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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

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I personally would *really* like to know more about Mace's intro to General Obi-Wan, and how Anakin and Obi-Wan interact in the mind space now. That's got to be so weird, right? Though I bet it's VERY useful when the kids are having some emotion or issue that they can't quantify or explain, or that they don't want to explain: ask the grownup versions and they'll be able to say what's going down. But I mean, in mind-space does OW & A's relationship average out into 'very affectionate (cont)

(cont) brothers who are *very* invested in each other's well being? (They can have the Dad conversation of 'please eat your veggies' from EITHER direction!) I'm imagining, just, a lot of lounging on each other. Mace is introduced to the older versions via meditation and the first thing OW does, even before saying hello, is stroll over to A, sit down, throw his legs across his lap and lean into his side. Also, imagine A coming to OW for advice in meditation, and Ben going to A for advice IRL.

My favorite part of the Jedi Babies AU is what adult!Obi-Wan's relationship with Anakin is like in the meditation-area, is what I'm saying. Followed by how the mini-versions of Soka and Ben act out in real space. The whole thing with them very seriously researching local law so they can hold accurate trials with their stuffed animals was adorable, and I loved how foreboding and mystic Ahsoka came off in the Dooku conversation.

I went back and re-read a bunch of the Jedi babies posts and I have to admit, this: "He gets headaches if he tries to think like an adult for too long, so he shifts between “Master Kenobi, helping Anakin figure out how to fix the world” and “literal child who just wants a nap and cuddles.”" actually probably answers all of my questions and means that adult!OW's relationship with Anakin is probably much the same, just. Still with more cuddles. And prob. with better communication/ less criticism.

OKAY SO (human) babies are like. Wired to require human contact. It's a chemical thing. If you hold a baby, the baby's body will make oxytocin and stuff like that, and the baby will be happy!

(And also not die. Babies can absolutely die without enough physical contact.)

So IRL/waking Soka and Ben are in a position where they constantly crave physical contact, because they are So Damn Young. Obviously, the main provider of that contact is Anakin, and each other, and Shmi, so they're pretty quickly accustomed to being really, really tactile with 'Dad.'

This transfers to the adult shared mindspace, in that they're so used to hugs and cuddles with Anakin that they all just kind of... drift together. The shaping of that physical contact isn't the same, for a variety of reasons, but there's a lot of leaning against each other, Soka lying down with her head in someone's lap, Anakin and Ben making sure their shoulders touch when they sit down, etc. When meeting Mace, they sit so that Anakin's got his arm over Ben's shoulders, which isn't that weird of a position for two adult men who consider each other brothers. They're less tactile, if only because adult General Kenobi can't crawl into Anakin's lap the way the kid version can, but there's still skinship and shared body heat and hugs. It's only weird if you remember that the older of them is currently the slightly creepy eight-year-old you met half an hour ago.

They are undeniably family in every manner, though. That part is never in question.

It's a little weird, moreso for Ben than for Soka. She's gone from little sister to daughter, but she's still 'younger female family member, who views Anakin as a loving authority on account of being an older family member.'

Ben's gone from parent to child, and when a solid 98% of his time is spent as the child, but the history is that of being the parent and being the one with advice, it's weird. They still mostly manage to make it work, though, because meeting up in the mindspace is usually done only for strategizing and whatnot, and gets less and less necessary as they get older. Soka's headaches-when-I-try-to-think-with-my-full-history taper off by the time she's about eighteen, physically; she’s actually two years older than she was at the point of time travel, by that point, but she’s got thirty years of memories so her brain needs a wee bit extra time to grow to hold all of it. Ben... I want to say early twenties for him, because he's got so much more to process.

By that point, they're... not quite who they were, but they're not exactly fresh new people, either. It was never a case of whether or not they'd 'meld,' because they were never really separate, just unable to access everything and limited by the wiring they had. As they can process more and more, they think with some of their old methods (e.g. critical thinking on how to assess propaganda, strategy patterns to approach a battlefield, rebuilding habits for lightsaber usage that they remember in theory but don't actually feel natural yet) in tandem with learning new ones from their new environment (e.g. learning Mandalorian battle logic, Tatooine survival priorities).

There's like. A whole thing in my brain about how Mandalorian, Tatooine, Jedi, Coruscanti, and Shili cultural and logic patterns interact.

WORD OF NOTE: I was an international business major who focused on intercultural communications and marketing. I'm thinking about these in terms of like... Hofstede's cultural dimensions and that whole thing where (I can't remember the actual term) a proper sentence in Russian looks like a run-on in English because the way we structure things looks completely different, and the way information is supposed to be presented when written in order for a person to optimally process what they're reading is completely different due to how we're all trained to learn, and when you pair that with the child psychology aspect of also learning new languages with adjusted neuroplasticity while slowly regaining access to full adult memories as time passes in which you have familiar but completely different cultural values that you now have to reconcile with the things you've learned to consider important with the people who are raising you--

I have a lot of thoughts on this sort of thing.

To put it lightly.

#anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #obi wan kenobi #ben kenobi #disaster lineage #star wars #the clone wars #time travel #de aging #Anakin and the Jedi Babies

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outoftheframework · 4 years

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characterization cheat sheet: the batfamily boys

Hey everyone! I had the idea to compile a comprehensive list of different traits and attributes for each member of the batfamily based off of both canon and fanon interpretations. I think this could be useful for new members to the fandom, or those looking to write and/or draw for these characters. Remember that these will have a slight bias considering I, a fanon creator, am creating the lists. But I’ll try to make them as accurate as possible.

Appearances vary from artist to artist, so I’ll try to stray away from general details and add more little things you can consider in your art.

Bruce Wayne:

Age: 35-45

Appearance: Extremely physically fit, but signs of aging and prolonged exertion can slip through. Has a collection of scattered scars varying from fresh to fully healed. Strong, dark features. Conventionally attractive, but can easily switch to be foreboding/intimidating. Well kept in public appearances, but can look like death incarnate when in private.

Personality: Dual personas: “Bruce” (at home, but not as batman) and “Brucie” (public appearances like galas, news interviews). Bruce is stoic, well-read and educated, well-mannered, and occasionally can be witty and laid-back. Smirks rather than smiles. Brucie is loud, spontaneous, charming, and sometimes oblivious. He is the womanizer and scandal-maker. Often the actions of Brucie are motivated by Batman’s interests.

Speech: Bruce was mainly raised by as English butler, so his speech patterns are proper and smooth. Rarely uses speech fillers such as “uh” and “um,” except when interrupted while concentrating. Despite living in Gotham his entire life, he has not picked up the accent. His voice is newscaster American, almost impossible to pinpoint to a certain region. His speech as Brucie changes to relate more to the audience he is addressing. Speeches to Gotham high society will sound different than those aimed to the general public.

Additional Attributes: Bruce Wayne in all of his personalities is fiercely protective, and can easily slip into a deeper voice to intimidate. Bruce can be extremely empathetic and slightly impulsive when it comes to children who have lost their parents. As learned through his training to become Batman, Bruce is disciplined and can work for hours straight.

Dick Grayson:

Age: 23-29

Appearance: Dick Grayson mirrors a young Bruce Wayne despite their not being blood related. This could be a subconscious action by Dick to absorb traits of his father figure. His lean acrobatic body starts to set him apart from Bruce’s image. Dick manages to be well-built but still limber and flexible. His feet and hands are rough and calloused. His hair can get long but usually stays at a length in between Bruce’s and Tim’s. His eyes are bright blue without even a hint of green or brown.

Personality: In one comic I believe it was Superman who said that Dick Grayson is a universal constant, meaning that on every alternate earth or timeline, you can always rely on him to be good and pure. I think this really sums up who Dick should be. He is kind to a fault, and can sometimes be naive and not think things through. He loves to love, be that in his family, in his romantic relationships, in his friendships, and even in strangers. He is a chronic hero who only wants to see the world as a better place. But it’s important to note that Dick can get angry when pushed, and holds grudges.

Speech: Dick is an extremely interesting study in speech patterns. As a child he traveled with the circus, until he lived with clear-spoken Bruce Wayne and a proper English butler. So influences to his speech and accent come both internationally and locally to Gotham and Bludhaven. As a child living at Wayne Manor, Dick picks up a slight Gotham tinge to his accent with some British flourish in his vowel sounds. He regularly speaks in slang. As Nightwing he is able to suppress his unique speech to sound more evenly American.

Additional Attributes: Dick acts differently around each of his family members as to be what they need in a big brother. For example, he is more fatherly to Damian while to Tim he is more an equal. Dick can fidget and has less of an attention span than Bruce. He can use jokes as a coping mechanism.

Jason Todd:

Age: 22-26

Appearance: Hair is often long on top and shorter on the sides, sometimes with a white streak as a side effect from the Lazarus Pit. Tallest and heaviest of all the kids, very physically intimidating. Has a lot of scars and burns, and in some fan works he has a “Y” shaped scar the length of his chest from his autopsy. Never skips leg day. Green/blue eyes.

Personality: Jason goes through a lot of character development, but for this list I’m going off a timeline of post-Under the Red Hood, where Jason is on okay, yet still a little shaky, terms with the rest of the family. Jason has a hard time separating vigilante life and civilian life; his death as Robin ended his life as Jason Todd, blurring the lines between the two. Jason is legally dead, so he is basically building an identity back up. He holds some attributes from childhood: brave, impulsive, loud-mouthed, and street-smart. But his experiences post-Robin have made him a hardened loner. He lives modestly and with some semblance of order. He’s hard to foster a relationship with, but can be a passionate friend/family member when he opens up.

Speech: Jason probably has the least influence from Bruce and Alfred’s speech patterns, seeing as though he spent a lot more time with his biological family/on the streets than he did as a preteen in the manor. He is the definition of Gotham vernacular, with a rough edge. So much so that as a child, the high society gala attenders sometimes had a hard time understanding him. Often talks in curt, short sentences.

Additional Attributes: He has trouble expressing his emotions, more specifically anger and/or grief. Can both love or hate furiously. Inherently good, but sometimes does “bad” things. Protective over children, especially those living on the street. Very much a believer in “the ends justify the means.”

Tim Drake:

Age: 17-20

Appearance: Pale skin, dark hair. Sharp cheek bones and jawline, mostly from how skinny he is. His body isn’t technically “built” to be extremely athletic, but he’s forced a nice lean build from stringently working out. Easily loses and gains weight as a direct result of his work, causing fluctuations in his build. Five foot something, will eventually be out-grown by Damian. Long hair that can still be styled to look professional.

Personality: Tim Drake is very passionate in pretty much everything he sets his mind to. He feels as though he imposed himself onto Batman to become Robin, so he works twice as hard to prove his worth. He can be self conscious and deprecating. Tim as Robin or Red Robin is very different than civilian Tim; his hero personas can be bolder and more confident. Despite dropping out of high school, he values education.

Speech: Tim grew up rich, and his speech reflects an intelligence gained from private tutors. Despite this, he knows how to interact with those his age in using less formal language and slang. Often quotes books and movies. Can be awkward and stumble over his words when teased by his friends/family. He can manipulate people easily in business settings by talking fast and confidently while explaining complex topics.

Additional Attributes: Tim’s demeanor is directly tied to his varying levels of confidence and anxiety. Tim is has above-average intelligence and is diligent in detective work, but can still act like a teenager. He can be stubborn to extremes and will patiently play the long con. He does not cope well with loss.

Duke Thomas:

Age: 17-19

Appearance: Short dark hair, shaved on the sides and/or the back. Often wears the colors yellow and black. Around the same height as Tim, but a little taller. Stronger and heavier build more alike to Jason than Dick, but he’s still light on his feet. Expressive face that can give away his feelings easily. Still a bit of a baby face, but he’s still well-proportioned and conventionally handsome.

Personality: In my works, I’ve often described Duke as having a “sun-shiny” personality. He is one to not even think twice about putting others before himself. Duke uses his own personal experiences to guide him as a hero rather than suppress his emotions. Duke went from being an only child to having a large family, so he can sometimes feel overwhelmed. He is on friendly terms with every member of the batfamily, as well as many other heroes. Duke is self-sacrificial and is still learning how to effectively work as a detective.

Speech: Duke grew up in a middle class Gotham family, so his speech is influenced by his parents as well as his city environment. Duke has a mild Gotham accent and speaks a lot in modern slang. He hasn’t had much influence from Bruce and Alfred, considering he hasn’t lived with them for long. It’s possible that as he grows he will pick up some influences from Bruce and Tim’s way of speaking, but will most likely hold onto the accent of his childhood.

Additional Attributes: Duke is a metahuman vigilante in a city where Batman typically bans them, which causes a bit of an insecurity and a perfectionist drive. These are exasperated by the long line of history preceding him, as well as the fact that he involved himself in the Robin movement rather than being handpicked by Batman. He and Tim can relate in that way. Duke is an ardent student of Batman and is dedicated to the cause.

Damian Wayne:

Age: 10-14

Appearance: Looks similar to Bruce when he was the same age, yet stronger and with tanner skin. His hair is expertly cut and styled, but still age-appropriate. He is the shortest of the batkids, but still has a lot of time and potential to grow. He pretty much won the genetics lottery with Bruce and Talia as his biological parents, and is made for athletics. He has some scars that stand out with their pale coloring against his tan skin.

Personality: Damian is slowly becoming less of a brat, to put it bluntly. He admires his family and tries to mimic them, but will never confess it. Damian is quick to judge and will voice his opinion no matter how scathing it may be, both as civilian and hero. Damian is slowly realizing he may not want the Batman mantle as quickly as he planned. Jon is a perfect foil to Damian, and often makes him a better person when they’re together.

Speech: His speech is proper and formal. Prefers formal titles: ex. “father” over “dad” and last names over first. Damian is at least bilingual (Arabic and English), and can switch between languages easily. Most of his speech patterns developed from his tutors in the League, and more recently, Alfred. Influences like Jon and Dick have introduced him to a more modern, laid-back way of speaking, which he sometimes utilizes when relaxed.

Additional Attributes: Damian has problems with authority, especially those that he doesn’t respect like his teachers at school. He can be arrogant and childish ever though he often acts like he knows everything. Damian is still a child and has much to learn from batman and family as well as unlearn from his time at the League. Dami was forged to be a ruthless warrior, but now has to find a balance between the hero Robin and the child Damian Wayne.

Hope this helps someone! Feel free to add on if you think I missed anything. Just please remember to be civil and respect different interpretations of these characters. Let me know if you want another one of these posts outlining the girls or other characters.

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foxymoxynoona · 3 years

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Ashtoreth

Ok, I had told Tae_ree on ao3 that I was inspired by her story Cam Girl back in the day to barf out a little cam girl story of my own, which I then immediately abandoned. I looked and I wrote this on July 20, 2020. It's not a full story arc or anything, just a little snippet I abandoned BUT I had forgotten that actually this was a stepping stone to writing Amended and Meadow, as you'll see from some themes I repurposed. I thought I'd share even though this isn't really a complete story because I think it can be interesting to see how inspiration and ideas morph over time into something completely different.

Content warnings for this: nsfw, 18+ , cam girl, voyeurism, masturbation, I don't actually know anything about cam girls and I didn't bother to learn since this was just a little writing exercise, so there ya go...

Tattoo Artist!JK x Camgirl!Reader

He didn’t watch much. Well, he watched plenty of porn, but Jungkook didn’t follow live camgirls because seeing the show live made him feel… awkward. Nervous. It felt so intimate, to have a girl talking live to the camera, to be able to type in the chat and have her notice your comment. It made it feel too much like a living, breathing person --not that he didn’t think women in porn were real! But… it was an image he was watching. Something a woman had cultivated, edited, decided to share. A live camgirl was performing in a different way and…

Well, he just felt guiltier watching camgirls. So he didn’t watch them much. Maybe he’d tune in if there was one on, and then he’d feel too ashamed of his own… earnestness. Live cam girls were a level of intimacy that… that was cruel. That he wanted. Camgirls reminded him too clearly of what he didn’t have in real life, and that made him feel ashamed and pathetic and broken. And so he’d leave almost as soon as he started watching and go find some safe, static porn.

But there was one. Ashtoreth. He couldn’t resist her. He was pathetic, weak for this woman, and wound up making an account --which he never did-- just so he could subscribe and get alerts whenever she scheduled a show. Even just the act of getting an alert made him stiffen, made the blood start to trickle south, because he knew what was coming.

He didn’t know what Ashtoreth’s face looked like. And she often wore colored wigs, so whatever he did see wasn't identifiable She had a pretty average body, neither the fit nor voluptuous extremes that tended to dominate the suggested videos. She had a somewhat soft belly and hips and thighs. She had those stripes on the inside of her thighs, too. And a beautiful tattoo along her hip that he desperately wanted to see in closer detail. Her tits weren’t huge, but soft and squeezable and real. Sometimes she presented herself bare to the camera, other times tidy, and sometimes fully grown out. She said she felt like it was a matter of principle to create videos with natural hair growth, even if she preferred to be better kept because she often got horny and juicy throughout the day and it was easier for her to keep clean. That had fucked Jungkook up for a little while. It didn’t help that she had the prettiest pussy he had ever seen, beautifully shaped and colored, and even just tuning in to see how much he’d be able to see was worth the effort. And he liked the idea that she had principles like that.

In fact, he liked all the things she talked about. She was very personable, in a way that was horribly endearing. She played video games, which had actually been what struck him first; that was how he’d found her, because he’d seen that a camgirl was playing Overwatch with a vibrating egg in, and so he’d tuned in, and she was good, and it meant the next time he’d played, it had made him too hard to concentrate, remembering the way she’d whined and moaned and cum just after she’d won her match. Fucking dream girl.

She took suggestions of things to do from high donors, within reason. He wasn’t the only one that liked when she got sort of passionate and fixated on something interesting she’d learned and wanted to share. She spoke several languages and alternated between them --English and Spanish. She claimed to speak more Korean, but never spoke that on her cams, and Jungkook was far too shy to ask her to. It would do him in, but it was also his fucking dream. Did she really speak Korean? It seemed so unusual for a foreigner.

