would still be norwegian though. and we’re going to add a little unrealistic emergency to make their meeting actually happen.

the borders closed. by the time isak got to the airport, every possible flight was cancelled. he couldn’t even do some kind of convoluted frog-leap through different countries just to get back to his own continent. he was stuck. the ticketing agent behind the desk gave him a sympathetic look and then waved him away, inviting the next soon-to-be-disappointed customer forward. before he left, though, he reached into his backpack and pulled out a disposable mask from the large pack he’d managed to buy before heading to the airport. he slammed it onto the counter. “wear it.”

isak dragged his bag over to the far wall of windows, near the entrance, where the benches were quickly filling up with disgruntled international travelers. he had to sit down and think and research, to figure out what his next step would have to be.

“they’re still not letting people in, eh?” a deep voice two seats to his left asked in english. isak looked over at it, because he wasn’t sure if it was a genuine or sarcastic answer. unfortunately the face he needed to read was devastatingly handsome, and caused his throat to close up before he could answer properly.

“uh….”

“no english?”

“um, no. i mean yes, i speak english.” isak was fluent from his upbringing, but the last year of attending school in america definitely helped. his inability to communicate in this moment was due to the other man’s mouth, not his own. “and no, i can’t get a flight because the borders are closed.”

“i would say it’s a smart move except i’m locked out too.” the man smiled, and his eyes softened, so if he had been sarcastic before, he wasn’t anymore.

“norway?” isak asked, hopeful. he’d clocked the man’s accented english, and they were both sitting across from a scandinavian airline counter, but he couldn’t distinguish between the countries.

“norge,” he confirmed with a little nod.

for some reason isak continued in english. perhaps he felt like he had more authority with it. he bent over to his bag to get another mask out, pulling it by the straps. he offered it to his new norwegian acquaintance. “please put this on.” he got a confused look in return, and no move to accept the protective covering. it pained isak to insist that the man cover up half of his face, but he pressed. “please, for your safety.”

“is that why you’re wearing one?”

“i’m wearing one because norway closed its borders. norway knows how dangerous this virus is. you should wear one too.”

the man reached out a hand but didn’t quite grab the mask. “i can’t tell if you know more about what is actually going on or if you’re…crazy.” the soft eyes had gone serious and calculating. “but if i put it on, will you tell me?”

“what?”

he took the mask. he was clumsy putting it on, but anyone would be if it were their first time. he hooked it around his ears and pulled it up over his nose and mouth, watching isak while he did, as if he were a mirror. isak pinched the bridge of his nose to get the man to copy him, fitting the mask to his face. once he did, the man twisted to face isak straight on. “i’m even.” his voice was muffled, but isak’s ear was already straining to distinguish it from the rest of the airport noise around them. “i want to go home. you do too. can we figure out a plan together?”

“i—um, i don’t know. i have to talk to my school first. and then maybe the consulate.”

“what’s your name?”

“isak.”

the mask did nothing to stop the man—even—from smiling. the mask traveled with his cheeks right up to his squinting eyes. “i’d shake your hand but i feel like that’s not a good idea.”

“you are correct. we shouldn’t be touching.”

“okay, i won’t touch you. but can we talk? my employer said i should fly home, but i think it’s too late. i don’t know what to do.”

isak took a deep breath. he looked around them, at the way the counters were drawing lines of increasingly anxious travelers. the empty seat between them was going to be high value real estate soon, and he could tell someone wasn’t going to allow it to remain a buffer for their safety. “i don’t know either.” he looked back at even. “do you work in manhattan?”

“yes. is that where you go to school?”

isak nodded. it was a small comfort, meeting a neighbor from the other side of the ocean, who also happened to be a neighbor on the other side of the east river. “okay. well. i don’t want to stay here. it’s going to get crazy as more borders close. we should…we should go back.”

“share a cab?”

isak took in the man’s face, still handsome even when it was hidden behind a mask. some of his hair was stuck in the straps at his ears, and isak noticed that the style was slightly disheveled, probably from anxious fingers. but it was the eyes that convinced him. in just a few minutes, in such a short conversation, isak had come to trust them. he trusted the eyes that glanced out the window at the taxi stand. and when Even stood up and threw the long strap of his bag across his chest, isak followed. they stepped out into a gust of cold, early spring air, and headed toward a waiting taxi. whatever their next step would be, they would take it together.

anyway yeah, that’s the start. that’s the beginning of the pandemic, and that’s the beginning of isak and even. isak is a student, going for his masters at NYU in biology, but he’s going to switch to epidemiology almost immediately, for obvious reasons. even…well, i don’t know where he works, or why, but he’s not in school. his office is going to close and he’s going to have to work remote. isak’s basic understanding of diseases and community spread give him a slight advantage in that he knows what he needs to stock up on and is doing it now. so he has a small, but safe apartment to stay in. isak shares some of his hand sanitizer and masks and they go to opposite ends of the island. he bonded with even initially, while they tried to figure out their status in lockdown, but then they separate and try to go about their lives as normally as possible. isolation will hit hard of course, and they’ll reach out to each other again, looking for answers and any kind of connection back home. even shares what his mother reports on in oslo, and isak shares the research that he has better access to. they zoom for work, and for school, and then they zoom each other. isak still trusts those eyes through a screen, and he wonders if he should trust them in person as well. because as the fear and uncertainty grows over the next few weeks, while they still can’t get home, at least there’s a little bit of steady right in front of them. And they crave it more and more. And…more….

#kerrywrites #idk maybe i'll make this into a one shot later #i feel like i would have to finish magic eight ball first #and sorry if the cut didn't work #if this is taking over your dash

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lovely-little-bull · 3 years

Text

Character Bio

«« BASICS »»

« Full name »

Taura Caterina Andreas

« Meaning »

First and middle names mean "pure and innocent bull"; last name means "manly, brave, or warrior".

« Nickname »

Catie

« Reason for Nickname »

It was easier for her childhood classmates to spell and pronounce

« Age »

14 (can vary if RP takes place before/after ToA)

« Birthday »

April 27

« Gender »

Demigirl (she doesn't feel totally connected to the female gender, but she doesn't have a label for it yet)

«Sexuality »

Panromantic Asexual (also doesn't have a label yet)

« Species »

Demigod (¼ Monster)

««Appearance »»

« Height »

5'3

« Weight »

152 lbs

« Body Type/Build »

Mesomorph

« Hair Color »

Golden Brown

« Hair Style »

Wavy/Curly mix; usually loose or tied back with a thin rope

« Eye Color »

Brilliant blue, just like her father's

« Scars »

Various scars spread over body, mostly along torso and arms

« Birthmarks »

N/A

« Tattoos »

N/A

« Piercings »

Ears (Closed)

« Skin Tone »

Fair; lightly tanned

« Other Distinguishing Features »

A pair of nubby ivory horns has begun to protrude from her temples, ending about ¾ of an inch off her head

«« PERSONALITY »»

« General Personality »

Taura is very clever and shy. She comes off as a bit mysterious, preferring not to talk about herself or her past. Despite that and her tendency to keep to herself though, she desperately wants to be accepted for who she is and to feel like she belongs somewhere. She is also very understanding, and she tends to see the good in people. In fact, she'd probably be extremely loyal and kind to her friends if she had any. Still, she is capable of disliking others, usually if they’re rather mean without a good reason to be. Despite all this, Taura is not one to mess with. When she gets too upset, she goes into a blind fury, attacking anything that comes near her. She also suffers from depression and anxiety; she feels as if she is worthless and will constantly get nightmares and traumatizing flashbacks of her past. Taura rarely feels at peace and will run off when she starts getting upset, so that she can calm down and avoid losing control. She has an incredible amount of patience though, so she rarely gets to her breaking point. Given time, her strong sense of imagination will lead her to be a very creative and artistic individual.

« Typical Mood »

Apprehensive

« Triggers »

Mentions or images of car crashes or Tartarus

Unprovoked hatred/violence towards monsters or similarly misunderstood people/creatures

Violent deaths

Can also be physically triggered during a fight if someone takes things too far

« Likes »

People getting along

Things that remind her of home (certain foods, scents, surroundings, etc.)

Reflections of light and other light effects

Nature (although, not so much the sea)

Animals

Different forms of art

Hearing stories

« Dislikes »

Violence

Bullying

Being alone

Matadors

Beef, leather, etc.

Complete darkness

Her looks (especially her horns)

« Fears »

Zeus, Poseidon, and their children

Tartarus and the possibility of ending up there

Becoming emotionally attached to people

Losing people she cares about

Losing control of her anger

Socialization with new people

« Accent »

Greek

«« RELATIONSHIPS »»

« Father »

Apollo

« Mother »

Calantha Andreas

« Grandmother »

Damaris Andreas

« Grandfather »

Asterion (The Minotaur)

« Relationship Status »

Single

«« COMBAT »»

« Weapons »

None currently; Trained with a battleaxe and naturally talented at archery (undiscovered)

« Armor »

None currently

« Powers/Special Abilities »

Heightened senses (except for sight)

Increased strength and stamina

Ability to talk to bovine animals

Slight control over the mist

Minor healing abilities

«« BACKSTORY »»

Calantha's Story

Taura's grandmother, Damaris, was a skilled artisan and witch based in Rhodes, Greece. At the time, the Minotaur lived in some ruins near her house, and she came across him one day after he had injured himself. Seeing only the blurred figure of a distressed man, Damaris treated his wounds and found herself rather enamored with the strong, silent nature of the stranger. She made offerings to Aphrodite and Hera in order to have a successful relationship with him, and a year later, Calantha was born. She had developed her father's short temper, which got her into plenty of trouble throughout her adolescence. It didn't help that her mother was virtually blind and her father was constantly going off on his own.

When Calantha turned nine, her father was killed and sent back to Tartarus. To her and her mother, it seemed he had just disappeared. However, they got through it, and Calantha gained a new sense of maturity. She took care of her mother and learned to sew, so that she could sell clothing in her mother's shop.

In high school, Calantha was an outcast. Rumors had been spread that her father was a murderer who fled the country, which wasn't too far from the truth. People were scared of her and constantly avoided her. Even the teachers felt uneasy around her. So, as soon as she graduated, she headed to an arts college in New York. There, she reunited with her father and fell in love with a man she met at a poetry bar. That man turned out to be Apollo. They dated during her last year of college, but eventually, he had to leave.

Later that year, Calantha moved back to Greece. She was planning on bringing her mother to New York to visit her father, but she was forced to stay home when she discovered that she was pregnant. Soon, she gave birth to a beautiful baby who she named Taura Caterina, in reference to the child's astrological sign.

A few years later, Calantha was offered a job in New York. One of her friends from college had gotten into the fashion industry and wanted Calantha's help starting a new line of clothing. She decided to take the offer and moved to New York with her mother and daughter.

After visiting the Minotaur, Calantha's mother, who had been sick for quite a while, passed away. Calantha became more determined than ever to make sure her daughter had a happy childhood. She amassed a decent amount of money from all her hard work and used it to open a successful clothing boutique. For the first time in her life, everything was going perfectly. Unfortunately, that all came to an end when she lost her life in a tragic accident.

Taura's Story

Taura was born in Greece, where she was raised by her mother and grandmother. When she was a few years old, they moved to New York. Her mother had no way to contact Taura's father and let him know of her existence, but Taura was able to meet her grandfather, the Minotaur, for the first time and he grew rather fond of her. She brought out a side of him that most others didn't see. Her grandmother, receiving her final wish of having her family reunited one last time, passed away a few days later.

When she was five, Taura started being able to heal small wounds, such as cuts and scrapes. However, she found herself unable to save her mother, who died in a car crash caused by a drunk driver. She survived the crash with minor injuries and was taken in by her grandfather. Despite his brutal nature, he had a soft spot for young Taura. He taught her how to fight, and when her horns started growing in, he helped her understand her heritage. Although, she wasn't able to learn much, because a few years later, her grandfather was sent back to Tartarus after battling Percy Jackson.

Afterwards, Taura lived on her own. She was careful not to be seen by others unless she needed to go to the market for something. She always wore a hat in public and stayed away from anything that smelled dangerous. Taura also managed to learn quite a bit of English, but she's still not completely fluent.

Everything was okay until Taura found a strange archway labeled Camp Half-Blood as she was wandering around in the woods. She attempted to go through it, but was unable to, due to her monster heritage. She has since become fascinated with the archway and has returned to it every night for the past week.*

*This backstory only references everything Taura has been through up to the start of this blog and does not include events that may have happened in any threads since then. Overall, this character bio is just to get a sense of who Taura is, but I fully expect her to grow and evolve over the course of roleplaying.

Template based on:

http://aminoapps.com/p/q7z85f

#info #percy jackson rp #percy jackson roleplay #pjo roleplay #pjo rp #riordan rp #riordan universe #riordanverse #riordanverse rp #apollo cabin #hermes cabin #minotaur #pjo apollo #demigod oc #pjo ocs #percy jackson oc #monster oc

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othercat2 · 4 years

Text

The Paladin and the Strawberry

I have just enough for a teeny snippet. It’s very rough, and I am sure I fucked things up like terminology.

