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typewriterghcst · 3 years

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Title: A Very Small Wish Fandom: The Cat Returns Characters: Baron, Muta, Toto, Haru, plus some OCs Rating: PGish maybe?? Words: 4724 Summary: A pleading request from a parent whose daughter has been cursed by a resentful witch is nothing truly out of the ordinary for the Cat Bureau— in fact, it might be so common so as to be routine— so why does something feel inherently off about this particular one? Notes: Third chapter of six of a Secret Santa gift for @deedee-sunflowers. It’s about here that the chapters start getting a bit long hhh. Tho I think they end up a little shorter again eventually Anyway, the first task. A lot of different influences went into these parts of the story, and I hope they’re not too blatant or distracting, aha ;; Also, I forgot! I drew a very small doodle of the little patchwork creatures which feature in this chapter, if anyone’s interested `~`;;

Ch. 3: The Sown Forest

The Sown Forest is near deathly silent, or… perhaps at least it feels that it should be, but the crunching of the snow under their collective feet and an ever-present rumbling ambiance akin to a distant earthquake means there’s little true silence to be had. And even without that unexpected ambient background, something about the place doesn’t feel quite right. In every direction grow thin, white trees, scattered haphazardly and yet also in just the right formation to make the forest seem far too organized, tidy. Patterned.

No matter where they look, the horizon stretches out over an immeasurable distance, and the white of the sky and that of the level, milky ground meld into one. Only the wispy, bare branches of the trees break up the monotony of the landscape.

“Well,” Baron finally thinks to remark, “The bright red of a holly berry is likely to stick out like a rather sore thumb in this environment, isn’t it?”

“Sure, if you can find the one dumb enough to grow right now,” Muta grumbles, burying his nose into the warmth of the scarf wrapped around his neck and grumpily huddling further into his coat.

“Now, let’s not lose faith so early, Muta. Should we remain positive and keep a cool head about this, we’re sure to succeed.”

“Yeah, that’s what you always say…” More grousing.

“We have only a limited amount of time to triumph over all three of these challenges, and I believe we’ll cover more ground if we split up into groups. Muta, Miss Haru— the two of you start in that direction. Mr. Vanya and I shall take the opposite. Toto, see if you can discern anything from the sky.”

“A berry— even a patch of berries, might be difficult to spot from an aerial view,” Toto responds as a gentle caution. “Even in such a uniform environment.”

“I know, but there’s no harm in trying anyhow.”

Toto nods. Then, more firmly than before, “And how do you propose we find this spot again to inevitably reconvene?”

Ah, bless Toto again, Haru thinks to herself briefly, because Baron looks rather comically bemused by this question, and she and Muta and Toto (if possibly even Vanya, the newcomer that he is) know that this very important piece of information had not occurred to him while putting together his impromptu plan. He gives a pensive noise, one hand going to his chin as the other is planted on his hip.

Eventually, he glances at the trees surrounding them, appearing to have been struck by inspiration, and then removes his hat.

Wordlessly, he hangs it on one of the nearest branches, positioning it just so so it won’t slip off or blow away (though there’s not been even the slightest whisper of wind since they’d arrived).

“Here we are. We’ll all meet back here in an hour— keep an eye on your own footprints. They’re all four of them different, and they should help to distinguish our separate paths.”

Something in Vanya’s gaze gleams as he looks to Baron’s hanging hat, though he ultimately turns away from it to rejoin the group. Instead, he hops like a particularly excited toddler to Haru and Muta (well, Haru, to be more truthful). In one of his paws is what appears to be a skewered snake or worm, which he wastes no time in handing sloppily to the teen, much to her dismay.

“For good luck! This is a traditional Oostal charm good for finding tricky things. And we need all the good luck we can get!”

Haru looks swiftly to Muta for assistance, but the cat is leaning away from her with an expression that speaks to no less than utter baffled disgust. Well. Strained gratitude it is, then, it seems.

“O-Ohh… You’re right, that’s a good idea— th-thank you.”

Vanya beams in a manner eerily reminiscent of the Cat King before scampering back over to his place beside Baron (and it’s only through their long shared history with the cat figurine that Toto and Muta both glean the subtle apprehension in his own expression, that he is mutely waiting in terror for the fox to hand him one of these traditional charms as well). Vanya neglects to do so, however, and Baron’s subdued trepidation is gone almost as soon as it’d revealed itself.

“Remember— one hour. If all else fails, Toto at least should be able to reunite us.”

With that decided, they start off in their opposite directions, Toto taking wing into the sky.

&&&

It’s terribly easy to become disoriented in the Sown Forest, Haru and Muta quickly find out. If not for their own footprints, they swiftly agree they’d have long since been wandering in tight circles and not even realized it. The seamless boundary between land and sky and tree has Haru occasionally feeling rather like she’s walking on a spinning top which also wobbles across the table.

She eventually places the skewered… animal Vanya had given her down beneath a tree, shooting Muta an injured look when he comments on it.

“Looking a gift horse in the mouth, chicky? Didn’t think you had it in ya,” he cracks with a sardonic laugh.

“I’ll pick it back up before we head back to the others! He’ll never even know. B-Because there’s no reason for me to actually carry it with me the whole time we’re looking…”

“I’m just picking on ya. You dropping that thing is gonna do wonders for my nose. Smells like a spoiled fish.” Then, with an annoyed huff, he continues, “I woulda thrown it at him— try to give me some stinky dead thing on a stick—”

“Come on, he’s not that bad,” Haru tries, but she knows she doesn’t sound all that convinced herself. And Muta’s not about to let it go without comment, either.

“You don’t sound so sure to me, kid.”

Haru turns in her spot on her heel, feeling lost and restless in a hard-to-define way. The Sown Forest is devoid of rocks and bushes entirely; it’s nothing but thin scraggly trees, and she would never have imagined before now that to scour such a nebulous landscape might prove to be so exasperating. Where does one search for a pop of color when there are no hiding places?

“...do you get… kind of a weird feeling from Vanya..?”

“Yeah,” Muta doesn’t hesitate to respond sourly. “He’s a tiny, annoying puffball with a bad laugh.”

“N— No, I mean— like an uneasy feeling. Like something is… um, off.”

“Probably ‘cause something is off about him. I don’t trust that puffball.”

The relief Haru gains from such a simple sentence is near indeterminable. She almost leaps in victory.

“I knew it couldn’t be just me! Well, and Toto, maybe, but he was more mum on the whole thing. You know how he is.”

“A gargoyle of few words, yeah, I guess. Real annoying, if you ask me. It’d be a lot easier if everyone just said what they mean instead of hanging on to secrets to keep the peace.”

Distantly, Haru gets the distinct impression this complaint has roots beyond the borders of the current situation, and she’s not sure what to say to it.

Muta, also, seems similarly surprised at himself, and in the end, he chooses to bulldoze past it, circling a few trees in the silence and eventually speaking up, “...Anyway, this Vanya creature pipsqueak is fishy, an’ I don’t like him. I don’t know what he is. Something old. And this place is, too.”

“What about Baron? Do you think he’s being careful enough? He’s wandering around alone with Vanya right now…”

“Eh, Baron’s kind of a soft-hearted ham sometimes, but he’s no peabrain. He’ll be fine.”

“Is that really the best you can do to reassure me..?”

“What? I dunno what to tell you, chicky, it’s the truth.”

“Yeah, but a little more optimism wouldn’t have hurt,” Haru mumbles plaintively.

“If you want, ya could bust on to the scene and rescue him from the puffball to pay him back. Hey, maybe he’ll start crushing on you, then.”

Oh, that calls for a heated blush. Haru stares down at the snow-covered ground of the Sown Forest, hands balled loosely into fists at her sides, though she’s trying desperately to play it all cool. Unfortunately, she’s never been much of an actor.

“He’s my friend— of course I don’t want him to get hurt.”

Muta’s response of the beginnings of a chaffing laugh is not well-received; Haru spins around to protest, but—

Something comes shuffling into their space from behind a nearby tree. And something is all Haru can think to describe it as— smaller even than Vanya and Siree, with a long, snuffling snout and a soft, bean bag body. The tiny creature lacks arms or wings of any kind, giving it an awkward, waddling gait. Missing also are eyes and any noticeable ears.

Yet the strangest thing is that it appears to have been sewn together out of scraps of colorfully-patterned fabric, much like a quilt. (It triggers a memory of her mother’s handiwork, in fact, and the very idea of her mother back at home, in the real world, throws Oostal’s alienness into stark relief. She’s so terribly far from home.)

Muta and Haru watch the little thing waddle between them and then down the way from them in silence before looking back to each other.

“What is it, Muta?” Haru asks. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“What, you never had a stuffed animal before?”

“Stuffed animals don’t walk, Muta,” Haru responds with a huff.

“Eh, shows what you know.”

Whatever response Haru might have had to this lazy red herring abruptly trails off, because the funny little creature, having paused for a brief moment, now drops its floppy snout onto the ground and continues on in a faintly opposite direction, snorting softly the whole way.

“It must be one of the rumored inhabitants of the Sown Forest, right?”

“Yeh. Bet it’ll lead us to those rumored holly berries, too, if we’re careful about it.”

“Now you’re starting to sound like Baron.”

Muta darts out from beside her with a faint derisive groan. “Remind me to scratch you later for that one.”

&&&

Following a colorful (albeit very small) waddling quilt animal through an otherwise blinding array of white snow and sky proves to be astonishingly more difficult than either Muta or Haru would have expected. More than once they somehow lose sight of the thing, only to have to stop and strain their ears for its characteristic snuffling breaths.

“It has two little stick legs and waddles like a sedated duck,” Muta complains at one point when they’ve lost it again. “How do we keep losin’ track of it?!”

“Hold on— Muta, I hear it again. It sounds really close.” Then, after a few seconds spent listening, she adds, “...Actually, it… sounds a little like it’s eating something, doesn’t it?”

This is all Muta seems to need to hear before turning on his heel and starting the opposite way.

“Where are you going?” Haru calls after him.

“I’m out!” He hollers back. “Nothing good comes outta anything that involves weird creatures feasting on stuff, I don’t care what it’s actually— woah!!”

“What is it— Muta, what’s wrong?” Haru dashes in the direction of his voice, fearing the worst. Yet she finds him with little difficulty, and in one piece, poised in the same horrified position a housewife might take were she confronted with a trail of muddy footprints across a formerly pristine linoleum floor.

At his feet, so close he could stretch out a paw and tip the little thing over were he so inclined, is the patchwork animal they’d been struggling to track… and the good luck charm Haru had abandoned earlier, which appears a little worse for the wear.

Muta dashes behind her with an unsteady gait, complaining the entire way. “Ughh, it’s even worse than what I was thinking—!”

“Come on, it’s not that bad,” Haru tries, even as she takes a repulsed step back at the faint sound of tearing meat and flinches. “...it’s still pretty bad, though.”

It’s as they’re watching from a couple paces away that the little thing lifts its ostensible head to… well, scrutinize them, Haru supposes, though it lacks the eyes to do so. Perhaps there is another, hidden sense that allows it to see in a less traditional manner.

Your trade is acceptable.

Haru can’t quite place it, how she Knows that this is what the creature before Muta and her is communicating, as it hadn’t spoken aloud, nor does she hear the words echoing in her mind as one might expect of a bizarre display of telepathy. Yet, still, the resounding statement is clear.

“O-Oh—” She starts, and her voice is like an echoing gunshot in the silence of the forest, which leads her to whisper her next words, “We’re, um, glad you like it.”

Then, as they watch, it drops its head again and continues tearing delicate slivers off the charm, seemingly oblivious to their presence again.

“Well, now what?” Muta says at her feet. He’s still eyeing the patchwork creature with no small measure of antipathy, but he’s at least not subtly hiding behind Haru anymore.

“I guess we… wait for it to finish..?”

“Great.” Muta sits down with an annoyed huff. “Doesn’t it know we’re on a tight schedule here?”

Haru laughs, but it’s tinged with a speck of nervousness.

If not for the unmistakable noise of flapping wings over the ever present hum of the forest, the resultant wind would certainly give Toto’s arrival away— there’s been not even the barest hint of a breeze since they’ve been searching. The crow perches atop a nearby tangle of branches, cocking his head in a distinctly avian fashion at the creature they’ve run across.

“Ha, looks like you’ve found one of the inhabitants.”

“What was your first clue?”

“The quilt creature down there, mostly.”

Muta, again feeling indirectly bested, only grumbles lowly to himself and crosses his arms. Instead, Haru speaks up.

“It’s taking this good luck charm as a trade for the berry. At least, that’s what it sounded like to me. I guess it’ll… um, show us the way once it’s finished..? I’m not sure how it works.”

“Sounds plausible to me. Baron and Vanya are some ways off in that direction,” Toto also adds, gesturing with his wing. “I’ll go to let them know they can stop searching, and bring them here. Be right back!”

Haru and Muta watch him take off, and for a little while until he’s too far in the distance for them to make out, before turning back to their… companions. It seems in their distraction, more of the little quilt animals had arrived, attracted no doubt by the scent of the ‘good luck charm’ Haru had laid down before the tree.

“They really like this icky stuff, don’t they?” Haru muses in an almost-laugh.

Muta pokes one of them on the top of its soft head, causing it to lose its balance and fall to the side. Grudgingly, he sets it rightside up again. “...Guess that little pipsqueak knew what he was talking about, after all.”

&&&

Elsewhere, Toto’s return trip hits an unforeseen, somewhat bizarre snag.

“The Very Pretty Vanya Creature does not fly through the air like an unsolicited blown kiss!”

Baron and Toto share a puzzled, if slightly frazzled, look between them.

“Mr. Vanya, I sympathize if it’s a matter of a… ah, disdain for heights, but the time limit with which we’ve been burdened is perpetually ticking down, and we ought to do all we can to minimize wasted time,” Baron first tries.

“I’m a very careful flier, too. I promise you’ll have your feet on solid ground in no time at all,” Toto also adds.

But Vanya only shakes his head. “It is no matter of fear!” He begins in a manner that says fear is exactly the matter. “It is the principle! Pretty Vanya has no wings. He was meant to stay on the ground.”

It seemed there would be no convincing him. Baron turns to Toto.

“Toto, do you think then that you could fly a little ways overhead and guide us to the others? If we hurry, perhaps we’ll still make good time.”

Before them, Vanya wrings his paws fretfully before finally throwing one arm across his eyes and crying out, “Pretty Vanya must be left behind! He is the millstone dragging everyone else down!”

“N-Now— Mr. Vanya, please, don’t despair—”

“The Most Helpful Bureau must leave me behind,” Vanya insists again, this time without his face hidden, fixing Baron with a determined look. “I said it before, didn’t I? The Pretty Vanya Creature will meet you there in no time, because he is very fast.”

Faced with Vanya’s clear obstinate refusal and the added stress of a ticking clock, it doesn’t take long for Baron to give in, though the veneer of reluctance lingers over him still.

“V… Very well, Mr. Vanya. If you do insist. We’ll go on without you.”

"You will. But there's no reason to worry. It'll be all okay!"

"...Yes. Of course. Be careful."

As they’re flying away, Toto speaks up. “Do you think he’ll make it?”

Baron seems reluctant to answer, gaze distant and unfocused. Coupled with his stilted posture, it gives him the look of someone who is quite diligently trying to avoid jumping to an unpleasant conclusion.

“...It doesn’t matter,” he eventually responds quietly. “I suppose it’s not something which overtly needs his presence.”

“What about covertly?”

“Then we shall hope for the best.”

&&&

True to Toto’s ultimately fruitless attempts at reassurance, it seems only a matter of seconds when they have their feet back on solid ground, spotting Muta and Haru from the air easily enough and touching down just shy of them in the hopes of not startling the by now bristling crowd of tiny quilted animals surrounding the other two.

“Eh? Where’s the pipsqueak?”

“He chose to find his own way to our location,” Baron first explains in his impeccable manner.

“Scared of heights,” is Toto’s more honest addition.

Muta turns back to the quilt animals with an unimpressed scowl. “Figures. Just make us do all the dirty work.”

“Now, Muta, a genuine fear of heights is nothing to brush off.”

“Yeah, if it’s genuine…” Mumbled under his breath, but distinct enough for them all to hear, and that Baron (nor the other two) step in to offer a defense is telling… but also serves at least to inform them all that they’re all four on the same page.

“What about these little guys? Have they brought up the trade or the berry again?”

“No. I think they wanted to finish off the, um… trade first,” Haru says, looking from Baron and Toto to the gathering of quilt animals scattered about before them. She sits crouched on her haunches with her elbows on her thighs, gazing out at their odd companions with the same detached but amiable curiosity one might reserve for a child’s play.

“Can they really stretch out that one sticky charm enough for this many to have a bite of it?” She eventually notes with some incredulous amusement.

“They’re sure gonna try,” Muta snorts.

Finally, as they watch, in the distance it looks as if there are languid waves in the sea of brightly-colored patchwork, divots in the throng that speak to the movement of only a few individuals while the others part to let them pass.

It doesn’t take long; they soon find themselves approached for an apparent audience with a… particularly diminutive individual which separates from the group, one which also appears to have been adorned with a tattered shawl thrown over its body, which trails like a leaden weight after it (though upon closer inspection, this threadbare train is simply part of the little thing’s frame).

Some of the seams on its patchwork appear to be coming undone. Distantly, Haru wonders what will happen should they truly do so, and— quite swiftly derails her own thoughts before they can wander down distressing paths.

Strikingly, also, unlike the others, this one has been endowed with an eye— a single coffee-colored iris in startlingly familiar, human-shaped white sclera. Situated somewhat strangely off-centered atop its tapered, drooping head, it stares vacantly ahead, half-lidded.

The four of them feel themselves scrutinized by this seeming elder; even Muta has no complaint to offer in an attempt to hurry the process along.

Only one.

Haru can’t quite place it, how she Knows that this is what the little creature before them all is communicating, as it hadn’t spoken aloud, nor does she hear the words echoing in her mind as one might expect of a bizarre display of telepathy. Yet, still, the resounding caveat is clear.

Baron nods stiffly, appearing to have been caught off-guard in the same way the rest of them had. “Yes. Just the one.”

The quilt-like creature responds with some erratic, floppy movements that vaguely resemble an affirmative nod before placing the tapered end of its cloth snout into Baron’s hands, where it drops a single round, bright red berry. It’s about the size of a particularly plump blueberry, though it seems quite larger in Baron’s gloved hands. Seemingly satisfied, the little animal turns then, and begins to waddle away.

“Thank you,” Haru thinks to call after it.

Not too far into the future, they will all four find themselves remembering this particular phrase and wonder furiously why such an innocuous one seemed to have such a profound effect upon the Sown Forest’s minuscule inhabitants. For now, however, it’s little more than a curiosity, when the creature abruptly stops with an accompanying jerk, and then goes quite still.

The others surrounding them, too, copy this one’s motions.

“Uhh, I don’t like the look of that—” Muta starts, but he’s rather abruptly cut off by a hoarse, low-pitched bark which echoes through their surroundings. The four of them instinctively back up in alarm, a sentiment which only grows upon witnessing the little things begin convulsing, tossing their heads into the air and then back down, all the while emitting those same short roars like a baleful staccato.

“That’s loud—”

“I think it’s time we took our leave,” Baron says (he makes a motion to steady his hat, only to belatedly realize he’d left it behind). He’d liked that hat.