So he liked the things she spoke about too, he liked when she shared her interests, even though it made him feel guiltier because he knew he was looking for the wrong sorts of connections in porn. A cam girl was just performing. It was possible everything she talked about was fake. She was trying to earn money, after all. It funded the toys she bought, the pretty lingerie. People funded those things, all the men and women who tuned in to watch her tease herself into a whining mess and then cum all over the sheets. She’d taught herself to squirt on camera, even giggling at how unreliable it was. She’d just started doing some anal and admitted it made her nervous. She was just so sweet and sexy at the same time, and it all fed into this horrible, horrible fixation Jungkook had that she was his dream girl, even though he knew it wasn’t true and it wasn’t real.

And then at the end of a live, she’d curled up on her side, flushed, panting a little, hand lazily stroking her hip, and said in Korean, “By the way, I thought I’d mention here because my stats say I have a lot of viewers from Asia, but I’m looking for a tattoo artist and it’s hard to find. So if anyone knows a good one in Korea, let me know!”

Jungkook came on his hand. He hunched forward, spluttering and frozen. It had ruined his good orgasm, the shock --he always had good orgasms when he jerked himself off to watching her. He particularly loved after she came, the way she lay there and giggled sort of breathily and talked about the random things that came to mind. But he had not expected her to speak Korean for the first time. And he had not expected her to ask for tattoo artist recommendations.

He froze. He stared at the screen, grunting a little as his cock twitched. Should he-- no. He couldn’t. He shouldn’t. That would be stupid. And weird. And creepy. But like… what the fuck? Did she actually live in Korea?? Her profile didn’t give a location, but he’d always assumed the States since she spoke English primarily. Did… what… and she needed a tattoo artist…

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck,” he grumbled, grabbing a tissue and wiping his hand off. He couldn’t say anything. He shouldn’t.

But if he didn’t, her other followers would, right? Why was she asking for recs? She was setting herself up for harassment! She couldn’t just ask people who watched her pleasure herself for IRL recommendations!

Frantic with a need to protect her, it was perhaps the only thing that could have led him to message her.

GKtat97: hello. Are you sure it’s a good idea to ask for suggestions here? You could get bad guys answering

Ashtoreth: hello. Are you saying you’re a bad guy? ;)

GKtat97: no! I’m very serious! Be safe! But if you need a place my friend does really good tattoos in seoul. I don’t know where you are looking but I didn’t know you were in Korea

Ashtoreth: oh really? Yes I have moved a few times but I’m currently in Korea. Does your friend work in a parlor somewhere?

GKtat97: yes. Byeolbit Tattoo downtown. Whole studio of great artists

Ashtoreth: awesome, thank you! Have you had work done there?

GKtat97: yeah

Ashtoreth: cool I will definitely take a look. Thank you for the recommendation! What’s your friend’s name?

GKtat97: anyone there is good but my friend is jjk. If you ask for him, he’ll hook you up

Ashtoreth: excellent, I’ll check out his portfolio on their website. Thanks babe :*

Fuck fuck fuck, what was he doing? If anything, he should have suggested her to one of his friends there. Because what if she actually did follow up? What if she made an appointment and came in for a tattoo by him and he got to touch her… fuck, that was entirely unprofessional. He couldn’t do it. Maybe if she knew he was the one watching her, then he wouldn’t feel so morally conflicted, but there was no way he could tell this woman to her face oh yeah, that was me messaging you, I watch you finger yourself to get off. Fuck.

Well. It was highly unlikely she’d be following up, anyway. He comforted himself with that. Probably a dozen guys were messaging her now, trying to get her business so they could tattoo her body.

Ugh. She’d called him babe. He groaned and felt his cock twitch in pleasure just at that reality. She’d called him babe, this faceless woman with the beautiful voice and body. Fuck.

As far as he could tell, no one unusual had reached out to the tattoo parlor, though it was hard to really guess what that would mean. He’d idly flipped through the appointment calendar but of course it wasn’t like she’d make an appointment under Ashtoreth. No one had requested him out of the ordinary. And she’d done a couple more lives in the past couple weeks, so he figured that meant she’d decided to go with someone else. Which hurt a bit, sure, but he was trying to be an adult about it. After all, it was for the best.

And then during lunch, Mina popped her head back and asked, “Hey, there’s a woman who came by to see if you can do a consult…”

“Is she in the schedule?” Jungkook asked.

Mina made a face but admitted, “No… but that’s my fault. I’ve been trying to get something scheduled for her for a couple weeks now and forgot to write it down-- I’m sorry!”

Jungkook rolled his eyes and teased, “Mina, it’s the whole point of your job to write it down…”

“I know. I feel so bad. I’ll buy your lunch tomorrow. Can you meet with her now?”

“Fine.”

He shoved one final bite of food into his mouth, then went to wash his hands and rinse his mouth out so he wouldn’t risk sauce or broccoli in his teeth for a consult. He was still hungry but maybe if this went quickly he’d have time to scarf down the rest of it.

He stepped out to the front area where a woman sat in one of the chairs, looking a little uncomfortable actually. He thought it must be her first tattoo and that she was nervous; he got a lot of young women in for their first tattoo, a little butterfly or hummingbird on their ankle or wrist. She stood when he approached and gave him a rather dubious smile.

“Are you Jeon Jungkook?” she asked. In Korean, which was unusual but not unheard of for a foreigner. A young woman had probably come here to teach or something and learned the language, but she had a good grasp of it.

“Yes. Hello.”

“I’m Y/N,” she answered, shaking his hand.

“Nice to meet you. Sorry about the mix up--”

“It’s my fault!” Mina sighed dramatically.

“I’m sorry I’m interrupting your lunch. Should I come back another day?”

“No, it’s fine. What are you looking for?”

“Well, I um, I need one covered up and I was hoping to get something custom to cover it. I saw your portfolio and it looks like you’ve done that kind of thing before.”

He nodded, “Yeah, it’s not a problem. Do you have ideas?”

“Yeah… but I’m also kind of open… I’m not an artist, so…”

“Can you show me what you’re wanting covered up?”

“Uh, yeah…”

“We can step back here,” Jungkook offered when she seemed a little shy. She followed him back to one of the pods and leaned her hip against the table as if for strength, then lifted her shirt to show him a man’s name scrawled across her ribs.

“Is it ok if I examine it?” he asked her. She nodded and he sat on a stool to lean in close and look. It was not well done; if it was the man’s copied signature, he had an ugly hand, but the tattoos itself was also uneven, too shallow in some places, too deep in others. However the scratchy and loopiness of it would be pretty easy to design a pattern over.

“I can see by your face it’s ugly. I know. It was… complicated,” she admitted. “I keep it covered with make up usually but I want it gone.”

“That’s easy to cover,” he assured her. “What do you want over it?”

“Well, I thought-- I have this tattoo,” she told him, lifting the other side of her shirt to expose the flower design crawling out of the waistband of her pants over her hip.

Jungkook froze. She was talking but he didn’t hear anything she said because he knew that tattoo. This was Ashtoreth. He looked up at her face, frozen with shock. This was Ashtoreth’s face. How had he not recognized her voice? But she was speaking Korean and he’d only heard her speak it that once and he hadn’t expected this

“Will that work?” she asked.

“Sorry… could you repeat?” Fuck.

“If it can match this?” she asked him. “Except adding in some violets.”

“Oh. Yes. That’s not a problem,” he assured her. “Um, how big are you thinking?”

She motioned with her hands, then asked, “Am I going to die? I know rib tattoos are supposed to be pretty bad… But I’ve had a baby and I got this thing so I’m not a total baby…”

“You have a kid?” he repeated, then immediately cursed himself. Why did that matter? But it was a real thing about her and it was not what he’d expected.

“Um, yeah. Do you have kids?”

“No,” he said simply. And then because apparently he couldn’t stop himself, he pointed, “I guess he wasn’t a very good father, huh?”

She gave him a small laugh and a crooked grin that made his heart actually flutter and agreed, “No, he wasn’t. But I did get something good out of it, so that’s what I want to cover his name with.”

“Flowers?”

“Violets. My daughter with him is called Violet.”

“Ah. That’s… sweet.” He looked away from her, sliding over to the counter to get his camera. “Can I take a picture? I’ll draw a design and you can leave your email with Mina. Once we get that, we’ll make an appointment.”

“Ok. Yes.” She turned to the side and held her shirt steady for him to take a picture of the names, a couple so he’d be able to recreate it flat.

“Mind if I get one of that too, so I can remember it?”

“Do you want the whole thing?”

“No, just the top is fine, if this has all the style elements you want.” So turned and posed for him to get this second one, and he tried to ignore that he was sweating a little to now have personal photos of Ashtoreth. This wasn’t ok. It wasn’t ok. It was unethical. It was ok for him to tattoo her if she knew he knew, but otherwise it was unethical, right?

But he didn’t tell her. Because he was stupid and struck a little dumb by her. He couldn’t comprehend that he was seeing her in person right now, that he was seeing the tattoo up close that had factored into how many of his solo sessions now? And this other tattoo, that never showed in her videos! He knew something now none of her other viewers did.

She thanked him for his time and he promised to get her a sketch within a week and then she left. The whole exchange had been so… normal, compared to how he might have envisioned it.

She hadn’t been anything like he’d expected, but maybe that wasn’t fair. He tuned into her next live after debating it, but he couldn’t bring himself to miss it. He wanted to see if he could see traces of her bad tattoo, but she did a good job of hiding it.

Anyway, why should he be surprised that she had been polite and sweet and a little shy? Because he didn’t expert a camgirl to be those things in real life? But that came through in her cams and it was one of the things that had even initially drawn him to her channel.

It was different now though. She slid her fingers down her panties and he knew what her face looked like. She pressed her fingers into her wet hole and he knew she’d had a child. He knew her real hair color and her real eye color and the sound of her voice in person. Soon he would spend hours hunched over her body, etching something permanent into her skin that would hopefully please her, that all her viewers would see on her. How would she unveil it? Would she give him credit? She’d already been very excited about the design he’d emailed her.

#mywriting #tumblronly #jk x reader #bts smut #drabble

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gaeilgeoirgay · 3 years

Text

Naimhde

This is also part of Pósadh Eagraithe :The Series and I hope you like it! It’s from Han Solo’s POV when he first realises that 1. Boba’s alive and 2. Boba is married to Din meaning that 3. He can’t shoot Boba :(

Ao3 Link

Naimhde= Enemies

Look, Han Solo was having a good day. Emphasis on was. Ben had slept through the night again so Han got his full recommended hours of rest. Then Leia had had the morning off from the Senate so they had all gone to the park together. Luke was on planet for once with the green frog child so Ben was able to play with him. Leia had told him days ago that they were required to attend a ball that was being hosted to celebrate the Republic getting a treaty with Mandalore so he’d already gone through the seven stages of grief about that.

Now, he’s at said ball and across the room from him, Boba fucking Fett is smirking at him. Han snarls at the look the bastard has on his (apparently very scarred?) face but Leia puts a warning hand on his shoulder. “I know that’s Fett but he’s the leader of the Tatooine crime syndicate now, and rumour has it he’s taken over a couple more of the Hutt Space planets. He’s powerful, Han, and he probably hates us enough. No fighting.” She hisses into his ear.

Of course Boba Fett came out of a fucking sarlacc pit to become a godsdamned crime lord. He shouldn’t have been surprised. And he clearly has some sort of power in Mandalore because Mandalorians aren’t naturally deferential but they seem to treat Fett with an extra bit of respect.

A silver Mandalorian comes over to Fett and says something lowly to him. Fett nods and saunters over to Han and Leia with the other Mando striding ahead of him. “That’s the Mand’alor, their king. No one knows his name or species and he never takes his helmet off in front of non-Mandalorians. He signed the treaty as ‘Mand’alor the Reclaimer’ and his people adore him. He’s rumoured to be absolutely deadly, so once again, Han, I don’t care if he’s coming over with Boba Fett, behave.” Leia whispers and Han suppresses his urge to punt Fett into the nearest star.

Contrary to popular belief, Han is smart enough not to piss off the ruler of a warrior culture that are supposedly the greatest fighters in the galaxy. He got lucky with Fett the first time, he’s not making the man’s whole planet mad at him by fucking with their king.

Their pretty intimidating king, he’s not gonna lie. There’s a veritable armoury on the Mand’alor’s person and Han can see the familiar shape of a lightsaber hilt at his waist. Leia had mentioned something about a ‘Darksaber’ and Han does not want to find out the difference between a Darksaber and a lightsaber firsthand.

The Mand’alor inclines his head in a regal greeting as he halts in front of Leia. “Senator Organa, it’s a pleasure to meet you in person. Luke mentions you often.” He says in a low, smooth voice. Huh. Han is absolutely loyal to Leia but if the Mando king ever offers a threesome…..

Wait, how does Mando know Luke? Leia seems confused too but she hides it well. “The honour is all mine, Your Majesty. I wasn’t aware you were acquainted with my brother though?” She says politely, voicing the question in a much more eloquent manner than Han would’ve.

Mando chuckles and answers her with a smile in his voice. “Cuun ad, Grogu, is one of Luke’s students. He’s the small green one with an affinity for frogs.” He explains and Han raises an eyebrow. Luke had said that Grogu would never grow to be taller than maybe hip height but Mando is of fairly average height for a humanoid species. 5’10 or ’11 maybe.

Leia smiles brightly. “Yes, I do know Grogu. Luke mentioned his father was a Mandalorian. That would be you, then?” She says, relaxing slightly. Talking about children is a safe topic, even when Boba Fett is part of the conversation, and no, Han is not letting that go, he’s a Senator’s trophy husband, he’s mastered the art of polite glaring.

Fett speaks up then, still smirking. “Both of his fathers are Mandalorians. I adopted Grogu when the two of us said the riduurok.” He says, looking directly at Han as his brain freezes in its tracks.

Boba Fett is married? Boba Fett is married to the king of Mandalore? Boba Fett is a father?

None of that computes. Han Solo and Boba Fett are not supposed to have anything in common and Boba Fett is most certainly not supposed to be a regular human being with a spouse and kids and apparently a job, if being a crime lord counts as one. But clearly he is and Han is mad about it. It may be irrational but the bastard froze him in carbonite for three years and he’s gotten away with it. Whenever Han imagined Fett it was as a corpse being digested by a plant monster, not as a successful husband and father. Oh, Han is so mad.

Leia squeezes his hand a little tighter than necessary and Han grits his teeth. No fighting. He can do this. He really doesn’t want to do this. Chandrila’s sun is actually quite hot, he knows Beskar has a high melting point but he reckons it wouldn’t hold up against a star. He could just get in the Falcon, with Fett, and then space him beside the star. Boom, problem solved.

Leia is congratulating Fett and the Mand’alor on their marriage and subsequent child. To be completely honest with himself, Han may or not be considering telling Luke to get Grogu into therapy. Having Boba Fett as a father would definitely fuck a kid up.

He tunes back into the conversation as the Mand’alor answers Leia and immediately wishes he hadn’t. “Yes, children are the most important part of our culture. I adopted Grogu before we got together and I actually only met Boba a little while before Luke began teaching him. Boba always knew Grogu was part of the picture and honestly, the kid loves him. His second vow after the riddurok was a gai bal manda for Grogu.” Mando says, helmet tilted towards Fett. It’s probably the armoured equivalent of a sappy look and Han resists the urge to scowl.

He doesn’t know what a riderock or a gabblemanda is but it’s clearly important to Mandalorians and Fett is smiling broadly at his husband. Ugh.

“Oh, that’s incredibly sweet. How did you two meet?” Leia asks and Han screams internally. “When I first Found Grogu, my tribe took on the Hunter’s Guild so we could escape. I was trying to find more Mandalorians and I came across an areuttise on Tatooine who had Boba’s armour. I helped him take down a krayt dragon that was attacking his village and in exchange, he returned the armour to a mando’ad. Boba tracked me to Tython and said he would help me protect Grogu if I gave him back his armour. We were attacked by Dark Troopers and they took Grogu for Moff Gideon. Boba helped me get Grogu back and once he’d taken over Tatooine, he joined our efforts to reclaim Mandalore.” Mando explains and Leia smiles.

“That sounds romantic. The first time I met Han I threatened him.” Leia says anecdotally and Han shoots her a betrayed look. Fett is so going to use that against him somehow, Han just knows it. Instead, Fett just shakes his head and explains further. “Both of us are sol’karta, ‘aromantic’ in Basic. The Mand’alor’s council were concerned about finding a Rid’alor and I was suggested. I accepted, as the Mand’alor is one of my closest friends. I love him dearly but we’re not in love with each other. We’re best friends raising an adorably mischievous ad’ika.” He says and the Mand’alor nods.

Huh. Han can’t say he’s ever heard of an arranged marriage where both parties are friends from the start. He’s sure that some spouses end up as friends but politically arranged marriages in the Core tend to be loveless affairs. He almost finds himself congratulating them on finding a good balance but then he remembers he would be congratulating Fett. Nope, he’s not doing that.

“Oh really? Luke did mention that Grogu has a habit of disappearing on him.” Leia says and Fett laughs. “Yeah, his Force osik enables him a lot. I never realised how much of parenting was going to be coaxing a grumpy toddler off of a ceiling.” He jokes and ugh, Han can relate to that and he’s mad about it. Leia says something in response but Han is too busy glaring at Fett to hear her. The bastard is still smirking, plus he’s not even paying attention to Han, like Han is beneath his notice.

“I know you two have a son, right? If you’re ever on Manda’yaim for diplomacy, perhaps they can hang out together. I know when I was a child, I hated being in boring meetings and Grogu would definitely appreciate a friend.” Fett suggests and Han nearly explodes. Boba Fett’s hellspawn child is not going to corrupt Ben!

