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goodbyegoldenboy · 1 year

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About me

I go by many names (Roy, Copper, Havoc, Kain, Denny, Hunter, Epoch), I am 18, and I use He/They/It/Kit/Mew pronouns! This'll probably get updated semi-often with new Guards and any added rules

Follows come from @handnsanitiziser

Find pics of all of them on my TH!

Rules

NO NSFW! EVEN WITH MY 18+ GUARDS! You WILL be blocked!

Any slur usage will be an automatic block

Do not harass me to rp!

Please please do not come into my DMs just to vent! At least ask first, and don't get mad if I say no

ASK BEFORE WE RP IN DMS FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS GOOD FUCKING PLEASE-

Meet everyone below...

Agate🔪, 15-16, He/Him, Gay

He's on the run from Belos and thinks everyone he sees is trying to turn him in. His lovebird palisman, Toast, is trying to show him that not everyone is like that.

Apatite🪱, 17, He/They, Gay

He's a necromancer that takes pride in his work. Using a forbidden magic, he takes great care in bringing the dead back to life. He has a vulture palisman named Garfunkel, who allows him to preform his magic.

Birch🪵, 20, He/Him, Bi/Demisexual

Based on epilogue Hunter, he carves palismen for a living. He's pretty laid back and is very fatherly to those around him. He's still got an adventurous side, but is quite ready to relax, at least for a while. His palisman is an opossum named Kip.

Bismuth🌻, 16, He/Him, Pan

Twins with Tin, they do everything in their ability to piss off Belos. Bismuth is a bit more emotional than his brother, but he doesn't mind it at all. He's both meaner and nicer than Tin.

Carnelian🔨, 17, He/Him, Gay

A big softie with a big love for building, he's not the brightest but he's certainly one of the kindest. He loves the craft, even if he can't build using magic, he's taken the time to learn the ins and outs of the construction coven.

Chromium⚙️, 15, He/Him, Gay/Demiromantic

He enjoys tinkering on mechanical bits and bobs, and somehow managed to infuse a small amount of magic into his prosthetic hand, which allows him to do simple spells. He also has a mouse palisman named Ike.

Citrine🦎, 16, He/They/She, Pan

Citrine is one of the few surviving basilisks, and to continue to live, he's taken up the look of a witch and has become the golden guard. She regrets joining Belos, but doesn't see a way out…

Curium🌈, 13, He/Him, Undecided

A gullable and naïve child, he's still under the impression that Belos is a genuinely good man. He doesn't know of his uncle's actions or the harm he's caused to those around him.

Gold⭐, 16, He/Him, Gay/Ace

Emerald🪡, 18, He/They, Gay

He's an amalgamation of an unknown amount of different DNAs, made in a panic by Belos, as he just needed something that would work. He's got back problems as he slouches heavily, and his tail doesn't offer enough counter weight. He enjoys using his uncanny looks to scare others.

He's long learned how Belos' temper runs wild and has long been a victim of the man's wrath. He tries not to start fights, but will defend himself against anyone but the Emperor. He will lose a limb to keep himself or a loved one alive, and will willingly give his life to keep someone he cares for alive. He's not quick to trust, but he's fiercely loyal. His palisman is a desert cardinal named Oatmeal.

Hematite🔥, 15, He/It, Queer

He's a Grimwalker based off the kind of biped demon that Eberwolf is, with a similar yet somehow more chaotic personality. He refers to himself as an angent of chaos.

Howlite🥀, 16, He/Him, Demiromantic/Bi

Cursed after angering Belos, he's destined to always have an open wound. As one heals and scars, another soon opens. Due to this, he's extremely timid and cautious of the world, yet also nonchalant about injury that befalls him.

Jade🎵, 15, He/They, Omni

New to the responsibilities of being Golden Guard, he's a gentle soul who finds comfort in music. He plays the cello, flute, xylophone & is actively learning the piano.

Jasper🦉,17, He/Him, Gay

He's the first successful Grimwalker made by Belos and isn't in great health overall. He's got a lot of allergies and autoimmune issues, but that doesn't mean he's not a spunky kid. He's relatively left alone by Belos, the Emperor using him more as decoration when he sees fit, even if it harms Jasper. He plays the guitar in his off time, and has a greater sooty owl palisman named Crepe.

Kunzite🪶, 16, He/Him, Pan

After pissing Belos off and getting cursed with the same owl curse that Eda & Lilith have, he's used his newfound abilities to learn the gossip around Bonesburough. He's a bit wild, but knows when to chill out, and somehow knows nearly everyone… yet he refuses to reveal how he knows so much about everyone.

Kyanite🍄, 17, He/Him, Gay/Ace

In his time, Luz had been completely manipulated by Phillip and joined his side. He sees her as an enemy, and has no recollection of ever being on the same side. He doesn't hate her as much as he does Belos, but he heavily dislikes her.