No sooner have they turned on their collective tails and fled that the Sown Forest’s inhabitants scuttle and crawl after them in whatever way they can, and despite their obvious disadvantages, the little things are startlingly adept at keeping up with them. Haru doesn’t have the nerve to give their pursuers the thorough, lingering look she wants, too intent on making sure her pounding steps remain even and sound, but the tight-knit mob’s thunderous pursuit is impossible to mistake. It’s not long before panicked discouragement sets in. To everyone’s surprise, it’s Baron who speaks up first.

“We won’t be outrunning them on foot—”

“Good thing we have a gargoyle chicken, then, isn’t it?!” Muta snaps, then calls to said ‘gargoyle chicken,’ “Hey, birdbrain—!”

“Toto’s many good and admirable things, Muta, but I doubt even he is strong enough to carry a full-grown human—”

Haru, overhearing this, burns with the inclination to wildly apologize, all too aware of the cracks of the trees and the deafening crunch of packed snow behind them. She bows her head in remorse, feeling fervently in this moment that her decision to tag along really had been a mistake. She’s so close to contemplating how far she might get should she separate from the group and divert the creatures away… when she notices something rather strange.

“Wait—” Haru gasps, glancing down to herself in a bewildered fashion, so much so that for a fleeting second she stops in her tracks and has to be tugged along by Baron. “I’m not the same size I was— when did I get this small—?!”

Baron sounds just as bewildered when he answers, though he at least moves past it, “Let’s not kick a gift horse, now— Toto!”

“Got it!”

If Toto at all struggles with the effort to carry all three of them, even if Haru has been unexplainably shrunken, then he’s quite gifted with hiding it. He takes off into the air with them, far above the swarming quilt creatures, with no less agility than he usually does, and Baron and Haru spend the next few moments surveying the horde raptly.

“Ya just had to thank them, didn’t you?” Comes Muta’s complaint from his not altogether eager spot in Toto’s talons.

“I was just trying to be polite!” Haru counters just as plaintively, but even she sounds at least a little remorseful. “What kind of place takes words of gratitude as an offense..?”

“They don’t show any signs of slowing down,” Baron notes.

“Are they really gonna chase us all the way to the border?! They barely have the legs to run! You really steamed them with that gratitude BS, chicky.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Haru laments.

“We know you didn’t, Haru, “ Toto tries to reassure.

“Ah, it’s Vanya,” Baron says with a nod in the fox’s direction; he looks quite small (smaller than usual, that is) from their height, rapidly looking between them in the air and the horde of… well, what look to be furious blankets swarming the forest below them. He’s motioning frantically to them to come closer, to land as quickly as they can.

“Is he crazy?! There’s no way we’re landing that close to the forest— if he doesn’t make a break for it, he’s gonna get smothered, too,” Muta says.

Seemingly as an exasperated response to their stubbornness, Vanya points to the forest behind them with an agitated zealousness, or, perhaps more specifically, the perimeter which is teeming with untold numbers of the tiny quilt creatures. The vast majority of them pace behind the line of trees, fretful and overwrought; the unfortunate few that have accidentally tumbled beyond it lie scattered and twitching on the snow-covered ground like marooned fish.

“What’s wrong with them..?”

“Looks like they can’t go beyond the trees,” Toto guesses.

When they land, still uneasy from the agitated mass of patchwork continuing to obsessively tread back and forth just a scant stone’s throw away, Vanya is swift to bound over to them, practically throwing himself at Baron and wrapping his arms around the Creation. If Baron had appeared disconcerted at the mere possibility of being given one of Vanya’s messy luck charms, he’s downright alarmed when being in no uncertain terms ‘glomped’ by the same creature.

“You made it! Pretty Vanya was worried!”

“What’s wrong with the forest’s inhabitants, Vanya?”

Vanya lets Baron go (much to his evident relief) and cants his head in thought. “The Sown Forest exists as a powerful transformative milieu. Stay too long and one becomes part of it. The inhabitants can’t leave it.”

“What will happen to the ones that accidentally fell out of bounds?” Haru asks, glancing to the small number of quilt animals still lying pitifully just out of reach of the border of trees.

“They will die,” Vanya answers with a shrug. “Eventually.”

“But that’s awful! Can’t we just push them back into the forest..? Will they go back to normal then?”

“Yes.” Vanya sounds confused.

“Then that’s what I’ll do,” Haru says, starting for the border with a marked lack of hesitation. “There aren’t that many— it shouldn’t take long, should it?”

“Even less with assistance,” Baron agrees shortly, following after her.

“I guess we’re doing this now.” Muta, as well, trails after the two with a sullen grumble.

“Cheer up, kitty, exercise is good for you.”

“Don’t make me cook you.”

Behind them, Vanya, still holding Baron’s hat as if it were a priceless artifact, watches them leave with a hard to define look, moving just a foot or two from side to side (but never so much as a half-step forward). His tail twitches and flutters in a manner quite reminiscent of an inquisitive squirrel, with the searching mien to accompany it, but he ultimately says nothing and seems to content himself with killing time.

#the cat returns #secret santa

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dolcetters · 4 years

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THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; mun & muse - meme.

TAGGED BY: @hyaciiintho ( ;-; AAA THANK!!! )

TAGGING (don’t feel obligated to do it!): @forsakenflora , @avadite , @yinseal , @inseparabilum , @reigningsniper , @tsume-awase , @canisfuria & YOU if you wanna!

FILL OUT & REPOST ♥ this meme definitely favors canons more, but i hope oc’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. multi-muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm.

----------------------------------------------------

MY MUSE IS: CANON / OC / AU / CANON-DIVERGENT / FANDOMLESS

Is your character popular in the fandom? YES / NO

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom? YES / NO / IDK (he’s fetishized a lot; thanks, i hate it)

Is your character considered strong in the fandom? YES / NO / IDK (i’d lean more toward no)

Are they underrated? YES / NO

Were they relevant for the main story? YES / NO / MAYBE (stares into the abyss)

Were they relevant for the main character? YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG

Are they widely known in their world? YES / NO / MAYBE

How’s their reputation? GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL (true neutral, my boy)

HOW STRICTLY DO YOU FOLLOW CANON? ♠ || i have an ongoing joke that “canon is a slab of meat that we slow-roast at 475 degrees and carve for the juicy bits” but at the same time it’s not a joke at all, i’m being perfectly serious. i’m definitely a lot less strict than when i started for writing canon characters way back yonder, but i also DO like to keep within an array of canon boundaries because i’m not writing for an OC in this instance, i’m writing for an established character. ...it also doesn’t help that my character’s handled differently in the 4 types of media he shows up in but. i grew up reading DC comics and writing for beast boy, so i’m kind of used to “multiple takes existing for singular character”.

that being said, my take on dol is clearly canon divergent (since... he’s alive and my default verse takes place after the nest raid) but it pulls primarily from brotherhood/manga with a couple dashes of 2k3 series (since that’s the only media that gives us a length of time that he was in the labs). but given that i follow along with just about every scrap of information provided in the manga on this clown, i’d say i follow canon fairly strictly... but there ain’t a lot to go off of, so my reins are pretty loose no matter how you look at it. my city now.

SELL YOUR MUSE! AKA TRY TO LIST EVERYTHING, WHICH MAKES YOUR MUSE INTERESTING IN YOUR OPINION TO MAKE THEM SPICY FOR YOUR MUTUALS. ♠ || (*￣3￣)╭ well, hello, there. aware of dog? yes. this is he: dolcetto mcgrouchyboots, and he is not happy to be here at all. he is traumatized, sassy, wants to throw hands with teenagers, has no sense of self worth, and will absolutely use himself as a meat shield in order to protect any and everyone he cares about. he is spliced with: dog. his favorite weapon: sword. if you listen carefully, you might hear dog-song rising on the east wind as he approaches (don’t tell him axel taped a cassette player to his back). he comes from a found family of complete and utter morons with a lot of damage, they live in a partially underground bar, work as information brokers, and are all DEFINITELY fully functioning adult people. they say gay and trans rights. if you like angry boys with a sense of humor semi-on-par with griffin mcelroy, this is the boy for YOU!!!

NOW THE OPPOSITE, LIST EVERYTHING WHY YOUR MUSE COULD NOT BE SO INTERESTING (EVEN IF YOU MAY NOT AGREE, WHAT DOES THE FANDOM PERHAPS THINK?). ♠ || he’s only featured in a handful of episodes/chapters across all media, doesn’t have a significant amount of dialogue, and we only ever see him lose to the protagonist(s) despite that he seems more than capable of fighting anyone else. easy to brush off as a “aw he died and that’s sad but we didn’t really know him, moving on”. from what i’ve seen in my years, people are more interested in him being a cog in the machine of “greed is sad” and less interested in... HIM. which is fair, i guess, but hhhhhh

WHAT INSPIRED YOU TO RP YOUR MUSE? ♠ || i don’t know if i can pin-point any ONE thing, but i’ve always been drawn to characters with some sort of connection or bond with animals (example, once again, being beast boy from teen titans). i also have an IMMENSE weakness for the found-family dynamic. so when the devil’s nest appeared during my first watch through of brotherhood, i was pretty much... hooked. immediately. and devastated. immediately. as for what drew me to writing dol, specifically... probably his loyalty, his drive, the fact that he WOULDN’T FUCKING STAY DOWN no matter how many times someone knocked him flat on his face. i vibe with that. grew up very much in the mentality of “fall down 7 times, get up 8″. also, he had a sword... which always beats guns on coolness factor. and i loved his fire. ...and that he was a complete fucking idiot who’s really bad at kidnapping i mean HOLY SHIT THAT’S HOW YOU TRIED TO GET HIM TO COME WITH YOU, DOLCETTO, ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING--

WHAT KEEPS YOUR INSPIRATION GOING? ♠ || dol has always been a great source of ...venting for me? <xD ever since i started writing him, i’ve always found his muse--specifically--to be extremely cathartic and comforting. i dunno if it’s because he lets the more... jaded side of me come out, even when we’re both trying to be optimistic?

because i’ve been in 2 emotionally abusive friendships. i definitely have some left over hurt, pent up anger that hasn’t been given closure, a hell of a lot of underlying bitterness that i never got the opportunity to confront those people, BUT i still try to be. y’know. welcoming, friendly, supportive, despite a voice in the back of my head being paranoid?? i think dol continues to give me outlets to expressing that. somehow. not that i use him as an excuse to do it, more so i have more opportunities to do it when i’m writing him as opposed to writing someone like beast boy, who’s usually more on board with keeping the peace than picking a fight. i’ve also invested SO MUCH TIME and ENERGY into his background and headcanons and things that i kind of can’t quit him now, nor do i want to.

... and aside from that i just want him to have a happy ending god, fucking damnit.

SOME MORE PERSONAL QUESTIONS FOR THE MUN.

give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

Do you think you give your character justice? YES / NO ( or i certainly hope so )

Do you frequently write headcanons? YES / NO

Do you sometimes write drabbles? YES / NO

Do you think a lot about your Muse during the day? YES / NO

Are you confident in your portrayal? YES / NO

Are you confident in your writing? YES / NO ( definitely have moments but eh! )

Are you a sensitive person? YES / NO ( kind of... varies. i’d say i’m more hyper aware)

DO YOU ACCEPT CRITICISM WELL ABOUT YOUR PORTRAYAL? ♠ || i definitely like to think i do when it comes to pre-established things in canon. but when it comes to what i’ve built on my own over my years of writing for dol (and the nest members as a whole), it’s kind of my sandbox and i’d appreciate you not stomp around in it.

unless i need to be learned a thing, like... one of the nest members, vi, is a trans-woman. i’m a cis-woman and i try to do as much research as i can and educate myself, but if i ever fuck something up please tell me, i’m doing my best but i’m more than willing to listen. i want to grow.

DO YOU LIKE QUESTIONS, WHICH HELP YOU EXPLORE YOUR CHARACTER? ♠ || pretty sure everyone does! >xD but yeah! i FUCKING love it. especially since i’m writing for a minor character. =//o//= it shows people are interested in him despite his overall lack of content.

IF SOMEONE DISAGREES TO A HEADCANON OF YOURS, DO YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY? ♠ || i’d definitely be curious as to why but i doubt i’d be offended or take ... any personal harm from it--y’know? it’d be more of a “let me hear your perspective and maybe it’ll expand my own understanding, or i might not agree after the explanation and that’s cool”!

an exception would be for an obviously shitty one that’s shitty for no reason, like... acTUALlY, he’s TOtaLLY hom///o///pho//bic, to which i’d be like “bitch, no, get away from me; no one in this bar is straight, die mad”.

IF SOMEONE DISAGREES WITH YOUR PORTRAYAL, HOW WOULD YOU TAKE IT? ♠ || again, it’s cool! there’s not a lot of canon material so you can take his portrayal a variety of places. if we don’t jive, it’s pretty whatever.

my one exception to this is probably people who, in the past, have told me i write him being “too mean”. which will never cease to confuse me. because even after al straight told dolcetto he was 14, dol was still like “I REALLY WANNA SMACK HIM but i’d just hurt my hand so you’re off the hook”, he’s angry like 85% of his dialogue in the manga... i’m just confused. where are you seeing the “uwu pupper~” persona. you can write it, that’s fine, i don’t care, just don’t get irritable when i don’t write him like a cute puppy. because here he is. suggesting we just kill izumi because she’s being troublesome. yeet. ...he’s an asshole.

IF SOMEONE REALLY HATES YOUR CHARACTER, HOW DO YOU TAKE IT? ♠ || whatever, just don’t be a dick or speak badly about me or him in my presence because, flawed as he is and while i won’t make excuses for him, i’ll stand up for him. go somewhere else, my dude. i, personally, don’t have the energy for your negativity. nor do i have the patience.

ARE YOU OKAY WITH PEOPLE POINTING OUT YOUR GRAMMATICAL ERRORS? ♠ || i’m more okay with people correcting my spelling (gently). because of the way i taught myself to read, i’d be FUCKED if auto-correct or spell-check didn’t exist. i also google correct spellings constantly. so spelling, yeah, i already know that i’m terrible at it so feel free to correct type-os or spelling mishaps, it ain’t no thang.

grammar i’m a bit... pickier about. because sometimes i’ll purposely do a “grammatical error” because the punctuation or otherwise further drives the pacing or mood i’m trying to give my writing. i may not know ALL the rules but i break them from time to time... FOR THE ART.

DO YOU THINK YOU ARE EASY GOING AS A MUN? ♠ || i wanna say i am?? while i definitely do want to seriously explore and flesh out and grow dol as a muse and character, i’m “not above” goofing around, poking fun at him, or just being plain silly on the dash. RPing is escapism for me and i strive to keep my blog a peaceful safe haven on the dashboard, both for myself and my followers.

i try to communicate to the best of my ability and despite my anxieties, and while i may not be able to follow or RP with EVERYONE (for obvious reasons) i’m open to interacting with ... pretty much anyone who throws me a bone. i’ll speak up if i’m not down for a plot or interested in a certain relationship or interaction, but i’m certainly not going to be rude or dismissive about it. i know what that feels like. i’d say yeah, though! i think i’m pretty chill. e-e you tell me.

#♦: ooc answer .#[ ;0; THIS WAS FUN ]

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nvzblgrrl · 4 years

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On the subject of old fics 1

Allegedly, A Gentleman’s Tale (published 1-6-2012) was my first fanfic ever (again, allegedly - will explain after a bit). It only exists now as a private copy at least one person has saved and a capture on the WayBackMachine (which thankfully covered the whole ten chapters of it), because I have a habit of... deleting stories that embarrass me after the fact. It’s something I’m trying to break myself of, mostly because there are a number of people who do enjoy my work even if most of what I see in it are the flaws and I would feel bad about taking away something they enjoyed.

The ‘allegedly’ part comes in in that, based on my memories of my One Piece OCs and stories (along with more concrete evidence from my tumblr), I had a few OCs with snippets of story (with one who had at least a few chapters worth of story that I have memorized in broad strokes) attached that preceded that by at least one or two years, even though the description of ‘my first fic’ was in the synopsis of the fic as it was posted. Unfortunately, it’s hard to trace that information thanks to the ‘destroy all the evidence of me embarrassing myself’ habit (I completely deactivated my deviantart account on account of ‘cringe’, that’s how bad it got) and the passage of time making it unclear which mutuals might have been around at that time or if they even remember those things.

Now, I still have the computers that I typed up those stories on (they’re hanging out in my basement), but - they haven’t worked in quite a while. I’m not sure if they’re completely bricked or not, but I haven’t had anything to do with them for a while and I know that at least one of them was replaced because it refused to turn on anymore. Someday, I might get the chance to pull out their hard-drives and get a look at the data there, but that’s not a ‘now’ solution so...

Anyway - got a bit distracted there -, thanks to the power of the WayBackMachine, I was able to reread this specific fic in its entirety.

‘A Gentleman’s Tale’ was a little thing that was pretty much Brook backstory wrapped up in the framing device of Luffy wanting a story to help him get to sleep. I was 18, had maybe a year or two of creative writing experience/interest under my belt, and a whole lot of Soul King Stan energy to spend on my favorite character despite being at the tail end of my high school career.

Surprisingly, it was not entirely awful for an alleged ‘first attempt’. The formatting was a little eh, the pacing was borked, and a lot of characters were fairly flat (and a few leaned too hard on certain stereotypes while a lot had Western order names for some reason), but other than that, it was actually palatable. Ten chapters, about 8000 words, not a whole lot to write home about or find objectionable outside of the odd grammatical error and the fact that alcohol is mentioned in almost. every. single. chapter.

Seriously, I have no idea why that was a thing for me 2012-2013ish (it ended up in Witt and Witticism a little bit - more heavily on the rewrites that never took off back in the day but a little present in the original too). I was 18-19. I’d never had alcohol. I still haven’t had alcohol. I’d never really been around drinking at that age, socially or not, beyond like, enjoying brew fries and eating chicken tenders at a bar one time because my shit father wanted to have lunch there for some reason. I just guess that I woke up at the start of 2012 and thought Drink Mixing and Booze were interesting things.

The story wasn’t much to write home about, but the characters are the real area of interest here, so let’s cover them and a few of my plans for handling them in the rewrite.

Brook - Starts out his backstory being seasick, gets to have five decent minutes when he meets Yorki, and then is immediately shoved into the wall-to-wall shitshow that’s his life as the battle convoy captain and resident responsible adult, despite 70% of the convoy being at least ten to fifteen years older than him. Somehow that makes his interest in getting black out drunk almost every single night sound reasonable. Seriously, that’s what he was doing in that story, according to what happened almost every other chapter of the fic (because pacing is for writers on their third or fourth story). That’s one reason why the timeline is being stretched out in the rewrite plans - so we don’t kill the main character through alcohol poisoning (though with the kind of stress he was under in that original cut, I can’t blame him for trying - he got saddled with three weird + constantly fighting teenagers and a dying military organization, snubbed by the king, publicly embarrassed in front of 90% of the kingdom’s nobility, and so on in the course of two to three days max). Honestly, in retrospect, I’m not sure how well this plays with the framing device of Brook relating his backstory 62 years later, because he should have lost so many brain cells to this nonsense.