“Oh, Ben and Grogu met earlier today actually! Luke is on-planet at the moment and he brought Grogu with him when he heard that your people would be here.” Leia says and Mando’s helmet tilts. It probably means something in Mando Armour Language but Han has no clue what. “Is Luke still on Chandrila?” He asks, seeming curious. “Grogu is due to come home to Manda’yaim next week but if Luke is here, then I might ask if we can bring him home now to save Luke the trip.”

Leia smiles and tells Mando where to find Luke. Mando says his goodbyes and leaves, but Fett stays. They seem to have some form of communicating that Han can’t understand because Fett doesn’t seem confused at all by his husband’s departure without him.

Fett rocks back on his heels before levelling Han with a smug grin. “If you ever feel like going into Fett Space, drop by my palace on Tatooine. I love getting visits from old friends.” He says before bowing to Leia and leaving to follow Mando before Han can splutter a rebuttal. Fett Space! Is he serious?

Apparently he is, as the New Republic receives a missive a few days later, announcing Mandalore’s official recognition of the former Hutt territories as under Boba Fett, their Consort’s, unequivocal rule. It means that if the Republic ever aggravates Mandalore, they would essentially be going to war with the majority of the Outer Rim between Fett’s planets, Mandalore’s vassal planets and the seemingly endless planets that have allied themselves with Mandalore instead of the Republic.

Han isn’t too concerned about the political ramifications, seeing as that’s Leia’s remit and he’s mostly retired, but fuck, he’s mad that he can’t even think about dropkicking Fett into a star without inciting a galaxy-wide conflict. And the bastard knows it. Every time he comes to Republic events as either the Mand’alor’s spouse or as the leader of Fett Space, he acts like the perfect model of decorum so Han can’t even argue that he was provoked.

Han is forty-three, he shouldn’t be having aneurysms but every time he sees Fett his brain stops getting the message. The worst part is that Leia has become friends with the Mandalorian king and Ben is fond of the green child, so Han is forced to interact with Fett on a far too regular basis. Forget Fett, Han is considering launching himself into a star.

Sadly, Leia won’t let him. So Han has to put up with Fett for just a while longer. Speaking of, how old is Fett? Can Han get away with measuring coffins yet? Please say the bastard is at least ninety, he was around during the Clone Wars, there can’t be much left in him. Please, Han is going to lose his mind if he has to play nice with Boba Fett again. And again. And again.

(systems away, Boba’s ears go hot and he knows that Solo is plotting his death once more. Grogu coos and Boba looks down to see the womprat chewing on his pendant again. He chuckles and grabs something softer for Grogu to gnaw at. He has more important things to think about than Solo.)

#posadh eagraithe the series #han solo #boba fett #din djarin #leia organa #bobadin #hanleia #aromantic boba fett #aromantic din djarin #ao3 #fanfiction #star wars #the mandalorian

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thoughts-on-bangtan · 3 years

Note

What a coward ass account. I’ve asked about several questions but I bet you won’t answer it because apparently you ship a fake ship and have 0 backbone and you can’t argue with anyone because you’ve nothing to back up your fanservice ass ship. Namjin is merely a friendship and a professional one at that. Wake up. Jin is never intimate with Joon, never tells me he loves him, never goes out of his way to spoil him, never possesses over him. Never shows any sign of jealousy so how tf are y’all so fucking delulu and blind?

You know, normally I’d just delete something as rude as this but honestly you gave me a good laugh with it so I’ll take the bait. But FYI, while I planned on answering these questions sooner or later, because imagine this, some of us have jobs and things we need to take care of and thus sometimes just don’t have the time to write posts, especially when some of them take a lot of time and research, even more so when an average thematic post from me is somewhere between 2 and 5k words long. That takes a hot minute to write. Not that you’d care, but now I don’t think I’ll answer them because I truly don’t appreciate you coming into our asks and being this unnecessary level of rude. If you felt like I skipped your question or was taking an oddly long time to answer, it would’ve sufficed to send in a small question about it and you would’ve gotten a normal answer for it, but guess not.

There are several things I find extremely interesting and also hilarious about your ask, especially since they confirm basically every suspicion I have about shipping when it comes to Bangtan and mlm ships in general.

But I’d like to start with this first because it really made me pause there for a minute: “because you’ve nothing to back up your fanservice ass ship” Since your ask is about Namjin I will assume this part is as well, yes, and I really am struggling to see how they, of all ships, are a “fanservice” one considering both Namjoon and Seokjin aren’t really big on skinship and initiating hugs and touches. What, exactly, about them is fanservice? Even more so since you go on to say this: “Jin is never intimate with Joon, never tells me he loves him, never goes out of his way to spoil him, never possesses over him. Never shows any sign of jealousy” so if these are your definition of what constitutes a) fanservice and b) a relationship, yet you claim Namjin is just fanservice, how can that be if you say they never do any? This math doesn’t math, you know.

Before I get ahead of myself, let’s break this down point by point, shall we?

1. “Jin is never intimate with Joon” – Tell me, dear anon, how exactly do you know that? Are you their friend? A fly living on their wall and watching over them 24/7? And also, how, exactly, are we supposed to be shown that by them? Is Namjoon supposed to walk over to Seokjin and, I don’t know, make out with him while Bangtan B*mb Noona stands a meter away and films the whole thing? What even does intimate mean in your definition? I have a sneaking suspicion of what you’re asking for but I will give you the benefit of the doubt.

Since I like language, let’s get into the literal definition of the word intimate, shall we, because you might be surprised to find it doesn’t just mean what you think it does. According to the Cambridge dictionary, intimate has several meanings, and what Namjoon and Seokjin show us and tell us that they have is actually several of them:

“Being a close, personal friend”, does that ring a bell? It does, doesn’t it? Namjoon and Seokjin have known each other for ten years almost, have spent a considerable amount of time together, have had dinner with each other’s families, Namjoon was at Seokjin’s brother’s wedding, and Namjoon is the person he turns to when it comes to his lyrics, always makes sure to thank Namjoon in his Thank You section in their albums, and supports him however he sees fit. Isn’t that intimate?

I know you mean the sexual kind of intimate, and truly that is something neither you nor I have any knowledge of and, surprise, it’s none of our business either. If I remember correctly, we’ve never brought up anything really sexual in any of our posts because I don’t believe in this whole “sexual tension” thing that toxic shippers go around preaching about. Even if it were there, that’s not for us to discuss because their sex life is none of our business.

Next.

2. “never tells me he loves him” – Never tells you he loves him? And why, pray tell, should he tell you, specifically? Yes, I’m being petty, so what. Love speaks many different languages, and saying the words “I love you” is just one of many, many different ways in which you can let someone know you love and cherish them, romantically and platonically. Years ago when Seokjin posted a cover on SoundCloud he said in the accompanying post that he prefers saying I like you over I love you, so I guess that means he just doesn’t love anyone, yes? Besides, is he obliged to stand in front of the camera and profess his undying love to Namjoon for you to believe he loves our dearest leader?

Isn’t it enough that he shows his love and respect for Namjoon in other ways, like praising him when Namjoon was being hard on himself so Seokjin told him he did well and that he always does well even in tricky situations, or being by his side during red carpets and other such things because Namjoon once asked him to do so because he feels calmer when Seokjin is by his side? Isn’t that a beautiful way of showing someone you love them, regardless if it’s romantic or platonic love?

Next.

3. “never goes out of his way to spoil him” – Is Seokjin Namjoon’s sugar daddy? Did I miss something?

Next.

4. “never possesses over him. Never shows any sign of jealousy” – now this point I have the biggest rage at because neither of these things—possessiveness and jealousy—are good things, especially not in a romantic relationship, but really, they aren’t a good thing in any kind of relationship. Possessiveness is a slippers slope, as is jealousy, the former being a great gateway toward an abusive relationship and while that might be “”””cute”””” in raunchy romance novels and movies, it isn’t in real life. And neither is jealousy. The only thing jealousy really tells and shows you, in the context you are going for, is insecurity and a lack of faith in your relationship and especially your partner. And that, again, isn’t a good or healthy thing for a relationship, especially not a romantic one. I know toxic shippers eat up this whole jealousy bs, YouTube is full of it after all and brings in hundreds of thousands of views (and dollars), but that has nothing to do with real life. So, the fact that we never see Seokjin, or Namjoon, jealous or possessive over the other? That is a good thing. Besides, enlighten me, how is this jealousy supposed to look like because true jealousy doesn’t appear written across your face in neon letters. I’m curious.

Next.

5. “Namjin is merely a friendship and a professional one at that.” – if that is your opinion, I’m happy for you. I won’t go out of my way to prove to you why I think differently or why you should because that’s not what I’m here for. Yes, I have a certain opinion on Namjin, that’s true, but I’m not a toxic shipper who will fights someone tooth and nail over it because that’s stupid. And won’t change anything anyway. Besides, my opinion doesn’t in any shape or form negate that they are friends. Every good relationship should have friendship as basis, and I very much believe that they are very close friends, while your phrasing makes it seem like you think they are only work friends, as in people who are friends during working hours but stop once they clock out of work, just saying.

The purpose of this blog isn’t to somehow convert people into shippers or convince them of something, instead it’s simply supposed to be a happy space where we share our opinions, have fun with Bangtan, their music and everything else, and can have civil conversations without calling anyone out or calling each other names. It’s literally in our blog description “Sharing thoughts on everything Bangtan, as well as vmin and namjin”, meaning it is a blog “designed” for both OT7s as well as people who already are vminnies or namjinists, or both, and yet if someone happens to start liking one of these two pairings because of our posts, like I’ve seen happen with some readers and namjin, that’s great, but that’s not our primary goal in any kind of way.

This is our blog which also means we have the freedom to answer whichever asks we want to and however quickly we want or can. Chances are, perhaps, the way you phrased your ask simply didn’t sit well with us and thus we decided against answering it at the time. Just some food for thought.

Lastly, there are a lot of blogs that surely represent your opinions and agree with you, so what, exactly, are you looking for on our blog? Do you think by sending an ask like this, or questioning my opinions in such a manner, you’ll be able to convert us away from our opinions? Neither of us forces anyone to agree with everything we say, so you don’t have to either, and we also don’t force anyone to read our posts. If you don’t like what we post, you are free to look for a different blog with which you’ll be able to agree and find your opinion represented, I won’t stop you. Enjoy.

#answered ask

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rotzaprachim · 4 years

Text

Kalimat/كلمات

Yusuf al-Khaysani/Niccolò di Genova, 3.3k, teen, AO3 LINK

Yusuf translates medical texts for Niccolò from Greek and Persian into Arabic, and Niccolò spots the substratum of the ideas of the classical authors that he had once believed the basis of his own civilisation that he would go to the sword to defend, translated and passed down and sewn into a no longer foreign script. There are words Yusuf does not know how to translate. They will never, ever know all of the words. The prospect is thrilling. --- It takes Niccolò lifetimes to learn Arabic.

(I've tried pretty hard to make this at least historically feasible but I'm very sure this is just. Jam packed with mistakes. As is the Arabic langauge stuff- I got booted from the class due to dyslexia. I also hope the representation of Islam and Islamic culture is accurate.)

Languages drop from Joe’s lips easily. Nicky struggles with survival phrases in lingua francas- What Hurts in Dari and Can you breath- nod yes in Swahili and How can we help in French, but Joe can easily lose himself in the sea of a new language’s words and come up swimming, not just stringing together sentences but swallowing poetry, drama, and music. In Ughyar, Bosnian, Zapotec, Spanish, Tamil, Sylheti, Albanian. The shelves of his books line their lives. That is important to Joe, that people be seen not just as they always seem to be in western news reports - as the bodies in the ruined city- but as poets. As storytellers. As humans who struck fire with language that will survive and burn anew.

Joe recites Khachatur Abovian to calm the fractured nerves of a former schoolteacher ripped from his home while he and Nicky rush to forge passports and visas for the teacher and his wife and his seven children to make new lives in America. In a post war displaced persons camp he speaks Yiddish, reads Sholem Aleichem and Avrom Sutzkever from paperbacks pulled from the fires and then decades later in the dust of Baghdad, Arabic and al-Sayyab. And he listens, listens even more than he speaks. He listens to stories upon stories of war and loss and human suffering with his ears and his eyes and heart and a clasped hand that says, I do not claim to know your pain but I have felt my own.

Nicky sets arms and delivers babies and administers vaccines and sorts endless boxes of quinine tables and bandages. He speaks with his hands, mainly, and his bedside manner is different from Joe’s. He learned long ago to keep lollipops in the right pocket of his jacket. The first language Nicky learned to speak was the sea and the second was the wind, and spoken words come to him slower, with less agility, blending into occasionally archaic jumbles. He means to ask an assistant for an antiseptic wipe at one point, has to dig through his mind through the piles of once vital vocabulary bleached useless by time, military jargon for battles lost nine hundred years ago and colloquial derja words for plants and crops gone extinct under the tides of modern monocropping, and comes up sputtering, asking if anyone, perchance, has a neckerchief?

The linguistic stumbling of an unlettered genovese sailor versus a middle class trader’s son who learned to love the written world on his mother’s lap.

It took Nicky a human life time to master spoken Arabic, in a few of her many varieties, with her tricky mazes of roots, more decades of listening and stumbling through conversations and gentle corrections than the average human mind could take before his own readujsted to the beauty of a world described through roots with all things connected to each other.

It took him another life time again to master fusHa, the complex turns of phrase and imagery and unwritten short vowells, and a brush and then pen always felt far more alien in his hands than a sword did. (Although the precision of a pen prepares him well for the precision of a scalpel, and that, perhaps, is the instrument with which Nicky writes history.)

A thousand years ago, in the same city who’s people Joe and Nicky will die again and again for to try and pull from the ruin, the man then Yusuf wrapped his hand around the hand of the man then Niccolò and guided him through this mysterious world of written letters. Alif-ba-ta-thaa and then nun-qaf-waw-lam-alif,

اسمي نقولا

For the first time, Niccolò wrote himself down.

The script contained other mysteries and hidden trap doors. The disappearing mem that could get swallowed by lam and alif and the mysterious shape-shifting ta marbouta and the categories of sun and moon letters that lent the marks on a page a tangible quality, the burning Mediterranean sole that Niccolò’s people marked their years by and la luna by which Yusuf’s people knew their own time by.

When they had reached their first truce in the battlefield and had to learn how to say things beyond various threats and claims of the name of God, they’d each had to remake the world in a new image, relabel everything they’d thought they’d known. Shams, the enemy man had said over and over again, pointing up, and Niccolò hadn’t known if he meant “sky” or “blue” or “above” or “God” or the color “blue.” Niccolò had drawn a line in the sand, the past running to the future and tried to map out the different tenses of his own language he didn’t fully understand himself, only knew how he’d use them in a sentence. He’d hatched an x in the middle for now, drawn two little stick figures and two blobby horses, us he’d said in zenaize, then future, right of the men, past, left.

“Ahhh,” the man who Niccolò now knew as Ana Ismee Yusuf, nodded. He stood up and pointed right. “Lelshar’.” To the left. “Lel’arb.” He smiled and Niccolò thought it might be worth dying, just to see again. “Si, si. Io capiscooo.” He stretched his syllables out in a deadpan imitation of a puffed-up Genovese noble, and Niccolò laughed himself.

Several lifetimes later and Niccolò tries to label his world anew again in writing. Yusuf writes out words in large, blocky script on pieces of scap paper, marks the harakat around the words carefully in red ink. He tacks باب to the door and سَرِير to their bed and even أنا to himself. He holds up a piece of paper to the sky outside, the sun blinding their eyes momentarily before they repair. الشَّمس, the first word. Yusuf even attempts to stick قِطّ onto Amira, the sharp eyed street cat who’s wormed her wait into their household. The scratches that earns him heal quickly.

It takes Niccolò far longer than he wants anyone to know before his mind properly started to see a word and see it as a word, something more than a collection of letters but a thing that existed, definitively, in God’s world. بَيْت, what he and Yusuf have now had in Basra, Palermu, Fustat. مُحيط, like the Mare Nostrum. فَتاة, a girl like like the sister he left behind.

And then the door was opened, and Niccolò could read, or at least, understand this process of reading for himself, and more than that, he could see this part of Yusuf, so crucial to the soul he nad come to love and this heart he now held in his own. Yusuf loved words, and books, and writing, he loved his Book as the word of God to his prophet and he loved his books as connection to the mother who had first taught him suras and his father who wrote in three languages, and, he had once gold Niccolò in the quiet safety of their bed, in the night, with the first boy he had ever loved, the other star pupil at their madrassa with whom he would lie composing lines of poetry under a lemon tree.

Niccolò thought of Yusuf reading in the small, cool courtyard of the house in Damascus that would for this lifetime be their home, his mouth moving silently in prayer as his fingers followed reverently over the verses. He thought of Yusuf moving elegantly through the world, his speech dry and witty or educated where his own felt blunt, trading jokes and barbs back and forth in the tea house and the market. But mostly, Niccolò thought of Yusuf writing, face still with all the steady focus and silent reverence of prayer, bent over a carved rosewood writing desk, the sunlight streaming in through the windows setting his curls on fire. And his hands, so strong, so reliable, moving unerringly across the page, line after line of the script that Niccolò once feared and mocked because he feared but which he now knew could contain all the beauty of the world.

He practiced by writing to the those he loved but no longer walked the world.

Oum, today sun bright. I see roses in market. I think of you, when I see roses in market.

Abba, in house of God happy I know you are, happy makes it me.

Maria, to read you will love, i know. Your son man now. Good i know. Peace to you.

Niccolò burned the letters in a fire and hoped God would make it so his 'aa'ila could read them. Yusuf and Niccolò were both young in the business of being immortal. They had not learned to shoulder the pain of it yet, so they faced the loneliness, together and alone. Niccolò thought that he saw the appeal of letter writing, then, imagined a world in which he could have written his family from the Holy Land, told them that no matter how many infidels he killed to cleanse this world for the Cross he felt no closer to holiness himself, told them that the one he killed and killed and killed again he had found holiness in, told his parents that their son died and died and did not die. That he missed home, the rocky shores and fishing villages of Liguria, but that he missed them more, because his family was his home, even if there were things about him that he hid in the darker parts of himself because he knew they would never understand.