Larimar❄️, 15, He/Him, AceAro

At 11 years old, he was lost on The Knee during the mountain training session. He's been surviving there on his own since then. He's extremely skittish and rarely speaks due to a mental block in his mind that completely stops him from being able to talk in times of high stress. He communicates more through body language, pointing, and other vocalizations.

Lolite🔮, 15, He/Him, Gay

He studies oracles closely, both due to his love for the craft & Belos' demands. Although he can only do tea readings at the moment, he's become proficient in it. He purposefully leaves Belos' readings open-ended so he doesn't anger or aid the man in any way.

Malachite🌿, 17, He/Him, Gay/Ace

Still actively working for Belos, he works as an assassin type guard for him. He works well with both poisons and swordsmanship, though if magic comes into the equation, he's pretty much screwed. He finds comfort in gardening, and hangs out often with the plant coven, along with Terra Snapdragon. He has severe epilepsy that Belos continues to worsen, and therefore finds himself with Hettie often.

Moldavite💠, 17, He/They, Pan/Demisexual

Despite having been trained to hunt and hurt, the kid has a love and knack for patching others up and healing them of their ails. He may not be able to perform complex magic, but he still does all that he can to help. His ocelot palisman, Epoch, helps him with simple spells.

Obsidian🕸️, 15, He/It, Pan

There's not much to him. He's just a feral kid with *way* too much energy. He has wings, though they're too heavy for flight. He doesn't mind having them, though, as he can smack people with them.

Onyx🫐, 15, He/Him, Bi

Even with his quiet personality, this kid kicks ass, though he doesn't enjoy doing it. Belos had raised him with a sibling, and once they were older, made them fight to the death to see who should be Golden Guard. Onyx won that battle. He and his mourning dove palisman, Pikelet, get through the harsh realities of the world one step at a time.

Opal☠️, 15, He/Him, Bi/Ace

He can see and hear the dead, and the dead can interact with him, though he cannot speak back. He suffers from insomnia and paranoia due to the near constant chatter of the dead and what they tell him.

Phantom🌹, 19, He/Him, Pan

He's a run away guard who joined the CATS as sOon as he heard of its existence. He's a valiant fighter and has a love for theatrics and dramatics. He's a bit of a flirt but an all around good guy.

Pyrite🌼, 14, He/Him, AceAro

The child has had it rough, as he knows Belos wants his death, yet he cannot escape. He doesn't trust the covenheads, fearing what they may do to him. Belos sees him as a failure and a weak link, as Pyrite is skittish and doesn't have it in him to hurt others.

Quartz⛓️, 16, He/Him, Unsure

He hasn't left the castle once in his life, Belos having scared and gaslit him into believing that the outside world was unsafe. It's gotten to the point that he rarely goes to any portion of the castle grounds that isn't inside.

Rhyolite🌘, 17, He/Him, AroAce

He's a puppet from the Collector that's come back to life. He has his own thoughts and feelings, and he vaguely remembers his life before he was turned. Though he's still unsure of how to process everything, and is largely unemotional.

Seraphinite🧪, 16, He/Him, Gay

He's got a talent for potions and hangs around Vitimir often, though letting him into a kitchen would end up absolutely disastrous. He's a sweet, excitable, kindhearted boy.

Silver☣️, 18, He/Him, Gay

He worships the ground Belos walks on, doing any dirty work the Emperor sets him to do with joy. He's been possessed by Belos for years, but he sees the sludge as a gift. Despite his possession, his actions are still his own. He's unreliable and reacts to everything with anger, he's loyal to only himself and the Emperor.

Sugilite🕯️, 19, He/Him, Demiromantic/Gay/Ace

The Guard who doesn't Exist, blink and you'll miss him. Sugilite keeps to the shadows and keeps quiet, hardly interacting with the world. He doesn't get involved much with what goes on around in the Boiling Isles unless he's told to.

Tin🪨, 16, He/Him, Bi

The other half to Bismuth, he's a bit more soft spoken (though he still jokes and messes around with his twin). He enjoys harassing Belos with Bismuth, though leaves his pranks to the Emperor.

Topaz🍇, 16, He/Him, Gay

Doing everything he can to look and act like his father figure, Darius, he tries copying the Head Witch's mannerisms to a tea. He enjoys working with abominations, even if he can't bring most of them to life.

Wehrlite🩸, 17, He/Him, Gay

A false titan made by Belos in hopes of getting titan's blood for the portal. His blood is too diluted by witch's blood to work, yet Belos still takes blood from him in hopes that it'll work as he grows older.

Xanthite👑, 22, He/Him, Unlabeled

He, along with a small rebellion, managed to overwhelm and kill Belos before the events of the Day of Unity. He's taken the throne, and whether he's a better Emperor or not is up for debate. Those in immediate connection to him see him as much more watchful…

He has a jackal palisman named Abrax.

Zircon🌀, 16, He/Him, Gay/Ace

A demon/witch hybrid with too much energy to hold him, he was made to try and look friendly to the average Boiling Isles citizen. He's taken up illusions and looks up to his father figure and Head Witch, Adrian.