____________________

After a year of traveling the Jokonon countryside, disposing of demons where Ista came upon them, the Quadrene divines were beginning to seek her out for assistance. There were still debates, there could not help but be debates, given the differences between Quintarian and Quadrene theology, but they were now more…trusting of her abilities via the Bastard.

(They still had no good opinion of the Bastard, who as far as she could tell found their slights on His Person amusing, except where His followers were concerned. Then He became extremely foul. Her entourage often grew by several dozen as she journeyed through Jokona then shrank by that same amount as she swung closer to Chalion in her travels.)

Quadrene divines often accompanied her entourage, minor saints and scholar-divines of the Four. The divines switched with each other like couriers handing off a sealed letter. They closely observed each removal of a demon from its possessor as if there were some trick they could learn from her. She was both surprised at their earnest desire to have an alternative method of returning a demon to its Master that didn’t involve burning the possessor alive, and worried that the divines might make the fatal mistake of forcing miracles through ritual. Ista found herself speaking on the subject frequently, though she wasn’t sure how effective she was. The wall of mutual heresy was thick, and would need to be attacked by greater artillery than a royina-doorkeeper.

The current divine was a serious young man of the Father’s Order named Arion Ido, who spent a great deal of time arguing with dy Cabon. (They all argued with dy Cabon. The arguments with Arion seemed particularly vehement, veering between justice, the theological splitting point between the Quintarian and Quadrene faiths. It had come to the point where Illvin had suggested not quite jokingly to chain them together and leave them in a room together chained by the wrist with one glass and a bottle of rotgut.)

Dy Cabon and Arion were having the third round of one of their arguments on the road to the next town when riders approached. The entourage came to a stop as her escorts conferred with the riders. Presently Foix rode up with a pair of soldiers wearing the colors and devices of a minor Jokonan clan. One soldier was in his middle years, dark and weathered, green-hazel eyes a startlement in his dark face. The other soldier much was younger, dark of hair and eye, trying hard to look stoic and calm. “Royina, these are soldiers in the retinue of the lord of Mahut. They come to seek your aid concerning the lord’s son, who has come into possession of a demon.”

The older soldier bowed. “Lady, it is as your armsman says in heavily accented Chalionese. “A month ago, our lord’s son began behaving in a peculiar manner. He said and did strange things, and strange things would happen around him. We would have gone to the divines, but the boy--or perhaps the demon--immediately took his mother and sisters hostage and drove his father and servants from the keep. No one can enter, and we fear for the lives of our lady and the children. When we heard that the Sorcer--that is, yourself, lady was coming to this part of Jokona, we took the chance to seek your aid.”

“Sorceress” was one of the names that had gone ahead of Ista, the Quadrenes not being able to distinguish between the Demon-God’s saint and a sorcerer. There was also “Mouth of Hell,” which was her own (or the Bastard’s) fault, and “The Royina-Witch.” Ista nodded. “Of course I will help,” she said. “Please allow my armsman to escort you to my seneschal, to give him a more detailed report.”

“My thanks, Royina,” the older soldier said, and allowed himself to be led off by Foix.

#bleach #the curse of chalion #paladin of souls #dun dun duuuuun #This part wanted to be from Ista's pov

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deadlytales · 5 years

Text

There are secrets hidden in the colors you can't see.

(from this Reddit post, by J.L.)

Do you know what color a cockroach is? If you said brown, then you’re wrong. Its Vis. And Cimex. And it has slight hints of Foedus as well.

That’s not gibberish. Those are colors that you can’t see. But I can.

I am the first documented human being with pentrachromatic vision.

That means that I have five different types of cone cells in my eyes. Almost every human being is a trichromat. That means there are three types cone cells in their eyes. These cells can each distinguish around 100 individual shades, but they mix together with one another - which means that the average trichromat can see about a million different colors. As a pentrachromat, I can see around ten billion.

No other mammal can do that. Only pigeons and a few butterflies. If this doesn’t sound like a big deal, then let me ask you a question - What’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen? A sunset? A rainbow?

Mine was a Hostess Twinkie. I was in a 7-11 and I saw a bunch of them sitting in a box on one of the shelves. Whatever chemicals they put in those things all have their own colors. Together, they create this beautiful swirling mosaic. Kind of makes the Twinkie less appetizing, but certainly better to look at. These colors are indescribable. I mean that in the literal sense – I can’t describe them to you. Color is an inherently private event. For the same reason you can’t tell that the shade of blue you see on a lid of I Can’t Believe it’s not Butter is the same as the shade of blue that your boss sees, I can’t tell you what most of the colors I see look like.

There are some things that I didn’t even know had color until I became a pentrachromat. Movement has color – every time something moves it creates a faint trail of a color that I can only describe as energetic. I’ve taken to calling this color Vis. Most fruits are multi-colored, but trichromatic eyes only pick up on the primary color present in them. If peaches looked to you how they do to me then you probably wouldn’t eat them anymore. I wasn’t born a pentrachromat. I was born with boring old trichromatic vision just like you. Then I got in a car accident. You know what color the sparks are when two pieces of metal collide? I call it Enk. That’s the sound my wife’s car made when it hit the Subaru next to us. It’s actually a comforting color – it evokes the same kind of feeling that you get when you smell wood smoke. Blood isn’t just red anymore. It’s also Cruor. Blood was the last thing I saw before I lost my vision. Victoria was driving. She was drunk, but not as drunk as I was. We were fighting. It was my fault.

“Was she worth it John? Was she worth ending all that we’ve had together?”

She wasn’t. Hiring a prostitute was never something that I thought I would do. Losing my marriage was never something that I thought I would do. But I had grown bored with our marriage. I wanted something new.

I didn’t know that wanting something new would mean she would let go of the wheel. As the car swerved onto the shoulder, I tried to pull the steering wheel back. I pulled too hard. We slammed into a car that had just pulled into the far right lane. A 17-year old girl was behind the wheel. The collision snapped her spine in half. She died in a pool of her own blood.

Our car spun out and crashed into the median. Victoria was thrown from the car. My seatbelt pinned me to the seat. The windshield exploded into a million pieces.

Broken glass has a whole slew of colors present in it. Too many to name.

Glass rained down on me. It sliced through my skin like it was clay. Two big shards lodged themselves in my eyes. The last thing I saw was blood. The last thing I heard was Victoria screaming. “God! It hurts! Please god it hurts!”

I’m not sure when I woke up. Without my vision I was helplessly adrift in a sea of darkness. After a while, I heard a voice asking me if I could hear it. It was a woman’s voice. A nurse.

“Yes. Where am I?”

She told me I was in the hospital and that I had been in an accident. I couldn’t see her face, but I could tell she was frowning when she told me that I was going to be blind for the rest of my life.

As it turns out, you don’t need eyes to cry your eyes out. That’s all I did for the first few days. No doctor could help me. After a week of living in my own personal darkness, someone up above took pity on me. They called a specialist. He was working on an experimental procedure.

“How much?”

“No money. I’ll do the procedure for free.” He had a slimy, southern accent.

“What’s the catch?”

Mr. Southern Gentleman was from a testing facility in Giliman County, Colorado that was working on bio-mechanical enhancements. They needed somebody whose eyeballs had been destroyed but somehow still had functioning optic nerves. Someone who still had full brain function and could describe what they saw. Someone desperate enough that they wouldn’t mind being a human guinea pig. That was me.

The surgery took four hours. They had warned me beforehand that my experimental eyes would be more powerful than my original eyes. They didn’t warn me that my pentrachromatic eyes would see things that mankind wasn’t meant to see.

After the procedure, the first thing that struck me was my finger nails. They were colorful in a way I had never seen before. I asked the nurse if she had painted them. She hadn’t. Her fingernails were also colorful. As it turns out, fingernails aren’t colorless. They’re a color I call Foedus. It’s probably for the best you can’t see it. It’s not a pretty color. The nurse’s breath was a color I called Nubila. Most people’s breath is still colorless to me but if a person smokes cigarettes regularly enough then it becomes Nubila.

Growing used to being able to see again meant growing used to all the new colors. Everything looks different than it did before. People’s faces are so complexly colored that it’s easier to identify someone by the random patches of color on them then by the actual shape of their face. It’s comical that there is so much fighting about skin color in the world because when you can see 10 billion colors the slight chromatic differences between black and white don’t make a difference.

Sometimes I think that my new vision is a positive thing. But then I’m reminded of when I first laid my new eyes on my wife. I’m reminded of the things no man should have to see.

The first time I saw her was two months after the accident. Victoria had been more heavily injured than me. When she was thrown from the car it shattered the bones in both her arms and legs. The bone fragments tore up her musculature pretty bad. It took 12 hours of surgery to save her life. They had to amputate everything. Her skin was so burned by the asphalt that it took four skin grafts to restore her face. They never got it quite right.

I thought I was prepared for Victoria to be a quadriplegic. Doctors explained her condition ahead of time and warned me that it would be gruesome. They warned me that her limbs would be nothing more than stubs. But they couldn’t see what I could see. They couldn’t have warned me that there would still be something where her limbs had once been.

Four ghostly blobs extended from her bandaged arms and legs. They had the shape of her missing appendages, but they were contorted and bent at weird angles. When she moved the stubs the blobs followed as if they were the original limbs, albeit broken. They were a color that I’ve come to call Anima.

I dread seeing the color Anima. It appears in very… consistent circumstances. Most amputees have Anima limbs sprouting from their stubs. The air around graveyards and crematoriums is tinted Anima. Occasionally, the meat you get at the grocery store has an Anima aura emanating from it, but only if it’s really fresh. For a while, I thought that Anima was the color of death. Last week I learned what it really is.

Victoria passed away last Monday. It’s been almost a year since the accident. I guess it was her time. My wonderful Victoria fought as long as she could, but eventually her body gave up. She died in our bed while I was in the shower. I was heartbroken when I found her. Only when she was gone did I realize how much I took her presence for granted. I called 911 and laid down next to her while I waited for the ambulance to arrive.

Her last days had been hard for the both of us. Even with heavy medication, Victoria experienced constant phantom pain in her missing limbs. On the nights she was able to sleep through the pain, she usually had vivid dreams about the accident. I tried to push the thought of it out of my mind, but I was reminded of the crash every time I laid eyes on her ghostly limbs. When her time came, I secretly hoped her passing would be a relief for the both of us.

It was a beautiful funeral. I picked out the flowers. She would have liked them, even if she couldn’t have seen all the colors in them that I could. When I got home I saw that there was a stain on the bed where her body had been. It looked familiar.

It was Anima. The color of her ghostly limbs.

I changed the sheets. After a few hours another stain developed. I changed them again. The stain came back. No matter how many times I washed the sheets the stain kept coming back.

I started sleeping on the couch to get away from it. Looking at the Anima colored fabric just reminded me of her death. Two days ago, I was in our bedroom changing clothes and I noticed that the stain had disappeared. In the space inches above where it had been there was now an Anima-colored cloud floating in the air. It was moving. Over the course of the next few hours, the cloud took on a humanoid shape. The shape of my Victoria.

Last night, the Anima cloud got out of bed. Its movement is painstakingly slow, but somehow very humanlike. This morning it was standing in the kitchen when I made breakfast. I tried to ask my neighbor if he could see the shape too, but he just looked at me like I was crazy.

Only my special eyes can see the Anima figure. It doesn’t have a face or anything but I can still tell its staring at me. It follows me everywhere. It sits in the passenger seat when I drive my car, stands next to me at the bank, watches me while I shower. Its right behind me even as we speak. A dark, indescribably-colored visage of my dead wife. Staring at me. Watching me with eyes that aren’t there.

I’ve tried to outrun it but it always catches up with me. It won’t leave me alone. Anima won’t stop following me. Anima isn’t the color of death. The thing following me can’t be dead because it always knows where I am. It moves just like Victoria used to move. It’s her. I know that it’s her.

I see Anima clouds like her everywhere now, following people. They’re in the shape of our loved ones. The ones who can’t bear to tear themselves away from us. Most people have one. If you’ve lost a loved one, then you probably do. Only my eyes can see them.

Victoria – if it really is you in that cloud, then I’m sorry for everything I did wrong. I’m sorry for all the words I never got a chance to say. Please don’t follow me anymore. I just want to be alone. I know you can read this.

STOP STARING AT ME VICTORIA.

I don’t think Anima is the color of death. That things that follow us are alive, at least in their own way. They’re the souls of the departed. Souls that are trapped. Souls that can’t stop following us. Man was never meant to see Anima. We were never meant to know what happens to us when we die.

I see the colors you cannot and they hide a horrible secret. There is no heaven or hell. When we die, we don’t move on. We stay and watch, silently, until the end of time.

Please leave me alone Victoria. Please stop staring at me.