His sister’s grandchildren- or maybe her great-grandchildren, he wasn’t quite sure- were still alive, probably, but there wasn’t a way they’d respond well to the idea of a relative who’d have been forty years past death even without war sending them letters written in the alphabet they’d been taught to hate, if they could read at all.

With the ashes of his letters, he lets his family go, and prays God looks kindly upon them, and shows them mercy, and grants them peace and understanding. Every century or so, he’ll check in, he vows, even from afar, because he owes Maria that much. He hopes her son or his son or his son has not wasted his life to die in a war on foreign soil like he did, or that her daughter or her daughter or her daughter has not been left a widow.

Yusuf’s family still lived in Tunis. His sister Maryam took over the trading business after his death and made the al-Khaysani family a great name and funded many hospitals and houses of learning. News of her death reached Palermu weeks after the burial, and it was one of the few times in their long, long lives that Yusuf had to walk for months alone, to process a grief as large as the world. He let the waves of the sea and the sand of the desert swallow him again and again, and when he did not die, he rose and lifted his head to the sky and swore he would make the world as good as she wanted it to be. In every city they go to with a cathedral or even a baked mud church Niccolò lights candles for Maria and for Maryam. Santa Maria, madre de dio, they’ll pick up one day, in a language centuries off from existing. You know she is named more times in our book than yours, Yusuf told him in one one of their many cycles of death and coming back, when Niccolò called out for her, bleeding out on the sand.

When Niccolò found Yusuf again they stood with their hands clasped at her grave outside the medina and then they prayed and set off again. New cities, new tongues, new people. To avoid suspicion, they alter the sounds of their names to match the sounds of the city. Yusuf and Naaqid. Giuseppe and Niccolò. Nikolai and Iosef. Every death is shorter.

Yusuf forges the documents and the names, barters and trades, even makes several seperate respectable fortunes as a merchant of cloth and then spices before even claims of pomegranates doing wonders for one’s health start to wear a bit thin and they have to fake their deaths again. He writes, and though home quickly becomes what they can carry, he keeps sheaths of poetry in tiny, perfect script in his saddlebag, recites long poems as they make camp in the desert. Some were written by and for men like them. Others Yusuf tweaks the gender of, chooses inta over inti. Every time they die they leave a generous waqf behind.

Niccolò takes care of the horses, and then he tries to take care of people. He learns as much of these strange healing arts of the east as he can from Yosef, and then from a doctor in Basra and a Jewish apothecary in the city of Fustat. It is not blasphemy to try to know the body, he is deciding, it is not sacrilige to try as hard as one might to save a life. At some point, the knowledge goes beyond what he can remember or what a diagram can tell him, and so it’s in Damascus that Niccolò decides, even with his previous failed attempts at the aliph-baa, to ask Yusuf to teach him how to read.

And he does. It takes time, years, before he can, before he feels more man than child with a pen in his hand and he does not smear ink across the page. And there are limits. He is never a poet. His language is always more practical than- and this is a word that will not exist for centuries but that colors his memories even still- than romantic. For him heart is a thing of muscles and chords that powers a life. He reads and takes notes on Al Razi far more than Abu Nuwwas or al Muttanabi. Ibn Sina’s Canon of Medicine astounds him just as Ferdowsi’s perfect schemes of monorhymes entrance Yusuf. His sentences do not flow into rivers like Yusuf’s do. They build squat, strong houses. They encode information that Niccolò can leave behind when he dies, only to return to a century later and find that have been added on to by scholars after him, the foundations for someone else’s palace. Sometimes, the things he thought were true are completely washed away in the flood of some new discovery, and he prays and begs the forgiveness of all those he caused unnecessary pain in his ignorance.

But even in his clumsiness, the power of words surges through. Yusuf’s words and his love of words surges through to Niccolò in the years of learning, until Niccolò loves words too, just as Niccolò’s love of the sea and her many tempestuous moods and promise of infinite freedoms filters through to Yusuf. Yusuf translates texts for Niccolò from Greek and Persian into Arabic, and just as with Mary and Maryam centuries ago on a battlefield, Niccolò spots the substratum of the ideas of the classical authors that he had once believed the basis of his own civilisation that he would go to the sword to defend, translated and passed down and sewn into a no longer foreign script. There are words Yusuf does not know how to translate. They will never, ever know all of the words. The prospect is thrilling.

And Yusuf’s love of words surges up into Niccolò’s love of Yusuf too. It took him about three weeks after their initial truce to realise the man was soft, which then took him a few decades to find more endearing than annoying. That he liked sweet things and flowers and goddamn useless hobbies like calligraphy and drawing complex borders of tulips and interlocking knots along the borders of his writing papers. And he knew he was a good poet, to his own ears, that he fit words together nicely. But being able to read Yusuf’s poems, even the unwritten snippets he leaves scattered around the house, often unfinished, is something else entirely. A glimpse into being seen, by the person who sees him best. But God above, he doesn’t think anyone alive has had their eyes compared to the beauty of the sea after the desert quite so many times, or wrung as many turns of phrase from the has the double meaning of عَيْن.

“The world,” he says one night as they sit and watch night descend softly upon the City of Jasmine. It’s a city to make even the woman who will come knocking at their door in a matter of decades feel young and insignificant, and even the colloquial name suits Yusuf’s pretensions annoyingly well. Steam from cups of tea curls into the evening air. The smells of horse shit and rosewater both on the air. The calm cradle of the evening after the maghrib prayer. “You see it …” He does not know how to end it.

“How, then, do I see the world, hayati?”

“You see the stars above a battlefield. You see the stars and then the fields that will grow again after the ashes are tilled into the soil. You see stars as gems, and the windstorms of the desert is the finest music, if you would believe your poems.

“And you are angry that I have seen the good in the world? I would not call the man who came to a foreign land to kill the infidel and came to spend a hundred years learning best to save their lives a man who does not see beauty in unexpected things either.”

“You are-”

He looks for a word, any word in his mind that has learned so many. Unchanging would not be right for the man who once killed him so many times and learned Greek and Latin to read him the words of the Apostles as they were written, who has accompanied him on pilgrimages to Antioch and the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem. He has changed as much as Niccolò has. No, it’s something-

“You are looking at me as you look at your patients.” Yusuf reaches out and brushes back Niccolò’s hair. He kisses his forehead. A kiss from Yusuf, no matter how chaste or how many, still sends lightning through his body.

“As if you were ill?”

“No. You look with such focus upon the world, with so much kindness about how to help it heal.” For a time whose number has since gone beyond count, their hands interlink. “We cannot save the world, but we can save some, and by saving some, we can save the world. We will work to repair what is broken.”

“I have found the cause of your affliction.”

“What do you consider me afflicted by, Doctor Al-Zenowaizi?”

The word romantic is still more than six centuries out, although they’ll soon wander through Europe during the heyday of the romance, and Yusuf will even write a few himself in Occitan and Provençal. For now, though, the word carries the implications of Roma and the waning Basileion Rhomaion to the north, to the al-Rum rite of the Damascene churches he now celebrates the Eucharist in, the river of his faith turned down a different course. For now, though, the word romantic remains firmly in the future. No, it’s something else he thinks of.

“Hope. You have a most serious case of hope.”

“And what do you suggest as remedy, Doctor Al-Zenowaizi?”

Niccolò pulls him in for a proper kiss, long and deep and hot and sweet and bitter from the tea. He loses himself in the warmth of his body, his hands in the curls of his hair, and he thinks how blessed he has been by God that this is the man he has been destined to spend forever with.

“Albi, I do not think there is one. I think you have been cursed with an incurable case of hope.”

#the old guard #joe x nicky #the old guard fic #yusuf x nicolo #yusuf al-kaysani #nicolo di genova #my writings

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ljf613 · 3 years

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Colonization & Imperialism in ATLA

One of the things I’ve noticed in fandom complaints about the ATLA comics-- namely, “The Promise”-- and subsequently, LOK’s worldbuilding, is the way the narrative handles colonization.

I see a lot about how what the Earth Kingdom chose to do with the former colonies is “none of Zuko’s (or Aang’s) business.” (I also see people talking about how Katara would never support colonialism, in any shape or form, no matter the circumstances.)

And I just.... don’t vibe with those ideas? At all?

Like, I definitely have problems with the comics-- especially “The Promise,” where all the drama centers around Miscommunications of Epic Proportions and could have been resolved in Part One if all the characters just sat down and listened to each other (not to mention that Aang would never have agreed to make that promise, nor would Zuko have asked it of him (Sokka would be a more obvious choice, but that’s a different discussion))-- but I never had any issues with their worldbuilding.

I love the idea of Yu Dao, and the fact that the narrative acknowledges that a new kind of world has new kinds of problems. It makes sense to me that we can’t always just “give back the land we took.” And I found the idea of the end solution being “give the people who live there their own country” really cool and empowering.

So I want to talk about why I feel this way. About what kind of real-world parallels can be made here. About some little-known bits of world-history that compare.

(Please note that for this meta I am only going to be discussing the relationship between Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom. As far as I am aware-- and I could be wrong-- there is no real-world genocide quite comparible to what Sozin did to the Air Nomads, and most of the people alive in ATLA were not actually around for or involved in that. And the relationship the Fire Nation has with the Water Tribes-- and that the North and South have with each other-- is worth a whole separate analysis, and doesn’t deserve to just be shoved into this one.)

(Disclaimer: While this is in response to some of the interpretations I’ve seen on this site, it is not meant to discount or invalidate those fans’ views-- I’m just trying to show my take on it. I am a firm believer in the power of active discourse, and the value of looking at the same scenes through different lenses, rather than just getting one opinion and accepting it as Absolute Truth.)

The main thing I notice in general ATLA discourse-- and not just on this topic, but in any sort of meta about the Fire Nation, colonization, and global impact-- is that the fandom mostly compares the war and its after-affects to real-world Imperialism, the Age of Imperialism, New Imperialism, and Colonization.

And I understand why that is. In the grand scheme of world history, that era is still fairly recent, and we are still dealing with the afteraffects from it. It has shaped the Western World’s worldview on every level. (Not to mention that the Euro-centric way we’re taught history means that this piece of world history is the one we’re most exposed to, and so have the most understanding of and room to analyze/criticize.)

However, there are a few issues with sticking only to this perspective.

First off, the Age of Imperialism was a direct response to the Age of Exploration. This was the period of time when white Europeans sailed around the world acting as though they were discovering new places and pretending that there weren’t already existing civilizations there.

[ID: Two dots meme, edited so that Guy A says “i’ve discovered a NEW WORLD,” Guy B replies “you didn’t discover ****,” and Guy A insists “i’ve discovered it” / End ID.]

Now, I’ve mentioned this in passing, but the world of ATLA doesn’t appear to have had an Age of Exploration. There’s no vast “undiscovered” land masses, the four nations have always known about each other, and they all have a shared language.

The whole foundation for the Age of Imperialism was “oh, look, there are all these ‘unexplored’ lands with resources ripe for the picking (who cares about the indigenous people, they’re just simplistic savages who don’t know what’s best for them), let’s see which European country can grab the most land first.”

This was a race. This was sudden. This was Europeans coming in and taking over while viewing the natives as bothersome pests. This was about multiple major world powers competing over resources.

This was not 100 years of active warfare between a single conquering country and the very people they were trying to conquer.

The parallels don’t hold up.

Secondly, by focussing only on this one kind of historical narrative, we ignore any others.

I will admit that I have used the word “imperialism” in reference to the Fire Nation a time or two. However, upon further reflection, I realize I didn’t really mean imperialism, which is actually a fairly modern concept. What I feel the Fire Nation is really an example of is centralism and expansionism-- two ideaologies that have been a way of life for conquering empires throughout history.

(I am in no way qualified to explain the differences between these concepts-- I recommend doing your own research if you’re curious.)

The Persian Empire. The Greek Empire. The Roman Empire. The Byzantine Empire. The Mongolian Empire. The Russian Empire. The First French Empire.

You could take any of these (or numerous others) and make an interesting analysis between the similarities and differences between their behaviors and that of the Fire Nation. And maybe I’ll do that someday.

However, I started this to talk about Yu Dao and all of the other so-called colonies (I really feel like territories would be a better word, but, again, that’s a whole ’nother discussion), and I’d like to focus on that.

FYI, here’s a basic history refresher: If two countries are at war, and then they decide to end the war, neither country is required to return captured territories. They can make a treaty and agree to do so, but there is no obligation to. The Fire Nation didn’t just march in and say, “this is our land now”-- they fought for it. They captured that land. Just because the war is over doesn’t mean they need to just give it back.

Like it or not, that is the way the world operated for thousands of years, and so that is the interpretation I’m working with here.

In any case, “The Promise” actually presents this as a three-way conversation. There’s Zuko (and, by default, the Fire Nation), Kuei (and, by default, Ba Sing Se and the Earth Kingdom), and the people of Yu Dao themselves.

(My understanding of the Earth Kingdom’s style of government is that it’s made up of a large collection of different ethno-cultural regions who all answer to Ba Sing Se.)

I’ll let Sokka explain it:

[ID: Comic panel from Part Three of “The Promise.” Sokka and Katara are talking, both in obvious states of agitation, while Suki and Toph are looking at something in the background. Sokka is saying, “Let me see if I got this. The protestors and the Earth Kingdom Army want the colonials to go, the Fire Nation Army wants the colonials to stay, and the Yu Dao Resistance just want their city to be left alone?” Katara responds, “Yes!” / End ID.]

The people of Yu Dao don’t care about the war. They don’t even really care who’s in charge. They just want to be left alone.

This speaks to me on a very personal level, so I’m going to make another real-world comparison here:

My ancestors first came to America to escape from the poverty and opression they were experiencing in a place known as “White Russia”-- that is, Belarus. To be clear, I am not talking about the country “Belarus,” but the region, which includes the modern-day countries of Lithuania, Ukraine, Belarus, Latvia and Moldova, as well as parts of Poland and Russia.

I looked up White Russia, trying to find out how much information someone who didn’t grow up hearing stories about what it was like (that is, most of the people reading this,) might have. I didn’t find much. Most of what I found talked about political ideologies and such-- things that your average poor peasant, struggling just eke out a living, didn’t have much energy to care about. So let me paint a(n oversimplified) picture for you.

Imagine you’re a poor shoemaker in a small town on the Russian border. You spend your days hard at work, trying to earn a living to support your wife and nine children. You’ve never left the town you were born in. One day you get the news: Russia and Poland are fighting again. Your two oldest sons (ages 15 and 17) are forcibly drafted off to fight in the Russian army; you never see them again and have no way of knowing if they’re dead or alive (they’re probably dead). Poland wins-- this time. Congratulations, your town is now part of Poland.

Does suddenly being Polish make a difference to your life? Not in the slightest. Two or three years down the line, you’ll go back to being part of Russia again. This is the third or fourth time you’ve seen your town switch hands, and you can’t say you prefer one government over the other. It doesn’t really matter who’s in charge-- you’re still faced with crippling taxes, forced drafts, and various other forms of oppression. (It doesn’t help that you happen to be part of a persecuted minority.)

(This is why I have many ancestors who may never have left the town they were born in, and yet records show that they were born in one country, got married in another, and died in a third.)

This is the kind of worldview through which I am looking at Yu Dao. (Obviously, it’s not an exact parallel, but neither is the standard “colonizers vs oppressed natives” lens.)

My ancestors eventually got fed up with the treatment they were receiving from their respective governments, and left to build a new life, in a new place. But the citizens of Yu Dao don’t have anywhere to go. The only two real world powers in this story are the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom, neither of which has ever before expressed any true interest or concern in the actual people of Yu Dao.

The Earth Kingdom didn’t really care about the city before the war-- they were just another poor, struggling town, whose citizens were barely able to make ends meet. And while the Fire Nation may have helped the place grow into a bustling town, they also established a hierarchy that did not serve in the citizens’ best interests.

And so, in “The Promise,” these citizens’ frustrations come to a head. “Enough,” they say, “we don’t want to be used as a pawn in your games anymore.”

And Zuko and Kuei (and Aang) actually listen. They say “we need to start thinking about these people as people, not as symbols of one side or the other. It’s time to give them a say in their future.”

And a new country-- a new way of life-- is born.

(Is it perfect? Absolutely not. But it is constantly evolving and changing, trying to do better, be better. And that’s more than you can say about most of the other countries in this world.)

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dreaming-of-assclass · 4 years

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Oooooo if 3-E were supernatural creatures who would be what 👀👀👀

Oooohh this is interesting to think about! I’m sorry, I don’t know a lot haha so I did some research to have more options!!

Karma: Demon

I feel like I don’t need to elaborate on this too much lmao. The boy is mischievous, LOVES to mess with mortals for no reason. When he’s feeling a particularly strong emotion, usually rage, excitement, etc, his eyes glow a shade of yellow-gold (like what canon showed)

Isogai: Demi-God

His crazy perfection in everything has to come from somewhere. His father was a God who left his realm and lost his immortality to be with Isogai’s mother, a mortal. Isogai only became aware of his heritage after his father’s passing.

Okajima: Half-Angel

LMAO I mostly picked this for the irony, but it kinda fits ngl. He’s generally a good, loyal, kind person and a very good friend. His perverted nature is his one big flaw and comes from the influence of his mortal father, who was his main guardian since his mother remained on Heaven.

Okano: Werewolf

I’m gonna credit this one to @greengargouille haha. They made a wonderful post about this idea that I still adore with my whole heart. But yeah, Okano being a badass werewolf with crazy athleticism and defying femininity expectations? Yes please.

Okuda: Witch

She excels in potion-making, of course. She comes from a long line of witches and magic-users in her family. So she feels quite a bit of pressure to be successful. She’s very talented but needs a tad bit more of control in her magic.