Yorki - Starts his introduction by saying ‘hey, my name’s Yorki, i’m close, bi, and willing to take you on a whirlwind adventure literally two seconds after meeting you’ which Brook immediately responds to as the best thing that’s happened to him in the last (and probably next) month. Probably the only person in Brook’s life as of the fic not stressing him out or enabling his self-destructive coping habits, though that doesn’t stop him from being one of the better things Brook woke up to after one of his blackout drinking nights. Also got an incredibly shitty nickname thanks to me not knowing how that sort of thing works from his mom. In the rewrite, he’s from Ohio (because I and my Middle-Ground lingering Self-Insert are from Michigan and the opportunity for a struggle between ‘hey we’ve both being isekai’d into this weird place and have similar backgrounds/music tastes so we’re going to hang together based on that’ and ‘200 year old inter-state hatred turned into over the top sports rivalry and disliking the other state on principle’ was too good to pass up).

Luchere Gregg (Gregg being her surname) - junior member of the battle convoy. Incredibly thorny and violent personality, with very little respect for authority (outside of her father, probably) and a generally superior attitude towards literally everyone except her father, especially when she perceived someone as being weak and ‘uppity’ at the same time - Maysure was the main target of this (as was intended at the time of the writing), but considering that Luchere was taking a similar tone with Brook (which was probably intended to be for different reasons, but honestly reads very similarly almost ten years on, given that Brook’s everything is very much not in line with her ideal anything) but not Hana (who was ‘weak’ but definitely not trying to mess with Luchere’s preferred social order), I think I can get more development out of her in that dimension. Her everything was probably was cool and badass back when I was 18, but now she just strikes me as petulant and unpleasant brat.

Minalee Hana - Generic smart guy of the junior team, complete with ‘shy’ personality and ‘harmless cute’ look... which, in retrospect, makes it really confusing why she’d join a military force in the first place and just raises suspicions on the fact that she did. Honestly she could be a Government plant and I wouldn’t be surprised. Another ‘problem’ with Hana is that she was based on someone I was friends with at the time I wrote the fic, which kinda ended up helping me dislike her a lot on more recent rereads, just because of the nature of that real world ‘friendship’ and the way it blew up in the end (with a whole lot of ugly reveals along the way that went back to pretty much when I first met that person).

Maysure Semenov Tara Su-all Evony Taebory Celeste - was originally a parody of the Mary Sue archetype, as you may have guessed from the name. Flashy, overeager, desperate for acknowledgement, and not quite managing to act in ways appropriate to her age (15, directly stated in text), either being too cutesy with her speech pattern and body language or dressing in ways that would be suited for a very different profession than soldier. I ended up liking her the most out of the junior trio out on my most recent rereads, just because she’s the only member of the group that’s actually making an effort at anything (well, beyond Luchere being hostile + trying to make Brook leave), doesn’t go out of her way to be hostile or destructive, and isn’t vaguely there in a way that makes me suspicious. Apparently was the only one of the junior trio ever stated to have weapons training (with Luchere being an unarmed fighter and Hana... just being there) and was apparently dedicated enough to it to have the schedule for the different training drills memorized.

Captain Gregg - the former captain of the battle convoy. He was never seen, only ever referenced in the fic. Based on the content, he was pretty much Luchere 1.0 - crass, unpleasant, violent, and without a lot of tolerance for those that couldn’t deal with or keep up with the unfortunate matter of his everything. The notes on rewrite so far have him becoming a lot more pleasant and lot less generally awful person, though still a bit of a roughneck and unpleasant to be around if you aren’t cut from the same cloth or a similar weave. Was not inspired by Captain Clegg until I started imbibing pop culture in preparation for the various parts of the project.

Jeevenine - quartermaster of the battle convoy, bartender, and carrier of heavy butler vibes, which feels like it might have been intentional. Said to be a master of ‘improvisation combat’ but honestly seems to be the person most likely to have taught Brook his style of fencing (based on his speed and precision being noted as something Brook had difficulty keeping up with in text) and his gentlemanly ways, considering every other character I wrote into the convoy is some flavor of hot mess and either a bruiser or a gunman. Still loses points for enabling Brook’s blackout drinking habits and being passive-aggressive instead of properly helpful.

Jack Rackum and John Delacroix - sniper-spotter pair, as indicated by their nicknames of ‘Windward’ and ‘Leeward’ respectively. Highly implied to be in a long-standing romantic relationship with each other or at least in a long-term holding pattern of pining. Delacroix’s tendency to sleep in the nude is used as half of a ‘my eyes’ joke that Brook is the victim of (the other half is Maysure’s chosen nightclothes being both stereotypical of a ‘Mary Sue’ and vastly age inappropriate, which is a running gag with her). Rackum gets the most description out of the set, with his brown leather hat and green-grey hair being mentioned, along with his taste for fruity cocktails (he might also be an alcoholic, which isn’t really all that remarkable in this fic).

Kurotora Ren - Big Guy McHugeBeef. Also the guy responsible for keeping the battle convoy awash in homebrew booze. Almost kills Brook by accident during his introduction by clapping him on the back at the exact wrong moment. Doesn’t have a lot more detail than that, mostly because he slides into the background after that brief focus moment, but I like him for being genuinely sorry about the near-death thing on top of being friendly for real and not being duplicitous about his wants + thoughts.

Zest - noble. Stupid. Probably the closest thing that Brook has to a friend in his actual age range at the start of the story, which is really fucking sad considering Zest’s everything and the fact that Brook doesn’t enjoy his company at all. Somehow when I was 18, the idea of a guy who spent most of his time in some state of wasted and trying to get his ‘friend’ (who doesn’t even like him that much but seems to tolerate him more than literally everyone else Zest ever interacted with who wasn’t being paid) into a similar condition because of unrequited love or something was tragi-cute-slash-funny instead of pathetic and faintly disturbing (though I guess I might end up writing him as tragic again anyway just because it probably takes Some Shit to make a person like that). Spent 90% of his screen time in the old story making Brook’s life inconvenient and the remaining 10% fully aware that his own life is going nowhere. His personality is oddly similar to Maysure’s, which is... interesting, implications-wise. Holy Shit, is this guy going to be a trip to work with as an adult.

#the big fat one piece fic project #talking about old fic #a gentleman's tale #my writing #if you have any questions about this or other fic i've done feel free to fire away

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mfackenthal · 5 years

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The MFackenthal Show and @maxattack-powell!

banner by @whenyourheartskipsabeat

Hello all! Welcome back to the MFackenthal Show! I am so glad that you are here today. If you’re new to the show, I encourage you to go here to find past episodes. There are only a few.

The MFackenthal Show has officially been green lit for more episodes! We used to only be able to afford to run the show every once in a while, but the people have spoken - they want to see the show more often! The funding came through and we hope to give the people what they want! Do you want to be on the show? Do you have someone that you want to see on the show? If so - reblog or comment or send a message to let MFackenthal know! We’ll see what we can do! We have this show and two others lined up for you!

I could not be more excited to bring you this next guest. She has been with the fandom for quite a while. She was one of the first people I started communicating with on a regular basis. She has talked me up, supported me from the beginning and though she hasn’t written much lately - when she does drop a chapter - it’s long and it’s worth it! Please welcome to the stage @maxattack-powell!!!!! (Insert Cheering here!)

(Megs greets Max with a hug - which means that Megs essentially runs and leaps into Max’s arms. Max is fairly tall and Megs is barely 5′3″)

Megs: Max, I am so happy that you are here! Can you believe that you’re here today?

Max: Haha, yes - I can. But I am honored to be here.

Megs: Max, sit with me. For those in the audience who may not know you, tell us about when and why you joined the fandom.

Max: Yanno, I always made my best guess at this before, but I knew you were going to ask me this - so I looked it up. Did you know that now there’s this Official Tumblr blog called @memories, and it knows down to the minute when someone joined? Let me go check it… *digs through the blogs posts* Okay, it was apparently 07/31/2017 at 1:17:15 PM, which means it must have been on the weekend because of the time of day haha.

As for why ... hmm, well… I found the Choices app one day, when it only had like… three series I think! Anyone else remember that time?

Megs: I do! Because I was playing Hollywood University I think I downloaded choices the day the app came out.

Max: Awh! Well, I fell in love with The Freshman Series. Mostly because of Chris Powell and Zack Zilberg, and a long time ago I was in another fandom that had tons of fan fiction/art… so I googled “Choices Chris Powell” and any other combination I could think of looking for possible fanfiction. The fandom was almost non existent at the time. There was actually one person, who has long since left the fandom due to fandom dramas - we all know the kinds I’m talking about - but a few others had started posting their works as well… and I got hooked. Eventually I felt the bug to write how I felt TF should play out as well, and here I am *looks back at the “joined tumblr timestamp”* uhh… 20ish months ago! Haha!!

Megs: LOL, when you put it that way it doesn’t sound like that long ago ... lets call a spade a spade - that was almost 2 years ago! That’s amazing! You have to have seen so much in this fandom! What is it that keeps you around?

Max: There are so many awesome people in this fandom, in this world we’ve all created for our pixelated loves lol. Soooo many creative minds to follow and enjoy. The content people share, original or repost… it’s great.

... Unfortunately it is also a double edge sword ... the drama, the jealousy, the rumors, the hate, etc. I’ve sadly seen far too much and it comes in so many forms… it’s unnecessary.

Megs: I couldn’t agree more! If you could tell the fandom one thing - what would it be?

Max: It would be that we’re all here because we want to have a good time. No one came here to get ridiculed, to be scrutinized or chastised for their opinions, their likes or dislikes. Real life has enough of that going on. We are all individuals - if you want to be treated nicely, fairly, etc. you must also do the same to others. There is no reason someone must agree with you or anyone else. Live and let live. Embrace our differences as it makes us who we are. Most of the issues I see stem from a simple difference in opinion. That is ridiculous. Everyone’s entitled to their own thoughts. We must build each other up, not tear one another down. No one here owes anyone anything, now go have some fun.

(The room stands up in applause!)

Megs: You should definitely stand up and take a bow, Max!

(Max does just as Megs suggests - but she also makes Megs stand up and do the same. Laughing, they both sit back down.)

Awh, Max ... okay, let’s get back to you. We know that you’d fight anyone for the position of The Chris Powell Appreciation/Fan Club. And for those who don’t know, Max has been retelling the full The Freshman series, interweaving dialogue and plot from PB but also adding much of her own content. MC and Chris get a backstory. Chris gets best friends from back home. What is your favorite piece that you have written?

Max: Oh geez hahaha. Um… can I just say The Freshman Chronicles as a whole? I’ve written for different fandoms, and I have original WIPs but I’ll stick to the Choices fandom for this answer. I’ve put a lot of time into TFC. Tons of additional story work, research on characters and their backgrounds, PBs and my own OCs. You should see my file folder setup haha. It’s crazy… I have so many docs, pictures and gifs. Most organized by location (Hartfeld, Boston, New Haven, Cherryfield, etc.), then by character… and on some I get more detailed and split them by emotion and situation.

Megs: By what again?

Max: Emotion and Situation ... Yeah. I warned you it was crazy! *laughs* TFC was the reason I joined tumblr really. Instead of staying a Nonny and only reading others posted works. I wanted to comment, like and reblog what I enjoyed, while I also worked on my own contribution to the fandom. I had a vision for Chris and MC that had more than the game could give, and I wanted to see if i was still any good at writing since it had been years and years… it’s funny to see how different my current posts are from my first over a year ago. Makes me want to go update a few because they could use a little help *awkward laugh*

Megs: I’m sure we can all relate to that! Hmmm ... I’m starting to get a feel for this, I think, but what is your writing process?

Max: Lots of planning, mostly in my head. When I feel like I have a decent concept I might type out some notes or work it into my outline (another crazy thing I have going for TFC because it’s so big haha). But usually, once I hatch out a basic plan on where I’m going… I just start typing. Keeping the general plot and main points I want to hit in mind, I simply start typing… keeping it as organic as possible. It usually works out well.

Megs: Do you have any advice for other writers?

Max: First, and most importantly… do it because you enjoy it. Don’t do it for likes, reblogs, popularity, etc. If you’re having a good time dreaming things up and typing them out, that’s what’s important. The rest is just an extra bonus. Also, don’t give up. It’s easy to become discouraged, frustrated, distracted and more… but remember - your creative cells can’t be running all the time. They need to rest just like your body. Take breaks… go read, play games, hang out with friends/family, watch a movie… whatever. Just do something to help you relax, to reset and you’ll very probably find inspiration and/or motivation to continue. Remember, this is for fun. *wink and finger guns*

Megs: So what do you do for fun?

Max: I actually have a few things I do regularly. A big one is making costumes/props for conventions, small productions, etc. I also train and show horses. I do the same with my dogs, but more for competitions and not really any shows. I’ve always drawn, sculpted, painted since I was old enough to hold things with my hands… and about a year ago I started learning how to do it digitally as well. I run (not at all for fun haha) and play hockey (totally for fun), follow comics and watch anime. I've restored houses, cars and old furniture. I like to read as much as I can - that’s an important one. I also play video games. Something I’ve done since I was young… I've even competed, and won, a few gaming tournaments.

Megs: You don’t know how to be bored do you?

Max: LOL, Megs. Yeah, um, so there’s a “few” *makes air quotes* of my never ending list of interests haha. Gives me a lot to talk about with people, eh?

Megs: Not that I can understand how you’d have time for this ... but what do you do to help pay for your many activities?

Max: Oh like, my job? Well that can be a simple answer… like “I work in software” but the more interesting way to say it is I use my MBA, experience in business, the financial industry and technology to improve and stabilize my customers environment through technological solutions that fit their specific needs. *presses lips together* I solve problems by designing solutions. Bored yet? Hahaha.

Megs: No! That sounds wonderful! Who doesn’t want their stuff to be designed better? Any chance you could start working for tumblr? Some of us have a few complaints ... tags ... mobile losing our work ...

Max: I’m not sure they could pay me enough to help them with all of their problems! But, tumblr, feel free to send me an offer!

Megs: Seriously - send her a 6 figure offer!

Max: Okay, Megs, well now I have a question for you.

Megs: Uhhhh, Max, that’s not exactly how this is supposed to go.

Max: Yeah, don’t care. Your fans need to know ... Hoooow do you find the time to read and review so much?! And I know that’s just in this fandom. I know you read books and you may read for other fandoms!? Seriously, it’s awesome. We need to clock your page flipping speed haha.

Megs: *blushes* Oh my gosh, you have to stop! Here’s the key to how I do it ... I wake up at 5:30am and read for about 30 minutes. Then I workout and start my day. I read in line at the grocery stores. I read on my breaks at work.

Max: Oh my gosh - you’re such a nerd and I love that! Okay, nerd, what is your favorite thing to do, besides reading all the things of course?

Megs: This show, of course! And, of course, getting people to do silly things on this show with me. For instance - with as athletic as you are, I hear you can’t jump?

Max: Megs, shhhhh. You told me you weren’t going to bring that up.

Megs: I did no such thing! (Meg says while laughing) I said I might not bring it up.

Max: Uh huh.

(Kris Kross’s “Jump” starts playing in the studio)

Megs: Come on - show me what you’ve got!

(Megs starts “singing” along and jumping along with the song. Max stays seated. Megs finally pulls Max up into a standing position. Max plays along and “jumps” next to Megs - getting no air at all.)

Oh, come on Max - put some real strength in to it. Jump! Jump! Jump!

(Max jumps and gets the smallest amount of air time.)

Max: *laughing* Megs - I’m tall! I don’t need to jump to reach things!

Megs: *laughing* That must be nice. I got good at this type of jumping because I had to learn to jump up and gently grab things from the grocery so I didn’t knock everything down.

*continuing to jump around the audience - getting everyone to join her* And that’s all for the show today today, folks! Thank you for watching!! Have a great night!

#The Mfackenthal Show #With @maxattack-powell #Official show number 3 #But the 4th interview #Ellen has nothing on me #Oh who are we kidding #I wish I were half as cool as Ellen #She gets paid to do this #I do this for free #But I love it!

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elscarlet · 4 years

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Short story: The tale of Ceven, the son of a demon and a hero. Part 1

This is a short story/backstory that I wrote for my sister’s friend’s OC. All of the characters are his though I took a lot of creative liberty when writing since he told me to just go all out. I might post the concept art my sis is drawing for the characters. There will be 3 parts to the story. I probs should be writing my story more but eh. P.S: This became a lot longer then I had anticipated. Also, the story might be a little dark.

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There exists three realms in our dimension; heaven, earth, and the underworld. Heaven is filled with angels and purity, making them unable to interfere with earth and the underworld directly. Earth is home to humans, weak but tenacious beings who roam their realm freely. And the most notorious realm, the underworld. It is the of the demons. Ruled by their greed for power and filled with the stench of death, its lands barren of any life.

For decades, the demons would wreak havoc upon the earthen realm, harming humans and coercing them to do their bidding. That was until the angels, who felt pity for the humans, would lend the humans their strength that could rival against the demons. And for centuries after, the humans and demons fought.

Our story begins with Noir, the first young lady of her family. Being a part of the royal family, she is to be wedded to another demon with a strong and noble background. And the partner her parents had chosen for her was Marvien, a demon famous for his battle prowess and infamously known for the number of wives he has had and murdered for power. Such things did not deter the royal couple of course, for they are royalty and no one, not even him, could harm them. Noir, however, had different opinions and refused to marry which angered her parents.

She ran away from home and left to earth as she had done many times. During those times, she had met a man named Orion. A human. They would spend hours talking to each other about their home and of their troubles. Noir was relieved that Orion was different from what her mother had taught her. Not all humans are naive, weak and idiotic creatures that deserve to be harmed by them. In fact, she actually found them quite intriguing. The two continued confining in each others' company, knowing each others' true form but not their true identity. Orion had also found comfort in her company and found his opinions on demons changing.

Their adventures were short-lived however when her mother found out about her leaving the castle multiple times a week and locked Noir in her room to keep her from going out 2 weeks before her marriage with Marvien. Thankfully, Noir was still able to contact Orion during her isolation using her powerful dark magic, using the shadows of the underworld to send her messages while Orion would use his light powers to send her his replies.

Soon, it was time for Noir to get married to Marvien. On the outside, the royal family were all smiles but on the inside, Noir felt as if death was the only thing that could save her. If not for the letters, her sanity might have already left her. Weeks passed and she found out she was pregnant with a boy. On the inside she prayed it wasn't Orion's, fearing what would happen if her husband found out. And yet, deep inside she knew she wanted it to be his. Months passed and soon, it was time for her to give birth. Truthfully, she would have liked for her husband to at least be with her for the birth but with how he has been acting throughout their marriage, she wasn't surprised by it when he decided to spend the whole day drinking with his military crew rather than staying with her.

The moment Noir laid her eyes on her newborn son, tears welled up in her eyes. Not from love or happiness, but from fear. Her husband's absence was truly a blessing in disguise. The appearance of her son's half raven and half platinum blonde hair with his heterochromatic purple and blue eyes, anyone could tell her son's father was not her husband. Her mind raced with thoughts of what to do. Of course Marvien could never harm her but if word were to spread of her infidelity, the possibility of her parents hearing of it and throwing her into prison to keep Marvien from destroying their land is not something she wants.

Luckily, she only had one maid to help her deliver her baby. Getting rid of her would be simple enough. Now, what to do about her child? Magic could be used to simply hide her son's hair but the eyes? That would need a different solution. The thought of ending her son's life flashed through her mind. Her heart ached at the thought of doing so, however, so she opted against it. She ordered her maid to make an eyepatch and she used it to cover her son's right eye, using a seal to make sure it would come off unless she wanted it to.

When she was done she announced for the other attendants to come in as she announced her son's name as Ceven as well as using her maid to gaslight the reason behind her son wearing an eye-patch, successfully getting rid of her and covering up Ceven's true identity.