#creepy #paranormal entities #the unknown #death and murder #Reddit stories #creepypasta #creepypastas

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shinichirosbabymama · 5 years

Text

Being Freddie (Rami x Reader)

A/N: okay so after seeing Bohemian Rhapsody I decided that one of the things I really wanted to write was Rami acting as Freddie because I thought his characterisation was perfect and pretty much undeniably sexy. I always wanted to play on how confused I actually got in the film in the sense that I kept forgetting that it was actually Rami in front of me and not Mr Mercury himself. Also worth mentioning that the reader is gender neutral in tribute to a true bicon 💖💜💙 It gets a little sexy but I wouldn’t say it was smut per say. Either way I hope you all enjoy 🥀

‘Y/N come on, he’s ready.’ Your contact called as you briskly as you sat up quickly in your chair, lukewarm coffee sloshing dangerously inside the cup you were holding.

You quickly discarded the cup and rushed to grab hold of your heavy makeup trolley as you followed your contact towards the room which housed the studio’s make up department.

You were about to do makeup for your biggest client yet - Rami Malek, and even more nerve wracking was that he was playing one of the greatest rockstars there had ever been. Freddie Mercury.

You gave yourself a deep breath as you tugged the heavy trolley behind you. Your contact for the day had hand picked you especially after seeing your stage make up at the local theatre. He said you had a real talent for what he called depth.

‘I’m just going to let you know in advance,’ your contact started, facing you with an expression that could only be described as subtle amusement, ‘he likes to stay in character as soon as he arrives at the studio, so expect a little sass.’ He smirked at the end, and you could feel the itch of your visitor pass lanyard irritating your neck.

‘He’s all yours.’ The contact gestures dramatically as he left you at the door and sauntered away.

Cautiously you entered, trying to gracefully drag your trolley behind you.

Rami was seated in front of a huge mirror, which was surrounded with soft yellow lights that gave his face a youthful glow. His hair was styled in Freddie’s short layered bob from his younger days and even in the dim light from where you stood you could see his front teeth protruding and touching his lower lip.

Rami’s legs were crossed one over the other with his hands clasped together on his knee as he gazed at himself in the mirror, barely acknowledging your existence. He was wearing an insanely tight pair of leather trousers and a huge faux fur jacket that seemed to bristle around his neck, giving him a surprisingly intimidating figure for such a slight man.

‘Uhm, hello Rami. I’m Y/N. Here to do your makeup.’ You murmured, trying to hide the nerves in your voice as Rami’s eyes flicked over to you.

‘It’s Freddie darling, if you don’t mind. Come here so I can have a look at you.’

His effeminate British drawl, so different to the sound of his normal Californian accent startled you, but you remained composed as you stepped towards him, leaving the trolley abandoned behind you.

‘Hm yes, you’ll do. Quite nicely.’ He said, looking up at you through his long eye lashes and offering you a hint of the extra teeth that crowded his mouth as he smiled at you. You felt yourself flush thinking about how positively devilish he looked.

‘Are you ready to start?’ You asked, trying to direct your mind back to the task at hand as Rami nodded in response and you brought the trolley over to begin unpacking your things.

‘Is there anything in mind you’d like today?’ You asked politely. You were well aware of what they were shooting today, having been given a full brief weeks ago to give you time to source all the right products but it was still nice to ask, given how enamoured he appeared to be with the role.

‘I want to look positively delectable, you know.’ He spoke as he pouted his lips, studying the shadow of his cheek bones in the light as you laid out your products and brushes.

‘I can do that.’ You began to prep his face, unable to stop yourself smiling as his eyes fluttered shut as lightly brushed powder across his nose.

‘Tell me about yourself, darling.’ He spoke after a few minutes of comfortable silence. ‘Do you always work on beautiful people like me?’

You felt yourself flush but kept your hand steady as you worked. ‘Actually no. I’m usually working on much smaller stage stuff-‘

‘Oh so they’re not beautiful like me then?’ He asked flirtatiously, raising his eyebrows but keeping his eyes closed.

‘Well-‘ you stammered a little, unable to allow yourself to give such a brazen compliment to the gorgeous man in front of you.

‘I’m only teasing you, love.’ He smirked.

‘I do think what you’re doing is amazing.’ You murmured, trying to ignore the prickly heat on the back of your neck.

‘What? Queen?’ He questioned, opening his eyes to gaze directly at you.

‘Mhm.’ You confirmed, deciding to play along with him.

‘Why thank you, I’ve always been a performer in one capacity or another.’

You let you a small giggle at his innuendo. ‘Bit of a minx aren’t you?’ He asked, eyes roaming over you as you began to add shadow and dimension to his cheeks.

You had to be dreaming surely. You could not believe Rami Malek (or Freddie Mercury, depending on how deep you were down the rabbit hole by this point) just referred to you as a minx. You wanted to text all of your friends immediately but you knew none of them would believe you anyway. Instead, you decided to have fun with this.

‘You’re tame if that falls within your definition of a minx.’ You teased bravely.

‘Well then you’ll have to show me what it really means then darling.’ He drawled, bedroom eyes on full display as you tried to ignore his gaze and focus.

‘Maybe once I’ve finished my work.’ You replied with a smirk, leaning closer to him as you began to apply a thin line of dark brown eyeliner to his lower lids.

‘You’re making this quite hard for me dear.’ He murmured, just as the two of you were inches apart.

‘Why’s that?’ You replied, your voice low now as you finished applying the eyeliner.

‘Because you’re fucking gorgeous.’ He replied brazenly, leaning towards you as the tips of his fingers ghosted over your jawline.

‘May I?’ He asked quietly, his accent still unequivocally British but slightly hoarse now.

You nodded, completely lost in the confusing tangle of Rami and Freddie that you unashamedly loved.

You swiftly closed the gap between the two of you, catching his full lips with your own. You thought the teeth might interrupt your kisses but oddly he knew how to work them perfectly as they grazed against your lower lip as the tip of his tongue ran lightly across.

The action caused you to let out a soft moan, to which he responded to with a firm grasp of your ass. The feeling of his large hands on your behind caused you to half straddle him as you craved the feeling of his lips and his hands roaming over you.

The two of you kissed feverishly and you didn’t give a second thought to the makeup that was probably melting straight off his face.

The feeling of the soft fur that brushed against your wrists as you threaded your fingers into your hair twinned with the sensation of the tight leather that you could feel under your thighs was driving you wild as you ground wantonly against him.

A loud rap on the door caused you to spring back immediately while Rami/Freddie (you were really struggle to distinguish by this point) merely sat back with a smirk.

‘Five minute warning.’ A loud voice echoed on the other side of the door followed by retreating footsteps. There were a few seconds of charged silence as the two of you stared at one another, you panting lightly.

‘Better finish me off darling.’ He drawled, eyes sultry as it took you a few seconds to understand what he actually meant.

You bit your tongue, unable to force your frazzled brain to come up with a witty reply as you straightened your clothes and attempted to fix the make up mess that you had created before it was time to go.

‘Perfect.’ He checked himself from all angles in the mirror as he prepared to leave.

‘You should hang around. We can continue this later.’ He smirked and left the room without another word.

You gave yourself a moment stood in the middle of the room as you tried to process exactly what had just happened.

‘Holy shit.’ Was all you were able to muster in the end.

#rami malek x reader #rami x reader #bohemian rhapsody imagine #freddie mercury

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ariadnelives · 5 years

Text

Chapter 25 -- The New Addition

[Missed earlier chapters? Go catch up here! Otherwise, welcome back! Oh, and make sure to join our discord server! Chapter can also be found @ ao3”]

“You didn’t have to space them,” Sweettalk said, seemingly to the ceiling as the recovery crew lurched the disabled ship back to Ship Trap.

“They were going to die either way,” said Ghostrunner’s voice from a speaker on the wall, “I heard them planning it. The boys in the engine room said they were all prepared to blow the ship to hell and kill everyone onboard rather than let us figure find our way to Dr. Simon. I actually minimized casualties by flushing them out the airlock.”

“Where are you, anyway?” Sweettalk called up to the ceiling. “Are you in the engine room?”

“I am everywhere,” Ghostrunner’s voice called back, “I am one with the ship.”

“That joke is getting old,” Sweettalk yelled, “You’re gonna have to come out of there eventually!!”

“Go easy on her,” Pilar laughed, “she saved our lives and now I don’t have to feel guilty about having the highest body count on the crew.”

“And thanks for being so gentle, by the way,” Sweettalk shouted.

“You were handcuffed to the table and I managed to seal off the passage before Spacebreather got flushed into space again. You were never in any danger.”

“How do we even still have any air to breathe?” Sweettalk called up.

“Found an emergency tank of air in the panic room. It has enough fresh air to fill the sealed panic room for a year, but if you open the door, it can fill the entire ship for about two hours.”

“Oh joy,” Sweettalk said

“More than enough for the 15 minutes until we’re hooked up to Ship Trap,” Spacebreather mumbled. “I bet we don’t even blow this place up, Ariadne’s just gonna weld it right to the hull and turn it into more quarters.”

“About time we put on a new addition!” Sweettalk shrugged.

“Hey, so, uh, while we have a minute… I want you to know…” Pilar said quietly, “you’re… good enough for Sasha. And I was proud to fight by your side today.”

“I’m sure that was hard for you to say, so I won’t make you repeat it,” Sweettalk said, smiling, “except when you tell Sasha, and I will be recording that.”

“Fantastic,” Pilar said sarcastically.

“I have a proposal, though,” Sweettalk said. “We have less than fifteen minutes left before we get back to base. We should spend it talking about something that’s not work-related. I feel like we could make Sasha really happy if she found out we’d bonded right after we scared the bajesus out of her.”

Pilar said nothing.

“If you don’t want to—”

“Do you like Val Deimos?” Pilar asked, “It’s my favorite show.”

Sweettalk grinned. “I sure do.”

A little under 15 minutes later, the recovery crew managed to bring the ship into the Docking Bay, and Pilar and Sweettalk were able to safely disembark.

Within a second of leaving the ship, they heard a loud “Zee!” and Sweettalk started running towards Sasha, embraced her, lifted her off the ground, and began a long, very passionate kiss.

“Hola, querida,” Pilar said to Ariadne, and gave her a short but affectionate kiss. “Good timing with the loudspeaker, really drove home a point”

Ariadne said, “I mean, that sister of yours is some kind of psychopharmacological genius. While I was trying to break into their systems, she was doing live maintenance, jabbing me with all sorts of needles and hypo-sprays to keep my hands steady and stave off the panic attacks, so really, you should be thanking her.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that,” Pilar said, “as soon as she’s done having her face eaten. My god, she’ll have to come up for air at some point, yeah?”

“Oh, hush,” Ariadne said. “You remember being that age.”

“You were that age three years ago,” Pilar reminded her. “I miss when they were hiding it from me.”

“Come on,” Ariadne elbowed her in the arm. “This is at least a little bit cute.”

“You come on,” Pilar said, “They might be here a while, let’s get onboard that ship and get the coordinates we need.”

“So,” Pilar asked as Ariadne once again plugged into the relay, “how are the girls adjusting?”

“Better than the first ViLaz did, that’s for sure,” Ariadne said.

“Well, they didn’t get set on fire,” Pilar said, “and they’ve got her to help them through it.”

“Fastwing is counselling them now. It’s all been a bit of a shock to them, I mean, their upbringing is so much more messed up than we knew. None of them knew about the others, and the cultists went to great lengths to make sure they had exactly the same nature and nurture. I mean, down to the minute, they made sure those girls had exactly the same experiences, and when they took just one of them out, the implants recorded any memories they made and plant them in the others’ heads. These girls have absolutely no sense of individual identity, if you ask them a question, they all respond in unison, even though they’re not linked anymore.”

“Spooky. Maybe they should spend some time apart, really come into themselves.”

“I don’t think so,” Ariadne said. “I mean, these girls are basically sisters, closer even, they’ve got all the same memories, and this is the first time they’ve ever even met.”

“What’ve we been calling them?” Pilar asked, “I mean, the first one was pretty set on getting rid of ‘ViLaz’ anyway, and I bet the other two will be too when they find out what it means.”

“We’ve been calling them The Triplets, for now,” Ariadne replied, wiping sweat from her brow as she tapped away at her small screen.

“And how do we distinguish between them?”

“We don’t,” Ariadne said. “Maybe that’ll change eventually, but for the time being, they don’t seem to have any interest in being treated as separate people.”

“That’s… weird.”

“Well, then, they’ve come to the right place.”

“You know that’s right,” Pilar laughed, “I’m sure Sasha will come up with something anyway.”

“What’s really weird is,” Ariadne said, “I noticed something about the first Triplet before the raid.”

“What’s that?” Pilar asked.

“She was crying out of both of her eyes,” Ariadne said, “the artificial one too. She shouldn’t be able to do that.”

“Maybe you’re a better cyberneticist than you gave yourself credit for.”