Kataoka: Mermaid

This one shouldn’t be a surprise haha. She’s a very strong and powerful swimmer...but where does all that raw talent come from? Surprise, Megu is a mermaid and she can transform between her physical forms at will. She loves the water because it’s her home and what she knows best.

Kayano: Part-Phoenix

I don’t know how this works and how someone can be part-Phoenix lmao, but it fits her way too well. A being that goes out in flames and starts a new life...isn’t that basically what Kayano did after her reveal? Her new life is her going by Akari again and showing her true colors to the class.

Kanzaki: Goddess

She’s apart of a very royal family of gods...all with ridiculously high standards and little respect for her. Kanzaki is very powerful and has so much raw potential but she’s never been able to show it. Her best skills are teleportation, invisibility, and a strong grasp on aerokinesis.

Kimura: Centaur

I’m serious about this one lmao. He’s a very fast runner and impresses everyone, and it’s thanks to his strong physique and raw energy in centaur form. Don’t worry, he can shape-shift back to a human form, but he hates it because he loses his height and is back to being 160 cm.

Kurahashi: Fairy

Of course, this bright, sunny, cheerful sweet girl could only be a fairy. She has a very strong connection to nature and wildlife, to the point that if they’re harmed, she feels the pain. Her wings are very tiny at age 14 can easily hide underneath her clothes. But by adulthood, they’re grown and able to use for flight.

Nagisa: Half-Ghoul

Surprise...this soft boy is actually half-evil :’). His father is actually a ghoul, and Nagisa was very much unaware of it for all his life. Hiromi kept it a secret and tried to suppress that part of him too. Basically I imagine what it means for Nagisa is that death draws him, and his physiology is why he has such a high bloodlust. When he’s pushed to his limits, he’s terrifying... (cough Takaoka cough)

Sugaya: Wizard

He comes from a relatively average line of wizards, who all moved to the mortal realm and own artisan businesses. Sugaya wishes to do something similar and follow his passion for art. He mostly uses his magic for that, levitating his brushes, enhancing his work, creating new things. He’s quite talented at conjuring.

Sugino: Angel

Yes, I’m serious about this. Sugino is a very good person and always strives to lead others down the right path. He’s good at guiding, but even he wants to live for himself for once. So he learns what baseball is and grows a strong love for it.

Takebayashi: Wizard

Unlike Sugaya, he comes from a super prestigious line of successful and powerful wizards. His family is one of the top ones. He feels immense pressure to live up to them. His talents lie in fire magic, particularly creating explosions. And he’s a very skilled healer.

Chiba: Half-Dragon

Fitting considering his name 💜 He has the ability to change between his human and dragon form, but it’s very shaky for now. His eyes are a bright, terrifying shade of red, and it exposes his dragon heritage so he must hide it.

Terasaka: Half-Titan

His Titan physiology is the reason for his raw strength and physical prowess. He’s incredibly strong and has a high endurance, durability, stamina... He’s a talented fighter and will always use his advantage to protect his loved ones.

Nakamura: Siren

She hates being a siren so much. She has to deal with boring mortal guys all the time, who for some reason, love her voice. She gets a real kick out of fooling them though, and the pranks are always chaotic. Since she’s been having to sing and use her voice, she’s gotten the chance to learn many languages. She has an affinity for them, and wants to continue learning more.

Hazama: Witch

I know this is a little cliche. But in contrast to the potion-centered Okuda, Hazama excels in linguistic spells. She keeps a journal of every new one she learns, as well as images of herbs and such. She’s very interested in dark arts, but will only indulge in it with the presence of someone else, to make sure she doesn’t fall too deep.

Hayami: Witch

Wow I’m really repeating so many. Hayami is a very hardworking, talented witch. But she’s so focused on helping others, she tends to get taken advantage of unfortunately. She’s best at transfigurations, altering things to her (and others) liking. Her favorite test subject is Okajima. She’s quite talented in hand-to-hand combat and having kinetic vision, which helps in magic. She wants a cat as a familiar so badly.

Hara: Fairy

Hara says “fuck you” to the idea that fairies are traditionally small and frail. She’s proud of her physique and strength, and her interest in fighting. She’s still the sweetest fairy there could be, always looking after everyone and all of nature. She loves cooking and sharing it with as many people as she can find.

Fuwa: Ghost

Yep our crazy, lively Fuwa is a ghost! Specifically, she’s a poltergeist, the kind who try to create mischief in some way and move things around. The reason why Fuwa is kinda wild and open about her passions is so she can be noticed by people...if her presence isn’t being acknowledged, she loses her physical form and goes back to being a transparent spirit. It isn’t all bad though. Her favorite thing to do is read mangas in ghost form, so all people see is a floating copy of One Piece.

Maehara: Vampire

This one is a little cliche lmao, but he’s a vampire playboy who always ends up accidentally turning his girlfriends into vampires too with his bites. No one ever suspects him of being a vampire since he looks like sunshine incarnate. He’s quite reckless and has come close to being exposed multiple times, and Isogai always scolds him.

Mimura: Elf

Poor boy is a little insecure about being an Elf...he tries his best not to stand out, especially given his dad’s love for the spotlight. He is good at basic magic, slightly above average. His best talent and what he excels at is photokinesis. He uses it on his filming hobby, to change what’s on camera, adjust lighting, etc. He can go as far as even completely remove shadows from the sunlight.

Muramatsu: Alchemist

He comes from a relatively average family of alchemists that used their abilities for culinary purposes. He enjoys it a lot, and is very talented. He prefers to rely on physical prowess when it comes to fights, but is able to use his alchemy additionally.

Yada: Vampire

Yada is the hot vampire girlfriend we all wish we had 😔 Just kidding haha. But yes, she’s a vampire and no one would ever expect it with how good she is at hiding. She plans out her life and days to specifically avoid sunlight, garlic, etc. She’s a very busy member of the school community and has tons of friends and connections. She and Maehara, her fellow vampire, constantly compete to see who can get more dates.

Yoshida: Werewolf

This is slightly cliche since he’s the resident bad boy, but it fits. He tries to keep a tough image even in human form partly since his family taught him to do so, and because it is comfortable for him. But he’s a softie deep down, and is nowhere near as ruthless as he’s believed to be.

Ritsu: Magic Mirror?

Hmm this is kind of the only option I see fitting for her as it correlates to her role in canon. One classmate has to carry the mirror around for her to communicate, but she’s very powerful and helpful.

Itona: Mummy

Ok so storyline here: he was abandoned to die by his family centuries ago, and his 13 body was mummified against his will. In present time, Shiro awakens him, revives him, and uses him as a tool. He goes through a lot...but is able to live a peaceful life with 3-E once all that is over. He wears bandages almost everywhere, only exposing his eyes which glow yellow when he’s using his power.

Bonus:

Gakushuu is a Demi-God, of course. He’s pretty annoyed that his elemental magic only extends to hydrokinesis and cryokinesis, but he’s still amazingly talented.

Ren is a Merman who flirts with girls at the beach with sappy poetry. He’s gotten caught in a fisher net too many times.

Seo is an Ogre.

#assclass #assassination classsroom #ansatsu kyoushitsu #3-E #ask #gakushuu asano #ren sakakibara #seo tomoya #fantasy au #?

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atendersun-archived · 3 years

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𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐬

FULL NAME. Mason Uri Thompson

NICKNAME. Muu

GENDER. Male.

HEIGHT. 5′9″

AGE. 25

ZODIAC. Pisces

SPOKEN LANGUAGES. English is his primary language. Japan is secondary and verse dependent.

𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬

HAIR COLOR. Blond

EYE COLOR. Brown-Green hazel

SKIN TONE. Fair, but with a pink, rosy undertone.

BODY TYPE. Mesomorph. His legs, back, and chest are the most muscular, while his arms trail behind as the leanest parts of his body.

VOICE. Is of average deepness at his normal speaking level, but raises when he’s nervous, or sad. His defense mechanism in stressful situations is to make himself appear smaller for safety purposes, but he’s working on being more aware of it.

DOMINANT HAND. Left

POSTURE. Somewhat arched. Having spent a lengthy amount of his time hunched over in an effort to take up less space as a person has had some life term effects on his posture. He does wear a bright blue brace for about thirty minutes a couple times a week to train his back to stay more upright, but he still finds himself slouching in the presence of people that unknowingly intimated him.

SCARS. He has a round shaped scar on his left arm from an incident with a colleague nearly from about five years earlier, so it has a lot time to heal to the point of being far less noticeable than it was when he first acquired it. There are also some very, very faded scars along his lower back from being unintentionally attacked by a dog as a child. He’d startled it when trying to retrieve a toy from a neighbor’s yard, and instigated a chase when he ran away. It was a small poodle.

TATTOOS. On the inside of his right arm is a tattoo is of very cartoony version of the character Oh from the movie Home. When he was very lonely, and down on himself, it became it his comfort film. He related a lot to the alien character of the film. When on a whim, he decided to get a tattoo, he knew he wanted it to be of something with a lot of meaning to him, but also something that would strike a sense of familiarity to those who also felt like they were an Oh in the world too.

BIRTHMARKS. On the side of his upper left leg, quite close to his butt in fact, is a small, circular mark with tiny, darker colored dots within it. If looked at the right angle, it almost appears to a smiley face. As kind of odd as it is, he really likes his birthmark, and the location it resides on. For a very long time, he held a lot hatred for his lower body for things that took a lot of counseling to come to terms with. Nowadays, he’s far too comfortable pulling down the back of pants just enough to flash his birthmark to people.

MOST NOTICEABLE FEATURE(S). In the sunny, warm seasons of the year, he tends to get freckles that scatter primarily across his nose and his arms. They cease to be noticeable come late fall only to reappear after the rainy parts of spring.

𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝

PLACE OF BIRTH. From what he’d been told by his grandparents, he had been born while his father and mother still resided on a military base somewhere within the outskirts of Phoenix, Arizona. After circumstances leading to the questioning of his mother’s parenting abilities, both him and his brother were relocated states away to live with their paternal grandparents once their father released custody to them in order for him to join the Navy.

HOMETOWN. Verse Dependent

SIBLINGS. An older brother named Matthew who is about two years older than himself.

PARENTS. His mother is entirely absent from his life after a string of broken promises that she’d gotten her life together enough to be a good mom to him, while his father and him are just distant from having very little in common with another. They can hold civil conversations with one another when they interact for brief moments at family get togethers, but he still is far closer to his grandmother than he is with any other parental figure in his life.

𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞

OCCUPATION. Preschool teacher at a daycare center for children between the ages of 6 weeks old to 6 years old. He never imagined himself as ever working with children, because quite frankly they kind of scared him at one point, but he loves his job more than he would have ever expected.

CURRENT RESIDENCE. He lives alone in a very spacious home that was actually leased to him when the man knew the younger was seeking out a place to live after an end to a relationship. His favorite thing in all of his home is the very large bath tub. It is far more comparable to a pool than a tub, but he has not yet had anything occur where he questioned downsizing it.

CLOSE FRIENDS. All of ‘em. Every last one of them. He has been especially grateful for the opportunities to reconnect with Hisao @angstiism, Hannah @kannojo, Alex @dis--parity, Pchan @nvrcmplt, and Yukio @silvxcs. Someday, when he grows the guts to meet with and check up on some old, familiar faces, such as Archer at @sonderrow, and Nicole @gamenu, he’d like to just listen intently in regards to where life has led them. He also is blossoming in the new friendships he is forming with new people.

RELATIONSHIP STATUS. Verse Dependent.

FINANCIAL STATUS. He falls somewhere on the back end of middle class, yet he doesn’t really mind. It is familiar for him enough that he has learned how to make do without having a lot of money left over. It is for the best, really, because he still remembers very much so the ridiculous amount of money he’d spent only on pudding and snacks many years ago.

DRIVER’S LICENSE. No. He’s terrified to learn how to drive, so he just makes do with either walking, riding the bus, and sometimes even riding his bike if he has the energy to do so.

CRIMINAL RECORD. Clean. He’d like to say he’s done some wild things that have gone untraced, but the most adventurous he’s ever gotten was the time he stole a Winnie the Pooh stuffed animal from a store in the mall. He later went back to pay for it out of guilt, so even that one doesn’t particularly count.

VICES. The constant need to be busy doing something to give his brain far less of a chance to dwell on things he is not satisfied with dwelling on. Maintaining an active and creative lifestyle are very important to him. Otherwise, in the event he does sink to an unexpected low, he tends to build himself back up by indulging in activities that brought him peace as a child. Doodling, watching cartoons, buying random things online from things he watched a kid to boost serotonin. His latest thing is to actually read poetry. He finds it really enjoyable to see something on a page that artistically expresses thoughts he can relate to, and has since started to collect an abundance of poetry books.

𝐬𝐞𝐱 & 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

SEXUAL ORIENTATION. He identifies under the queer label. He doesn’t really know for certain where he falls in terms of sexual attraction, since frankly he went years without even getting close to it, but he does know that he has deep feelings for all kinds of people underneath other categories of attraction. A more descriptive way of describing himself would be to say demisexual panromantic, but he prefers to use queer.

PREFERRED EMOTIONAL ROLE. Honestly, he really just thrives on fulfilling whatever role his partners request. He loves to care for people to immeasurable bounds, while shifting to a relaxed, or sometimes needier side of himself when the roles are reversed.

PREFERRED SEXUAL ROLE. He’ll tell you he’s a switch with a preference for topping, but in reality he is a switch with a preference for literally doing whatever the person he feels comfort and admiration for enough to get to that level with them in the first place. He does get a tad bitter when people make suggestions that he doesn’t have the assertiveness to be the dominant partner in those types of relations, and is therefore trying to education himself as much as he can on the overall process before he can even consider taking the reigns like that in real time.

LIBIDO. For the most part, very low. In his main timelines, he has gone seven years without going completely all the way with another person out of a fear of what could follow after that level of intimacy. He doesn’t necessarily have those same fears, but he does feel completely out of the loop in comparison to peers of his who have far more experience than he does. He is at least putting a lot of effort and thoughtfulness into being a more sex positive person, so in time he believes he will reach a point where he will have an average adult male libido.

TURN ON’S. Words of encouragement and affirmation, undivided attention, and playfulness are the primarily ones. Even if it doesn’t always sound exciting in its application, Mason actually finds it really helpful when a partner either verbally describes why and where they are touching him, or how they want him to touch them instead, because it gives a complete sense of clarity and consent. He’s admittedly very inexperienced and clueless, so being shown AND told are clearer in his mind than just being left to try and plan out his next move with limited reference.

TURN OFF’S. Dirty talk. Being called things like whore, slut, or other demeaning names while having sex not only turns him off, but it also really hurts his feelings even when it is jokingly implied that he is being labeled something bad. He also does not really like being referred to things such as little boy, bitch, baby boy. He doesn’t mind being called Baby when it is used to be an affectionate pet name, and he is so much of a sucker for being complimented on, that he’d probably not even bat an eye if someone playfully called him Princess. Just not around other people, because he takes his pride in being a top-man very seriously.

IMPORTANT RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES. His main two love languages are words of affirmation and physical touch, while the others typically fall not too far behind. He also really just loves the ability to spend time with another person where both people are doing their own thing together. Those moments when he can just glance over to see the twitch of his partner’s lips, or the squinting of their eyes when they get seriously invested in their passion are very meaningful to him. He is also aware that he comes with things that are not always the easiest to love, such as heavy subjects spoken only about in serious conversations, and in the days that are harder to get out of bed than others, so he tries to actively make up for it in the ways he knows how. He’ll often take over the bulk of the work around the house and yard. As a man with a little bit of knowledge about a lot of topics, and a lot of love to give around to make up the difference, he seeks to love and be loved unconditionally by putting in all of his effort to doing whatever he knows will bring the people he is dating complete happiness.

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬

CHARACTER’S THEME SONG. Here I am Alive, by Yellowcard and Way Less Sad, by AJR.

HOBBIES TO PASS TIME. Learning how to play the ukulele, drawing, listening to music, playing videogames from time to time, and texting his friends.

LEFT OR RIGHT BRAINED. Right.

PHOBIAS. He really doesn’t have any of the same intense, yet irrational fears as he did as a young man, so it is a lot more difficult for him to pinpoint whether or not he has any remaining phobias. In some ways, the fears of rejection and abandonment still linger at the back of his mind from time to time. Otherwise, he would likely only become of just how terrifyingly ingrained something was to him at the exact moment he was face to face with it. Additionally, he does not hold any trust towards demons, and would scream profusely if he was locked in a room with one, but he refuses to admit that he finds them scary out of spite.

SELF CONFIDENCE LEVEL. For the most part, it is pretty comparable to the self confidence level he had as an innocent, wildly curious teenager, and is a thousand percent better than when he was experiencing the complete lack of self esteem that came with the depression of his very early twenties. He still wrangles with moments of issues of self worth and blaming himself for things that he is slowly becoming to terms with being the result of other people’s problems instead of his own, but they are at least only on very few occasions. Saying he necessarily loves himself would really likely come down to who he is present with at the time, because in some circumstances he believes saying such a thing would lead to him being punished for reasons he might not be able to explain.

VULNERABILITIES. Expressing his feelings to people. He spends a lot of energy dreading the possibilities that can occur by him being anything but kind and happy around the people in his life. He takes no pride in thinking that he’d some way be passing on his troubles onto another person, thus making them take on part of his low as they go about their own day. Logically, he knows that the likelihood of someone physically striking him for expressing his emotions are low, but internally he knows why that sense of fear is there in the first place. He’d rather be a person who is openly loved and feels internally than be someone who feels openly and is not loved at all. It is very telling of his complete trust in another person when he cries around them.

#hisheadcanons #im a bum so im not gonna tag anyone but i really welcome anyone to also do it for their muse #i for one used my grubby hands to take it as an opportunity to ramble on about muu for forever so

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libsterslobsters · 3 years

Text

Black Dog...

A Bucky Barnes x Reader fanfic

A/N: The motherfluffer strikes again! I know I said I was going to do a pt 2 of "What Is and What Should Never Be", but I was sitting with my doggo tonight and this is what I was inspired to write. It's more of a prequel, I guess.