#writers #my writing #writers on tumblr #writblr #shortstory #backstory #tragic #dark #sad

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jhara-ivez · 5 years

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Home alone ~ Jespar edition

(I apologize to everyone. Especially if your OC somehow acts out of character. I tried :D )

THE DAY BEFORE

Alok: “This’ll be so much fun! I can’t wait to get there!”

Wren: “And don’t forget: Tomorrow at 7am in front of the city gates. Don’t be late!”

~later~

It’s night. A big thunderstorm looms over the city. Everyone is fast asleep except for Jespar who is still drinking and smoking in the tavern.

NEXT DAY IN THE MORNING

7 in the morning

*Jespar drooling on his pillow*

___________________________________

7 in the morning at the city gates

*everyone stuffing their bags into the car* Wren: “Guys, last time we forgot Addie. That’ll not happen again today. Where’s Addie?” Addie: “I’m here.” Wren: “Perfect. Well then, guys, get in!” *everyone squeezes into the car, Elurah’s the one driving* Elurah: “Alright. Everyone on board?” *happy cheering, occasional “ouch”-noises* Addie: “Turn on the radio!”

8:56AM *Jespar wakes up* *goes to the bathroom & brushes his teeth* *all more or less while being still half asleep* *then goes to the living room* *blinks*

“….Guys?”

*goes to the kitchen*

“Guys?” *goes to every single bedroom* “What the heck- GUYS???” *stares into the void* “Damn, Wren said something yesterday…. or did she?” *goes back into the living room and looks on the calendar* “…………………………………………oh shit!” *runs to the city gate*

“Shit! They just drove without me! Blazes! How could they just- …. …. Wait. That means…..”

*grins widely all of a sudden* “I am home ALONE! Awesome!” A FEW MINUTES LATER *Jespar in the kitchen, giggling like a child* *opens the fridge* “Oh, ICECREAM! IS THERE SOMEONE WHO WANTS TO EAT THAT??? NO?? EHEHE.” *takes icecream that is clearly labeled with ‘Eska’s* ______________________________ *Jespar in the living room* “OH ALOK YOU ARE NOT AROUND, ARE YOU?” *takes Alok’s lute* *strums a few cords and sings a blues* ______________________________ *Jespar in the kitchen again* *eats a breakfast suitable for a king because he plundered the fridge again* *the radio is on* Esme: As always the weather will be sponsored by XXX. But first the latest news. A tragic accident happened in Ark yesterday. The wellknown poet Prince Adreyu of Mith was found dead near the Fat Leoran. Witnesses told the guards that he drank from a mysterious bottle and dropped dead shortly after. The apothecarii stated that a CPR was not successful.” *Jespar, licking the plate clean, completely unfaced* “Tragic.” _____________________________ *Jespar in the living room after smoking way too much peaceweed*

“Hm… hungry again. Let’s have some Pizza.” AT THE PIZZERIA

*phone rings* *Lea struggles to roll out the dough* *Jhara picks up, bored out of his mind and completely monotone*

Jhara: “Pizza Wolvelini…Other pizza is nice…ours is…nicer. New this week… pizza with….burned flesh. When everything else tastes like shit you haven’t tried our pizza yet. I tell you, you will be absolu-” Lea: “JHARA!” Jhara: *exhaling* “…..Your order?” Jespar: “A pizza.” Jhara: “Hm.” Jespar: “With cheese.” *Jhara looks over to Lea, evil smile on the lips* Jhara: “We’ll be right with you.” *hangs up* *La donna è mobile starts playing in the background*

10 MINUTES LATER *Jhara rings the doorbell* *Jespar opens the door* Jespar: “Finally. My pizza!” Jhara: “Yes. One. Don’t you think that’s a bit…. scant for you and all of your friends?” *tries to take a look into the flat* *Lea stands next to him with a notepad in her hands*

Jespar: “Oh. No. It’s just for me. I am completely alone at home. Usually I am never alone at home. And on top of that the alarm system just shut down and that’s especially dangerous since there is so much valuable stuff in the flat, you know? But oh well, after I’ve eaten I’m going to take a nap. I really sleep like a stone, you know? Say, you as a delivery service, how much money do you make? I for myself think theft shouldn’t be punished that harsh. Oh, and did you know that my windows are broken? They have to remain open for now. But I was considerate and got a ladder for the man who fixes the windows tomorrow. It’s right over there in the corner. And – just to make it clear again – there really is a fuckload of valuables in the flat.” Jhara: “Um….yeah. It’s 10 bucks.” *Jespar gives him 10* Jespar: “Keep the change.” Jhara: “… nice…?” Jespar: “Oh and take care not to stumble over the spare key when you leave. It’s right there.” *the key is literally laying there in full sight* Lea: “…” Jhara: “…” Jespar: “It’s the big one. With the silver keychain. Bye~” *door closes* Jhara: “….Do you think he wanted to tell us something?” SOMEWHERE AT THE BEACH Calia: “Guys? Don’t we…. Don’t we miss a person?” everyone: “….?” Calia: “….Jespar?” Thaizo: *spitting his cocktail all over Clerissa* “Oh my god!” Shizero: “Fuck! Jespar home alone?! The last time he nearly choked on a banana and lit the house on fire!” *everyone panics* Thaizo: “Can someone call him?!” Eska: “No, there’s no reception around here!” BACK IN THE LIVING ROOM *Jespar sits down with his pizza* *…. which is basically just an weirdly-shaped, unbaked dough with cheese, ketchup and uncut tomatoes on top* *turns on the telly and eats*

Tharaêl: Good evening, mysirs and mydames. Tealor Arantheal, the leader of the Holy Order, mentioned in a press conference on Morndas that the work on the beacon is nearly done. Last improvements are made until the end of the week. Afterwards the beacon will be lit immidiately. For the rest of the world this means - “ *Throws his papers in the air* “WE’RE FUCKED! FUCKED!!!”

*Jespar spreads out on the couch* “Shit happens…” *falls asleep*

IN A NEARBY PARKED TRANSPORTER Lea: “Alright. We will sneak up to the building, climb up the northern house front, up to his window-” Jhara: “Right. And then we drill a small hole into the glass and through that we’ll-” Lea: “Jhara. The windows are open.” Jhara: “….Boring. And then?” Lea: “…um…” Jhara: “Let’s google this.” Lea: “Uh, great idea.” *opens up google* Lea: “How do I rob an unsuspecting, careless and helpless idiot” Jhara: “with violence” Lea: “…with violence…. Oh, look. It even has pictures!”

A FEW MINUTES LATER AT THE DOOR *Lea tries to pick the lock* *Jhara stares at the bell* *Jhara rings the bell* Lea: “What the fuck!” Jhara: “Oooooh… Oh shit, sorry. Robbery – haha, well, that was a bit stupid now, right? Hahaha…” *Lea is just exhausted* *Jespar pokes his head out the window* Jespar: “And who are you two?” Jhara: “Oh eh hi there! We actually wanted to break in.” Jespar: “Better not do that.” Jhara and Lea: “…” Jespar: “But you could come in and watch the 7-season rerun of My lord, my lady with me if you want???” Lea: “Uh… no dude. Sounds horrible.” Jespar: “Tsk. No taste…” *vanishes from the window* Jhara: “But I like My lord, my lady…” *gets dragged away by Lea* Lea: “Jhara, no.” Jhara: “Jhara, yes!”

MIDNIGHT *Jespar sits with the two thieves on the couch* *stuffing their faces with potato chips* Lea: “Mind to pass me the red wine, my lord?” Jespar: “It’ll be my pleasure, my lady.” *noises at the door* *the other prophets storm in and yell Jespar’s name* Thaizo: “Oh thank the sun! The flat is still standing!” Shizero: “And you are fine too, Jespar!” Jespar: “You all forgot about me!!!” Wren: “Yes, but-” Jespar: “NO! You forgot about me! And because of that you are not allowed to get angry about whatever I might have done in the meantime!” everyone: “…” Shizero: “Ok…. but who are those two and why do they wear ski masks and look like burglars?” Jespar: “They work in a pizzeria and I like them.”

THE END (based on “Frodo allein zu Haus” by 1080Nerdscope)

#enderal #home alone #jespar dal'varek #calia sakaresh #wren #thaizo #addie #shizero #esme #tharaêl #leanara #jhara #eska #clerissa #elurah #i really am very sorry #but i love it

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bluedraggy · 5 years

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An essay on writing a fanfiction, and grieving for an OC.

(Spoilers for You Only Live 18 Times are complete. If you’ve not read it and have any intention of doing so, this essay isn’t a good idea to read first.)

I don't know exactly who my target audience for this essay is honestly, but in my conceit, I felt like writing it anyway. You're welcome to ignore it. No sexy khajiits here, alas. But I wanted to write something about my process of writing fanfiction, and YOL18T is a good example of that.

First, the concept of my Spyjirra stories started out simply enough - I got the idea of basing a story on the old 007 movies, but with a sexy Ra'Jirra khajiit and set in a future Elder Scrolls universe. I wouldn't say I literally copied from the movies, just got some general outlines from them. However, I had to upscale the TES technology to roughly 1700s era, with some bits of technology more advanced, others less than the literal period. So we have rifles and handguns, but no motorized vehicles. Magic still exists, but is fading.

When I started YOL18T I first watched the old Bond movie You Only Live Twice. In it, "American and Russian spacecraft go missing, leaving each superpower to blame the other." The protagonist fakes his own death, then is sent to investigate in Japan. They discover it's a conspiracy by SPECTRE, the standard organized villain corporation.

So I start with a similar plotline, but spacecraft are obviously way too advanced for even my future-TES universe. Instead, the plot revolves around ships with a new technology - engines. Hammerfell and the Imperials are the two superpowers, with Hammerfell playing the part of the Russians, though not quite exclusively. In fact, I have Hammerfell being the more technologically advanced of the two. Anyway, so instead of spacecraft, both countries are testing new powered ships, but they are both destroyed and each side blames the other.

In my story, Elsweyr plays the part of the English, ostensibly an ally of Cyrodiil but Ra'Jirra leans towards liking Hammerfell better after the last story. The Aldmeri Dominion plays the role of SPECTRE, and I conceived of them having a submarine and torpedoes that they used to destroy the ships - though the submarine is magically powered since the Altmer still possess decent magical abilities.

I was able to link the first story to the second by having Ra'Jirra's fake suicide done in Hammerfell where she meets a couple of characters from the original story. But the main new OC is Wears-Only-Ropes, an Argonian sailor who is on the Imperial ship that is destroyed. It seemed natural that, since this story would be very naval-oriented, the Argonians with their ability to breathe underwater would play an important role in any navy, even though their own country is resolutely neutral and not really even ocean-going.

(Forgive me pls for posting Wears-Only-Ropes images you’ve already seen. I am still in mourning over her, in a more real sense than I have any right to be.)

In the Bond movie, a large portion of it is devoted to James Bond visiting Japan and some serious time is taken in describing the society there. I thought that having Ra'Jirra visit Argonia, (The Argonians wouldn't call it the Black Marsh after all), would be a natural replacement for Japan. So similarly I spend some time imagining the society that the Argonians would have. Even the Sumo wrestling scene gets an equivalent Argonian sporting event - chase the eel.

So while I do follow the plotline of the Bond movie in very broad terms, the specifics are very different obviously.

Anyway, as I was writing, I realized early on that Ra'Jirra needed a partner - primarily so she has someone to talk to and I don't need to have internal dialogue, but also to give an alternate viewpoint on occasion. Since I tend to write sexy scenes once in a while, a male khajiit would make sense. (I don't think it's too sexist to have her be hetero. Besides, I had a rather clear lesbian scene in the prior story with her anyway.) Then I realized that it would be cute if her partner was an Alfiq - one of the more bizarre forms of khajiit in that they're basically the size and shape of a housecat, but intelligent - though TES sources indicate they can't speak. So that would be a bit of a problem. I worked around that by having him be a biologist of sorts working with Lycanthropy who had been turned into an Alfiq. Also, he gets to turn back into his native form of a Cathay when the moons are aligned. So Ra'Jirra and he can occasionally have Sexy Fun Times. Plus he can talk. Okay, that's a good OC and should be fun to play with! A spy organization like the HMSS would certainly have good use of someone like that.

I then started the story with a chapter on Wears-Only-Ropes and the destruction of her ship. Rather liked how it turned out. I thought it made for a pretty good "hook" to start the reader out with something big. Then I had to abandon her for most of the next half. In fact, she doesn't actually meet Ra'Jirra till 3/4 of the way through the story, so she gets a few more chapters from her point of view. But I came to really like her as a character. Mixing some bits I knew of pirates (women pirates would typically go shirtless as did the men) I had the concept of her "wearing" ropes as a bra of sorts, thus the name.

Another thing that originally came from the Bond film... in it, James Bond flys a mini-helicopter at one point. Well, a helicopter is way too advanced, but I came up with the CATv3 instead - a sort of Jet Ski/Waverunner thing. Once I had that, I had to give it some sort of weapon. A set of mines would make sense, as the thing would be bouncing all over the waves so trying to aim it with a gun in the front wouldn't really work. As soon as I got the idea of a mines on the CATv3, the logical way to destroy the sub became apparent.

But the mines would be surface mines, meant to thwart attackers chasing her on boats or similar. The submarine would be deep underwater... how? Oh. OH! OOOOOH!

Suddenly, Wears-Only-Ropes' fate was sealed. She would have to take a mine down to the sub. Ra'Jirra couldn't do it even if she wanted to. Argonians can breathe underwater. Ra'Jirra can dog-paddle for a little bit.

Even then I had hoped to have her survive. I really had grown fond of her. But, minimal though it is, I do try to ground my stories in reality as much as possible given The Elder Scrolls-inspired world. I researched underwater explosions. I'd hoped that perhaps an underwater explosion - given the density and non-compact-ability of water might allow her to live. But my research showed that, far from being safer than airborne explosions, an underwater explosion is even more deadly. And the explosion would be huge. The mine wouldn't just detonate against the hull of the sub, it would trigger the explosion of all the torpedoes within.

Fight as I would as a writer, I couldn't justifiably have her live. Any number of solutions were possible, but they all were just too outlandish and smacked of Deus Ex-Machina solutions. No, she had to die in the explosion. Granted, she'd expected to. All her 'family' and friends had died in the original ship torpedoing at the first chapter. It would be fitting that she would sacrifice herself to their retribution. I couldn't deny her that. So, though I don't explicitly make it clear, she died.

It's weird how such a thing can affect me, her author. I really feel bad about it, even though it was both fitting and made for a more impressive story IMHO. I've toyed with the idea of her Twin Sister, etc, but that doesn't feel right either. No, she's a one-story character, and YOL18T is her story as much as Ra'Jirra's.

One other thing, I needed a core motive for the Dominion's action. Sure, they were trying to instigate a war between Hammerfell and Cyrodiil - but WHY would they want to do that? The answer was right in front of me. Technology vs Magic. In my TES-future universe, magic is dying. The Altmer of the Dominion are the last capable magic-users (to any large extent), but the humans and their rapidly increasing technology were threatening. But not just that. I conceived of them using their magic to look far into the future, and what they saw there was a world in which humans were the only intelligent inhabitants. The khajiit, argonians and mer were all gone. It gave them a much more noble reason for their actions - even if they were also self-serving. And therein lies the core of the sequel and end of the trilogy actually. In YOL18T, I didn't do much with that, other than have the Dominion explain their reasons to Ra'Jirra.

And that's how YOL18T was conceived. I am currently doing an audio-recording of the story chapter-by-chapter. I'm not a good voice actor at all. In fact, I just pitch-shift my voice to portray the different characters in it. I spend most of my time adding background effects so it's not quite just a dry reading. Though I'm also currently writing the sequel and last story in the Spyjirra trilogy, I think YOL18T is the highlight - even though the current one is a "bigger picture" story than either of the first two and really doesn’t track along with the Bond movie in any way.

But I do miss Ropes. She deserved more than a single story. The one thing I might do someday is write more of her backstory. But prequels are a tough sell, esp. when you know how her story has to end. Eh... maybe not. I tried to write a prequel once for Katia to explore her life before she came to Anvil. I aborted it as too depressing. I really prefer happy endings. So probably Ropes is gone for good. I hope her story is good enough for her.

#fanfiction #author #writing #furry #argonian #khajiit #the elder scrolls

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lycorogue · 5 years

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Meet My OCs: Willow (Part 5 – Stories)

You still with me? You are friggen awesome!

Just two more to go! This post and the next one, which will be a post showcasing some fun wrestling entrances I created for my husband’s WWE13 game.

Before we really get into this post, though, how about a quick recap of this series thus far?

Part 1: Introduction to the series, as well as explanations of the real-world influences that helped me create my two story worlds of Gyateara and Glitches. Part 2: Explaining the inspirations that birthed each of my four main Gyateara characters. Part 3a: Same, but for my four main teenage Glitches characters. Part 3b: How I reworked 6 canonical X-Men characters into the Glitches main supportive cast of six adult characters.

Meet Willow mini-series:

Part 1: Willow’s background, personally overview, and powers. Part 2: Willow’s main relationships. Part 3: Willow’s history on the X-Future game, and how it will translate to Glitches Part 4: Willow visuals; fanart, commissioned art, and fashion design games

Now you get a bit more into Willow’s head via 5 writing samples. Two are adaptations of the play-by-post game itself, and three others are side-story narratives. Check below to read them.

The Set-up: An example of the Willow/Devon dynamic before Devon left to join The Brotherhood, leaving Willow feeling betrayed.

Word Count: 1174

- Mutual Teasing -

Labored breaths fell in rhythm with pounding footfalls. The humidity of the summer day settled on the thick lawn that was a few days past needing a mow. Broken blades of grass stuck to two sets of sneakers. Their path was already visible behind them with the wet greenery staying crushed under their tread.

"There!" Willow panted as her fingers brushed Devon's shoulder. "Finally caught your ass." She gargled some sticky saliva and spat it to her side. She braced herself with her hands on her knees as she took a long breath. Moving her hands to her waist, she exhaled and arched backwards before flopping onto the grass. The budding dew cooled her bare legs.

Devon allowed one foot to slide out on the grass and landed beside Willow. He thumbed his nose and coughed the burn out of his lungs.

"Worn out already?" he laughed. "I thought you do street running or fast running or Perk-ore or whatever."

Willow leaned back on her elbows, tossed her short silver hair out of her face, and focused on Devon out of the corners of her aquamarine eyes. She clicked her tongue against her teeth before huffing a sarcastic laugh.

"First: you're an ass. Second: how the hell did you grow up in Brooklyn and not know what Free-running is? Also, it's pronounced Parkour."

"Eh, whatever. You knew what I meant."

Willow let her arms give out beneath her and stretched across the grass. She closed her eyes and flicked Devon in the wrist as her fingers brushed his skin.

"Hey!" Devon pulled away before smirking and skirting around to her head. Kneeling at her shoulders, he pinned her arms. "How am I the ass when you're the athlete who can't handle a quick game of tag?"

The fifteen-year-old opened her eyes again, only to squint them as if she were trying to stare at the sun. It kept her a couple of seconds to adjust to Devon's exotic brown eyes only being a couple inches away. The flecks of color embedded in the cocoa of his irises flickered a rainbow of reds, golds, greens, and oranges as if Devon's eyes were kaleidoscopes.