“Or maybe,” Ariadne explained, “I mean, I build some pretty great bionic elements, Sasha uses her serum, the girl’s got advanced genetic engineering… who knows what’s causing it, but I think her body is actually integrating with the cybernetic elements.”

“That’s some crazy science-fiction talk,” Pilar said.

“Well, what isn’t, these days?” Ariadne joked. “Nonetheless, when Sweettalk is done trying to suffocate your sister with her mouth—”

“—Well don’t keep saying it.”

“—we should have Sasha check her out. Meantime…” Ariadne twisted something on the side of the machine and a bright spark flashed somewhere inside of it, “ …I’ve got the coordinates. This asshole is holed up in an underground bunker on Phobos.”

“So we find him, take him out, and reclaim our legend?”

“And more importantly, keep those girls safe. Those cultists are going to keep on coming back for them unless we make sure they can never turn them into viable hosts for their decrepit founder.”

Pilar smiled.

“What?” Ariadne asked.

Pilar attempted to suppress her accent and do a rough impression of Ariadne’s voice: ““Mátala. I want her head.”

“Oh, that was before,” Ariadne said, walking with Pilar towards the ship’s exit, “Now, I want her dad’s head.”

“Ah,” Pilar grinned, “Mátalo, then.”

As they left the ship, they found Sweettalk and Sasha still locked in an embrace, now whispering some incredibly sugary things to one another.

“My god,” Pilar said as they walked past. “Are we just an old married couple?”

“Pretty sure we always have been.”

***

The triplets sat patiently in the infirmary.

“Sweettalk and Deathsbane,” ViLaz said to her sisters while they waited for Sasha to arrive, “we’re friends with them.”

“These girls took me from my home,” both sisters said together in reply.

“That was no home,” said ViLaz. “There was no love, or warmth, or safety there, things I didn’t even realize existed until they were given to me, here. This? This is a home.”

Her sisters considered this for a moment.

“Sasha and Mingxia have been so welcoming. Sasha’s going to be here in a minute, I bet she’ll bring us candy, too.”

“Candy?” Both sisters asked.

“You’re going to love it.”

There was a long pause.

“Is it true?” Both sisters asked.

“Is what true?”

“I didn’t know there were others,” the sisters replied. “I didn’t know there was a chip in my head. Is it true that the Red God is just a ruse?”

ViLaz looked at her feet, and after a moment, ViLaz responded, “Father created us to keep himself alive, and he created the Red God in order to get followers for his sick testing.”

“And what of this Ariadne?” The sisters asked, “We were using her legend to draw people in, but she seems to have as many followers as father ever did. How has she built this?”

ViLaz thought about this, but had no answer.

“Same way she found you,” Sasha said from the doorway, “she finds kids without a proper home, shows them there’s a better world, and makes sure they know they’ve always got a safe bed and a hot meal waiting for them in it.”

“It was my understanding that she was originally trying to kill us,” ViLaz replied.

“Well,” Sasha said, “Everybody makes mistakes. If it makes you feel any better, my sister’s the one who’d have done the actual killing, and she never believed you were the true threat.”

“That,” ViLaz said, “only makes me feel slightly better.”

“It doesn’t make me feel much more comfortable,” her sisters said.

“Oh good!” Sasha said, “the slight difference in your experiences has already started to yield different responses to external stimuli.”

“I don’t understand,” all three said at the same time.

“And we’re back to square one,” Sasha laughed. “Look, I know you don’t want different names, but as of now I’m your primary care physician, so, for medical reasons, I’m going to need to be able to tell the difference between you. I have a fun idea, though. Bracelets!”

“Bracelets?” all three asked.

“That’s not getting old at all,” Sasha said, handing each of them a hand-woven bracelet woven from plastic threads. “Yes, bracelets. One in each primary color. Cyan, Magenta, and Yellow. You can go by whatever you like outside sickbay, but, until you come up with names of your own, this is how I’ll address you. Is that okay?”

The triplets did not reply.

“I’m going to take that as a yes.” Sasha explained. “So, I have some good news for the three of you.”

The triplets looked at her expectantly.

“Gotta learn a better way to communicate, girls,” Sasha looked at her clipboard uncomfortably. “You three are as healthy as any person could possibly be. I mean, it’s almost impossible.”

“I was kept on a strict diet in the—” all three began.

Sasha interrupted. “No, you don’t understand. All three of you are in perfect physical condition. Even the one of you who’s been fed on nothing but junk food for weeks.”

Two of the triplets fell silent. Cyan, the triplet who’d been with the crew the longest, eventually responded. “Surely a few weeks of lax dietary habits can’t have affected me all that much, and besides, you outfitted me with all sorts of—”

“—that’s the strange part,” Sasha replied, “Ariadne and I did a good job with our cybernetics, but… we didn’t do this good of a job. We did enough to keep you alive, with minor tweaks to ensure your comfort along the way.”

“I don’t see what—”

Sasha continued undeterred by the interruption. “—but, see, the other day, when you found out the truth about the Red God—”

All three triplets visibly winced.

“—you did something you shouldn’t have been able to do. You cried out of both eyes. Ariadne noticed it and she’s had me monitoring your progress ever since.”

Magenta and Yellow remained silent. After a moment, Cyan replied, “is there any other way to cry?”

“In a typical case, no, and that’s the issue we’re facing,” Sasha explained. “Your case is not typical. You have a bionic eye with a synthetic lid. We didn’t install tear ducts. Logically, you should only have cried out of one eye, and once we noticed, we’d have built you some artificial tear ducts to make you feel a little more at home in your skin.”

Cyan looked at her feet. “Isn’t that good, that I’m recovering better than expected?”

Sasha chuckled. “Of course it is. But, more importantly, this tells us a little bit about your… unique physiology. See, you three are unlike any organism in the universe. You are designed to survive and adapt in any conditions. Your body has integrated with its cybernetics on a level we can’t even understand without further study.”

All three triplets looked at their respective feet.

“Your, uh, creators have done something with your genes that make you far more resilient than the average person. Your bodies integrate with bionics so readily that it could put prosthetic technology decades ahead in just a few days.”

All three triplets remained silent for a moment.

“I’m basically saying that you can’t get sick, and that you’ve done medical science a huge favor!”

The triplets did not respond.

“At some point in this conversation I’m going to need some input from you ladies,” Sasha sighed.

All three replied, “Am I a freak?”

“Hey,” this took Sasha aback, not because of what they asked, but because of how sadly they had asked it, “don’t say that like it’s a dirty word. Average people write books about freaks like us.”

The triplets responded, “you’re a freak too?”

Sasha smiled. “Name another gay Martian teenage pirate doctor. There’s nobody in the system like me but me. Trust me, a freak is a good thing to be.”

The triplets remained silent.

Sasha continued in the hopes of evoking some sort of response from them. “‘Freak’ is a badge of honor around these parts. It means you’re special, and soon, the three of you will all find out what kind of beautiful, brilliant freaks you are.”

Each triplet smiled a bit, but Cyan smiled the broadest. She’d told them, Sasha was someone they could trust.

“Miz Sasha?” Yellow asked.

“Yes, darling?”

“My— Cyan told us to ask you about…” Yellow trailed off.

Magenta picked up where she left off, “She told us to ask you about candy?”

Sasha flashed a wide grin. “Good thing I brought my prescription pad,” she said, writing something practically unintelligible on a slip of paper. “Each of you take one of these slips and bring it up to Cookie. She’ll know what it says.”

She handed each of them a prescription that, despite their complete lack of legibility, clearly did not say the same thing.

“I think you’ll be feeling at home here sooner than you think.”

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klanced · 6 years

Note

In your voltron rewrite... are u going to change any character designs? Is Allura still gonna have a British accent? Will Lance have brown eyes?

Yep! Here’s a list of things off the top of my head:

Alteans won’t have British accents, because the trope of “advanced magical species sounding like Brits” is old and tired. I don’t know what I’ll replace it with if I’m being honest.

That being said, I kind of like Romelle’s accent?? I suspect it’s supposed to be a British accent, but it doesn’t carry all the way. The way she rounds her words is interesting.

To be fair, it’s hard to describe accents in writing (unless you go for a southern accent and star’ writin’ ev’ry word like this) but ideally Allura’s voice would be more…. Obviously alien, I suppose.

For example, Alteans could have a different respiratory system! Maybe they have an extra lung, or their lungs are hard and hollow instead of spongy like ours. And hey, that could affect the way they talk!

Maybe there’s an almost whistling noise at the end of their sentences. Or their voice lilts on the first syllable of every word, or there’s no concept of the letter “h” in Altean so when they try to say “have” it comes out more like “eave” (or something along those lines…) The possibilities are endless!

Brown Eyes, Babey!! (Tyra do not interact)

Lance has brown eyes!

His pupils are also bigger in my rewrite than they are in canon but I have no way to like… Make that come across. But just know. He has medium sized pupils and they are a lovely shade of medium brown :D

Hunk has dark brown eyes, as per canon. I’d say his eyes are the second darkest shade of brown (Shiro has the darkest eyes).

Shiro’s eyes are dark brown, to the point of black (ASIANS REPRESENT)

I’m making Pidge (and, by extension the rest of Holts) have hazel eyes instead of amber ^^ I did some research, and I decided that under the sunlight, Pidge’s eyes look almost multicolored- They’re light brown around the pupil and more green towards the outer ring of the iris.

Keith’s canon eye-color is blue-gray according to the Voltron wikia but toss that junk out the window, babey!

I feel like Keith’s Galra heritage definitely influences his eye color/shape…

LMAO when Keith was like, three, he got really sick so his dad took him to the hospital and the doctors there were CONVINCED Keith had jaundice because his sclera are a pale yellow. It’s not really noticeable because his eyes are so dark and contrast against them, but his doctors freaked out and tried to get him admitted for further examination.

Texas Kogane was luckily able to pass it off as a family condition lmfao.

Like Shiro, Keith eyes are dark to the point of coming off as black. However, Keith’s eyes are actually mixed violet-dark brown. It’s not obvious at first because violet + dark brown more or less combines to make a kind of reddish black (think #47001F or maybe #5C003D) but if you take a picture of Keith with the flash on/shine light on his eyes in a darkened room, they WILL glow.

I will stan the Galra having tapetum lucidum until the day I DIE.

Also Keith’s pupils are more oval in shape because I like to imagine the Galra having diamond shaped/vertical slit pupils, so Keith having oval pupils represents how he’s a combination of his parents.

Altean eyes are honestly so cool and I’ll keep them, with some minor updates. Like heterochromia!

Allura specifically has central heterochromia (two colors in the iris, with an inner ring around the pupil and then an outer ring around that).

Coran has complete heterochromia; his right eye is his canon navy-purple, while his left eye is a gray-green.

In my opinion, Allura is the embodiment/heart of Voltron and I’m changing parts of her character design to reflect that.

Instead of having stark white hair, Allura’s hair is a very light shade of purple. Alfor had white hair, Allura’s mom (who I’m still in the process of naming) had dark purple hair, so Allura is a nice medium in between.

It’s important to me that Allura has a lot of purple incorporated into her design because 1) It’s my favorite color, 2) It helps distinguish her from her mom (there will be NO copy pasting in this house!), and 3) Purple is associated with the Galra, and I want to acknowledge the fact that Voltron was born of both the Galra and Alteans.

This is important set-up for my Keith and Allura co-leadership arc okay. There are things behind the scenes. Also I’m too tired to like, fully explain why Purble Is Good but before anyone gets worried this isn’t me setting up a Galra Apologist arc so don’t worry.

Her hair color would be somewhere between #EDE2EF and #F8F3F9

Allura has central heterochromia, as I mentioned above, so she’s got a few colors going on. I’m still. So torn as to what those colors are. I want to incorporate blue and black to represent how she has the potential to fly the Blue and Black Lions, but I’m also tired of blue eyes in fantasy genres LMAO. Also….. green eyes……… OR PURPLE.

Does anyone else remember that theory that Allura has a prosthetic leg(s) because I do and I still think about it ALL the time. Anyway Allura has a kickass robotic leg, and I’m suddenly getting strong Paninya from Fullmetal Alchemist vibes. Nice.

(Thinks about all my headcanons for Coran) heehee

Alteans have freckles!! Or something approaching freckles, they could just be a further extension of their facial markings lmao.

I like to imagine every Altean has their own unique patterns. Coran’s wrap around his arms and legs like jellyfish stings/waves. Allura has these spattering of dots concentrated on her shoulders and torso (heart of Voltron, babey!)

Lance’s hair is more wavy/slightly curvy in this universe than it is in canon. It also is just better overall because his canon hair sucks ass. Sorry ladies, but it’s true.

Voltron has this weird thing for bangs. I don’t get it. Suffice to say, that shit is chopped off here.

I have no idea how to fully describe hair, but essentially: Lance’s hair now has a bit more texture, and he has more of it in general, so it doesn’t stay flat against his head. It’s short, but not cropped; there’s probably a little bit of give to it in the front, but not enough to call it a bang. He hates slicking back his hair because he’s insecure about his bigass forehead.