Summary: There's not much Bucky wouldn't do for his best girl, but when she suggests they get a dog to help them readjust to life after the final battle with Thanos, he's not so sure it's a great idea.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/ fem! enhanced! Reader

(reader can see moments into the future as well as understanding all languages and processing new information quickly, plus she's also a super soldier)

Warnings: Slight angst, mild swearing, fluff!, mentions of PTSD and panic attacks, No editor, we die like men

“You want to do what?”

Bucky considers himself a fairly reasonable person (well, there is the “was brainwashed for over fifty years” part) and he prides himself on valuing whatever his girlfriend (fiance he reminds himself, she kept the ring on for five years) says instead of only listening to come up with a response, but this time, he’s almost certain he’s heard wrong. At least, he hopes he has.

“I want to get a puppy.”

That’s exactly what he thought she said. “Or really a dog of any age.” Where to begin with that suggestion.

He likes dogs. He had one before the war. But that was back when it was safe to walk through Brooklyn at night, not to mention walk your dog along the sidewalk after dinner. Back before sudden noises in the night, however light or normal they are made him bolt upright in bed and reach for the knife he still keeps on the nightstand just in case. Before fighting “bad guys” was part of his every-day life, and way before he himself had become a bad guy. All of that considered, there’s only one way he can answer.

“I don’t think so, doll.” The corners of her lips turn down and her eyelids lower.

“Oh.” She’s more disappointed than she’ll let on. Maybe there’s a way to smooth it over.

“Why did you want a dog?”

He takes a seat on the sofa next to her (they were going to settle into their usual after work activity; watch something neither of them will remember later as an excuse to be together, usually with her legs resting in his lap and a bowl of popcorn between them) and silently wills her to look up, not be saddened by something he’s done. Goodness knows she’s had enough of that to last a lifetime already, and the wedding isn’t for another month.

She shrugs, still absently picking at her pilling sweater.

“There’s been studies done on how having a pet helps lower stress levels and raise seratonin levels. That helps with PTSD and sleep disorders.”

Something that used to just apply to him, but after Thanos, it’s as often her waking up from a nightmare that felt just a little too real or staring at words in a book that she’s not even seeing long after midnight.

“Plus-” She laughs, but it’s not the unbridled sound he treasures, it’s… bitter somehow. “-it’ll be like exposure therapy. We’ll be forced to leave the apartment for more than groceries and work.”

It seems as if the outside world has become even louder and more unbearable since the world ended and restarted again.

“All of that sounds good-” There’s the beginings of a smile on her face. He hates that he’s about to crush it all over again. “-but what about the logistics of it?” She frowns, clearly confused. “We don’t know where we’ll be living once your lease is up-”

“There are plenty of other apartment complexes that allow pets.” He nods.

“Yeah, but not all of them. And on top of that, when we’re away on missions, who’s gonna look after the pooch?” She seems to be considering it, mulling it over, then-

“Here me out: we train the dog to come with us on missions and do reconnaissance.” The smirk on her face lets him know that it’s a joke. Good. Then she’s not completely devistated.

“If the situation looks too tough, we’ll send him out ahead of us. While he’s licking their faces and their guards are down because even the worst of the worst can’t resist a cute puppy-”

“We storm the place?” She nods, shoulders shaking in a quiet laugh.

“You’re catching on! And, we can order a special doggy uniform since you can find anything on the internet these days.”

That’s the final straw, and before he can even consider it, he’s laughing too.

“You do make a pretty compelling argument, but let’s stick a pin in it until this thing-”He indicates her left hand, which is now resting casually against his thigh. “-becomes official.”

“Fair enough.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

She’s doing better now, she thinks. Better than she was for the past few months. Still, after her last class at the community college lets out (so many new enrollments now that the population is back to normal, and the majority of them have no memory of the hell those who survived the snap endured for five years), she sits in her car for a solid half hour, shaking and crying her way through a panic attack. When it passes, she reaches for the makeup bag hidden in her purse and, in an effort that’s really muscle memory at this point, repairs the damage to her face. There. Nearly normal.

Driving home is considerably more difficult than it used to be now that there’s more cars on the road, but the route is familiar, so that’s some comfort. Not everything changes. She really should pick up some potatoes and cubed beef for tonight’s dinner, but after the day she’s had, facing a crowded supermarket seems like just a step too far. Takeout, then. Maybe a pizza. After all, she’s got the same chemicals running through her veins as he does, which means their metabolisms can keep up with excess calories. It’s one of the better side effects of being “enhanced” as her file is labeled.

She’s so busy thinking about which toppings to order that she barely manages to swerve in time to keep from hitting the animal slowly limping towards the curbside.

“Shit!”

The miriad of horns honking from behind and beside her let her know that her decision isn’t a popular one. Still, she eases the car to the curb and as soon as the coast is clear (she should just run into traffic… no, that’s an intrusive thought, acknowledged and dismissed), steps out.

The animal made it across, at least. Animal, because she can’t be sure what species it is. It’s trying to get away from her, but the poor thing is limping badly, so there’s not much chance it’ll manage that particular feat even if she weren’t faster than the average human. She approaches with caution (if she were to be bitten, would it even effect her? More than likely not) in case she startles it.

“It’s alright.” She’s got it cornered now, and she can see that it’s a dog. A pathetic lump of matted fur and mange with at least one broken leg, but a dog none the less. She crouches, holding her hand out in front of her, palm open.

“You’re okay, sweetie. I’m not going to hurt you.” The poor thing is shaking, letting out low growls that quickly turn to whimpers as soon as she touches it. “You’ve had some tough luck, haven’t you? Yeah.”

She can’t tell what color it is under the filth and… her breath catches in her throat… blood. Black for now, but maybe a lighter color once it’s washed. However, the tongue that peeks out from a swollen muzzle is unmistakably pink. “Good boy. Or girl. I’m not going to look close enough to find out right now. Don’t worry.” It’s not a huge dog. She could probably lift it. That is, if it’ll let her. “A car hit you, didn’t it? Hurt that poor leg of yours.” She leans closer to get a better look. No collar. A stray, more than likely, and definitely a mutt. The decision is made. She’s not leaving it here.

“Alright. I’m going to get you some help, but that means I have to pick you up. Now, I’d appreciate it if you’d kindly refrain from biting me when I do that, okay?” She takes the blink as agreement. “Here we go.”

She must look strange, emerging from an alleyway in the middle of Brooklyn with at least thirty pounds of unidentifiably colored dog in her arms, but if any of the other motorists notice, they don’t let on. Thank goodness for technology. With the press of a button, her car unlocks and she’s able to deposite her new friend in the passenger seat before settling behind the wheel once more. “Siri, show me the nearest animal hospital.” Once the gps is online, she adds as an afterthought, “Call Barnes.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

Somehow, when he picked up the phone and the first words out of her mouth were, “Bucky, you’re not gonna believe me…” he didn’t expect it to result in him sitting in a veterinarian’s office an hour later, waiting to hear about a dog he’s never seen. Well, that’s not quite true. She did snap a quick picture. Even though he knows it probably wasn’t at it’s best, that had to be the most pathetic lump of fur and fleas he’s ever laid eyes on, through a photograph or otherwise. He’s not even sure it had both ears!

None of that matters though, because now he’s sitting there, pretending to study his phone with his baseball cap drawn low over his eyes and a pair of sunglasses to boot while she flips through the same magazine for the fourth time. If he’s being honest with himself, he doesn’t think the dog’s going to make it (actually, it might be kinder if it didn’t, the pooch is in such bad shape), but he’s decided it’s best not to bring that up. Time will tell.

“Are you mad?” That’s the first thing she’s said since he arrived and she informed him that they’d taken the dog back for immediate surgery.

“That depends. Did you walk into traffic to save him?” It probably wouldn’t hurt her, considering she’s strong enough to stop a car if she really wants to, but it’s not exactly a healthy habit to get into. Especially if they’re trying to be inconspicuous.

“No.” She flips another page. “Although I may have swerved to avoid hitting him, then chased him down into an alleyway and cornered him by a dumpster.”

That sparks a memory from the early days in Romania, the ones where he thought he was dating someone for the first time since the forties (albeit, moving very, very slowly) and she was under the impression that he saw her as a little sister. Her apartment was the equivalent of “low rent” and when, halfway through ‘Singin’ In the Rain’, a rat made it’s unfortunate appearance, she told him, “No, don’t kill it! Just get rid of it!” while standing on top of the coffee table (because clearly, that was so much safer than the floor). In the end, he did catch the rat (thanks to her precognition), and they safely moved it and it’s nest into a quiet corner of the courtyard. That’s when he realized he was in way over his head with this girl, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. It’s still one of his favorite memories, so-

“ ‘Course not.” She doesn’t look entirely convinced, so he wraps his arm around her, pulling her close despite the plastic waiting room chairs. “Why would I be mad at my girl for having a big heart?”

She chuckles, leaning into him. “You mean I’m a softy.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

Before she can reply, the door swings open. It’s late, and they’re the only ones left waiting, so it’s no surprise when the woman in scrubs stops in front of them.

“Your dog made it through surgery, although we did have to amputate the front left leg.” Huh. That’s the same one he lost. “We also took the liberty of giving him his rabies and heartworms shots, and since you said it’s a stray, we’ll call animal control to pick him up once he’s awake.”

That’s for the best. She may have a thing for hard luck cases, wounded animals, and lost teddy bears, but it’s not like they can keep the dog. He’s come around to the idea of getting a pet at some point (maybe he’ll surprise her at Christmas), but an animal that’s in that bad of condition… it’s a lot of work, and he’s not sure either of them is up for it (well, if truth be told, if he’s up to it).

“Did you want to come back to see him?” She looks up at him, clearly trying to get a read on what he’d rather do. He could just say no thanks, they’re alright. It’ll only make things harder when they have to go home. But, it’s obvious she wants to, and he’s not great at telling her no.

“Sure.”

He’s panicking just a little as they walk through a maze of corridors and metal doors that lock behind them. Calm down, it’s just a vet’s office, not a prison. You’re not going to have to fight your way out.

Finally, after the dozenth turn, the vet announces, “Here we are. He’s still a little groggy, and we had to shave him. It looked like he could use a trim anyway.” and pushes open another locked door.

Even with his leg repaired and his fur at least partially groomed, he doesn’t look like much. There are indeed two ears; one of them is just crooked, folding down instead of sticking straight up. He still couldn’t guess at the breed, but with all the muck washed away, it’s still a black dog. There’s an I.V. attached, and Bucky’s expecting that the most it’ll do is whimper if it’s touched, but as she approaches the table and gingerly begins to pet it between the ears, the dog’s eyes open, and it licks her hand.

“Hey, boy. You made it through. I knew you were a fighter.” Is it sticking it’s tongue out and- “Whoa. Your breath could take out an army!” -attempting to lick her face.

“We think he’s about eight months old. May get a little bigger, but not much.”

He’s a decent sized dog. Not exactly one you’d chose to guard your house, but not a lap dog either. And he seems friendly.

“Some nice people from animal control are going to come get you once you’re all better and they’ll find you a good home.”

Unlikely. After all, the dog’s a tripod. He’s going to regret asking this, but-

“Is there anything else wrong with him besides the leg?”

The vet shakes her head. “Nothing that a flea bath, mange treatment, and a few good meals couldn’t fix.”

So really, it wouldn’t be THAT much work. He’s seen plenty of dogs who can still walk with only three legs. He needs to get ahold of himself. The dog might not even like him. Animals are funny; they can tell a bad person from a good one, and if he’s being honest with himself, he’s not sure if he qualifies as the latter after all he’s done. There’s only one way to find out.

“Hey, boy.” He reaches out his hand (the metal one, because even if it’ll heal quickly, he’s not crazy about being bitten) and scratches under the dog’s chin. “You had a hard day, didn’t you?”

The dog sniffs at his arm and then, wonder of wonders, his back leg starts to kick. “But you still seem pretty happy even if you are a little worse for wear.”

He really shouldn’t do this. It’s a lot of work, having a dog of any kind. They don’t know where they’ll be living once her lease is up, and oh yeah, they’re getting married in three weeks. But, the big puppy dog eyes look up at him (the dog’s looking pretty desperate too), and he knows his decision’s made.

“Think Stark ever designed armor for dogs?” Her brow knits in confusion.

“You know, since we can’t very well have him out there on missions without some sort of protection.” There it is. Recognition.

“Are you serious?”

“No.” The beginnings of a smile freezes on her face. “There’s no way we’re taking an innocent dog into a situation with hostiles. Are you nuts?” That laugh gets him every time.

“So we’re keeping him?”

He nods.

“We’re keeping him, doll.”

She hasn’t looked this purely happy in ages. For once, the memories of the past and worries about the future are completely forgotten, and that makes it worth it. That, and, well… he is a pretty cute dog.

Author's note: here's a picture of my good boi and writing pal, Rigby.

#bucky x reader #bucky x oc #bucky barnes #bucky fic #avengers #captain america #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fluff #post endgame #the winter soldier

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juniaships · 3 years

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Vanessa Marble-Whittaker Bio **redux**

I had to delete the old post due to spelling mistakes and to add more info, but here is the official character bio for my AIO OC....possibly the only one in existence 😅 Contains spoilers and subject matter of abuse & postpartum depression; if you're curious you might have to do look into the main story arcs of AIO for easier understanding.

Full Name: Vanessa Crystal Marble Whittaker (nee Marble;)

Age: Unspecified but around late 20s to mid 30s

Birthday: May 15th

Race: African American (with European ancestry on both sides)

Fandom: Adventures in Odyssey

Voice Claim: Cree Summer; Vivica A. Fox is also a good alternate

Character Role: Heroine & love interest/spouse of Jason Whittaker

Items: Cross necklace, Midnight Manor (formerly Blackgaard's Castle)

Relationships

Family: Robienne Marble (mother), Regis Blackgaard (father), Edwin Blackgaard (uncle), Jerry Jr. (son, infant), John Whittaker (father in law), Monty (nephew in law), Jana (sister in Law)

Friends at Whit's End: Whit, Eugene, Connie, Katrina, Angel (pet doberman)

Acquaintances: Nuns, denizens of Odyssey

Love Interest: Her primary love interest and eventual husband is Jason Whittaker. They began as tensse & awkward relationship during the Blackgaard Saga duento their contrasting personalities, before becoming close friends and allies. They do not become completely official until after Novacom. Their relationship is regarded as the bonafide example of "Opposites Attract" in Odyssey.

Enemies: While enemies are far and few, she considers her own father as the major obstacle between her and a peaceful life. She was a major player against Novacom. She had a brief yey tense rivalry with Monica Stone (partly for Jason's affections) but the two made peace at the end.

Appearance

- Average height (say, 5'7)

-Brown skin, light brown eyes, and wavy-curly black hair

-Has an average body type (pear shaped) and seemed to gain a few pounds since giving birth

-Typically were darker shades of purple, blue, with the occasional maroon

-Sense of fashion is put together, professional even if casual

- Still has her nun fatigues

Personality

Vanessa is a composed and reserved lady with a deep connection to God, while respecting other religions (and non religious). While seen as a cold person at first glance, she is actually very kind and open-minded, though she isn't immune to making sardonic comments once in a while. While not really great around kids, she has moments of being supportive. After becoming a mother she is rather clueless, though well-meaning and tries her hardest to be the parent her father wasn't.

One of her biggest obstacle is overcoming her aloof demeanor. She needed to learn to open up to others and to out faith in her new friends. Even now she still has her moments of keeping her true emotions, though she has a wide circle of friends and a spouse to talk to. Vanessa was also ashamed of her Blackgaard blood, though she learns to come to terms with her past in order to create a brighter future for herself and the rest of her family. Sometimes she is prone to feeling inadequate and jealous, especially during brief periods of romantic rivalry.

There is a fierce protective side that comes out when loved ones are threatened, as seen with the Blackgaard and Novacom Sagas. She dislikes staying on the sidelines and does whatever she can to help out. She even broke her vows to protect her mother Robienne when Regis came into town, and later inspired her uncle Edwin to stay and fight her father to help save Odyssey.

While studious snd intelligent, Vanessa is not very tech savvy, naturally preferring traditional mediums such as writing letters and books. While she learns how to use computers and cellphones, don't expect her to be a technophile anytime soon. She expresses curiosity and concerns over the next invention hubby makes.

Abilities

Vanessa can memorize a lot a bible verses which she uses as prayer, or as a quip. She also has taken self defense classes to hold her her own.

- Strengths: In her early years she proved to be surprisingly strong and fast when need be. She can adapt to certain situations and keep her cool. Clever and resourceful, Vanessa often thinks and plans her actions. She can speak three languages (Spanish, French, and Mandarin Chinese) and plans om studying more.

- Weaknesses: After pregnancy she isn't as physically strong and has to limit herself to recover, and can be overpowered by much stronger foes. Vanessa is not very good at advanced technology, and she is a bad cook (Jason keeps her away from the stove as much as possible).

Backstory Vanessa was the only child of Regis and Robienne Blackgaard. Their marriage had be a short and rocky one marred by neglect, emotional manipulation and mental abuse. Finally, on the guidance of Edwin (Regis's brother) Robienne decided she had enough and divorced Regis when Vanessa was two years old. Robienne moved her daughter to New England to be with family, and the two lived peacefully after that. After graduating high school, Vanessa went to the nunnery and stayed there for a few years, while Robienne moved to the Midwest to pursue a career in teaching.

However Vanessa soon grew discontent, feeling as though she was missing out on normal young adult life. Should she stay as a nun or forge her own path?

She would find clues to her answer in the form of receiving news about her father moving to Odyssey - the same town her mother lived. Fearing for her mother's life, Vanessa requested a temporary break in vows, family business, she had said. Settling in Odyssey (under the surname Newman) she got a job working at Whit's End and as a private tutor.