Abruptly, Willow killed the silence by blowing on Devon's nose. Instinctively, the seventeen-year-old pulled a hand away to rub the itch she caused. With Devon distracted for a couple of seconds, Willow easily slid her other arm free, twisted into a sitting position, and flicked him in the forehead all as one fluid motion.

"You're an ass because your 'quick game' lasted over an hour with barely any breaks. Plus, your mild healing power increases your endurance. No lung or muscle burn means running is easier. Simple science confirms your assness. Boom." She motioned her hand like she was dropping something, and the image of a three-inch atomic bomb appeared, complete with a mushroom cloud explosion when the bomb disappeared into the grass.

"Bah, you're just a sore loser." Devon tilted to his side and rolled onto his back. "So, whaja wanna do now?"

"Sun's down. We should probably start heading back." Willow stood and brushed the moisture off herself.

"Sun's down," Willow's voice parroted back to her, "We should probably start heading back."

Willow turned to see herself lying in the grass, one leg hooked over a bent knee, kicking slightly.

"I hate when you do that." The real Willow tucked her hair back to make sure Devon saw her full glare.

Imitation Willow laughed in Devon's baritone. Her long, slender legs shimmered as they became quickly covered in heavy denim jeans. Her petite chest broadened and her pale skin darkened to an olive-tone. Finally, her heart-shaped face, framed by an asymmetrical bob, shifted into Devon's chiseled jaw with spiky brown locks; his nondescript features returned, again suggesting that he was somehow all races at once.

"Come on," Devon said once he was back to his normal form, "you secretly love having a twin."

Three Willows formed out of the air behind the original. In unison, all four replied, "I could be however many I want. All you do is simple mockery."

One of the false three walked over to Devon and knelt beside him. She rubbed his chest and stroked his jaw with a silky smile across her face. The original Willow stepped to the side of the other two in order to give Devon an unobscured view.

"I can do more than mimicry though," the real Willow cooed.

The two illusions that stayed behind turned to each other and moved in for an embrace and kiss. Before their lips met, they transformed into Devon sloppily making out with himself.

The seductive Willow illusion still stroking Devon's chest burst into laughter. The real Willow joined suit. With a flick of her wrist, the illusionary Devons were only in matching white boxers with hearts on them. One Devon grabbed the other's ass.

"There we go," Willow snorted, "much better. Don't you think? Oh, and a goosing too. You frisky devil."

Devon smirked. "I think I'm damn handsome actually, and would gladly make out with myself given the chance. I also think you secretly want to see me in those." He gestured towards the boxers and winked at the real Willow. He then tapped the illusion Willow on her nose to disperse her; breaking Willow's spell.

Willow huffed as she waved her hand as if erasing the illusion of the making-out Devons. They too vanished, leaving only the original Willow and Devon alone in the field.

"Well, I think you have too high of an opinion of yourself." Willow crossed her arms in front of her and pouted; her fun ruined. "Like I'd want anything to do with you and your boxers."

Devon stood up and chuckled. "Say what you want. Your illusion showed me all I needed to know."

"Shut up! I was trying to mess with you."

"Would have worked if you got some details right." Devon dramatically shrugged with his arms out to his sides. "For starters, you clearly don't know how make-out sessions work."

"Y-yes I do!" She blushed. "I was purposely making it bad to imply that you're a bad kisser."

Devon shoved his hands deep in his pockets before walking over to Willow and leaning in close. "Want me to show you how well I kiss?" He wagged his eyebrows at her.

Willow's face flushed. "No! Gross! I'd probably have to teach you anyway." She stepped back and hugged herself. Her face scrunched up like she smelled a used diaper.

"You also got the boxers wrong. I go commando. Makes the morphing easier with less clothing. In fact, who's to say if I'm wearing any actual clothing right now?"

"Ewww!" Willow shoved him further away from her and started running back to the dorms.

"But I would totally sport only those white boxers with the hearts if that's what you're into," Devon teased, chasing after her. "And when should I expect those make-out lessons?"

"Hate you, Devon!" She playfully called back.

"You love me," he laughed.

------------------------------

The Set-up:

Devon returned to the X-Men after spending two years with The Brotherhood of Mutants. Until the X-Men can decide if they can trust him, Devon is in a holding cell hidden under the Xavier Institute. Willow, feeling conflicted on the return of her former best friend and crush, decided to visit Devon to get some answers of her own. The answer she got was that he wasn't part of the attack on the Xavier Institute; he didn't even know about it until months later, and he grieved the presumed loss of his friends. He had every intention of simply infiltrating The Brotherhood and coming back to the X-Men as a spy to prove his worth to the X-Men. This is a sample from the larger story “Please, Let Me Explain” co-authored by me and Devon's creator Ronoxym.

Word Count: 843

- Can't You Be The Bad Guy? -

She peeked over her shoulder and back at Devon before turning fully around. "I saw what you did in the Danger Room. I was so intrigued by the idea of your first DR run that I made sure to set up shop in the observation deck. I watched the whole thing: wandering the desert, saving Penny, getting knocked out, waking up in what you thought was the infirmary before being convinced that you were going on an actual mission, going up against The Brotherhood again, and taking out Lookout once Pyro offered you info on your parents. It was a mean trick, but it seemed to seal your coffin well enough."

"I really wish you hadn't seen that." He shied away, ashamed at his behavior, but also growing angry at the reminder of the cruel misdirection. That session had ruined his life.

"Yeah, well, I did. I was so mad. I hadn't known you for long, but I thought I knew you pretty well. Even after the thing with Marge in the DR, I tried to come up with an explanation. But then you flee before the place blows? You had betrayed us to The Brotherhood and clearly didn't care about us any longer. My life for the past two years was hating you to no end. Vowing that I'd avenge Hedge. That I'd get payback for the other three lives you took. So, tell me, Devon, if you are as innocent as you claim, how doesn't that make the last two years of my life worse?"

Devon looked bewildered by her question. He had figured that being innocent would always make things better, not worse. Willow didn't miss a beat in informing him otherwise.

"Don't you get it? I just spent the past two years of my life hating you! Despising you! Having nightmares about you! I had a sickening sense of betrayal whenever I thought about you - even the few good times we had. I had emotional breakdowns and loathed my best friend for the past two years over a misunderstanding? That's supposed to cheer me up? I blamed you for four deaths you had nothing to do with? That's supposed to lift my spirits? Do you realize how much I put myself through because I thought I was the one who drove you to it? I mean, I was the one who convinced you to try out the DR in the first place! If I hadn't suggested it to Wolverine then maybe you wouldn't have left. Now knowing that I just might be right about that fact is supposed to perk me up?"

She started screaming at him as she wept. "The amount of time I wasted hating my best friend. The amount of energy I dedicated to hardening my heart to you. The days of self-loathing because I thought I put you up to it, or because - to this day – I'm still pissed off at Cyclops for tricking you like that! You were the enemy! Cyclops was right about you, and he was justified in testing you in the DR instead of letting you betray us in the field. Yet I still hated him for such a horrible ploy. Then I felt guilty for siding with a foe instead of a professor."

She hung her head and her hair spilled from behind her ears, hiding her right eye. It was manic whenever Trish's hair fell into her face, but it was sweet and a bit heart-wrenching when Willow's silvery-white locks drifted into hers. Devon just wanted to brush them away from her eyes, and help dry her tears. It pained him to the core that he caused her such grief.

Her voice cracked as she breathed out the next sentence. "It's just easier on me if you really were the bad guy. So, just- can you just give me that?"

Devon had no clue how to respond. They stood in silence for a few minutes - Devon staring at Willow as she focused on her own feet - before she finally ran out of the room. Mirroring Devon when he left the institute two years prior, Willow didn't bother to look back or say goodbye.

------------------------------

The Set-up: Nyssa, Devon, and Zeke just defected to the X-Men from The Brotherhood. Willow has not taken kindly to the trio, and is particularly harsh with Devon. Nyssa, Devon's unofficial girlfriend, decides to take it upon herself to get Willow to chill. This story is a companion piece to X-Future.

Word Count: 1613

- It Is So On! -

Willow sighed and flopped on to her bed. "What do ya want, Nys?"

The blonde slammed the door closed behind her. "We need to talk about Devon."

Willow squeezed her eyes closed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "No, we don't. We really, really don't."

"Yes, we do." Nys' voice was firm, like a scolding school teacher. "Or at the very least you're going to hear what I have to say."

Willow opened one eye to glance over at Nys. The girl had a stubborn determination. Willow could already tell that she was in a losing battle. She closed her eyes and waved Nys on.

"You need to lay off him," Nys demanded.

Willow loudly drew in a hissy breath. On the loud exhale she rebutted, "How about nope?" She then rolled off her bed and walked over to her desk. "Well, that was fun. Buh-bye now."

Nys bit the inside of her cheeks and folded her arms. "Are you this hostile to everyone?"

Willow swung out her leg as she pivoted on her opposite heel, and then gracefully landed in her chair. "Only potential threats," she said matter-of-factly. "Ya know, like former members of an organization that already blew up this school once."

Nys stormed over to the desk. "That's not fair! First of all, none of us had anything to do with that! We weren't even members back then. Secondly, The Brotherhood had lied to us and kept us in the dark the entire time we were with them. None of us are actually bad people."

Willow cocked an eyebrow. She carefully watched as Nys took a few steps back and sank on to the bed. The blonde's harshness melted as she slumped on the soft surface.

"Look." For the first time Nys' voice was soft and a bit defeated as she studied her woven fingers. "Zeke is a bit simple minded, but he's really just a huge teddy bear. He's devoted and loyal as long as you treat him well, and he really just wants to be a good person. He's actually pretty devastated that he was part of a terrorist group. Well, we all are, honestly. Anyway, Zeke doesn't deserve you or anyone else here harassing him about his past."

"Yeah, okay, don't pick on the humanoid St. Bernard. Whatever." Willow made a display of yawning before she checked her desk clock. "Weren't you invading my room in order to talk to me about the Traitor Supreme?"

Nys vaulted off Willow's bed and got up in the younger girl's face. "Never ever refer to him like that!" she snarled.

Willow leaned back and shot her finger up at Nys. "Ah, there we are. Full circle back to rage. Fascinating how that works." She crossed her legs, and again casually waved for Nys to continue. "Well, if I have to hear this, can you at least move it along?"

"Move it along? Move it along! Are you kidding me right now?" Nys slammed her hand on the desk beside Willow. "Listen up, bitch, and listen carefully. You want this short? I'll make it simple for you then. Leave. Us. Alone. Easy enough for you?"

Willow scoffed and pivoted her chair so she had space to stand up. Nys caught the armrest and swung the chair back to center Willow on her. Holding firmly to each side of the chair, Nys leaned in close. "Don't mess with me, skank."

"Excuse me?" Willow knitted her eyebrows in disbelief and shifted her weight to one side, ready to sweep kick Nys away from her if need be.

"Don't pick on Zeke," Nys continued completely undeterred. "And certainly do not harass Devon. Don't be mean to him. Don't treat him harshly. Don't call him names. And never call him a traitor again! You would be lucky to have a loyal friend like him!"

"Loyal?" Willow's voice cracked as it was torn between yelling and laughing. Her face hardened. In a quick movement she simultaneously shoved Nys away from her and stood up fast enough to kick the chair behind her. "Now listen up here, sweetheart." She spat out the last word as if it were a curse. "I already had Devon as a friend, and let me tell you, it was far from lucky. Plus, he was about as loyal as a pet tiger. So it's time for you to sit down and listen to Teacher."

Nys rolled her shoulders and took a step back so her nose wasn't practically brushing Willow's. The silver-haired girl clenched her jaw as she growled through her teeth. "That jerk caused nothing but chaos when he left. And I certainly didn't feel his loyalty, or feel lucky to have been his friend. You want to know what I did feel? I felt lost. Betrayed. Hatred. So, you can keep him as a friend. 'Cuz I certainly don't want it."

The blonde shifted, gently tilting her head and calculating. "You liked him," she finally guessed after a few heartbeats.

"What?" Willow stiffened her back and glowered.

Nys struggled to keep the smile from tugging on her lips. "You did, didn't you?" She scanned her adversary as she softened her stance. "That's why you're so hard on him. He broke your heart when he left."

The belly laugh filled the room. Hugging her stomach, Willow snorted before she was able to recompose herself. She held up her hand apologetically as she took deep breaths to calm the giggles. "I'm sorry, but Devon? Devon St. James? That punk kid? Break my heart?" She guffawed and quickly muffled it with a hand. "Yeah, alright, ya got me. He intrigued me a little, and I may have thought he was kinda cute. That's it." She fought against smiling and it was killing her cheeks. "Broke my heart. You're so cute. Look, I was with someone then, and I'm with someone now. I wouldn't want Devon St. James ever. Hate to break it to ya." Willow winked at Nys and giggled a bit more.

"Oh, right, dating someone." Nys stared at a patch of wall just past Willow's shoulder. Her voice was distant as she tried to grab at a passing memory. "That Chayse guy, right?"

Half of Willow's face pulled up in a smile as she cocked a hip. "Yeah. Chayse. Someone way better than that runaway douchebag. Yet another reason your little Don Juan scenario would never happen."

Nys' eyes bore down on Willow for yet again disrespecting Devon. Taking a couple long breaths, she calmed herself. Something about the younger girl seemed a bit off balance since it was suggested that she had a crush on Devon; maybe even loved him. Nys decided to take a stab in the dark: that the images Lia had seen during their battle were at least based on truth. "This oh-so-fantastic Chayse guy, he was with that Lia girl before, am I right?"

Willow's chuckles quickly died. She scowled and again stiffened her back. "Watch it."

"Yeah, I think I heard that the two of them were actually a cute couple for a while. Then you stole him away from her with your slutty feminine wiles." Nys smirked and her eyes twinkled.

"Listen here, Tinkerbell," Willow shot forward to get right in Nys' face. She poked the girl in the shoulder to accentuate her point. "Don't go around talking about shit you know nothing about."

Nys casually gave a sideways glance at Willow's poking. As if swatting a fly, she brushed the younger girl's hand away. "I also heard something about you creating unnecessary chaos between that Irish couple."

Willow gave Nys a shove. "I told you to stop."

Nys stumbled back and landed on Willow's bed. She quickly crossed her legs and leaned back as if she had intended to sit down anyway. "Seems to me you enjoy causing needless drama among happy couples."

The slap echoed throughout the room. Nys gripped the side of her face, knowing a handprint would show up in due time. Willow remained in the follow through of her swing. Her breaths were slow but heavy. "I said," Willow growled, "stop it."

Nys pushed Willow out of the way so she could stand up. The two stared each other down for a good minute. Nys was the one who finally broke the silence. "Listen, bitch, I don't care if you despise Devon or love him. He's mine and you're not going to cause drama between us. Try all you want, but keep in mind that I have my own way of getting into someone's head." Glaring, Nys released some of her pheromones and Willow became lightheaded.

After a little wobbling, Willow allowed herself to collapse on to her bed. Nys smirked and let up on her powers. "Just a little taste. You'll be fine in a minute or two. Open the window to help that along." She walked over to the door and stopped with it half open. "Trust me, mess with Devon anymore and I'll make it ten times worse for you."

Nys slammed the door behind her when she left. Right on cue, Willow's eyes refocused. She stared down her bedroom door and imagined the blonde that just left. Her fingers still tingled from slapping the girl. Willow studied them before clenching her hand in to a fist. "Challenge accepted, Nys. Challenge accepted."

------------------------------

The Set-Up: The villain Agony managed to force Willow onto a weird sub-set of the Astral Plane in order for the two of them to battle. After a few scuffles, Agony drops some blood onto the “ground” of their battle field, and “crew” three copies of herself. Willow, using her illusion ability, did the same: creating 3 copies of herself. During the four-on-four battle, Agony circled the Willows, who are grouped together with their backs to each other. The Agonies formed scythes in each of their hands, meanwhile, Willow had her and her copies form daggers and shields. This is an adaptation of an actual X-Future role play scene

Word Count: 1358

- I am a Badass -

Boy, did I screw myself over by not keeping one hand free. I couldn't vault myself like I normally would as Agony and her copies each swiped at us with their scythes. The best I could do was an aerial spin.

I jumped up, pulled in as tight as I could with the dagger and shield, and spun a bit so I was above the high blade. I came down just as Agony's clone's scythe finished it's swing. I managed to land on the blade and push it down to the ground. My illusionary selves mimicked me as we all land on the scythes and pin them to the ground. Unfortunately, I don't know if it was my clones or Agony's that were out of sync, but the duplicate behind me had her left shin badly sliced on her landing. Her balance off, she missed pinning the scythe of her Agony, and she nearly took out the Willow to my right.

My focus shifted for a half-second as I watched the girls tumble into each other. I made a mental note to watch my back for the free scythe. Lowering my weight to make sure the scythe I was standing on was pinned, I smirked at the Agony in front of me, my dagger out towards her throat.

“Your move, Kaiba.” I mocked.

Agony grinned and took a step forward, driving my dagger through her neck. Before I could register that she was obviously one of Agony's illusionary duplicates, blue “blood” sprayed out of the woman's neck; coating me. I guarded my face with the shield, and took an instinctive step back.

I wasn't pinning her scythe any longer, but it doesn't seem to matter as the injured Agony dropped to the ground and 'died.' The other two illusionary Agonys vanished as well, leaving my copies dazed as their fighting partners disappeared. Regaining our bearings, my illusionary clones and I all turn to the real Agony.

She didn't seem to care about her scythe any longer, dropping it to the ground, and letting the psy energy dissolve back into the atmosphere. Instead, Agony threw back her head and laughed.

Even with the shield, the spray had come at me too fast to block it all. I still had some of it on my face and shoulders. I kept my eyes on Agony as I tried to wipe the blood off me. The second I touched the blue goop it started to glow. Its pulsating felt like my own heartbeat pushing through my skin.

“What the hell!?” I chanced looking away from Agony for a moment as I inspected the damage. The pulsating blue blood glowed brighter. Startled, I tossed my shield to the side, and frantically attempted to brush the liquid off at all. I only managed to spread it onto my clean hand, and then down my unsoiled arms. No matter what, the blood won't clean off; like it was attached to me now. My hurried swipes became noticeably slower, and my head grew heavy, as if I were tranquilized. I dropped to my knees, and my head swayed and bobbled as I struggled to stay alert. My only thought was Seriously? This is how I'm going out?

“You. Bitch.” I coughed out; dropping onto my hands as well.

"Soon you will be fully paralyzed, then I'll have you at my mercy." Agony smirked as she folded her arms across her chest, waiting for the inevitable.

My three duplicates stared at me as I collapsed, completely baffled. Morons. That's when I figured that maybe them being dumbfounded was actually in my favor. Agony doesn't seem to be paying much attention to them anymore.

Go! I mentally whispered to them. Move! Help!

I was frozen; pinned to the floor. My body wouldn't move.

Agony took a step towards me, and held out her hand. The weird blue blood finally peeled off of me like liquid metal being pulled by a magnet in Agony's hand. As it pooled on her palm, it solidified into a crystalline dagger.

Help, I plead once more to my illusions. They had to be listening to me, right? Agony kneeled down in front of me, pulled her arm back, and as she swung her arm down to plunge the dagger into my back, my clones finally leapt at her.

“What the hell?” Agony bellowed as my illusionary duplicates pinned her in place, pulling back on the hand with the dagger. “How are your petty illusions moving on their own?” She struggled for a few seconds before smiling down at me. “No matter. This won't hold me for long.” She closed her eyes, relaxed her struggle slightly, and concentrated on her breathing.