Hunk’s hair is HELLA THICK, like he has to keep it short or else it’ll get everywhere. There’s a slight curl to his hair, more in the back than in the front, and it all grows ridiculously fast. Ponytail Keith? Please. Ponytail Hunk is where it’s at.

Pidge’s hair is super funny to me. I mean, part of it is because it’s a ridiculous hair style, but it’s also completely impossible to replicate. Literally, does she gel her hair every day or something?? Nah. I’ll just make her hair a mix of curly-wavy and go. Also, instead of those knife bangs, she has a sweeping side-bang thing going on.

Keith’s hair is ugly but it stays because that’s literally just how Asian teenage boys are.

I’ll give him more hair-ties than canon does however. You thought turnip Keith was a one-time thing? You thought wrong.

Shiro having an undercut after a year of captivity is outrageously funny to me. Instead, he crash-lands on Earth with the most obviously self-cut haircut ever. Long hair was a liability in the gladiator pits, so Shiro made do with whatever rusty weapons he could find and a prayer.

It’s horribly lop-sided. There are patches where it looks like his hair caught on fire, which it probably did.

Once they’re not in immediate danger of dying, Keith sits Shiro down and gives his brother a proper haircut. The Asian fade.

Allura likes to change her hairstyle every few days. Not because she’s particularly concerned about her appearance (Side-note: What would the beauty standards for a species capable of shape-shifting even look like??), but because styling her hair guarantees her at least an hour of personal time she can use to mentally prepare for the coming day.

#voltron #v:lr #long post #katiecanons #DAMN this is long. lmao #ask #anonymous

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jibunstudies · 6 years

Photo

A GUIDE TO JAPANESE PITCH ACCENT

Japanese pitch accent is something so rarely taught in Japanese language classrooms -- or textbooks for that matter -- that learners from beginner to advanced levels have no idea what it is. Pitch accent is called 高低（こうてい）アクセント in Japanese, and it refers to the high and low pitches placed on Japanese words in order to help distinguish them from other, similar-sounding words.

For example, let’s look at 橋端 and 箸. All 3 of these kanji are read “はし,” but the difference is that the first はし means bridge, the second means edge, and the third means chopsticks. But how are you supposed to differentiate these words outside of context or reading their kanji?

Pitch accent.

There are a lot of Japanese natives that don’t even understand what 高低アクセント is, but it’s what makes or breaks native- versus foreign-sounding speech. While in context a native will understand that the かえる you mean is 帰る (to return) and not 蛙 (frog), one is pronounced differently, and using 蛙’s pitch accent where 帰る’s would be used is something a native will notice.

DISCLAIMER: This is not a full lesson on pitch accent, but merely an introduction and overview. At the end I’ve listed additional resources to further Japanese pitch accent study, but it’s something that takes time and effort. A single Tumblr guide will not teach you Japanese pitch accent.

TABLE OF CONTENTS 1. Introduction & FAQ 2. Essential Vocabulary 3. Indicating Pitch Accent 4. Golden Rules 5. Examples 6. Additional Resources 7. Conclusion

1. INTRODUCTION & FAQ

WHAT IS PITCH ACCENT? Pitch accent is a similar concept to English stress, but it’s executed differently and sounds different as well. If you’ve ever noticed that Japanese has a slight “wave-like” sound to it, it’s because of pitch accent. Without any study, non-Japanese natives have a tendency to transfer their own accent structure onto Japanese. This leads to the foreign pronunciation of Japanese.

SO WHAT IS PITCH? Pitch is characterized by how high or low you make your voice. In contrast, English stress is characterized by pitch, loudness, and vowel length.

WHAT DOES IT DO? It’ll help you distinguish homophones, and it’ll make it easier for Japanese people to understand you! A homophone is a word that looks the same as another word -- generally because of spelling -- but is pronounced differently. In English, these words look like perMIT and PERmit, GREENhouse and green HOUSE, and so on.

WHY IS IT NECESSARY TO LEARN? I would say that nearly all Japanese learners -- whether self studying or taking formal lessons -- don’t learn about pitch accent until it’s too late, and by then they’ve learned bad pronunciation habits that are hard to break. Learning correct pitch accent will improve your pronunciation and improve your listening. You’ll no longer have to rely solely on context to understand a word, and neither will the person you’re talking to!

BUT WON’T JAPANESE PEOPLE UNDERSTAND ME ANYWAY? Well...yes. But your Japanese will sound foreign, and it’ll be slightly harder for them to understand than if you pronounced words correctly. This is particularly true in the case of homophones. Also, improper pitch (or excessive stressing) can change the tone of your Japanese.

DO I HAVE TO RELEARN EVERY WORD I KNOW? No! Once you pick up the Golden Rules of Pitch Accent and become familiar with these rules, it’ll become easier. Also, I recommend both actively studying Pitch Accent and passively picking up pronunciation. There’s no better way to study than to shadow native speakers, so do that along with your studies!

2. ESSENTIAL VOCABULARY

Learning pitch accent means learning some vocabulary you may not have been privy to before. In order to understand all of the lingo needed to master pitch accent, here are a few handy words to remember!

mora (pl. morae)

one Japanese kana equals one mora 1　ぬ 2　おん 3　たべた 4　コーヒー　(ー is a mora) 5　おそわった　(っ is a mora, too) 6　エクササイズ

small kana (ぁぃぅぇぉ and っ) don’t count 1　きゃ 2　ショー 3　みょうじ

accent nucleus

this is the most important mora in a word

it has the highest pitch, and the pitch of the next mora drops

3. INDICATING PITCH ACCENT

This is done in a variety of ways depending on the resource, and some are more confusing than others. I prefer to use arrows (↑↓) or low/high markers (LH).

In this particular guide, I’ll use the 3 letter symbol: L (low), h (medium-high), and H (high). The H will mark the accent nucleus of a word.

Other systems include placing emphasis on the letter or the kana (みる), using the “pitch accent number” system (PA 0, PA 1, PA -3, etc), and numbers to mark the accent nucleus. There are a variety of ways, but it isn’t necessary to know them all. Simply understand that they’re marking the accent nucleus, and it’s important to know where that is in a word because...

4. GOLDEN RULES

There are a few golden rules in regard to pitch accent that’ll help you both determine pitch accent of words in the future and understand what pitch accent is doing in words you already know.

1. The accent nucleus has the highest pitch in a word.

2. The 1st and 2nd morae of a word always have different pitch.

This means that the beginning of a word only has 3 options:

Lh (low to medium-high)

LH (low to high)

HL (high to low)

There are no Hh or hH patterns in the beginning of words.

3. A word can have a maximum of one accent nucleus.

This means that once the pitch drops it cannot rise again in the same word!

So a word like かんがえつく(to think of; to come up with) looks like this: L h h h H L, and it will never look like L h h H L h or L H L H L H.

So once you’ve hit the accent nucleus, it’s only downhill from there! This is particularly key to remember with 頭高 (HL) and 中高 (LHL) words, which will have rises and falls in their sounds that 平板 (LH) words will not have.

5. EXAMPLES

These are examples of words that different only in pitch.

はし chopsticks: 箸　HL（頭高） bridge: 橋　LH（尾高） edge: 端　LH（平板）

いま now: 今　HL（頭高） living room: 居間　LH（尾高）

かき oyster: 牡蠣　HL（頭高） fence: 垣　LH（尾高） persimmon: 柿　LH（平板）

さけ salmon: 鮭　HL（頭高） alcohol: 酒　LH（平板）

にほん two sticks: 二本　HLL（頭高） japan: 日本　LHL（中高）

Keep in mind that while I provided examples for nouns, verbs are also subject to pitch accent and don’t all exist within the same pitch accent realm. It’s common for them to follow a 平板 pattern, but some irregularities occur.

6. ADDITIONAL RESOURCES

Dogen’s Japanese Phonetics Course Arguably the best Japanese pitch accent guide on the Internet, Dogen is fantastic in his explanations and totally thorough. He covers a variety of pitch accents as well as talks about how they change in sentences, when verbs are conjugated, and more. It costs $10 to subscribe to his Patreon for access to the video series, but it’s completely worth it.

Japanese Pitch Accent Memrise Course If you can’t afford Dogen’s course, this is a great secondary option! It’s a full Memrise course that helps you learn to identify pitch accent and comes with introductory slides as well as quizzes.

Shigeto Kawahara’s “The Phonology of Japanese accent” It’s long and incredibly detailed, but for those of you that would prefer a much longer and more in-depth guide, I’d recommend this paper. It’s basically Dogen’s video series, but in paper format.

Online Japanese Accent Dictionary A massive database of Japanese words and their pitch accents. The vocabulary is also broken up by the most commonly used textbooks.

7. CONCLUSION

Pitch accent is not impossible, and it’s worth learning. Learning pitch accent is no different than mastering tones in Chinese. They’re necessary for proper pronunciation, and they’ll make your Japanese sound more native.

Remember that pitch accent changes throughout Japanese, and because of this it’s impossible to master through singular study alone. Your best bet is to consume as much Japanese as possible through television, music, podcasts, YouTube... it’s endless. Hearing spoken Japanese will help you fix your accent and sound more native!

I hope this was helpful for those of you that were particularly confused about pitch accent and didn’t know where to start or how to learn it. It’s a little daunting, especially because it’s never formally taught, but it’s worth learning and will dramatically improve your Japanese.

頑張ってください！

As always, if you have any questions/concerns or feel that you'd like more information about this topic, feel free to send me a message and I'll answer it as soon and thoroughly as possible!

#mine #japanese #japanese language #languages #language learning #learning languages #日本語 #高低アクセント #pitch accent #japanese pitch accent #japanese langblr #langblr

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svt-writers-club · 5 years

Note

Highkey haoshua is a super valid ship, why is it so rare?? 😭😭

probably cos they don’t have that many interactions on shows, although the fact that they’re wine buddies is so adorable and i totes ship them for it

so here’s a little dance teacher!minghao/dance student!jisoo to ease the pain

- Jisoo keeps complaining about needing to keep fit but hating to go to the gym (and wasting his money when he buys a gym subscription and never goes) so Seungcheol signs up his awkward ass at the dance studio his boyfriend Jihoon sometimes teaches at

- it’s a hip hop class

- Minghao is most definitely the teacher

- (Seungcheol looked at the toughest class Jihoon wasn’t teaching and chose it just to fuck with Jisoo one hundred percent and his other boyfriend, Jeonghan, was definitely egging him on the entire time while Jihoon just shook his head and sighed.)

- Jisoo doesn’t think the dance teacher is hot. Not when he’s torturing him by sliding into an almost split while Jisoo’s crotch is like ten inches off the ground and not getting any closer because he’s just not that flexible, stop pressing down on my lower back I can’t go down any lower –

- Minghao doesn’t really think Jisoo is that cute either. Well… he does think it’s kinda cute that this inflexible noodle man joined his intermediate hip hop class, which is why he focuses on Jisoo more than the others, because all Jisoo needs is some effort and he might actually not look like a lame penguin when he moves to the music.

- Honestly, Jisoo has a thing where he hates it when he can’t get something, so he ends up spending a fair amount of extra time actually practicing whatever he’s learnt in class.

Everyone is impressed with it. Not really with Jisoo’s improvement, which is incremental and barely there, but at Jisoo’s vigour. They haven’t seen him this fired up since the first time Jisoo played Overwatch and discovered he sucked. Three months later and Jisoo’s arguably the best Mercy out of all his friends.

- Minghao starts noticing that Jisoo stays back a lot, so he offers some one-on-one tutoring after their class – free of charge. After all, if this man with the awkward limbs and bad sense of rhythm really wants to master hip hop, the least Minghao could do was help.

(It reminds Minghao of himself, back when he was scrawny and sickly. He remembers late nights staying up and practicing his freezes, pushing too hard and fracturing his wrist in a failed windmill and unable to practice for three months straight.)

- Jisoo’s “signature move” is something he likes to call a corkscrew. He raises his hands, goes down into a squat and does a turn while he stands up again. He thinks it’s hip hop. Minghao disagrees. (He still lets Jisoo think it’s hip hop.)

- It’s like two weeks into the impersonal tutoring that Jisoo’s like “oh, hey, I have an extra ticket for a wine tasting tomorrow that I got from work and all my friends can’t distinguish a cabernet from a bordeaux, so do you want to go with me?”

(Jisoo does not expect Minghao to take him up on the invitation.)

(Minghao also happens to like fancy wines and has friends who drink box wine, so he most definitely accepts Jisoo’s offer.)

- Now, Jisoo has never really seen Minghao in casual attire. Jisoo is in Minghao’s third class out of MInghao’s four Thursday evening classes. He’s only ever seen Minghao in a sweaty tank top and loose joggers (sometimes with a cap, usually without).

The next night, Jisoo meets Minghao in front of the restaurant they agreed to meet at and his jaw drops.