Following major and minor events including the Blackgaard, Novacom, and Green Ring Conspiracy drama, Jason proposed to Vanessa, and they had a summer wedding (but not before overcoming premarital jitters and a threat from Jason's past). Two years after their union (or as of current Odyssey storyline) they had a little boy named Jerry Jr. (named after Jason's deceased brother). Vanessa continues to work at Whit's End as a curator and artist.

Major Storylines: If she was canon she would've been a major player in some of Odyssey's biggest stories including:

- Blackgaard Saga: Her debut, she came to town to take care of her mother & to confront her father on troubled past. She was hired to work at Whit's End where she met then-owner Jack Allen & the previous owner's son Jason for the first time. The townsfolk were.mesmerized by the seemingly mysterious woman and rumors started to abound. Near the climax, Vanessa revealed to Connie and Eugene that came to Odyssey to protect her mother from Regis. Towards the end of the saga, she, her uncle Edwin, and a few townsfolk helped to set up a trap for her father to save Odyssey.

Novacom Saga: She was a big player in taking down Novacom, using her skills writing letters to raise awareness on Novacom's shady actions. This is where her rivalry with Monica Stone began as Vanessa feelings for Jason turn romantic. After Novacom, she would be involved in more stories.

Green Ring Conspiracy: Following Jason's supposed "death" she briefly left Odyssey in mourning. Her uncle and mother managed to convince her to come back to Odyssey. She was unaware of Jason's secret of being alive and working as the Stiletto, and had several encounters with the Stiletto where the mysterious man left her roses and notes of endearment. The two would later reunite after Jason retuned to town, but Vanessa was angry with him for keeping secrets from her. After a long time (and counsel from Whit) she forgave him, and the two reconciled with the promise of being more open with each other.

Courtship Of Jason & Vanessa: An original storyline where the romance between her and Jason comes full circle, leading to their engagement! If only they could overcome personal inhibitions, a hateful doberman, past rivals and a threat from Jason's spy work!

Junior's Birth & Beyond: A couple of years into their marriage Vanessa became pregnant. She was anxious over multiple scenarios, her growing appetite and mood swings. After her son was born she developed symptoms of postpartum depression and sought medications and therapy. Slowly but surely, her mental health improved, & her anxieties faded away. As of now she has gotten involved with the current Rydell Saga.

Trivia

Vanessa won several awards for her artwork and has them on display everywhere in Odyssey

She is one of my most complex characters, but also one starting to really grow on me mostly out of nostalgia for the series

- Characters that inspired Vanessa's creation are Megara (Disney Hercules), Rei/Sailor Mars (Sailor Moon), Esther (biblical stories), Tzipporah (biblical stories esp. Dreamworks The King of Egypt), Talia Al Ghul, and Elisa Maza (Gargoyles). Other inspos include Maria Von Trapp and Marian Ravenwood.

- Vanessa was made to have a unique female character to contrast Connie and Katrina. Also because I have a soft spot for the Forbidden Love trope (if done right).

- She is the only main character OC of mine that is explicitly religious. She was Catholic and while she converted to Protestant, she still holds on to Catholic values. She is also the only main OC to be a parent as of current.

- Vanessa still visits her old nunnery when she and Jason goes to New England.

- She has bouts of postpartum depression, and takes medication to regulate.

- Her favorite things are the color blue, making her own pigments, and coffee flavored ice cream

Quotes

"Blackgaard already made our lives miserable uncle Edwin! If you leave now you're only giving him more power! You helped mama and I so many times, so it's my turn to return the favor!"

"Connie I'm a nun not a miracle worker."

"If my mother superior saw what I'm doing right now I would've had an early meeting with the Lord!"

"No more secrets. From now on it's just truth and nothing but the truth. Except for my age, don't ask me how old I am."

"Sheesh with all these buttons I'm surprised we didn't destroy Odyssey yet!"

"Jason I know you're worried about the baby but did you have to baby proof the doghouse too?"

"My little Angel! Who's a good girl? Who's a good girl!"

"I can't believe I can still wear this after all these years!?"

"Jason Whittaker you have got to be the most stubborn, reckless, foolhardy man I have ever met, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

"You call it junk I call it avant garde."

"I'm not responsible for my father's sins but I am responsible for mine. But my mother and uncle are in trouble. If not for me then please, do it for them!"

"She doesn't hate you Jason, she hates everyone equally."

"I guess God had a plan in store for me after all. I would've never met such wonderful people."

"Are you going to keep talking or should I start the kissing?"

Pictures

I haven't drawn any references for her yet, so that's going to be on a separate post

#adventures in odyssey #aio radio #blackgaard saga #novacom saga #green ring conspiracy #canon x oc #oc x canon #jason x oc #jason whittaker #oc: vanessa marble #oc bio #adventures in odyssey radio show #aio #i wanna make aio more inclusive and less er 'christian propaganda' i still enjoy the series tho

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sleeplessandstubborn · 3 years

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Emily in Paris episode 3 or it’s still more accurate than American media recent coverture on France.

Ah, I had to write that title. And I am not even talking about American Twitter. But yeah. Feel better. Somewhat I have the impression that this is going to substitute the still a better love story than Twilight in my mind. But, I’m sorry, Stephenie Meyer, I am not here for that but to make a belated, totally improvised, not at all completely planned recap of Episode 3 of Emily in Paris, your favourite Instagram version of the French capital.

So episode 3 starts with our heroine running, as she usually does every morning. Why this Paris is more empty than the town where I live which has like 25,000 inhabitants? So many questions about where did people go. The case is her boss in Chicago calls. Yes, the one who speaks French and should be now best friends with Sylvie but it’s stuck in Chicago with her pregnancy.

I know, Madeline, I know. It would be frustrating for me too that the main trait of my personality was I’m pregnant and on my bed. They both exchange about how now that Doug dumped her Emily’s life is full of croissants and sex, when actually is about sex. Also Emily meets street furniture. As does Madeline, too. I guess that’s not the kind of idea she had of meeting French men. Thanks Anne! Hidalgo of course.

Madeline is sending Emily the corporate commandments for Savoir. Yikes, I thought again, a cultural clash is coming and what are corporate commandments anyway (I don’t know, sounds tacky, I’m just a puzzled European), but for now there are another problems to solve. Emily’s shower breaks, the building manager only speaks French and of course our leading lady is still struggling with understanding it. Also, sidenote: manager building is right with Miss Cooper. Only problems.

Fortunately Gabriel exists and he helps her to break the language barrier. But this isn’t going to magically repair her shower and so Emily has to wash her hair in one of humanity’s wonders, one apex of civilization, the bidet. It’s supposed to be a bad hair day for her afterwards but... Does she look that different? Well, not for me! Discuss:

This shows... A character development! At last! Emily is trying to learn French, and even if her beret isn’t going to help in the task, is good to see she’s trying to adapt. Still, she’s overdoing a bit with that Gioconda bag.

I mean, girl. Relax. In order to improve her knowledge, she tries to trick her teacher - who considers a working place full of French people must be an interesting environment where to study the behaviour of the Emily Cooperius Chicagoensis but refuses the pleasure of her company if there’s not a 50 euros banknote in between. Business is business after all. Cut to Emily reuniting with my adored godess Sylvie, whose elegance and beauty only can be matched with the flag of the twelve stars in the background. Ah, Freude, schöner Götterfunken/ Tochter aus Elysium,/ Wir betreten feuertrunken/ Himmlische, dein Heiligtum!

Well, the case is they are going to film the advertisement for De l’Heure today and it’s an important thing Emily keeps her mouth closed and unsmiling because she looks stupid, at least in Sylvie’s opinion. I’d say more scary but well.

Luc and Julien receive them with the enraged face of every European citizen who just met an aggresive attempt of being forced into the American Way of Doing Things. Which they refuse naturally. Madeline just sent the corporate commandments and everyone is pissed at nonsense like giving praise in public and critizising in private. But off to filming the spot for the perfume. The location is the Pont d’Alexandre III that has featured in like 20,000 advertisement for fragrances. Here they met Antoine and Emily has the twentieth humiliating experience with languages telling she’s horny out of a sudden when she wanted to mean excited.

Emily meets the model, a Serbian blonde beauty that doesn’t speak French, that’s her personality trait. Our heroine seems rejoiced to find at least a kindred soul but we won’t have more time with the model, whose task is to walk across the bridge naked - or wearing the perfume, Antoine says - , while surrounded by men in costumes. The campaign Dream of Beauty, in short. Emily’s reaction is this:

Antoine argues this is meant to represent the woman’s fantasy, to be desired by all these men. Emily doesn’t think this is going to be appreciated by women at the other side of the Atlantic ocean and says the idea is sexists rather than sexy. Filming stop for they to debate, which seems expensive. Stopping, not debating. Without entering on what fantasies are valid or not and who actually pays attention to advertisements for fragrances - I am not one of these people - we don’t get to learn if Emily knows who Cocteau was.

The following morning the plumber can’t fix Emily’s shower. His gestures are pretty easy to understand, as it’s an universal fact that often the pieces needed to repair are not immediately available. Anyway, Emily asks Gabriel to help her with translation again. She must pay him or something. The thing doesn’t get to be fixed and Emily gets to shower in Gabriel’s appartment.

Maybe he has a fantasy of some sort here? Who knows. At the office and after her class, Emily’s first conversation of the day with Sylvie goes, as usual, for a rocky start. She has made lost money and time to the company, her boss argues, and on top of that she’s the prude police. The final straw for Emily immediately after that is that someone (called Luc) drew a dick on the Sacred Corporate Commandments. Having forgotten the fact that drawing penises is part of the human nature since the dawn of times, Emily doesn’t take well the profanation. It’s too much so she goes to lunch with Mindy.

Mindy - who is celebrating a party later and invites her - rolls her eyes at the corporate commandments and more or less say she deserves the hate because she could not expect French people were going to receive that gladly because they are against all. Well, it’s one of their multiple charms. “People like me! That’s my thing!” , Emily argues. Oh my sweet Summer child... Once back at the office, the commercial is as nonsensical as your average perfume commercial. Emily suggests a poll on Twitter to decide if it’s sexy or sexists. Bad or good, they’ll have publicity. Sounds about right?

One day I want to be Sylvie when she answers, after Emily invited her to Mandy’s party: Sorry, I’m busy. Also when she goes on with a mini the reason you suck moment: “You come to Paris. You walk into my office. You don’t even bother to learn the language. You treat the city like it’s your amusement park”. Apparently Emily can’t wrap her head around the idea of not everyone liking her and that you don’t have why to be friends with your bosses or workmates. Girl, just a civilized relationship with them is enough. Anyway... Emily does invite her, incapable of taking a no for an answer.

As predictable - don’t say you didn’t predict it - the party is a bit crowded and, leaving aside Mindy, Emily doesn’t know anyone there. Because, Sylvie knowing better, she didn’t show up. Well done Madame. Out of water again, Emily finds an apparently cute boy who engages in a conversation with her. With hand kissing at the balcony at all.

All it’s very romantic until, when they are strolling the streets and after flirting a bit, Fabien I think was his name - sorry, not checking again - tells her he likes American pussies. This is too much information all of a sudden for Emily - even if it could lead her to learn another the meaning of a new French word, equally related with felines - and storms off to Gabriel’s restaurant. Why is a thing the chef is there, available to serve her a glass of wine, I don’t know, I didn’t write this thing. But finally, finally, FINALLY our heroine says she’s going to stop trying being liked by everyone. Thank you Paris, you inspired some adult realities on Emily’s brain. It’s also a productive night after all because Gabriel says he likes her. So... yay? Since many of you have already seen the complete season, you know that things are... more complicated than that.

Of course the last three minutes of the episode are reserved for Emily Was Right After All moments. The poll is a success even if the commercial is not universally liked - but as Emily has learn this is not that important anymore -, she takes revenge on Luc bringing a dick shaped bread, or cake - I don’t know exactly what it is - which is a funny and irreverent way to respond him aaaand... finds a present from Antoine on her desk, lingerie from La Perla. Which is, ew, a bit creepy.

Aaaand that was all. I had to rewatch it because it had been eras since I last wrote about this series. I promise to be more disciplined with the next ones. Until then.

P.S. Down with Corporation Commandments.

#emily in paris

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sunflower-swan · 4 years

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Wolfstar Chapter 1

A/N: Here’s what you need to know: I created this story for Writer’s Month 2020. Every day is a new prompt, and therefore a new chapter. This is an AU Wolfstar where Remus is a tattoo artist next door to Sirius who manages a flower shop. James and Lily are alive in this universe and own a coffee shop across the street. And to make parts of the story work with the prompts, Remus is about 10 years older than Sirius.

Day 1 Prompt: Tattoo Artist/Flower Shop AU

Rating: Teen and Up

Word Count: 1318

Tags: smoking, language

Chapter One

Remus

Randy Newman “You’ve Got a Friend in Me”

If you've got troubles, I've got 'em too

There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you

We stick together and can see it through

'Cause you've got a friend in me

“Missed you at the Potter’s Wheel.” Remus handed a steaming cup of coffee -- black with cream, no sugar -- to the younger man. He had grown accustomed to their morning coffee ritual, so he had worried when the other didn’t show up that day.

A bearded face peeked around the large floral arrangement. His grey eyes widened and then looked down at his watch. “Shit. I’m sorry,” Sirius apologized and accepted the cup. “We’re a little swamped at the moment,” he chuckled.

Remus looked around the Flower Loft. It didn’t seem any more crowded with floral arrangements than usual. In fact, it looked as it always did. The same cooler containing premade arrangements stood along the wall near the door -- for those spontaneous or impulsive people. Small tables containing other trinkets and tokens for sale dotted the wood floor. He couldn’t see anything different or out of place.

He looked back at Sirius. “So everything’s ok then?”

“Everything’s fine except I have two florists out sick this week, plus one on her honeymoon, which means I’m coming in early and working late this week to get our orders done on time.”

Remus noticed the dark bags under his friend's young eyes and worried that his ambition might be greater than his ability. “I grabbed a couple takeaway sandwiches, too.” He held up the wrapped sandwiches. “You need a break. Come on.” He took a sip of his mocha cappuccino and headed for the door.

Sirius followed him out the door and down the sidewalk. Remus stopped at a bench under the shade of an oak tree and they both sat down.

“Ham or chicken?” Remus asked.

“Mmm, chicken!”

He passed the container with the chicken sandwich inside, and Sirius ripped into the package.

“Fank ‘oo,” he said through a mouthful of sandwich. Swallowing the bite he asked, “What would I do without you, Remus?”

“Learn to take care of yourself, I imagine.” Remus chuckled to himself. If only that were possible. Or if only I could learn to let you.

Sirius stretched his legs out with a sigh, leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “Silas doesn’t like me working all these hours.”

Ah, yes. Silas. Remus scarcely avoided rolling his eyes.

Silas was Sirius’ younger boyfriend who was studying something to do with animals. Remus wasn’t really sure because Sirius had never been very forthcoming with the details of his boyfriend’s profession. Over the last couple months in which their relationship had grown more serious, he had tried really hard to be nice to the young man despite the significant instinct he felt to be anything but.

Preferring to avoid Silas conversation, he gave Sirius a noncommittal, “Hm?” through his mouthful of ham sandwich. Even if he also thought Sirius was working too hard, he wasn’t going to admit out loud that he agreed with Silas.

“Yeah. Between his work stuff and me at the Flower Loft, it doesn’t leave much time or energy for … you know, boyfriend stuff.” Sirius shrugged and took another bite of sandwich.

Oh, Godric. Boyfriend stuff?! Remus was in agony. This was neither the time, nor the place to contemplate Sirius and…‘boyfriend stuff.’ How can I steer this subject away from Silas?

“Hem,” he coughed. “So, how’s the guitar playing?”

“Oh, man!” Sirius leaned forward with enthusiasm. “It’s awesome! Difficult as hell, but awesome!”

“What are you working on right now?” Remus inquired. He was eager to keep the conversation on a safe subject. Music was one of the few things, apart from floristry, in which Sirius had a true passion.

“‘Wonderwall’ by Oasis.”

And off Sirius went on a long-winded explanation about the ins and outs of music, and chord shapes, and who knew what else. Remus didn’t understand half of what Sirius said, but he enjoyed listening. Watching the way Sirius’ eyes would light up; the way his hand gestures would grow more wild when he got over-excited; the way his eyes would crinkle when he smiled...Remus liked it when Sirius was happy.

He was in awe of this warm and sweet man. Regardless of the tingle he felt inside himself anytime he was in close proximity to Sirius, he buried those feelings. It was safer that way. For both of them.

Sirius finished his sandwich in between pauses, and lit up a cigarette.

“That shit is terrible for you,” Remus admonished him for the millionth time.

“That’s what you keep telling me,” Sirius responded, blowing a puff of smoke up and away, so as to not offend Remus’ sensitivities.

It didn’t help. His senses were more delicate than the average person.

Sirius stood up and stretched his hands over his head. The front hem of his shirt came untucked from his jeans, and a sliver of tan abdomen was visible. Remus felt himself flush and he looked away.

“Thanks for the break, Remus. I have to get back though.” Sirius gestured with his thumb over his shoulder. “Flowers won’t arrange themselves, unfortunately.”

Remus nodded and looked at his watch as he stood. “I have an appointment coming in about ten minutes anyway, so I need to get back too.”

“What are you working on today?” Sirius asked as they began the walk back to their respective shops.

“Finishing a sleeve for an Irish fella. Started it almost a year ago.”

The pair reached the Loft. “Maybe one day I’ll let you do me,” Sirius said with a playful smirk.

Phrasing. “You figure out what you want, and let me know,” Remus responded as level as possible.

Sirius barked a laugh and opened the door to the shop. “See you later, Remus.”

Remus waved good-bye and went next door to his tattoo parlor. Once inside he shut the door and leaned his forehead against it.

“Fucking hell.”