Moving on their own? It didn't make sense to me that she'd be so confused by that fact. Oh, right! Her illusions moved completely in unison with her! They could only mirror. She can't create autonomous clones!

I made a mental note to use that fact against her, assuming I survived long enough for that knowledge to prove useful.

“They're not real!” Agony's voice squeaked with a twinge of pain as she started struggling harder against my duplicates again. “They are not real!” She screamed.

Oh, shit! That was it. Agony knew my weakness. Disbelieving in my illusions dispelled them. The only things literally holding her back from killing me would be gone any second now. I was doomed. I clenched my eyes closed and focused on getting my body to move.

Move! Move! Damn it, move your big toe! It worked for Uma Thurman in Kill Bill! Now do it!

“They are not real!” Agony yelled again. Her eyes flew open and stared down her attackers. “You are not real! What is going on? Why are you still here?”

Opening my eyes, I struggled to arch my neck to see. All three illusions truly were still fighting back against Agony as she frantically squirmed against them. I was clueless as to how that was possible. Was there some part of her brain that sincerely believed the clones were there? Was that why she couldn't dispel them?

That was when my eye caught the shin of the copy that was hit by the scythe earlier. Blood was trickling down her leg.

Holy shit! I couldn't believe what I was seeing. They're real? They're really real? Oh. Em. Gee! I'm so friggen hard core!

The blood trickling down my illusion's shin had a purple hint to it. Same as the shading of the actual Astral Plane. That's when I truly realized what happened. The damn things were more psi-weapons! Just in human form! You can't dispel psi-weapons!

I made another mental note: when I'm on the astral plane, any illusion I create is a friggen psi-weapon!

My humanoid psi-friggen-weapons pulled harder back on Agony.

“Get off me! You're not real! You're not supposed to be here anymore! How are you still here?” Agony twisted more against the clones, panic starting to draw onto her face.

The copy that had Agony's wrist yanked harder on her hand to make Agony's grip loosen. My copy leaned in close to Agony's ear.

“We're all still here-” the clone said.

“-because I am-” continued the clone yanking on Agony's shoulders to bend her arms back away from me.

“-a mother-effing badass!” the injured duplicate finished, then sucker-punched Agony in the gut.

------------------------------

The Set-Up: Willow unintentionally finds Lia hiding in the community bathroom. Lia blames herself for Annika/Judgment's possible death, as well as Devon's death (although technically, he's still alive), and Liam's. This is an adaptation of an actual X-Future role play scene.

Word Count: 1390

- Check the Ego -

“Oh, hun, no.” Willow dropped to her knees in front of Lia, who was curled up on the floor, hugging her legs. Willow placed her hands on Lia's to try to get her attention. “No, none of that is your fault. None of it! Do you hear me? You were fifteen when Annika left. What could you have possibly done? As for a last week? She was trying to kill you! You did what you had to in order to survive. If she is dead, it's her fault, not yours!” Willow moved her hands to Lia's face, and pulled her head up so Lia was looking in Willow's eyes.

“And both times Devon left were his own fault. He was the one that didn't want to include us. How could you possibly think you were responsible for that moron's actions? As for Liam? From what I gathered, you weren't anywhere near him. Know who was? That asshole Roscoe. Ya know, the guy who pretended to be Liam's BFF only to literally stab him in the back? Why? Why do you take all of this on? It's not your fault!”

Lia choked down tears in a sobbing hiccup. With the heel of her hand, she blotted away the few drops that pooled in her eyes. Despite Willow still holding her face, Lia refused to look in her friend's eyes, looking down to her arms instead.

“I-I dunno. I dunno why I feel guilty. Why do I feel guilty? What's wrong with me? I- I just can't help but feel like I failed, like I could have done something, like I could have done more. If only I could have gotten through to them. If I were better at understanding people. If I were better at my own powers. But I just keep failing. I keep proving to the world that it got left behind an inferior model. And-” Lia's eyes shoot up to meet Willow's. Her hands whipped to cover her mouth, a loud gasp attempting to suck up the next sentence back into her throat.

Willow's eyes slowly widened as realization washed over her. Abruptly, she ripped her hands away from Lia's face as Willow sprung up to tower over her.

“You're not your mom!” Willow shouted, wildly gesturing, uncaring that Lia's father was waiting for her just outside the bathroom door. He needed to hear this ridiculousness too. “Christ, girl, lower your ego a bit, huh? Is that really what this is all about?”

Lia gasped again at Willow's harsh words, glaring a little at her supposed friend. Willow didn't care, she hoped she was pissing Lia off; make up for how pissed off Lia just made her. “Seriously. Everyone looks at poor, little, emo Lia whining about how useless she is, and we all think 'Why does she have such low self esteem?' I should have known better. I should have known this whole thing was actually because your ego is way too big!”

Lia shifted awkwardly on the bathroom floor tiles, but Willow stepped closer so Lia had no room to rise; to move away from hearing this truth.

“Lia, you have no control over the world. You're not that powerful; you'll never be that powerful, so dial it down, 'kay? The world doesn't revolve around you. These bad things aren't some weird karma directed at you. The world isn't mad at you for not being your mom. Christ, not even your mom was that important to the world. So, come on, get over yourself. You are you. You are as good as you can be; you train hard for that. Learn from your downfalls and improve. Don't mope. Don't cry in your emo corner. No one else cares. No one else blames you. So stop inflating your ego thinking that everyone depends on you. You're not anyone's mom here, you're not even your own mom. So knock it off!”

Willow bent down to grab Lia's hand, and pulled her to her feet. Before Lia could catch her bearings, Willow had her in a tight embrace.

In a softer tone, Willow muttered one last thought in Lia's ear. “So, you gonna go back out in the world and learn? Or are you gonna stay in here and hide some more? Because I still need a shower, and Chayse is probably wondering were the hell I am.” Willow leaned away from Lia and gave her a gentle smile. Patting Lia on the cheek, Willow gathered up her supplies and headed towards the shower stalls.

Lia sniffled, her head hung. Tears spilled over this time, and she didn't bother attempting to wipe them away. “What's the point? You said it yourself, no one depends on me. Probably because they can't trust that I can do any good. What's the point of staying here to learn any more? I'm no hero. I can't help anyone here.”

The tiles squeaked as Willow skidded to a halt. Rage filled her face as she whipped around and stormed back over to Lia.

“Seriously?” Willow screamed in Lia's face, mere inches from her roommate's nose. She then leaned back and crossed her arms, her hip cocked as Willow stared Lia down. “Seriously. Alright. Fine. We're doing this then. Whatever. Sure. Sure, you're useless. You haven't saved anyone. Sure. Ignore the fact that it was because of you that Devon, Nyssa, and Zeke joined the team in the first place. But nope. You don't reach anyone.” Willow smacked her lips to resist smacking Lia. “Ignore the fact that, for the limited time Lincoln was here, he seemed the most calm and at peace whenever he was around you. Nope. You're useless. Right.” Willow took a step away from Lia, rolled her shoulders, and gave up trying to keep her voice low. “We'll also forget that we were able to capture Lighter in the first place because you stopped her single-handedly from turning all of us into fried chicken.” She was waving her arms wildly now, pacing in front of Lia like a lioness cutting off a gazelle's retreat. “Chayse tries to be better not because his parents berate him, but because you do. Ripley found an anchor here - excuse the pun - and rejoined society because of you.” Willow roughly poked Lia in the shoulder before throwing up her hands over her head. “But, nope. Nope. You are useless. No one needs you here. You're just wasting everyone's time. Sure. Sounds about right.”

Willow shook her head and stomped over to the bathroom door. She held it open and motioned to Lia's father standing guard in the hallway.

“Your dad's right here. Do you want to tell him that you want to move back to your old home, or should I? Because I sure would hate for my time to be further wasted by you,” she snapped out sarcastically.

Concerned, Jamie timidly poked his head through the community bathroom door, and glanced over at his daughter. “Lia? Baby, you okay? What's going on between you two?”

“Oh, nothing much, Mr. Madrox,” Willow spat out as she glared over her shoulder at Lia, “just your daughter whining again because she's not a 'hero,' which apparently everyone else in this school is. Cuz, ya know, I've stopped tons of arch villains myself. Same with Crystal, and Tyler, and Colette, and Alister, and Sasha, and dozens more. Yup. We're all big bad superheroes ready to join up with SHIELD and the Avengers; leaving her behind.” She fully turned and screamed back into the bathroom. “Right, Lia? So, what's the point in staying here? Lord, it's all or nothing with your ego, isn't it?” Willow shook her head, and shoved the bathroom door as open as it would go before storming out.

“Ya know what,” Willow muttered over her shoulder, “Screw the shower. It could never clean this grime off me anyway. Such bullshit.” A few stomps down the corridor, Willow pivoted and shouted back to the bathroom. “Just let me know where I'm shipping your shit!” Spinning on her heel, Willow stormed back to her bedroom.

------------------------------

WOW! There... was... a lot of Devon in there... >_> Hubby doesn’t really write anything terribly in-depth, so most of the Willow/Chayse role play is “off-screen”, things like “They go on a trip to Japan for a couple of weeks” or “They nurse each other back to health after a tough battle” or “He takes her to a secluded place for a picnic of Cajun food he made himself.”

Ronoxym, on the other hand, did a LOT of dialog-focused role play with Willow, and he was the one who came up with the concept for “Please, Let Me Explain” so I guess it makes sense that most of my Willow examples center around Devon....

Anyway, one last post to go! Who’s ready to see some fun wrestling entrance videos?

#writing #LycoRogue writing #OCs #Meet My OCs #Meet Willow #long post #Glitches #Willow Driver #Willow #narratives #stories #scenes #short stories #Devon St. James #series post #9 out of ?#updates every other Sunday #LycoRogue original

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affectedexistence · 5 years

Text

Get to know me tag! I was tagged by @whoshugginghop

Name: Meg

Birth year: 1991. I was born in a mirror world.

Sign: Fishies do the swim-swim.

Put your playlist on shuffle and name the first five songs

1. “Spirit Cold” Tall Heights

2. “Ribbon” Billie Marten

3. “In the Beginning” Fahrenhaidt, Alice Merton

4. “The Night We Met” Lord Huron

5. “Until the Levee” Joy Williams

Grab the nearest book and turn to page 23. What’s the 17th line?

All of my book-books are in the closet of doom with all of my other earthly possessions, so picking from the top of my kindle library instead. Which means this is coming from a free Kindle read that I haven’t actually read. I also had to go to page 24 because the Kindle skipped from 22 to 24. Will I ever read this book? Probably not.

“-other faiths and developed her own brand of spirituality. But she hadn’t wanted to-”

(The Snow Gypsy by Lindsay Jayne Ashford)

Ever had a song or poem written about you?

Don’t think so. If you’ve written one about me (or want to take this opportunity to do so), let me know and send it my way. Especially if it’s a diss track. Keep me humble, folks. I do know people who have based characters off of me for their scripts, which has always been super flattering.

When was the last time you played air guitar?

Probably a week ago, at my dad’s wedding reception. Twas much good times, and the band was fantastic. If you’re in Southern CA, I highly recommend them. They’re OC based, and they’re called Ragdoll. They did a series of classic rock covers and the female vocalist did a great job on Stevie Nicks songs. They were also super fun with the wedding group and let guests come up and sing with them, including the bride and groom. Previous to this, they’ve been one of my dad’s favorite bands, so he was super stoked that they did the reception. Check them out!

Celebrity crush(es)

In the traditional sense of a crush, eh. Ace/Aro here. But in the Friend-Crush kind of way, I think Robbie Sheehan would just be fantastically fun to be around. Him or Brendan Urie. Talented folks who I imagine could only make a person better to be around.

What’s a sound you hate/love?

hate: chewing (if I can still hear you while wearing headphones blasting my music at full volume, you need to figure that shit out), fireworks (too unpredictable, the fourth of july is a nightmare, I feel nauseous the whole day), crying (not just like light crying, but that broken-hearted, nothing you can do to help, defeated sort of cry where it’s like the person’s soul is trying to flee them. it’s so hard to be around when I know I can’t do anything to help), animal pain shrieks (they deserve nothing but snuggles), background noise (I have tinnitus, which means I’m already sorting through lots of noise in my head to listen to people, when there’s music playing or someone else talking really loudly in the same room, I have a hard time hearing what people are saying because I can’t sift through all of the stimulus, and I hate having to ask them to repeat it five or six times)

love: waves, rain (also the smell of rain is perfection), blasting music in the car, my sister singing, cats purring, that little whine that dogs do when they want ear scratches, weirdly I like the sound of fabric rubbing against fabric (like that sheet noise that happens when you’re all snugged up in bed and you shift and the topsheet rubs against the bottom sheet. I don’t know why, but I really like that sound), towel-drying hair, shower (any kind of running water, honestly), the voices of people I feel safe around (jane, val, my parents, my sister, my new step-sister, my grandma, my cousin, my aunts and uncles)

Do you believe in ghosts?

To me it’s one of those things where I kind of want to believe, and there are times when I get close, but I don’t really believe in them. I think it’s not entirely impossible that if individual particles are capable of time-travel, that many particles could be time-traveling at the same time in which case an impression of a person or figure could be witnessed, but I don’t really believe in souls, so it’s kind of impossible for me to really believe in the traditional sort of ghosts.

Do you believe in aliens?

Insomuch as do other lifeforms exist outside of Earth, obviously. Perhaps even something resembling animal life, even intelligent life. But intelligent humanoids within our ability to contact? Profoundly unlikely.

Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed?

I love driving, and have driven cross-country six times. I’ve never crashed, though I have been in an accident during one of my cross-country drives where a van pulled into my lane, almost knocked me under a sixteen-wheeler, and then sped off down the next exit when I pulled off to the side. Also of note, I was in a convertible at the time, and if they’d hit me any harder, I probably would have gotten thrown under the trailer and gotten decapitated.

Last book you read?

Oh, gosh. I couldn’t tell you. I have a tendency to read multiple books at a time and I have been focusing of script reading the past few months. Book-wise, the last few I’ve been cycling through are Snow Queen by Joan D. Vinge, The Black Mage series by Rachel E. Carter, and basically any other female protag fantasy I can get my hands on because I love that shit unconditionally. Even the garbage. If it’s staring a female character who defies all expectations put on her by a patriarchal fantasy culture, I will eat it up with my bare fucking hands. SOUND LIKE A STORY YOU KNOW? TELL ME ABOUT IT AND I WILL DEVOUR IT. I also have a soft-spot in my heart for anything fantasy-assassin related.

Do you like the smell of gasoline?

I’m indifferent? It doesn’t bother me, but I’m not going to go shove my face in it.

Last movie you saw?

Bohemian Rhapsody, I’m not big on features but it was alright.

Do you have any obsessions right now?

Umbrella Academy as Vines Compilations.

Do you tend to hold grudges?

Not if it’s for a wrong done to me, but I will hold a grudge forever if I think someone is fucking with people I care about. Like you can treat me like shit and I’ll probably be able to move past it because I have a lot of issues and I need people to like me, but if you fuck with my family (which for me includes my friends, without question) then I will never forgive or forget.

Are you in a relationship right now?

Yes. I am happily committed to my Playstation 4. Ours is a pure love. We stay up late talking into the wee hours of the morn. We rarely have communication issues, but when we do, I immediately seek to rectify the problem.

So no. And not looking either. Not my jam.

I’ll tag... YOU! IF YOU’RE READING TO THIS POINT THEN YOU ARE CLEARLY INVESTED AND NOW YOU HAVE TO DO IT, I DON’T MAKE THE RULES, I JUST ANNOUNCE THEM IN ALL CAPS.

#whoshugginghop #just meg things #too many answers #you probably didn't want to know #but here they are #nevertheless

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britishraptor · 6 years

Text

Mahiru’s Bad Day

So...uh...I basically wrote a crack fic. But like, took it seriously? Crack taken seriously. Yes.

Fandom: Servamp

Characters: Ryusei, Koyuki, Mahiru, Kuro. Two sublcass OC’s I guess.

Summary: Mahiru has a bad day at school.

Warnings: slight OOC for Mahiru (cause he’s tired as hell), Memes.

Ever laughed so hard writing a fic you had to take a break so you could calm down enough to write a fic? Me.

Ryusei yawned, stretching his arms above his head as far as they could go. “Man, that lesson was the pits.” Grumbling under breath, he grabbed his booked and haphazardly shoved them into his background, before giving the room a cursory glance. Koyuki was packing up next to him, a mild smile and light tune bubbling from his lips as the other boy stood.

“I swear, I don’t think I listening to half of that lesson!” Ryusei complained to his best friend.”It was so boring!”

“I thought it was a little interesting,” Koyuki insisted hesitantly.

“Interesting?! This is history! Those two words are like, the complete opposite of each other!” Ryusei replied dramatically, using a healthy dose of mock rage and arm waving for emphasis. Koyuki laughed lightly at his friend’s antics, before turning, eyes sweeping the room as the shorter student continued his complaints.

“Do you think Mahiru will let me borrow his notes? He would, right? Mahiru is too nice for his own good, I swear.” Ryusei said suddenly.

“Maybe that means you shouldn’t rely on his so much, then,” Koyuki teased. Ryusei pouted in response.

“Where is Mahiru, anyway? Usually he meets up with us right away.”

“Um…there. I think.” Koyuki pointed to an ominous figure sitting at a desk. Miasma seemed to saturate the air and nearby students seemed to subtly edge away. Brown ruffled hair was the only indication that the student had, at one point, been one Mahiru Shirota, as his face was thoroughly pressed up against the top of the desk.

“Is he dead??!!!” Ryusei yelped. “Mahiru, Mahiru, stay with us! You can’t die! If you do, who’ll organise this year’s cultural festival?! Mahiru-sama!”

The figure shifted sightly and a muffled string of words escaped where his face continued to press into the desk. The two took a step closer, ears straining.

“What was that?” aske Koyuki politely.

“I said,” Mahiru snapped, peeling himself from his desk, eyebrows twitching in rage. “Don’t call me that! And I’m not just a convenient excuse to slack off, ya know! Pull some weight!”

“He’s alive!” Ryusei cheered. Koyuki however, frowned.

“Mahiru,” he asked. “Are you okay?” Mahiru turned to look at his timid friend. Heavy bags hung beneath both eyes, and the twinkle of enthusiasm that normally dwelled there seemed dull. His skin was pale, and everything about him screamed ‘tired’! “You look a little unwell.” he tried.

Mahiru’s left eye twitched.

“I’m fine,” he sighed. “I’ve just had a lot on my plate lately.” He added.

“You shouldn’t overexert yourself-” Koyuki began, before being interrupted by Ryusei.

“What could possibly wear out the great Mahiru-sama? You’re like, inexhaustible, a forever moving steam train of practicality!”

Mahiru stared at them, almost through them, actually, like he was looking beyond into the void itself.

“Cats,” Mahiru said finally. “Cats and foxes and hedgehogs and stupid angels and mad scientists, and then my budget was blown out the water because Kuro let the heater run all night, and now the athletics club needs new equipment so I have to do up a proposal for that, and the student council put me in charge of the bake sale, and I’m still behind the massive amount of schoolwork because THE SCHOOL BLEW UP and oh god its spring next week and I need to start cleaning, with the added stress of the fact that the whole apartment is just. Black cat fur everywhere, no one warned me about that and god-”

“Woah, woah, woah, slow down. Your cat knows how to run the heater?”