Minghao’s standing there, lit by the red lights of the neon sign. He’s wearing a light plaid-patterned blazer that’s tight in all the right places, with a white t-shirt underneath. His dark jeans hug his thighs just right and on his feet are dark sneakers that are probably half the cost of Jisoo’s crappy Toyota. Minghao’s caramel haired isn’t styled, but it looks carefully ruffled. There’s a slight rose tint to Minghao’s glasses (they seem ornamental, like a lot of things in Korea), but it could just be the lighting.

Jisoo swallows and rubs his sweaty palms onto his jeans. He feels a little underdressed, which is saying a lot; Jeonghan likes to say that even on a casual day out, Jisoo looks like he’s ready to go to a formal event. (It’s an occupational hazard of being a lifestyle journalist, he swears.)

Jisoo doesn’t realise he’s frozen on the sidewalk until Minghao turns and lifts a hand in greeting. There’s an easy smile on Minghao’s thin lips and Jisoo thinks, oh no… he’s hot.

(Minghao sees Jisoo in his pastel green graphic tee, black jeans and grey blazer and thinks Jisoo is really cute and wow, that’s not really good for his heart because this was supposed to be a purely platonic outing with good company and even better wine, but now he’s developing feelings.)

- Jisoo drinks too much wine – just a little bit. He gets nervous around people he finds hot. It doesn’t help that Minghao has a surprisingly dry sense of humour. Paired with his slightly accented Korean and knowledge of different kinds of wines, Jisoo finds himself helplessly charmed – and he doesn’t want to be. Minghao doesn’t even mind when he rambles, eyes sharp as he nods along to whatever Jisoo is saying – like he’s actually listening.

It leaves Jisoo feeling off-kilter, which leads to him drinking his wine a little faster than he should.

By the end of the tasting, his face is flushed and his head feels pleasantly light. He’s sitting too close to Minghao, who doesn’t seem to mind. The dance teacher also seems hilarious, coaxing giggles from Jisoo’s lips with every wry comment or snarky quip he makes.

It’s probably a trick of the dim lighting, but Jisoo thinks Minghao’s cheeks are tinted red. Maybe it’s just cosmetic blush, Jisoo thinks idly, letting himself lean into Minghao’s shoulder even as he swirls his wine in his glass – a 2008 Cabernet Sauvignon that’s fruitier than expected and lingers on his tongue. He’s on his eighth wine and he’s feeling it.

Minghao’s hand curls around his shoulder gently – not pushing him away, but not pulling him closer either. “Are you okay, hyung?” Minghao murmurs in Jisoo’s ear. Another giggle bubbles up his throat.

“I’m fine,” Jisoo answers, taking another sip of his wine. “Perfectly fine.”

No, not fine. The lights are too fuzzy and Minghao smells really nice.

“Thanks.” Minghao’s chuckle rumbles in Jisoo’s ear deliciously. “You don’t smell half bad either.”

Oops, looks like he’s talking his thoughts out loud again. Maybe he’s had too much wine.

The corner of Minghao’s lips twitches up into a gentle smile. “Uh, yeah, maybe just a little too much.” His fingers are warm when the brush Jisoo’s, the wine glass gingerly slipped out of his grip and placed on the table. “I think it’s time I get you home.”

“Nooooo,” Jisoo whispers, but he doesn’t protest when Minghao grabs both their jackets and helps him out of his seat.

The brisk air outside helps sober Jisoo up. His head still feels fuzzy, but walking isn’t such a struggle. He can’t find it in him to tell Minghao he feels better, not when the younger is slinging his arm around Jisoo’s shoulders and leading him to the curb to wait for a cab. Jisoo’s more sober now, but he lets himself lean into Minghao’s warmth. His jacket is carefully draped over his shoulders when he shivers, and another warmer jacket is placed over his own.

“Cold night,” Minghao comments, voice low. His breath brushes Jisoo’s ear. “Are you gonna be okay going home on your own?”

Jisoo nods, not trusting his voice. The moonlight in Minghao’s hair looks like something out of a dream. I could kiss him, he thinks idly, playing with the lapel of Minghao’s jacket. He could, but he won’t. Wouldn’t that make things awkward?

Minghao turns then, eyes widening slightly when their gazes meet. They’re a lot closer than Jisoo thought, breaths mingling. The scent of wine is heavy in the air. Jisoo licks his lips nervously, flushing more when Minghao’s eyes dart down. All it would take is a simple lean forward and their lips would be touching. It’s tempting. He almost does it.

The headlights of the cab blinds him as it turns the corner and Minghao pulls away with an awkward clearing of his throat. Jisoo buries the disappointment that wells in his chest.

He ducks into the cab when Minghao pulls open the door for him, telling the driver his address and settling back in his seat, eyes already sliding shut. He turns for one last glimpse of Minghao; he grins, one hand buried in his pocket while the other raises a hand in goodbye.

Jisoo still has Minghao’s jacket.

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aiutantedivinodiriso · 5 years

Text

Hanzo’s character sheet.

DO NOT REBLOG WITHOUT PERMISSION.

FULL NAME Shimada Hanzo (島田半蔵) NICKNAME(S) His father used to call him ‘shinkenna kao’ (‘straight face’) but beside that he has never been a nicknames fan. ALIAS(ES) He uses a second identity, Sato Ryusei. TITLE Leader of the Shimada Clan. OCCUPATION Wanderer, mercenary, deckhand. AGE 39. DATE OF BIRTH January 5th. NATIONALITY Japanese. ORIENTATION Greysexual, demiromantic. GENDER & PRONOUNS Cis male. He/him. RELIGION Atheist.

PHYSICAL INFORMATION

FACE CLAIM Hanzo from Overwatch franchise / RL faceclaim: Masami Kosaka. (Young Hanzo FC: Haruma Miura) HEIGHT 170 cm. WEIGHT 85 kg. EYE COLOUR Dark brown, hard and cool toned, toughened by his troubled past and his hundred sins. While he is not ashamed or afraid to establish eye contact, it is very rare for him to look at someone in the eyes: either he trusts that person completely or he is angry with them. HAIR COLOUR + STYLE Salt-and-pepper hair, dead straight, naturally shiny, worn long, usually tied up in a high ponytail. DOMINANT HAND Ambidextrous. Born even handed. DISTINGUISHING FEATURES None. ACCENT + INTENSITY Slight Japanese accent, especially in his manner of speaking. Sometimes his accent may grow thicker when he is feeling a particularly violent emotion. It’s not unlikely for Hanzo to mix up languages. TATTOO(S) A wide-spread irezumi of a dragon navigating a stormy sky in dark blue and ochre tints, starting from his left pectoral to his wrist, circling the whole arm. SCAR(S) He has a quite rough scar marking his entire stomach horizontally and a little one he got from appendix removal surgery. PIERCING(S) When he was younger, he used to wear earrings, but nowadays the holes have just healed over. GLASSES None.

PERSONALITY INFORMATION

JUNG TYPE ISTJ. MORAL ALIGNMENT True Neutral. ANGER Hanzo will usually be more irked than really angry. When it does happen though, Hanzo will burst as violently as a volcano, shouting and pacing around. He is very likely to say things his usually politer self would never dare to (and, if the target of his anger is a person he cares about, things he will regret for a long time). If someone gets him angry enough to get physical --- they won’t survive it. What will immediately trigger his anger, though, is a display of racist behaviour. APPROACHABILITY He is normally stoic and unapproachable. This behaviour is only enhanced during his dissociative events (see further down). INTELLIGENCE TYPE Bodily-kinesthetic intelligence. IQ~ 80 NEURODIVERGENCE(S) PTSD, ADHD, DPDR. Read here. AT RISK None.

BACKGROUND INFORMATION

HOMETOWN Hanamura, Kanto, Japan. CURRENT RESIDENCE He is a wanderer, but it is very likely to find him in Taipei, Taiwan. LANGUAGE(S) Japanese, Mandarin Chinese, English, bits and pieces of other languages (Filipino, Cantonese Chinese, Hindi). SOCIAL CLASS Low. LEVEL OF EDUCATION Average. He has always been a terrible student. PARENT #1 Sojiro Shimada, father. PARENT #2 Keiko Shimada, mother. SIBLING(S) One younger brother, Genji Shimada. PET(S) He wishes he could adopt 10 Akita Inu. PRISON TIME? Once in Taiwan for disorderly intoxication, he spent a night in prison to sober up.

VICES + HABITS

SMOKES? No. DRINKS? Yes, and he is an indulgent drinker. It is safe to say Hanzo is an alcoholic. DRUGS? No. VIOLENT? Not regularly. (see above). ADDICTION(S)? Alcohol. SELF-DESTRUCTIVE? Yes, although never enough to be considered ‘suicidal’. He has quite many unhealthy behaviours (drinking, disturbed sleep patterns, unsociability) but he stops right before the brink of the void. HABIT(S) Can one really be considered an early bird if they rarely ever sleep? When he can afford it, he is a creature of habit: he eats at the same hours every day, he takes tea halfway though the afternoon, he goes to the same places. He enjoys doing things he knows he likes. HOBBIES It’s something he rarely has time to practice, but Hanzo loves finger painting and painting in general. He is not a very good artist, he most likely ends up drawing basic shapes in bright colors, but it really soothes him. Practicing his bow skills is also something he enjoys greatly. LIKES He harbours a great passion for martial arts and he practices different disciplines (his close combat style is a mixture of Karate, Kung-fu, Taekwondo and boxing), but his true love lies in kenjutsu even if he hasn’t gripped a sword in the last 19 years. He likes grooming and generally taking care of his appearance (his mother was always very passionate about this) although some days he will be too tired to keep up with the whole routine. Sensorially speaking, his favourite smell is fresh, clean water and cut grass and he prefers savoury food over sweets. His favourite dishes are ramen, wonton and katsudon. He is a Chinese tea junkie. DISLIKES Small talks, social events with people he doesn’t know or doesn’t care for, talking about himself or his past, people referring to him as “weird” et similia. He hates racism with a passion (see here). Because of his dyslexia, he has grown a little prejudiced against reading. He doesn’t like very soft or gelatinous food (except jam). He doesn’t particularly enjoy fish. TIC(S) He tends to do a lot of sounds with his mouth instead of actually speaking (‘tsk’ indicates scepticism, ‘tsz’ is negative for something, ‘mh’ on the other hand is the positive, and so on). He plays with his beard while he is thinking. He bites his nails a lot. Bruxism. OBSESSION(S) Finally making peace with his past, proving to himself he is not an evil man (although he is scared to find out he may not be a good man either). COMPULSION(S) Forcing himself not to sleep.

MISCELLANEOUS INFORMATION

HOGWARTS HOUSE Slytherin. ARCHETYPE (I can’t find a fitting one damn it) ZODIAC Capricorn. VICE Sloth. VIRTUE Prudence. ELEMENT Water. ANIMAL Wolf.

#hanzo

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streiknine-blog · 6 years

Photo

Task 001.

BUT RED WAS WHAT YOU WRAPPED AROUND YOU. BLOOD RED.

—Ted Hughes

BASIC INFORMATION.

Full Name: Vincent James Ouellet Nickname(s): Vin, Vinny, Strychnine, Striker; Strike Age: 28 Date of Birth: 13 February 1990 Hometown: Québec, Québec, Canada Current Location: Dertosa, California Ethnicity: white Nationality: Vincent is Canadian, but his mother was American, so he’s got dual citizenship Gender: cis male Pronouns: he/him Orientation: Vincent is bisexual — but also fun fact he’s never had sex Religion: agnostic — he doesn’t think too hard about it, but I could see him going for something like Roman Reconstructionalist if he actually put thought into it. Political Affiliation: (I don’t know stateside politics and neither does Vincent) Occupation: full-time Poison babey — see also: hitman Living Arrangements: he’s got a small apartment with sparse decorations — really what he was looking for when he got it was somewhere that he’d be able to relax and cook.

The kitchen is the most put-together part of the one-bedroom place, with well-loved pots, pans, and bakeware. A couple nice dishtowels in a white with navy stripes pattern hang from the handle of the oven, and a much more ragged bleach-worn dishtowel is usually seen on the counter (used for wiping up messes as they happen). Little (fake bullet) shell casing salt and pepper shakers sit on the back of the stove, along with a little porcelain rooster — “You have to have a rooster in the kitchen.” Vincent would say, “It’s good luck.” — which its paint is chipping from how old it is.

The living/eating area has a navy and grey rug that looks like he’s had it since he was in his early twenties (and, honestly, he has) and a dark-stained wooden table with four chairs — the insert to make it into a six person table for if he ever had the Poisons over sitting against the far wall, in plain sight — and just a single placemat, that is pastel and multi-coloured and looks like he stole it from a sixty year old’s kitchen décor, sitting on the table at all times.

He’s got a small, grey, apartment-sized couch that he likes to curl up an nap on, so there’s a throw blanket and a single pillow always on it.