Remus banged his head a few times against the door, hoping against hope that he could knock some sense into his skull. Does he say shit like that on purpose? Taking a breath, Remus stood up straight, and pulled his wand out of his jacket pocket. He checked that the gold suede curtains were pulled closed over the front bay window and gave a complicated wave of his wand. His tattooing equipment sprang to life and set themselves up just how he liked.

Even though Remus had chosen a corner of Muggle London to set up his shop, in no way did it mean he had abandoned magic. Separating himself from the magical world wasn’t without its drawbacks, and he had to be more careful about not breaking the Statue of Secrecy, but the change had been necessary. It wasn’t too bad now he was accustomed to it.

~~~~~

The afternoon passed without incident. The Irishman’s last sleeve session lasted a good couple hours, and Remus was proud of the finished product. He had a couple walk-ins later on, but nothing came of them. Slow day overall.

He was leaned back in a chair with his feet propped on the desk, flipping through the latest issue of Inked, when Sirius came through the door.

“You made a tattoo decision then? That was quick,” Remus joked.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “No. I came to see if I could buy you a bite from Potter’s.” Sirius shifted his feet with his hands in his pockets and looked down. “You got me some earlier and all.”

Remus studied the younger man. Why did he seem … embarrassed? Shy? “You don’t owe me for that,” he replied, with a wave of his hand. Remus closed the magazine and stood up.

“Well, then I want to.” Sirius smiled at Remus now. “My treat.”

Remus shrugged. “All right,” he said. “It’s been slow as hell here today anyway. Let’s go see what specials James and Lily have today.”

Remus locked the door to the tattoo parlor and the pair walked across the street to the Potter’s Wheel Cafe.

A/N: The name of Sirius’ flower shop comes from the name of the flower shop in my hometown. The Flower Loft was on Main Street, which wasn’t actually named “Main Street.” It was one of two highways that intersected the small town in which I went to public school, and made some of my life-long best friends. “Main Street” was the “main drag” -- as we small town folks say -- and it was where 90% of the town's businesses resided. This chapter is dedicated to my first friend: my little sister. She is not only my sister, a mother to my two adorable nephews, and sender of spicy Harry Potter memes. She is also my number one beta reader. Our perfectionist and competitive spirits were bred into us and she doesn’t let me get away with crap writing. I love ya, Sis! Thanks for reading my words.

Next Chapter: Chapter 2

#writersmonth2020 #wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #alternate universe

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xenrotic · 3 years

Text

Character Sheet: Ysabeau

Name:

Previously known: Runa Hildr Svendsdatter Storstrand Currently known: Ysabeau Madeleine Allaire

Gender: Cisgender female

Age: 568 (D.O.B.: 17th February, 1452)

Height: 168cm // 5′5

Weight: 48kg // 105.8lbs

Body type:

Ectomorphic. She is quite thin and typically doesn’t gain weight too easily from either fat or muscle. I imagine her to have kind of a rectangular body shape, maybe leaning a little to being pear shaped? Ysabeau lives in an area where sunlight is scarce due to the long and dark winters, so her skin is quite pale. As a result of this, she burns easily if exposed to sunlight for extended periods of time

Eyes:

Either tapered upturned or almond shaped? A deeper kind of light blue colour. Ysabeau's eyebrows are semi-thick. They're also relatively light coloured, though they are darker than her hair colour; say a dark blonde, they're dark enough that you can still see them.

Hair:

A very pale blonde. It nearly looks white if you look at it in the sun. It’s nearly pin straight and she finds it easy to work with, but it does get oily fast if she’s been a little busy. She has a round/rectangular type of hair line. It’s longer than average, maybe reaching near her hips? She doesn’t style it unless she’s going out somewhere, or reading (in which case, she’ll wear it up and out of her eyes)

Race: Human/Elven hybrid (Honestly, I might retcon this detail in the future)

Nationality: Norwegian/Scandinavian. Born in Norway and probably lives somewhere in Scandinavia currently

Other physical traits:

A large burn scar that spreads from the back of her neck to the back-middle (?) of her right arm. A smaller scar from a cut on her upper left cheek. This can easily be covered with makeup. Often will have small scrapes on her hands, but these heal fairly fast She has pretty nice teeth, maybe a slight overbite? She has a chip in one of her canines (haven’t decided which one or how she got it) and will accidently cut her mouth with it on occasion

Preferred outfits:

Turtlenecks are some of her favourite attire, since it covers the scar on her neck. She also takes a liking to large, puffy jumpers and jackets paired with insulated jeans if she is in colder climates. In warmer climates she will generally wear shorter pants or skirts and short sleeved, loose tops; however, she insists upon wearing something that covers her neck, regardless of where she is In a more formal setting, she will wear the appropriate clothing; a dress perhaps, coupled with fine jewelry that she's collected and kept in good conditions over the years and light makeup Her clothing is neither bright and colourful or dark, but instead holds a middle ground. She chooses colours like grey and white, for example, occasionally she'll integrate in a light blue somewhere if she wants to add some soft colour into her outfits. Ysabeau's clothing is also modest, as she doesn't believe it proper to show too much skin; though she will not externally harp on others for doing so, but she will inwardly disapprove of them

Family background: hmm I am thinking

General history: I am still thinking

Talents and Skills:

Very diplomatic. She’s able to negotiate with people easily and often observes people before speaking with them as a means of gauging what sets them off, what doesn’t and what they’re privy to. High dexterity. Ysabeau is pretty good with her hands. She can play piano with ease and learns new rhythms quite quickly. She’s handy with other instruments as well and could be considered as somewhat of a prodigy (if you skip over the fact that she has around 6 centuries of practice lol). She’s dominant with her right hand, but has no problem using her left hand (she just prefers not to smudge her writing). Multilingual. Is this considered a talent? Her native language is Norwegian (maybe Old Norse, but I need to do more research), but she can also understand Swedish and Danish. She can also speak French and English fluently. She can speak a tourist’s amount of Dutch and Flemish, but I wouldn’t count on her being able to hold a conversation for very long.

Intelligence: She has a pretty base understanding of Mathematics and several Sciences, but no interest to learn them in depth. So I suppose you couldn’t really call her ‘book smart’, but she is very well read in terms of fictional literature. Most of her intelligence comes from years of experience

MBTI: I’m really not great at typing my own characters, because then I kind of have to roleplay them according to a standard and I just don’t like that. If I had to make a guess though, I suppose she could be typed as an ISFJ or ISTJ?

Maturity: Pretty mature. Given how long she’s been around and what she has to be careful of, I can’t really see her as the type of person to do something reckless or really make jokes too often

Sexual Orientation: I think she might swing both ways, but would lean much more towards men. She doesn’t really have any interest in dating given her circumstances though. One night stands probably happen every now and then as long as she’s certain she won’t ever have to see the person again

Philosophy/Values: Ysabeau definitely values privacy and security above all else. She’s not above dropping everything and everyone if it means she’s out of danger and she has done so in the past. This makes her pretty wary around people and she holds a couple of fake IDs to make sure she can’t really be traced. She’s thankful for TOR and VPNs in recent years

#oc #original character #fantasy character #fictional character #own character #roleplay #rp

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blooddrinkingbartender · 4 years

Text

Of Mer and Men | Elder Scrolls Verse

I finally caved and made an Elder Scrolls verse for my lads on here. You’ll find all their profiles beneath the cut (if there is one.) I took a bit of creative liberty with the vampires in this as well, I hope that’s all right.

Bilmae ‘Bill’ Golden-Smith

Name: Bilmae ‘Bill’ Golden-Smith

Age: Appears 31, but is over 800 in reality

Birthday: 7th of Evening Star

Gender: Cis Male (he/him/his pronouns)

Powers and Abilities: Resistance to disease, resistance to poison, harder to detect while sneaking, and illusion spells are more powerful than average, resistance to frost. Shadow abilities; creating tentacles made out of shadows, usually to grab/restrain an opponent, or do things like snap limbs. He can also leap an abnormally long distance and summon an orb of shadow that explodes into spikes. Battle Cry (Nord Ability) and a higher resistance to frost because of his Nord Heritage as well as his vampirism.

Weaknesses: Fire, sunlight.

Sexual Orientation: Pansexual.

Race: Nord/Vampire

Faction: None (at the moment)

Current Residence: No fixed place of residence, wanders Tamriel.

Mother: Gweene Golden-Smith (Deceased)

Father: Bilmae Golden-Smith. (Deceased)

Height: 6’3"

Weight: 200lbs

Body Type: Mesomorph/Muscular

Hair: Red, as is his beard.

Eyes: Grey.

Skin: White

Languages: Tamrielic, some of the Dragon Language, and Ayleidoon.

Distinguishing features: He has major burn scars on the right side of his abdomen, chest, part of his right arm, and just above his butt. A hunter managed to set him on fire. Luckily, before it could kill him, he managed to put himself out. That Hunter paid with her life.

If he doesn’t drink blood for a long time, he starts to age and look more monstrous/corpse-like. Drinking blood reverses this effect.

He has three scars on his chest that are either from arrows or crossbow bolts. They’re all under his left pec muscle.

He has a birthmark on the back of his left hand that’s shaped like a crescent. He often jokes that it’s because one of his ancestors was a werewolf.

Hobbies and Interests: Dancing, astronomy (might as well enjoy the stars if you’re nocturnal), origami, drawing, mythology (he has met some figures of myth, or so he claims), and smithing. He’s also pretty good at playing the lyre, the ocarina, and the accordion.

Occupation: No set occupation.

Skills: Smithing, Sneak, One-Handed Weapons, Illusion Magic, Light Armour, and Alteration

Personality: He’s friendly, he’s confident, and he can be rather eccentric at times. He’s far from shy and he enjoys the company of others. He lives to entertain, laugh, spread laughter and merriment, and give and get validation.

However, he can come across as conceited, arrogant, a show-off, a bit of a large ham at times, and/or a little bit too full-on for some people. That said, he honestly doesn’t mean harm (not anymore at least) and if you’re his friend, he will kill for you and do what he can to keep you happy.

He’s usually quite hard to anger. He can laugh off most insults or even attempts to hurt him physically. However, if you do make him mad, it’s your funeral, or at least your mind’s. He does try to keep himself in check however. He has no plans to go back to the sadistic bastard that he used to be.

Basic Backstory: Starting out his life in Skyrim, Lord Bilmae Golden-Smith IV was the only survivor of the eleven children his parents gave birth to. His father was a lord and his mother was a blacksmith’s daughter who was married into the family.

Bilmae lived a fairly easy and unremarkable life with his loving mother, not-so-loving father, and a few servants. His father made sure he worked hard however, not wanting to hand him everything on a silver plate. That said, he was fairly well off, and spent his childhood and adult years getting ready to take on his father’s estate. On finding out his bloodline’s wealth and notoriety was founded on thievery, murder, extortion, and other crimes, he was not so willing to do so, but he was unsure of how to find a way out of it.

However, at the age of 31 years old, he contracted Sanguinare Vampiris. He was infected on purpose, by a vampire who had lost his family to Bilmae’s legacy. Bilmae managed to hide the condition from his family, and when his parents died, dismissed his servants, left the estate to his distant cousins, and faked his death before going to wander.

He continues to travel around now, learning new things and trying new stuff to keep himself busy. He still drinks blood to sustain himself but he doesn’t kill unless it was someone he felt ‘deserved it’. He also kept up with all the changes in the world. He even adapted his speech as needed, keeping up with slang and staying savvy with the times.

Antonio Lombardi

Name: Antonio Lombardi (formerly Enriquo Giordano, as far as you’re concerned)

Age: 38

Birthday: 8th of Last Seed

Gender: Trans Male (he/him/his pronouns)

Powers and Abilities: .Dragonskin ability to absorb magic. Natural higher resistance to magic.

Sexual Orientation: Homosexual

Race: Breton

Faction: College of Winterhold (sort of)

Current Residence: Has a home in High Rock, but travels.

Mother: Gertrude Giordano

Father: Benito Giordano

Siblings: Emily Giordano(Older sister) and Sophia Giordano (Younger sister)

Height: 6’2"

Weight: 170lbs

Body Type: Ectomorph

Hair: Black, shoulder-length, and slightly curly

Eyes: Green.

Skin: Light brown

Languages: Tamrielic, and some of the dragon language.

Distinguishing features: A benign mole underneath his left eye, and a slash scar across his cheek.

Due to scoliosis, his chest and back are slightly tilted to the side. This isn’t easy to see unless his shirt is off. It does cause him pain and also makes it harder for him to walk longer distances.

He uses a cane to get around. He actually owns three canes; one has a sword hidden inside of it, another is extendable, and the last is a normal cane. He weaponised them after a bandit attacked him, causing the scar on his face.

He has habits of nodding his head, rhythmically tapping his foot or hand against the floor or the table, blinking at the same time as whoever he is speaking to, and gesturing with his hands while he talks.

He also has synaesthesia, seeing certain colours and shapes whenever he hears certain noises ‘connected’ to them. He also experiences smells on rarer occasions.

Hobbies and Interests: His magic skills. He has dabbled in sleight of hand, misdirection, and mentalism (including hypnosis, which he uses his magic for), and he is very good at those too.

He has also dabbled in Escapology, and is able to get out of most rope bindings, straightjackets, and pick locks. He also likes to read, cook, practise his tricks, and tend to plants.

Occupation: An administrator in a library and a stage magician. Currently working in Winterhold.

Skills: Illusion magic, Speech, One-handed, Lock-picking, Sneak, Destruction Magic, and Conjuration.

Personality: While he’s on stage, Antonio speaks with confidence, authority, and even some glee.

Off-stage, he’s quiet, jaded, and very cynical. He prefers to just be left alone for the most part. He doesn’t have much faith in humanity. He also pretends to be a massive sceptic.

That said, he isn’t a complete asshole. He secretly has a lot of compassion and empathy for other people. He performs at orphanages and hospitals for free and donates a portion of his earnings to charity.

If you can break past the guarded shell, you have someone a bit on the nicer side.

Basic Backstory: Antonio was born in Summerset to Benito and Gertrude.

He often found himself entertaining or at least occupying his own mind with various tasks. He also grew up in a strictly religious household, which he found himself hating as he grew older and it eventually put him off any kind of faith or servitude to the gods. He found himself interested in magic tricks and illusions after one of his neighbours showed him a few.

He started to teach himself when he was in teens and became very good at it, especially as he grew older. He also dabbled more in his Breton magicka, figuring out what else he could do with it. He also realised he was gay, much to his dismay. Even now, he keeps that firmly under wraps.

Eventually, at the age of 17, he had a falling out with his parents over his lack of religious belief. He went on a tirade on how their beliefs (or the fact that they hid behind them) were, in his words ‘a big steaming pile of shit’.

After being told his synaesthesia was a sign that he was being influenced by the daedra and he punched his father for it, he was essentially kicked out. Uncaring about that, he changed his name and went to High Rock to make a name for himself, remembering his mother’s stories of when she lived there.

He started very small at first. He was able to find a place to stay. He worked as much as he could and performed his magic on the side. He was eventually invited to taverns and inns to perform and that got him attention and more money. He also witnessed a vampire feeding on a person, and this terrified him, but he remained determined to continue going and not let it get to him too much.

When he turned twenty, symptoms of his scoliosis started to become prominent, coming with pain and finding it harder to walk or run for longer distances. Luckily, this didn’t affect his magic shows too badly.

At the age of thirty, he started to wander to other places and live long term and do work. Where he officially became known as Lord Enigma when performing. He’s currently in Winterhold, helping in the Arcanium.

Leofric Lawford

Name: Leofric Lawford

Age: 35

Birthday: 10th of Rain’s Fall

Gender: Cis Male (he/him/his pronouns)

Powers and Abilities: Immune to Vampirism and most other diseases, Beast Form. Voice of the Emperor, and Imperial Luck.

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual.

Race: Imperial/Werewolf

Faction: Companions, also does bounty work and has affiliations with Dawnguard.

Current Residence: Whiterun.

Mother: Unknown.

Father: Unknown.

Height: 6’5"

Weight: 240lbs

Body Type: Mesomorph/Muscular

Hair: Light brown and slightly wavy

Eyes: Dark brown .

Skin: White

Languages: Tamrielic, and Ayleidoon.

Distinguishing features: He has many many scars from his days of battling. He has a slight beard. It’s not as full as Bill’s, but it’s definitely fuller than basic stubble.

He doesn’t smile very often. If you see him do it, take a picture; you’ll never see it again in your life otherwise.

He has dyslexia. It hasn’t been identified yet, so he’s been suffering in silence about it. He also has some slight shortsightedness, but makes up for that with his other skills.

Hobbies and Interests: Reading, raising butterflies, plants and botany (he also researches how to better weaponise them (such as by using sachets of herbs to cloak himself, or make oils and decoctions for better damage output) or heal with them, history, boxing, and surprisingly, painting.

Occupation: Companion

Skills: Alchemy, creating potions and poisons alike, heavy armour, two-handed and one-handed weaponry, which he’s trained himself in since a very young age,blocking, and hand-to-hand combat.

Personality: He is rather stoic, and guarded, but still kind, brave and benevolent.

Although a werewolf and harsh on criminals and other monsters, he has a soft spot for humans, pacifistic supernatural creatures of other species, and animals, rescuing them and treating them with a distant sort of kindness. He is also incredibly loyal to those he makes friends with.

He also prefers to be fair in a fight, giving his opponents a fair chance to defend themselves and fight back. That said, he believes underhanded tactics can be a tool to use only when necessary.

Basic Backstory: Leofric was born in Cyrodiil, and left at an orphanage soon after as a baby. He was looked after by his guardians and taught the skills he needed. It was believed he would simply become a member of the imperial watch when he was older.

However, he became fascinated by stories of the companions and what they did. He left the orphanage at the age of sixteen years old and honed his skills, eventually making his way to Skyrim.

He had already shown a lot of the qualities of the companions during his travels, and he had actually been noticed by some of the travelling ones. He was accepted after some trials and has been with them since.

He eventually became a werewolf when with them as well, and has not regretted this choice. He sees this as a blessing and a privilege.

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