“MORE importantly,” Koyuki interjected, giving Ryusei a glare. “You sound ike you’re running yourself ragged, Mahiru. You’ve got to take care of yourself too. You’re our friend, remember? Don’t run yourself into the ground, and don’t forget,” he smiled encouragingly. “If you can’t ask your friends for help, what’s the point?”

Mahiru stared at him for a moment before relaxing, and letting out a small, genuine smile. “Thanks, Koyuki. I needed that. But still,” he grumbled, pushing himself from behind his desk roughly. “If just one more thing goes wrong today, I,” he said venomously. “Will have a meltdown.”

For the second time in a year, an explosion rocked the school. Ryusei let out a startled scream as plaster rained down from above, and his pen rolled off his desk.

“What the hell?” he gasped. Never one to ignore his curiosity, he sprinted for the classroom door, ignoring the panicked call of his teacher, and flung it open. At the end of the hall, there was a hole in the wall. A big hole at that. And in that hole stood two people Ryusei could confidently say he had never met in his life.

One man was tall and spindly, wrapped in a thick gray cloak, with long greasy purple hair and glaring red eyes. The other was dressed in the standard denim jeans and green hoodie, with blonde hair and, again, red eyes. The first sneered at the faces of shocked students, while the other looked bored. Fangs flashed as one hissed and the other yawned.

“Greetings!” the greasy haired one called. “Puny mortal high school students! Tremble before our might as your new vampire overlords!”

“Oi, oi,” the blonde one scolded softly. “We’re stopping for a snack and to spread a little chaos. None of this ‘overlord’ crap. We can’t stay long anyway. Don’t want that brat’s friends to show up, after all.”

“Ah, yes, the brat!” the other purred, eyes scanning the room. “The slavemaster of sleepiness, sloth’s servant’s master, the eve himself of the most unholy of sins-”

“Would you shut up?!” the other snarled, hitting the other over the head. The dramatic act interrupted, the cloaked man whimpered.

“What the hell,” whispered Ryusei. “What the actual hell. Did they say vampires? Are those teeth real?”

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” The familiar voice had Ryusei whipping around in seconds. There stood Mahiru Shirota, tired eyes and white plaster lightly dusting his hair.

“I,” he growled. “was in the middle of a math test. That I spent ALL NIGHT studying for.”

“Mahiru,” Ryusei squeaked. That…was a very scary look on Mahiru’s face. Mahiru could lose his temper sometimes, but this was a whole ‘nother level. Oh yeah, someone was definitely going to die.

“Um,” lost for words, Ryusei searched or a way to lighten the tension (it’s what he did best, after all). “I don’t suppose vampire hunting is one of your endless skills at all? Cause otherwise,” he joked, glancing back at the leering vampires. “I think you might want to sit this one out. Unless of course you’re planning on scolding them to death,” he added, laughing nervously.

Mahiru was trembling. “One day. Just one day!” he muttered hysterically, slowly shuffling forward. A small meow drew both sets of eyes as Mahiru’s small black cat, appeared from nowhere, winding itself around the other students legs. And maybe Ryusei was going mad, because there was no other reason as to why there were vampires in the school and how that cat looked so concerned despite being, well, a cat.

Mahiru suddenly smiled. Watching him go from enraged to smiling was quite literally the scariest thing Ryusei had ever seen. Including the vampires behind him and that car accident he’d supposedly been in.

“You just stay right here, Kuro,” Mahiru chirped. “I’ll take care of it, don’t worry. This wont be hard. And I’ll just ask Lily to clean up after me, okay?”

The cat looked vaguely horrified, if that was a thing. This cat, Ryusei decided, was very relatable.

Mahiru began to stalk toward the two vampires, and, like a wave, the student body parted before him. Everyone knew Mahiru Shirota was the most responsible person around; of course they’d let him through. He’d know what to do. No one wanted to acknowledge the maniacal gleam in his eye.

Soon enough, he stood before the two vampires. “Eh?” the blonde one blinked. “You’re that brat.” He noted.

“Sorry,” Mahiru said lightly. The two blinked in confusion. “Normally, I’d much rather talk than fight. But,” saying this he pulled off the armband he always wore. “I am having a very bad day and that,” he said coldly. “Was a very important test.”

A bright flash of blue light blinded the student body for a second. Ryusei quickly opened his eyes to see Mahiru, his best friend Mahiru holding a spear. A spear made of what looked like black electricity, of all things. And more importantly, the vampires? Looked. Terrified.

Mahiru raised the spear, face blank but eyes dancing crazily, before he swung the swear like a baseball bat. The spear collided with the right vampire, pushing him into his partner with a grunt. Dust and wind exploded, and the two vampires screamed in terror, before they were rocketed backwards through the hole in the wall, launched almost faster than he could blink.

Adding to the surreal experience, some kid next to him laughed manically, and some thoughtful student in the back managed to shout ‘YEET!’ before the crowd began to disperse.

Mahiru stood there silently for a moment, before tuning back to face the student body. A flash of light and the spear was gone, and a tattoo ringed the student’s wrist instead. Mahiru still looked tired, and somewhat strained. But the stiffness in his shoulders was gone, and no longer did the flames of wrath burn in his eyes. He made his way to Ryusei silently, before picking up his cat.

“That was fun,” he commented to the cat. “I’ll try not to do it again, and Sakaya and Tsubaki are going to be pissed, but it was fun.” The cat meowed. “I know it’s a pain. I can’t imagine trying to explain to Lily what happened. Ah well,” he sighed. “I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”

Omake:

“What did you just say?” Lily asked, bewildered.

“Mahiru yote two vampires out a window at his school.”

“Kuro, it wasn’t a window, it was a hole in the wall, which they caused-”

“You yote them?”

#servamp #mahiru shirota #sleepy ash #kuro #sloth pair #ryusei (servamp)#koyuki (servamp)#tsubaki #sayaka (servamp)#lily #all of love #crack fic #fanfic #art #because it is

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justaramblingromantic · 6 years

Text

superheroes need childcare benefits too

Characters/Pairing: Kobayashi Rindou, Tsukasa Eishi, Tsukasa Hi’en (OC)/EiRin

Type: Superhero!Family!AU, Freestyle

Word Count: 3071

A/N: Inspired by this post.

This drabble has been sitting in my draft pile for a couple of months already, I think? I was fooling around with the random super power generator and decided to write out something with the results I got, just for fun. Was also in the mood to write cute baby things...so there was that, too, lol.

The thing about being a superhero was that the benefits suck.

There were no such thing as paid leave or annual bonuses and the nature of the work was akin to voluntary military service to the country so it wasn’t exactly very high paying in the first place, either. In fact, it was something like an anonymous, part time obligation to society on top of juggling a ‘normal’ day job and whatever life issues and familial commitments the ‘normal’ population had to deal with…only maybe with a bit more explosions and dangerous, life-threatening events randomly thrown into the mix.

You get to meet all sorts of interesting people with interesting abilities too, and then, depending on their intentions and alignments, you try your hardest to incapacitate, or outright kill, each other. Fun times.

Rindou quite enjoyed it, actually. The thrill of living a secret double life. The excitement and unpredictability that came with every mission. And who would not enjoy being a superhero? Her partner was something amazing too, and they worked together seamlessly. Their abilities complemented each other extremely well, and after all the years of being paired together, their teamwork was one of the best in the country, for their rank and specialty type, even.

That was just as well, since they were partners in every meaning of the word. They had known each other from a young age and had only grown closer over the years, from teammates to best friends to lovers.

Recently, they had also become parents. And with parenthood, came responsibilities that both were suddenly acutely conscious of, towards the tiny young life that they had made together. Being reckless for the sake of having fun was no longer acceptable. They had to be more careful during assignments now, and for the moment at least, they had also agreed that both should not be going on call at the same time – one would remain at home on baby watch while the other was out performing their civic duty.

“Rindou.” Eishi’s calm, smooth voice spoke over the comm earpiece that she was wearing. “Are you heading home soon?”

“Mm,” she replied distractedly, concentrating on focusing her powers and directing them to work as she intended. Her abilities had always been a bit on the wild side and not very easy to control, and she constantly had to work on them so that they would not get the better of her.

It was a simple rescue mission this time. There was a serious collision between two freight vessels off the shores of Tokyo, just sitting on one of the major shipping routes. She had been activated by the agency because her powers were probably the most useful to deal with an incident of this scale involving huge mobile constructs. The crews of both vessels had already been evacuated and airlifted out of the scene so now it was her turn to flex her muscles and get down to business.

“Can you swing by the store for some milk and eggs on the way back? We ran out.”

“’Kay~” Slit gold eyes grew unnaturally bright as she concentrated, willing all her energy into intense mental focus. Visualizing the bright, glowing rope of power in her mind’s eye, she proceeded to grab firmly onto it and give it a mighty heave.

Just like that, the atmospheric pressure dropped, and the energy around her shifted.

Hovering midair over the vast ocean, a mere fifty feet above where the partially submerged cargo ships were rapidly taking in water and about to sink right in the middle of the high sea traffic zone, the redhead watched musingly as a couple hundred thousand tonnage of steel and freight creaked and groaned ominously as the absolute laws of physics were exerted on them…in an entirely unnatural way.

“Is there anything else that you want me to pick up, dear husband?” she asked cheerfully. She was in a good mood today, and for obvious reasons. The sun was shining overhead, the weather was great. All in all, it was a really nice day to be out and about, even if she had to help haul back to the bay two huge ass ships.

There was a pause, and then her significant other remarked. “You’re just really happy to be finally out of the house, aren’t you?”

Before Rindou could respond, a loud, unintelligible squawk transmitted through the earpiece, followed by what sounded like awkward, unsteady flapping. Both parents winced at the ringing, pitched cry.

“Is that En-chan? What’s he doin’? He sounds energetic.”

“Our son is sitting on my shoulder.” Was Eishi’s reply. “I think he’s screaming for you.”

She could not help but grin at the mental imagery of her somewhat ruffled mate having to stay at home wrestling with their quirky and unruly offspring. The baby was barely six months old but the rapid manifestation of his unique abilities meant that his parents never quite knew what to expect next when it came to him. Regardless, Rindou still thought that her son was the best thing since sliced bread. Eishi more or less rolled with the lofty opinion because he largely felt the same way ever since they handed him the squalling newborn straight out of the delivery suite.

“Geeze, he’s probably just hungry again. Feed him well, Tsukasa~!”

The semi-submerged vessels were no longer sinking. If anything, they were expelling water at an incredible, exponential rate, and starting to recover miraculously from their previous, badly listing conditions. Rindou kept a halfhearted eye on the ships, but her attention was caught more by the slight commotion coming from the other end of the line.

Eishi muttered. “He doesn’t want his bottle. I don’t think he’s even interested in milk right now.”

More indignant chirruping and belligerent rustling could be heard from the other end of the line. The older of the two also seemed to be having quite a time of it pacifying the younger one. “En, settle down. I know you hear her voice, but your mother’s not here.”

There was a querying, unhappy cry of what sounded like a young eaglet. By then, Rindou could not contain her curiosity any longer. Her son had been a normal human baby (a super cute, chubby cheeked one) when she had left the house, but apparently that was no longer the case. She would have been more worried as a mother if not for the fact that this peculiar occurrence happened too often for her to be alarmed anymore. In their household, this type of situation was only normal, when one’s offspring possessed the rare ability to randomly shapeshift.

“Eh? What did En-chan become this time? How come all the interesting things happen only when you’re home alone with him? That’s hardly fair at all!”

There was a brief pause as her husband struggled not to share his actual thoughts on the matter, which more or less amounted to how he would rather have preferred not to have anything interesting happen at all when he was left in charge of watching their only child. Because Hi’en was still very, very young and had no control whatsoever over his powers, the infant often randomly shifted into supernatural creatures that had only been heard of and read about in myths and legends. The first time it happened, the boy was only a couple of months old when he abruptly turned into a phoenix chick, and when the panicked parents found the young creature floundering about in their son’s cot, they had initially thought that someone had stolen their precious offspring only to replace it with this strange looking…scraggly, angry baby bird of unidentified origins…and that which could also random burst into fire.

The problem with their child being able to shapeshift into random mythical creatures was that when he was in those forms, feeding and caring for his needs became a unique challenge. Sometimes Hi’en would stay in one creature form for an hour at most before popping back to his sleepy human baby self, other times, he stuck with whatever form he was most comfortable with for days on end and that was when his parents abruptly realized that (mythical) animal husbandry had also became an important prerequisite when it came to parenthood. This time was no different.

Eishi observed his awkwardly flailing son, all wings, talons, feathers…paws, claws and tail. The wings on the back were still small and not yet fully developed, the feathers all fluffy brownish-bronze baby down and not even molting anytime soon. The body was that of a very young lion cub; soft russet gold fur still speckled with camouflaging spots and clumsy, tapering tail fat and stubby from infancy. The front limbs ended in raptorial, razor talons and the back limbs in feline paws and equally sharp pinprick claws. A fuzzy, aquiline face with beady golden eyes and a sharp hooked beak paid rapt attention to his male parent, who was squinting at the youngster just as discerningly.

Hi’en let loose a series of demanding chirrups and clumsily headbutted his father for attention. Eishi plucked the youngling who had insisted on climbing precariously onto his shoulder when he heard his mother’s voice earlier and cradled his cat-sized child against his chest, barely even flinching when the baby dug his tiny claws into his forearms for stability. The white-haired man balanced the cellphone between his ear and shoulder, distractedly replying Rindou even as he padded into the kitchen with the fussing cub in tow.

“I think he turned into a griffin this time.”

“…Huh. What do those eat?”

That was a very good question, and one which the young parents found themselves asking almost every other week these days.

In the background, the massive constructs that were the damaged shipping vessels were now floating lightly on the shimmering ocean surface, delicate as a pair of drifting feathers. Thanks to her abilities to manipulate gravity and air, sending the ships back to the shipyard for repair would be a breeze. Pun intended.

“Think the packet of raw chicken sitting in the freezer will work?” Rindou asked as she started to gather and shape the climate to obey her will. Her gaze turned upwards, watching the gigantic nimbuses roll in and dim the skies overhead. The barometric pressure quickly dropped further, and the ambient wind speed started to pick up. The previously calm, tranquil waters became more restless, choppy, though not turbulent enough to send the ships back down to the bottom of the ocean. Rindou exerted her will and steadily pushed.

The two vessels slowly started to move, the howling gale and reduced inertia enough to set them both limping in the direction of port. Rindou trailed her responsibilities closely, making sure that they would reach their destination with no unforeseen accidents along the way.

Back home, Eishi obligingly popped open the door of the freezer compartment and pulled out the cellophane wrapped tray of chicken. He presented it to Hi’en, who nudged at the Styrofoam curiously with his beak before recoiling from it with disdain.

“No?” he asked the little griffin. His son peered at him briefly with his slit gold eyes before deciding that his father’s shirt buttons were much more interesting. He started to peck at one of them, trying to pry it off.

“I’ll defrost and cut the meat into smaller strips to see if he wants it,” Eishi spoke into the phone, shutting the freezer door and setting the packet of chicken on the counter to thaw. “I think we should find that anthropology professor at the university again and seek his opinion, just in case.”

Rindou grimaced at the thought of meeting the suspicious, twitchy man once more. She was pretty sure that the man was starting to suspect that something weird was going on with the overly insistent couple who kept asking him overly specific questions regarding the diets and behavioral patterns of legendary creatures that should not exist.

“Alright, if you feel that’s gonna help.” An excellent idea struck her. “Maybe En-chan would want fresh seafood instead. I can rustle up a waterspout and bring some catch of the day home!”

“…Please don’t do that.” Eishi was quick to shoot down the idea before his mate could run wild with it. The last time she did something similar in a misguided attempt at domesticity while harboring delusions of a homemade dinner, it rained fish intermittently over the city for an entire day. “The agency frowns upon that sort of power misuse and we don’t have enough fridge space.”

Rindou grumbled. What use were her powers even if she couldn’t apply them for little things like that?

“Come home soon,” Eishi continued. Their child lifted his head from where he had been gnawing at his father’s shirt and chimed in with an accompanying series of inquisitive peeps and chirps. “We’re looking forward to your safe return.”

Despite her disgruntlement, Rindou’s cheeks warmed happily. “Then I shall, since you asked so nicely.”

When two beings with the recessive mutated genome that gave them unique abilities produce an offspring, it is virtually guaranteed that their progeny would inherit the same metamorphosed DNA sequence as well. However, just because that peculiar gene had been passed down from parents to child did not mean that the latter would end up with the same type of ultra-abilities that either parental units had. As such, having children when one possessed superpowers was very much like entering a lucky draw.

There is an implicit understanding that there will be a special prize, but what it is exactly or how useful it will be is something entirely up in the air until the child’s powers finally chooses to establish themselves.

Even before the birth of their son, Eishi and Rindou had already decided on his name out of two reasons.

The first was for bond. Both parents were distinct air types and spent so much of their time in the skies that they might as well have been born birds themselves. They had flown together, fought together, courted, loved. Their mutual joy, their steadfast devotion to each other… Hi’en was the precious culmination of all this happiness.

The second was for blessing. It was the parents’ sincerest wish for their firstborn that he would always be able to fly as far and as freely as he wanted to, just like a brave and lithe swallow, unfazed and unhindered by all the challenges that he would ever meet in life.

When Hi’en’s powers initially manifested in an unexpected way that turned him into a firebird, his parents wondered if they had perhaps named him a bit too aptly. Even though the kanji ‘Hi’ in his name translated to ‘flight,’ it also shared the same pronunciation for the kanji that denoted ‘fire.’

Regardless of the fact that their child’s abilities bore no similarities whatsoever with theirs, his parents remained endlessly delighted and fascinated with their strange little chick. All of his little milestones and progresses Eishi noted down meticulously and Rindou cheered for with pride and glee. Hi’en was developing physically and mentally faster than the average infant, though in all likelihood it was because he was switching forms so often. However, all that growing was exhausting for the young baby, and so he ate a lot, and then he slept a lot.

When Rindou returned that evening, it was to a quiet apartment with the lights dimmed. There was a flickering glow emanating from the living room, and when she exchanged her shoes for indoor ones at the genkan and went down the hallway, she discovered that the source of light was from the television, the volume muted so that only the images were playing across the screen. Eishi was sprawled out in the middle of the couch strewn all over with toys, his eyes closed, faintly, halfheartedly humming a lulling song. Curled against his chest was a little ball of fur and feathers, and the little thing must have tuckered himself out after running his father ragged all day, for he barely stirred even when his female parent approached and sank onto the adjacent cushions.

Eishi cracked opened one eye, sleepy lavender meeting quietly amused gold.

“…Okaeri,” he greeted his mate softly. He wasn’t exactly his usual neat, immaculate self. It appeared that even possessing the ability of accelerated thought process was no match to counter the sheer unpredictability of a small but determined infant. Eishi’s hair looked like he had run his hands through it several times that evening alone, his shirt was missing some buttons and partially untucked, and there were unidentifiable stains on his jeans and also on his collar. She thought that he looked manly and attractive all the same, exuding responsible daddy vibes, very irresistible.