Language(s) Spoken: English; French Accent: Light buzzing on ‘TH’, ‘Z’, and ’S’ sounds — a holdover from his Québécois upbringing; for the most part has a fairly neutral “Seattle accent” that he’s taught himself as a consequence of being around Americans and wanting to sound less ‘different’. Still has a light Québécois accent tinging his words.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE.

Face Claim: Zane Holtz Hair Colour: dark brown Eye Colour: blue Height: 6’1” Weight: 220ish lbs Build: lorge Tattoos: n/a Piercings: n/a Clothing Style: Simple, dark sweaters (navy, forest green, maroon, black), white dress shirts (buttoned to the top), dark sports coats, charcoal or black slacks are the standard, but he’ll wear dark wash jeans occasionally. Usually the jeans are paired with a crisp dress shirt (in any of the sweater colours) that may be rolled to to the elbows. If he’s doing the sweater + dress shirt + jeans outfit, his favourite combination is his maroon sweater with a navy dress shirt. He thinks he looks fancy in it. He’s not opposed to wearing light, airy colours (like powder blue, or dusty pink) but he gets a bit self-conscious when he wears them — thinking that they don’t suit him well enough for him to pull it off. So he sticks to dark colours and neutrals. They’re easier to hide bloodstains anyway, and the white shirts can be bleached.

Fan of French cuffs but never wears them because cufflinks are easy to lose at a scene. When he’s not on the job he’s totally breaking out the French cuffs and his silver cufflinks. There’s the occasional t-shirt + sweatpants combo but usually reserved for when he isn’t going out anywhere/not seeing anyone but the other poisons or the flower he’s booked.

For accessories, he’s got a dark grey tungsten carbide band that he wears on his left ring finger.

Usual Expression: neutral, vaguely aggressive leaning. His eyebrows make him look mad when he’s not holding them up in some form of expression. Distinguishing Characteristics: I’d say his biggest distinguishing characteristic is that he is tall and wide — like not only is this kid over six feet tall, he’s jacked as shit too.

HEALTH.

Physical Ailments: needs glasses, and he’s nearsighted — it’s partly why he prefers knives to guns. Neurological Conditions: nothing I can peg but I’m sure there’s Something. Allergies: n/a Sleeping Habits: king of the cat nap, and honestly whenever he can knock out he’s gonna. He snores too. Eating Habits: he eats a Lot and he’s decently healthy… please see his favourite food section for a more detailed food thing. Exercise Habits: Boy loves to workout — gotta keep fit for murder, y’know? He’s fond of free weights, and bars… boy loves a heavy deadlift, and he’s gotta bench press his friends at least once. He’s also one to do sprints for his cardio, especially resistance sprints. Gotta go fast.

He works until it burns and he’s comfortably sore. Totally one to have a protein shake with oats added after a hard workout.

Emotional Stability: Vincent isn’t necessarily the most emotionally competent but he’s also not especially volatile. He’s got his moments — blind fury or just enjoyment of a kill can cause him to go a lil overboard. When he laughs it’s a whole body laughs — boy’s gonna feel things all at once if he’s going to feel them at all. Sociability: He likes to be with other people but he is just so painfully awkward. He doesn’t quite realize sometimes that he’s making jokes that aren’t funny and that he should stop making poisoning jokes to the flower that is eating the meal he prepped himself but, hey, we can’t be perfect and Vinny certainly isn’t. Body Temperature: I’d say he’s a slight onto the warm side — summer is hell for him. Addictions: can I say the high of a kill? But nah he ain’t a straight up murder-obsessed guy, he just really loves that feeling. In all honesty, he loves sweet things. Drug Use: Never Alcohol Use: Rarely drinks — he doesn’t like the feeling of being drunk/tipsy, but he will go for a lite beer or two, or a mixed drink that is “light on the alcohol, heavy on the mix, please.”

PERSONALITY.

Label: the aggressor; the cold-blooded; the loyalist Positive Traits: Fearless, determined, willing Negative Traits: Ruthless, detached Goals/Desires: his biggest thing is having a balance to things, it’s a driving force behind his actions. Fears: spiders — too many legs they creep him out. Hobbies: cooking, reading, watching movies Habits: absently rotates his wrists/cracks his fingers when he’s focused on something. Mutters in French under his breath if he’s trying to figure something out.

FAVOURITES.

Weather: cold, crisp winter day with large snowflakes floating down lazily — not a flurry, just pleasant and relaxing. Probably around -15C / 5f. Colour: navy and light blue Music: top 40 hits — 22 year old Vincent was the type to sing along to ‘Call Me Maybe’ in his car by himself. Movies: comedies, supernatural themes, French and Québécois cinema. Sport: Lacrosse; hockey (fan of the Canadiens and the Maple Leafs) Beverage: Hot chocolate!

He’s one to pick the drink up from a coffee shop on the way to an appointment, or to make himself a fresh one after he’s back home. He has several different kinds of it — from those hot chocolate wands, to tins of powdered mix, to single-serve portions of it for a on-demand coffee machine — and he’s not picky. He likes the sweetness of it, and, if he’s getting one from a coffee shop, makes sure to ask for extra chocolate sauce. At home it depends how tired he is. It’ll either be basic, with just hot milk and melted chocolate or fancier on his days off with tiny marshmallows or peppermint syrup. He especially likes to make hot chocolate for those he considers friends.

Food: He’ll give most things a try, honestly.

He’s definitely fallen back on the ‘pan seared broccoli with wild rice and baked chicken breast (with smoked paprika, thyme, and black pepper)’ as a basic dinner meal for when he’s feeling lazy. If he’s not feeling lazy the sky is the fucking limit. He’ll make everything from a whole chicken or a roast with accompanying veggies, to stir-frying tofu and veggies. For lunch he’s usually eating something he’s packed — quinoa, lemon-dill salmon, asparagus; rare steak, sweet potatoes, broccolini; Cobb salad with an extra hardboiled egg or two; homemade “instant” ramen in a jar — and for breakfast he’ll either just straight up have a protein shake with oats and fruit, or some of the egg muffins he makes every few days (mushroom, cheese, ham,, quinoa) or he’ll really go all out and have French Toast or waffles.

Homemade stovetop mac n cheese is a comfort food he likes if he wants something quick (25 minutes, start to finish), but if he’s gonna make a comforting meal to distract himself he’s totally the type to go with a braised lamb sort of deal.

Animal: dogs

FAMILY.

Father: Étienne Jean Ouellet (53); president of an insurance brokerage Mother: Lillian Grace Ouellet née Richardson (51); homemaker Sibling(s): none Children: n/a Pet(s): n/a Family’s Financial Status: solidly upper-middle class. Don’t you know the insurance business is practically a license to print money?

EXTRA.

Zodiac Sign: Aquarius; 13 February 1990 MBTI: ISTJ Enneagram: type 8 — the challenger Temperament: melancholic Moral Alignment: totally pegged him as a Lawful Evil — uses murder to get his ends tidy, but has a strong sense of needing balance for things. Not one to just willy-nilly McMurder. Primary Vice: Wrath Primary Virtue: Charity Element: Earth

#tcrp.task #about #this is so extra i'm so sorry

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shadeops21 · 7 years

Text

Humans Are Weird - Language

Crew Recreation Room, SSV Eternal Grace

“Hey, toss the remote over here, will ya?” Chief Jesse’s accented voice was barely audible over the rabble created by the rest of the crew in the packed rec room of the spacecraft. His outstretched hand was waiting for a remote, which was thrown his direction by one of the human engineers across the room. “Cheers mate. Now, if I can get everyone’s attention!” He waited for a few moments to be acknowledged and rolled his eyes, not surprised that he was ignored. He stood up on one of the tables and slammed his left boot down onto it, the impact creating a loud enough bang that turned a few heads. “I said shut the bloody hell up!” That got everyone’s attention, and Jesse nodded with approval as he pulled his datapad from a pouch on his duty belt and held it up for him to read.

“Alright-y, ladies, bastards, and the rest of you lot, I’ve got a few words from our ever-so-lovely captain regarding a few security concerns they’ve raised with me. Firstly: Op-Sec! That’s short for “Operational Security” for those that can’t understand acronyms. While we aren’t a part of the IMSF, we are contracted to the Intergalactic Governing Council, meaning that we do have a level of secrecy that we need to abide by. That means when talking to your folks back home about how things are going, you need to be more mindful about what you are telling them. Please don’t tell them about where our next few ports of call are, or the areas we’re operating in at the current time unless you are on a secure channel or it is a matter of dire emergency. Last thing we all need is a bunch of pirate pricks to raid us all because one of us had a loose pie-trap, you got me?”

Jesse listened to a murmur of agreement before nodding approvingly and consulting his notes. “Sweet! Second: It’s come to my attention by some of the guards that some of you horny buggers are sneaking off to secluded areas to do the do, if you get my drift? Now, because I’m a decent bastard - yes, hard to believe that, but I am decent,” he had to wait a moment for a few chuckles to settle down before continuing on, “I won’t be naming names or shaming people. Honestly, I don’t care who or what you decide to fuck, as long as it’s in your own time. What I do care about is the use of protection and the locations where I’m hearing people are being caught in the act.”

Zan’via and another member of the crew, a human medical staffer by the name of Kelly Jean, were standing towards the back of the room listening to him remind the group that areas like the engine rooms and storage bays weren’t conductive to ‘safe sex’. Zan’via noted that every once in a while Kelly would chuckle at a few words and phrases that the security chief would use, and once the man had finished his announcements, Zan’via decided to see what exactly caused Kelly to find they’re friends speech humorous.

“Excuse me, Doctor Jean, if I may have a moment of your time?” Zan’via spoke up before the woman could leave and return back to the medical wards.

“Certainly, Zan’via. What’s the problem?” She replied, gesturing towards an empty table nearby.

“Well, I found it a slight bit concerning that you were quietly laughing during Chief Lynn-Michael’s announcements on what I believe were fairly serious subjects.” They started, leveling a neutral expression towards the doctor.

“Oh? You noticed that? I’m sorry, I just find the way the Chief speaks to be amusing, that’s all.” Kelly said, blushing slightly at how she’d been caught out.

“The way the Chief speaks?”

“You have to admit, he does have a way with words, right?” Kelly prodded, now curious as to how Zan’via, and by extension the rest of the Gal’eth race, would interpret the Chief’s speaking patterns and mannerisms. There was a moment of silence before Zan’via emitted what could be interpreted as a ‘groan’ and shook their head.

“I would, if I could understand some of the terms and phrases he uses on a frequent basis.” They admitted with a small sigh, rubbing their face in irritation. “I’ve been meaning to ask him about it, but every chance I get he’s either busy or something comes up that needs his attention.”

“Maybe I can help. Granted, I’m not fluent in Australian English, but I’ve been around him long enough to pick a few things up.” The classifier that Kelly used before the name of the adopted universal language piqued Zan’via’s interest.

“Australian English? You mean there is more than one form of the language?”

“Well, yes and no. English as a whole is one language, but there are different versions or dialects of it, and each differ by region. The three major versions I’ve encountered in my life are American English, British English, and Australian English. The differences are subtle between them, like spelling and how there are different names between the three for the same object. Australian English, which is what our wonderful Chief of Security is quite fluent in, is actually an interesting blend of both the American and English systems, with some unique terminology and rules thrown in for fun.”

“For fun?” Zan’via asked with a surprised expression.

“Yes, for fun. There are a few ways that Australian English, or ‘Aussie’ as it’s referred to sometimes, is easily distinguished against the others. And that’s one right there: shortened versions of words.” Kelly said with a smile.

“I do not quite follow.”

“It’s a joke, both to Australians and to foreigners, that they are a lazy bunch and will shorten anything that can be shortened. Australian becomes Aussie, service center becomes ‘serve-o’, names like Bermingham, Wilson and McDonald are turned into ‘Birm-o’, ‘Wils-o’ and ‘Macca’ respectively. That brings me to a second trait: nicknames.”

“Nicknames?”

“The Chief’s full name and title is Head of Security Jesse Lynn-Michaels. When he was in the IMSF, he was Special Operations Chief Petty Officer Jesse Lynn-Michaels. That’s where he has his current ship’s nickname, Chief. It was a shorter way of calling his rank. The same carries across to any name or title if you’re an Australian, even if your name is relatively short. Occasionally he’ll call me Doc or ‘Kel’, or the Captain ‘Boss’. I’m sure he’s even shortened your own name from time to time.”

“You would be right on that regard, he constantly calls either me ‘Zan’ or ‘Zany’.” They said with what could be called a soft smile.

“See? It also serves as a benefit to tell when he’s being serious with you or not. If you hear him yell ‘Zany, get over here’, then you’re less likely to be in trouble than if he addresses you as ‘Zan’via’ or ‘Engineer’s Mate Third Class Zan’via Top’hei’.” Kelly stifled a chuckle as she saw the large alien being visibly shudder at the use of their full rank and title. “I guess some things are universal, right?”

“Agreed, and I see your point.”