“Tadaima,” she mouthed back. Her hand came up, fingers brushing over his crown, trying to help arrange the unrulier locks into some semblance of order. “Looks like you had a nice time with En-chan,” she drawled innocuously, trying not to grin at his visibly disheveled expression. She petted his hair affectionately, at the same time leaning in to brush her lips against his jaw. “You’ve worked hard today, papa~”

He silently tilted his head against hers, his arms already occupied cradling their child. Rindou’s gaze lowered onto where Hi’en was quietly sleeping. His fuzzy little face was barely visible, tucked under one downy front limb as he continued to doze, his little torso gently rising and falling with the cadence of his deep, steady breathing. Just looking at her son made her very happy, regardless of what form he chose to take. He was safe and protected, he was perfectly healthy, and he was growing up well. That was all that mattered.

“…Ah. I forgot the milk and eggs.”

Eishi’s eyes had closed again, and he leaned just a little more into her before she could move away.

“Let’s do that tomorrow… Stay.”

…So maybe she wasn’t the only one who felt a bit lonely now that they wouldn’t be able to take missions together, at least not in the immediate future.

She snuggled down beside him, this boy she loved first long before he gave her another to dote on and adore. Their family might be small and there were also times when it felt like they had no idea what they were doing, but to her, this was perfect.

“’Kay.”

Eishi: Accelerated Thought Process, Mid-Air Combat

Rindou: Gravity Manipulation, Primordial Air Manipulation

Hi’en: Mythical Bestiary, Electric-Fire Manipulation

Chouko: Faithifery, Existence Sense

#Food Wars: Shokugeki no Souma #Tsukasa Eishi #Kobayashi Rindou #EiRin #Shokugeki no Soma #my fics #freestyle #EiRin: Superhero AU

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sveasauvageon · 4 years

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Yours is not to wonder why, yours is to do or die! || GW

☾♔; March 21, 2018 ☾♔; sotd: idk ☾♔; comedian otd: JOHN FU.CKING OLIVER* ☾♔; GW NPC Audition II ☾♔; {G} https://goo.gl/XSTtMc ☾♔; mod(s): @themadmonarchist @maybones et moi

*oh yeah, he's gonna be comedian of the day all fu.cking week long. As of this moment, his book (Last Week Tonight with John Oliver Presents A Day in the Life of Marlon Bundo) is number ONE on Amazon's bestseller's list, outselling not just the Pence's Marlon Bundo book, but James Comey's upcoming tell-all or whatever book about the crazy sh.it at the Trump white house and his firing, and the audiobook version of the Last Week Tonight book is number FOUR, the kindle edition is number FIVE, and all three are ahead on the list than the Pence's book (which is number 7). Guys, I don't have much faith in humanity, we as a species suck (case in point, Trump won the US presidency and so many other problems), but sometimes, like this moment, I love us!

Title: said by Blair Waldorf (my role model in life tbh)

Me: *petty af* Also Me: *passive aggressive af* Thus Me: *manifests pettiness in my oc's*

Preamble Ramble: FINALLY! I've finished one of my auditions! Next up, hopefully Svea, but probs Nika, I'm on a Russia kick, my Swedes will have to wait.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ஜ۩۞۩ஜ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀Vladimir Vladimirovich Sokolov, (17)

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Изучаю тебя нежно-нежно ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Убиваю тебя ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Назови меня эгоистом! ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀-⠀Эгоист by Дима Билан ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀(Dima Bilan, aka my one true love) ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀https://goo.gl/VkQMN3

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ஜ۩۞۩ஜ

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⚜️ THE BASICS

Nickname: Volodya, Vova (but only people with special permission can call him either, call him "Vlad" and he'll end you) Gender: cis-male Date of Birth: May 7 Place of Birth: Moscow, Russia Nationality: Russian-British Ethnicity: eastern Slavic (he's also of anglo-saxon and Karachay descent) Accent: Russian Blood Status: muggle-born

Profession: Student

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⚜️ PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Face Claim: Jon Kortajarena

Hair: dark brown, positively luscious and better than yours could ever hope to be.

Eyes: green

Height: 1.88m

Weight: idk

Body: tol, fit, and ridiculously handsome.

Any Scars/ Marks?: - a long horizontal scar near his right 4th rib. Looks to be from a knife wound or some other blade type weapon, but refuses to explain where it came from (was he stabbed? Sword fight? You don't know! I don't know. Mostly because my answer will be lame compared to the "cool" way he refuses to explain it)

Any Tattoos/ Piercings?: a crowned double-headed eagle on his left shoulder blade and an ouroboros, but as a dragon instead of a snake on the inside of his right arm, near the wrist, around half the length of his forearm (there's a picture of it in his moodboard).

Quirks/ Mannerisms: - uses terms of endearment sarcastically for everyone, such as "darling" or "dear" - identifies the nearest 6 exits every time he enters a room - makes weirdly, somewhat threat-like jokes like "don't move to England if you're a professional traitor, people tend be hanged, thrown out of windows or are poisoned" and "those who serve us with poison will eventually swallow it and poison themselves."

Style: expensive (of course). It's quite preppy, and classy, when not in uniform he prefers well-tailored suits, waistcoats, blazers, has a collection of designer watches. Kind of modern Victorian (well, my view of victorians is endless suits and prefect ettiquette, plus many moral values that contrast my liberal views, but their style was, eh meh. Like, their male style was pretty cool, but I'm not really into around 98% of their female style).

Additional Information: n/a

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⚜️ PERSONALITY:

Head cannon: Vova is a rather intimidating person, in the terrifying sort of way. He carries an air of malice and death everywhere he goes, when he does act "warm and fuzzy", it's always jarring and seen as completely out of character, and possibly the sign of an illness. He is generally seen as the restrained, the quiet kid in the back with a perpetual "plotting your murder" expression on his otherwise handsome face. However, he is also seen as a rather extravagant, and somewhat suspicious person, he always seems to have access to illegal things (in both wizarding and muggle worlds), and seen as impervious to consequence, as regardless of what he does (or is suspected to have done), never gets in trouble.

Personality (+ 5, - 5): Ruthless and shrewd, if you're not careful, he'll screw up your life. He's incredibly manipulative and self-centered, a true stereotypical Slytherin through and through (well, minus the pureblood thing. He's a muggleborn). Definitely overdramatic and decadent af. He is alluring, very much in the evil way, he's attractive, but he does nothing to hide how dark he (seemingly) is. Like, I guess you could say "bad boy attractive", but he's borderline murderous, and possibly a psychopath, so calling him a "bad boy" is not really all that accurate. He's a very proud and arrogant individual (especially about Russia), and quite malevolent, and vicious. He's patient and holds grudges for a long time, and never forgets a slight. He will legit back at you for something said years ago, he doesn't forget that stuff. He's both a great friend and not, he absolutely provides for his friends, buying them things, etc, but cross him in the slightest, he'll ruin you. And on that note, he also doesn't really have "friends", because if you're depending on him for his wealth, you're not really friends, and he's aware of that, he looks at such people more as "minions" than buddies. They're job is to agree with him and do as he commands, otherwise, what's their point. For people who hang out with him whom he doesn't support financially, it's more like tolerable existences, he's a difficult person to like anyway. However, he is capable of befriending people, usually under the guise of "I hate people, but you, you're cool", luring them into a false sense of security and making them feel special at the same time. However, having said that, he is not a pure psychopath, so he does have feelings. He genuinely cares about his family, animals in general, himself, and select few friends whom he does actually care about, but struggles with expressing that to them, since differentiating with people he pretends to befriend and actually considers friends is difficult since "I hate people, except you" is something he says to both types. It'd probably only come out in a life and death situation, since he'd put himself in harms way for people he genuinely gives a sh.it about, and wouldn't bother for the minions.

Any mental health issues: He's probably something between a sociopath and psychopath, like, he does have actual emotions, as limited as they are, so he's not a true socio/psychopath. The argument is made (and a theory that I personally prescribe to, as a shi.tty psychology/sociology student, so don't put any weight or authority behind my opinion) that a psychopath is simply a more extreme and refined sociopath, so under that logic, Vova is basically a less extreme sociopath. (also, also, I have a problem with socio/psychopaths, I make too many of them, and they turn out to be my favourites. This is really worrying guys.) Anyway, under DSM IV (or possibly DSM III, I forgot which one changed the classification), he'd have what was called "an AXIS II Personality disorder", they've gotten rid of that classification now, but it basically listed narcissism, anti-social, sociopathic, and psychopathic personality disorders.

Favorite Quotes/ Sayings that your character would use: - "the fact that you need that explained is just so fu.cking sad." (literally said to anyone who doesn't understand any concept, whether it's something as simple as 2+2=4 or complicated as "imaginary time" -- don't ask, it's one of Stephen Hawking's theories and I don't understand it, I know my son would make fun of me.) - "what a fool" - "don't be attempt to be a comedian fool, you'll only embarrass yourself." - "darling, you have no idea what's possible." - "want to see what true power really looks like?" - "urg, don't be such a pleb/plebeian." - "of course I love Beyoncé, I'm a human being who lives on this planet." - "when better to have truffles and tiramisu than at 3am in Milan on a Thursday?" - "that jacket looks fine." - "dear, when will you learn? I know everything." - "Mudblood? Is that supposed to hurt my feelings? I don't have any of those, so what else are you going to do?"

Additional Information: - never on time. He's always late. You will literally start crying before he shows up he takes so long. - Loves crushing people's dreams (basically his hobby) - has an uncanny ability to suck the joy out of anything (his ex has said "unfortunately, he is a vampire", but in a muggle jokey way and basically the dracula stereotypical view muggles have of dracula, as in dark and not fun, and not an actual vampire) - Chess (muggle and wizard -- a proper, "normal" person hobby) - Has a bit of a smoking habit - has an endless list of blackmail material on people (a lot of which is infuriatingly revealed by GW at various times), and also has a tendency of taping people doing various things which he uses as part of his blackmail library. Seems to have cameras' everywhere and claims to "know everything" about everyone.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⚜️ BIOGRAPHY

Relation to your OC: classmates, housemates (possibly more, formerly, I'm still developing him)

♣️ Family Background

Vova comes from a largely muggle family, however, he is not the first wizard born into their family in recent history, so it wasn't completely a left-field shock when he started displaying magic. The first wizard in their family in the last few centuries (approximately) was Vova's uncle; Ilya Dmitriyevich Shostokov, who attended Koldovstoretz. Vova was the second in recent history, and his younger sister made third. Whilst virtually unknown in the magical world (with the exception of Ilya Shostokov, who has a rather dark reputation in the wizarding world), the Sokolov's are very prominent in the muggle world, particularly in Russia. Vova's grandfather is an Oligarch, who in Russia are effectively businessmen who run the country, the only curtail on their power and influence being the Russian President, and even then, the Russian administration is extremely corrupt, in the last presidential election, the incumbent president was able to literally choose his opponents (not a joke, btw. Putin actually did that in the recent Russian election). Anyway, the Sokolov's have a monopoly over the media industry in Russia, most of which run state-friendly stories, and shut down anything that could potentially insult the presidency. Their family, specifically the current patriarch, is also often accused (mainly in rival papers, magazines, shows, etc) of not only being corrupt, but having involvement with the Zima Bratva. As whole, they maintain an unfavourable public image (as most oligarchs do in the eyes of the Russian public), but are close with the Kremlin, so they remain influential with the government.

Family Members: - Vladimir Yakovlevich Sokolov // Marc Lavoine // Father // 47 // Politician // alive - Catherine Elizabeth Sokolova née Olivier // Emilia Fox // Mother // 46 // Socialite/House-wife // alive - Yevgeniya "Zhenya" Vladimirovna Sokolova // Antonina Vasylchenko // younger sister // 16 // student at Hogwarts // alive - Yakov Lʲvovich Sokolov // Charles Dance // paternal grandfather // 71 // Oligarch/suspected Bratva leader // alive - Ilya Dmitriyevich Shostokov // Nikolaj Coster-Waldau // paternal uncle, once(ish) removed // 43 // dark wizard // alive

♣️ Family Affiliation: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Slytherin House, Russian Government (the muggle one, as a fam they support United Russia, because Vlad Sr is a member. Personally? Who knows whom Vova supports), other Kremlin-close Russian Oligarchs

♣️ Socio-economic status: rich as fu.ck. The exact number and position is actually quite shadowy though. They are amongst the wealthiest muggle families in Russia (Vova's grandfather is an Oligarch), but the retainment (definitely not a word) of their wealth also depends on how friendly they remain with the Kremlin, additionally, their family (mainly Vova's gramps) has been accused of having Bratva ties, and money from that alleged connection is definitely not counted on tax forms.

Quick facts: + Born May 7 in a Moscow Hospital, first son of Vladimir Sokolov, an emerging Russian politician (who eventually made it into the Federation Council). After his sister was born just about a year later, their mother, British-born Catherine Sokolova née Olivier, obtained dual British citizenship for them via "lex sanguinis" (which is a british citizenship law, giving to people who are born abroad is one of their parents is a British citizen by birth. I could've left this out, but I googled this sh.it and I like rambling).

+ Whilst close with his family, Vova was a solitary child, he liked to read and spend time on his own in a corner, or stay at their various Dacha's without anyone else. He never seemed to require any oversight as he never did anything bad (or least, he was never caught). However, he is closest to his grandfather, and would enjoy sitting in on board meetings, just silently observing from a corner. Some of his grandfather's employees (or Minions as Lev calls them, where Vova also got the habit from) found his silent starring creepy and unsettling.

+ Being a muggleborn, he is well-versed with the muggle world and has interacted with them from birth, his parents and grandfather all being muggles, and attended muggle private schools as a child before his letters came. Whilst they employ muggle servants (because they're muggles), his uncle (the first wizard he ever met) employs a house-elf (yes, he pays the house-elf, they might be part of an oppressive government and basically an organized crime family, but they don't do slaves).

+ Vova first discovered magically abilities on his own, when on a trip in Australia with his mother, he discovered a large snake in their hotel room one morning whilst she was still sleeping, being around 3 and not fully comprehending the danger, he just walked up to it and started talking with it. It later slythered (see what I did there) away of it's own accord when Catherine walked in and freaked out about a massive crazy Australian snake (because you guys have scary animals) coiled near her son. As he aged, he noticed he could do other things, such as making things float or disappear.

+ Vova first publically displayed magically abilities (as well as control over them) aged 7, when a board member of one his grandfather's companies was throwing a hissy fit about a child sitting in, and his tie suddenly tightened and started choking him. The man survived, at that instance, died suspiciously at a later date. Anyway, he survived that instance when Lev ordered the meeting to be over and broke Vova's angry glare at the dude. The two immediately then went home, and Lev called Ilya to arrive in "his" way (apparition) and had Ilya introduce Vova to magic and talk about whatever, Lev didn't know the specifics.

+ When his sister discovered powers (shattering all the windows in their Dacha in Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky via screaming, she was told she couldn't keep a Siberian Tiger as a pet), he gave her the "magic talk", and they caused quite a bit of trouble for annoying students at their school, as well as a nearby "plebeian" school (who disliked the children of oligarchs, for very obvious reasons, Oligarchs rule Russia, and they kind of suck). Anyway, they would mess with their things, frame them for crimes that children their age literally could not commit. What 8 year old has cocaine their locker and why does another 8 year old know what it is?

+ He received a letter from both Koldovstoretz and Hogwarts aged 11 (because he's a dual-y), chose Hogwarts since no one in his family had ever gone there before (like, there's only one person in recent history whose ever been magical anyway, but still), also might have had something to do with the Zima bratva's recent (at that time) expansion into the British criminal landscape, who knows?

+ Although he denies any connection, Vova runs effectively a youth branch of his uncle's business, which itself is a branch of the Zima Bratva. Ilya is basically a magical fixer for the Zima Bratva, who, for a very hefty price, uses dark magic to assist/fix the problems of the muggles and magical alike. Vova does basically exactly the same, but for the students at Hogwarts, and for a different price. Instead of money, he collects information and favours to be repaid immediately at any time he demands. He also maintains an iron fisted rule over his "organization", whether they be customers or minions, snitches don't get stitches, snitches get buried 50 feet beneath the ground.

Additional Information: - he is a parselmouth, a trait inherited from a distant magical ancestor (like from back in the Kevian Rus days of his familial ancestry), his sister also inherited the trait, though their uncle did not.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⚜️ HOGWARTS INFORMATION

Is your character a student of Hogwarts?: yeppers If so, which house and year: Slytherin, Seventh Year If not, which house did they belong to while they were at Hogwarts?: n/a

Best Class(s) at Hogwarts: defense against the dark arts

Worst Class(s) at Hogwarts: none

Any Pets?: an ooc, cute af owl (tawny, spotted, he doesn't know. Okay, I don't know, but as a consequence, neither does Vova), it's smol and got big round eyes, it's name is Harold and yes, it is his best friend, and yes, he did get it at diagon alley at his sister's instance, and accidentally got attached to it. He does like animals though, the Solokov Dacha in the outskirts of Yakutsk has effectively become a cross between an animal hospital and habitat for, welp, animals. Vova spends most of his holidays there (often alone, not including servants, as it's cold AF. Yakutsk is the second coldest major city in the world, after Norilsk, but it's winter's are colder than Norilsk's), he's ability to visit has increased since he learned how to apparate. He's also really interested, invested, and active in wildlife conservation, and often goes tagging Siberian tigers and polar bears etc with various animal protection organizations in Russia (the muggle ones).

Reputation at Hogwarts: Volodya has a largely dark reputation, he's more infamous than famous. He's known for messing with people, and not in a fun way, and he's generally seen as some kind of criminal. His uncle is well known is the magical world as a "Jack of all trades of villainy", and Vova definitely fits that villain mold too. He probably wouldn't be too close to the elites, they're sort of glittering in their ivory towers, and his tower is dark and gloomy, and lacks joy because he finds it annoying. Although, he and E probs might've gotten along in her pureblood bully gang days, or actually would've been antagonistic, he's basically as evil as them, but he's a mudblood, so meh, maybe rival bullies? Idk, I'll leave that for plotting. Anyway, he's not got a "bad boy" rep so much as a "omg, he's literally the worst person alive, why are you trying to be his friend, does he have a incriminating evidence on you?" type rep.

Additional Information: n/a

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⚜️ INDIVIDUAL MAGIC

Wand: yew Wand Core: veela hair (acquired by his uncle through unknown means, there was a report of a veela going missing right around the time Uncle Ilya got that hair so...) Wand Length: 13½" Wand Flexibility: inflexible

Patronus: Eurasian brown bear

Boggart: appears as the corpses of his family, killed via poison/nerve agent. His fear being a government revolution and his family getting caught up in that or his family losing the Kremlin's favour. The result would be the same in both scenarios tbh.

Amortentia: citrus, gun powder, and mint

Affinity to any particular magic? - I dunno if you'd call it an affinity, but he is waaaay too into the unforgivable curses and it's waaaaaay too easy for him to perform them. - dark magic/dark arts (you guys know exactly why he has an affinity for it XP)

Additional Information: - whilst he loves magic, he also has a deep fascination with muggle weapons (particularly the ones developed by his country), and has been experimenting with magically evolving them, particularly poisons and nerve agents.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⚜️ USER INFORMATION

Username: @drownedinmoonlight Activity Level (Scale 1-10): 8

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⚜️ OPTIONAL Playlist: Moodboard: https://goo.gl/R7DVjp Social Media (instagram, facebook, snapchat, twitter, etc): Storyboard: https://goo.gl/h6DJfB Aesthetic Collection: Wardrobe/Style Collection: Plotting Set: Story:

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ஜ۩۞۩ஜ

When you have completed the audition, please tag the mods: @drownedinmoonlight @themadmonarchist and @maybones and use the hashtag #GWnpc

#polyvore #audition #template #vova sokolov #mine #gw

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