“Good. Another classic hallmark which I’m sure you’ve noticed is the excessive swearing and use of rather frank terms and phrases.” Kelly said with a slight frown.

“That I have noticed; both him and his security team do sound more profane than other members of the crew.”

“Mhm. It’s another joke that Aussies don’t have a filter, and will often say what needs to be said at the expense of themselves and others. On one hand, this can be a benefit as you can safely assume that they are being genuine in their remarks. On the other, that same trait can get them into serious trouble. Do you think the Captain would have made those announcements in the same fashion, and with the same phrases?”

“I do not, it is safe to say that our Captain would have been much more formal and polite about the entire ordeal.” Zan’via said resolutely, their trust in the Captain surpassing everything else.

“Would you have paid attention through the whole thing?” The follow up caught them off guard.

“I beg your pardon?”

“If the Captain was the one speaking, would you have paid attention and remembered everything they would have said?”

Zan’via had to stop and think for a moment, recalling some of the longer briefings they’ve had to attend with the rest of the engineering department. The Captain was no doubt a good speaker, but they could admit that some of the time the Captain spoke could have been better spent on moving along with the subject matter.

“I do not like admitting this, but it is likely that I would forget some topics that they would cover.”

“You aren’t the only one, and that’s most likely why the Chief speaks so frankly and casually. It keeps the audience relaxed yet alert at the same time, and it also helps deflate any tension and unease when topics like sexual relationships are brought up. That said, Chief knows the limit, and if he started swearing and cursing with every second or third word he knows that he’ll lose his audience and risk getting himself in trouble.” Kelly’s datapad chimed at her from her pocket, and she quickly glanced at a clock on a nearby wall. “Oh, damn. Zan’via, I’ll be happy to continue this conversation later. I’ve got a patient in the Eye-See-You that I need to attend to.”

“Very well, ‘Doc’.” Zan’via said with a smile as the doctor stood up and hurried away.

‘I’ll have to ask her what certain words mean, next time...’

#humans are weird #space australia #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians

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caricatlc · 4 years

Text

BASICS –

full name: alice marisol romero

nicknames: none

birthdate: 4 august 2025

birthplace: plattsburgh, new york

ethnicity: columbian, cuban, and caucasian

nationality: american, english

languages: english, spanish

accent: slight bronx accent

APPEARANCE –

hair color & style: dark brown, usually kept waist-length and wavy, with green tips after breaking up with nigel

eye color: dark brown

height: five feet five inches

build: thicc. muscular but also hyper-feminine

skin tone: olive skin that rarely burns and tans well

personal style:

grunge lite. alice prefers to be comfortable above all else, so soft fabrics and denim are her go-tos. when she dates nigel she adopts a more instagram ho aesthetic to match his, but her heart isn’t really into bodycon dresses if she cant accessorize them with doc martens and a flannel.

distinguishing marks: expressive face

tattoos: ‘esforzada’ on back of neck ( x ), ivy on left wrist ( x )

piercings: two piercings in both lobes, helix piercing in left ear, daith and industrial in right ear, belly button

FAMILY –

parents: noah romero and lia villace

parental relationships:

while seth is more gregarious, alice is a quiet reflection of noah. as a result, their relationship deals largely in companionable silence. he’s not one to gossip with but always good help for moral quandaries. he’s also more likely to catch alice in the middle of doing something wrong, but mostly just offers gentle advice and hopes for the best. alice really hates to disappoint her father.

lia is a fun parent. alice almost always has fun with her mother, even if the interaction ends on a sour note. she can run a lot of day-to-day thoughts past her mother-- lia is kept mostly in the loop about the goings on in her daughter’s life. however, some compulsion leads alice to remain silent about her love life as it seems like it would be much easier to let her mother believe that everything is going fine.

siblings: rex, seth, and michael romero

sibling relationships:

when rex came into their lives, alice understood the difference between her twin and an actually older brother immediately. she enjoys spending time with rex, and ever since she was young she was always content to tag along with her ‘fun’ brother.

what can alice say about seth? they know each other better than anyone else, and speak almost exclusively in snark. but opposites don’t always attract, and their very big, drastically different personalities clash and erupt frequently. when times are good, though, they’re each other’s biggest hype-man as they snap another selfie.

michael is a strange one, but alice will always hold a tenderness for her little brother. she’s helped house dozens of wild animals and filmed a vine or two in her time. while she’s not keen on him bringing insects into the house it’d certainly be difficult for her to turn him down for anything.

birth order: only girl, younger twin, middle child

status in family:

alice likes to think that she’s practically invisible in her family. she’s not as rebellious as rex, or as obnoxious as seth, or as rambunctious as michael. but alice is a quiet ride-along for almost everyone in her family-- she really holds good relationships with everyone in the house. for the most part, it really seems like her parents and brother just want the best for her.

distant relations: bash romero, second cousin

pets:

wells and bilbo, the dogs, are always happy to see her, but she’s also conditioned them to remain quiet if they want a treat from her nightly comings and goings. felix, the cat, is a good companion on a gloomy day, with alice finding comfort in his rumbling, sleepy purr.

FRIENDS –

close friends:

alice has known ellie albright since birth. or even before that since ellie’s parents attended the same birthing classes as alice’s. the albrights returned to italy for a few years shortly after ellie’s birth but the two girls were paired up again before they could even tie their shoes. they’ve been best friends ever since. ellie brightens alice up to draw out a softer side than alice rarely presents alone. alice makes ellie more assertive, unafraid to stand up for her friend if she thinks ellie needs help.

it took rumi thatcher a bit longer to enter the picture, but she’s not going anywhere. rumi’s dead-pan sense of humor endeared her to alice immediately after she moved into town in the forth grade. ever the calm logician, rumi finds great amusement in tempering alice’s hot temper. they share a mutual love of nature that often leads them to dreamy afternoons surrounded by beautiful woods.

technically considered a cousin through brotherly love, dallas hong is probably the only boy that alice can completely get along with. he’s certainly the easiest to get along with out of her brother’s crew, with his laidback guy’s guy charm. while she’s annoyed at how tall he’s gotten as they age, she knows that his easygoing personality won’t ever change on her.

tensions:

adam hudson has been seth’s best friend for years, but his and alice’s interactions have always been tentative. he has a way of confronting her with the truth when she’s least likely to accept it. their relationship is hard to define, atleast on alice’s part.

alice and dapne newcomb used to be friends, much to the chagrin of ellie and rumi. the brash blonde wasn’t always a good influence, and they tended to clash over their many differences in opinion. it wasn’t until alice supposedly ‘stole’ nigel chadwick-wembley from daphne that their relationship fractured completely. daphne is the root cause for much of the suffering alice experienced in high school, so she’s not at all keen to rekindle the friendship.

if there’s one person that alice could do without ever seeing again, it’s nigel chadwick-wembley. he was her first real boyfriend, but the supposed fairytale beginning led to nothing but trouble, even if alice did her best to keep anyone from finding out about the more controlling aspects of his personality. they were on-again off-again for so long, but alice finally broke it off for good and never looked back.

there’s nothing wrong with ruby robbins-- in fact, she’s perfect. alice has always felt like she was competing with the other girl, even if that’s hardly true. they share similar interests but ruby’s easygoing demeanor makes everything seem so effortless in a way that alice can’t help but envy. she does consider ruby a friend, though, and would do anything for her if she asked.

crushes:

so much of the tension in alice’s relationship with adam hudson stems entirely from their mutual attraction. when they were much younger she was aware of it but content to ignore it, but as they’ve grown older things have changed. alice finds herself at odds with his ill-suited girlfriend and with him over it. ever since she kissed him on christmas, the muddled emotions there have only gotten worse.

the first boy that ever had alice truly starstruck was leo robbins. the definition of a cool, older boy, leo’s appeal quickly passed but she remained impressed by his sense of style and teenage rebellion. in fact, alice was quick to take up his mantle selling weed to a few of their acquaintances when leo decided to move on from the business.

as a friend:

alice is a friend like batman-- she’ll come if you send out the signal. anytime anywhere, alice will be by your side if you’d let her. she’s fiercely protective of them and will want to help them achieve their goals no matter how trivial. she can be too blunt at times, which tends to rub people the wrong way if it’s not quite what they want or expect to hear. but she’ll have your back until the end, without saying ‘i told you so’ to anyone but seth.

PERSONALITY –

positive traits: enterprising, candid, empathetic

neutral traits: self-sufficient, meticulous, noncommittal

negative traits: volatile, withdrawn, self-involved

astrology sign: leo sun / gemini moon, the confidence man ( x )

mbti: istp-t, the virtuoso

theme songs: i’m not okay (i promise) by my chemical romance / agnes by glass animals

aesthetic:

dyeing your hair in the bathroom, guitar calluses, jumping off the porch roof, lilac bushes, the solitary silence of 4 am, soil between your fingers and toes

LIFESTYLE –

partying habits:

a stoner to the max, alice deals quite literally in weed, inheriting a small client base from leo robbins. when she first started dating nigel, alice found she didn’t mind the party scene. there’s always fun to be had, and she can handle her alcohol. she’s also not necessarily opposed to experimenting at parties-- if there’s a good time to be had, alice will try a sporadic drug or two without feeling particularly inclined to do these things later on her own.

smoking habits:

directly inherited from her father, alice took up smoking as an act of teenage rebellion and favors menthol cigarettes. she finds it calming to smoke late at night when no one is around, or whenever she is overwhelmed by the situation at hand. finds it to be a handy tool to escape social situations if things aren’t going well.

eating habits:

growing up in a four-child household has definitely made alice a bit food aggressive. she eats when the opportunity presents itself but doesn’t pig out very often. snacks usually seem like a good idea, and alice is content to bring healthy options when she can. late-night meals are a staple in her diet. salty-sweet combinations are her usual favorite.

excercise habits:

alice has been practicing aikido and tae kwon do since she was young, and as a result has adopted a fair amount of exercise and weight training into her daily routine. mostly she just works to maintain equilibrium and not lose any muscle mass or physical ability, but if she’s feeling particularly stressed or upset she’ll throw herself into her workouts.

work ethic:

it’s alice’s belief that she can work hard and play hard, so long as she meets the deadlines set out for her. she’s got decent time management skills and works best with a loose schedule where she can make the decisions about what to do, when. when it comes to school work, alice is content to maintain her good grades in order to fly under the radar with her parents.

sleeping habits:

when alice feels tired she can fall asleep anywhere, but her penchant for the peace of nighttime usually finds her awake well into the early mornings. she is a deep sleeper, but an agreeable one. sharing a bed with her is not a bad experience as she’ll typically move wherever she is prodded without much fuss. she usually prefers to sleep with a loose comforter and top sheet and will cocoon inside. waking up outside of her typical routine can be a challenge, but once alice wakes up she is awake for good.

ideal living space:

alice’s bedroom at home is well-lit and cozy, with an abundance of houseplants in any available spot of sunlight. her walls are filled with things she likes looking at: posters of her favorite bands, watercolor prints she and ellie made, and endless photos of herself and her friends. she usually takes time once a week to clean up, as she has a tendency to drop clothes or books wherever they lay as she moves onto something else.

quirks:

despite being a fan of all things spooky, jump scares always get her good. she’s usually the middle person in the haunted house group, and subsequently is always getting picked on. she will let you borrow anything she owns, but it’s of utmost importance that you ask first.

INTERESTS –

hobbies:

alice has been playing guitar and practicing martial arts since she was very small. her love for plants wasn’t fostered until later in life, but she prides herself on rehabilitating various wilted houseplants she happens upon. she loves a good smoke session and will make a whole event out of some rolling papers and a gram of fresh weed. she’s usually a pretty willing participant in any photoshoots that ellie cooks up.

best school subject:

science has always been a passion of alice’s. she’s a stem student through and through, excelling in maths and sciences from a very young age. through high school she took college level chemistry and biology courses.

worst school subject:

history always presented its challenges, but as alice grew older and her inability to learn much hands on coupled with the fact that most schooling was a little on the white supremacist side of the situation, alice tended to skip these classes as much as possible or spend as long as she could backtalking a teacher just trying to stick to curriculum.

opinion of education:

alice doesn’t mind school itself-- college classes are perfectly designed to give alice all the free space she needed in a high school curriculum. but her not-so-stellar experience with the allegedly popular social scene made her more than ready to finally be free of high school.

career aspirations / achievements:

a perfect overlap of her loves of science and nature, alice dreams of becoming a bioengineer. she’s well on her way to it, quickly showing aptitude for higher-level stem courses from an early age.

favorite things:

her guitar, family breakfasts, american beauty, ellie & rumi, pop punk music, hand-rolled joints, ghost adventures, her freshly-made bed, chocolate covered pretzels, restarting the bell jar, when plants grow new leaves, her led zeppelin shirt ( x ), god of high school

boredom cure:

driving then walking, or just walking, as far as you can in silence, discovering a beautiful spot to watch the sun set, or rise, depending on when the urge strikes.

#character sheet #alice romero

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