#mun post #toh rp #the owl house rp #roleplay #toh rp blog #toh ocs #oc rp #intro post

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all-the-muses · 3 years

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The New Hire

starter for @pages-and-words

#uncanny counter #So-mun #So mun #rp #Hyeok-u #pages-and-words

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yellowocaballero · 3 years

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Jon & Sasha Arson fic

Little fragment of an idea that never went anywhere. No reason for it. Just thought it would be funny. I was right. Rest under the cut.

Most people who were unlucky enough to meet Jonathan Sims assumed he had no friends.

This was true, up to a point two weeks after Jon became a researcher at the Magnus Institute: afterwards Jon had no friends, except for Sasha James.

Sasha James was attributable to arson.

Most people who were unlucky enough to meet Jonathan Sims assumed he had no friends.

This was true, up to a point two weeks after Jon became a researcher at the Magnus Institute: afterwards Jon had no friends, except for Sasha James.

*******

Sasha James was attributable to arson.

Arson was attributable to a bookshelf of Leitners, humming strange songs and spewing toxic energy into the air in rhythmic hissing motions. The Leitners were attributable to Artifact Storage, a testament to mankind’s hubris and a modern-day tower of Babel where a group of underpaid academics found themselves stress testing kevlar and fire suppression systems each day. Artifact Storage was attributable to the Magnus Institute, where Jon had managed to land a job after three months of desolate post-graduate unemployment. And the Magnus Institute was attributable to - well, probably Jonah Magnus, but Jon found that it was likely a bit of a reach to blame a long dead Regency gentleman for all of his problems.

Jon needed this job. London was expensive and so were funerals, and he couldn’t keep living on life insurance forever. It was even a good job, with decent pay and the exact kind of limp, half-hearted academia that the private sector promised disillusioned English mastery holders. His coworkers were nice - well, Tim was nice, everybody else seemed to hate him for the same reason that everybody else hated him, likely intimidated by how smart he was - and the commute was short. He couldn’t afford to lose this job. Spiritually, metaphysically, and literally.

Which was why he should stop staring at this piece of paper. The follow-up research to a statement given by some idiot unlucky enough to cross paths with what was certainly a Leitner.

‘ORIGINATION OF PHENOMENA ISOLATED’, the page read out professionally, yet chipperly, like a young woman in a new office job. ‘ITEM QUARANTINED WITHIN ARTIFACT STORAGE (46B.1)’.

Hm.

Jon pushed down on the floor, rolling himself a meter to the left.

“Say, er, Mr. Stoker.”

Tim “I’m only four years older than you, please call me Tim” Stoker, who had been thumping away on his cheap plastic keyboard either writing up a report or messaging someone on one of those infernal casual sex websites, pulled down his headphones and blinked at Jon owlishly, before splitting his face into a grin. Jon could practically hear the David Attenborough-style narration within his mind: ‘After long weeks leaving out food for the wild Simothan, the feral yet gentle animal approaches the researcher of his own volition. A win for scientists everywhere.’

“Yes, Jon?” Tim asked, in an uncanny yet hopefully unintentional RP drawl.

“What’s Artifact Storage?”

“God, I wish I was you,” Tim said feelingly. But he nodded sagely anyway, milking his ‘wise senpai’ thing for all it was worth. Jon could practically feel Tim calling himself a senpai. It was kind of embarrassing. “You know the shady room locked deep within the basement that exudes a terrible aura of malice and hatred towards you specifically?”

“The gender neutral bathroom?” Jon asked, confused.

“No, the one that always smells somewhat of blood. You hear screams sometimes?”

“The Archives!”

“Yes, but no! It’s Artifact Storage. If the researchers dig up any creepy shit from a statement, or if a statement giver brings in something that melts the metal detector, then we dump it in Artifact Storage and let those miserable fucks take care of it.”

“Is it more of a containment facility, or would you say that they conduct experiments?”

But Tim just shrugged. “My source down there tells me that they do some experiments to justify their budget, but it’s mostly unscientific. Poke this and I’ll give you twenty quid, that kind of thing. They say that if you really want a sick day, all you have to do is touch a mysterious rock and whisper your mother’s name -”

“Fantastic, thank you for your help, must go back to filling now,” Jon said quickly, skittering back to his own desk. He tried to distract himself from the terrifying thought of the basement full of supernatural nuclear bombs underneath his feet by trying to remember his mother’s name, but he was stuck on if it was Marjorie or Margaret. Mary Anne?

Maybe Tim’s personal Meerkat Manor series of Jon’s life had paid off - Sims Shack? - more than Jon would like, because Tim squinted at Jon in an unsettlingly familiar way. As if he knew exactly what Jon was thinking about the literature of mass destruction, and he really wanted Jon to be thinking literally anything else.

“I wouldn’t go down there if I were you, Jon,” Tim warned, sounding a little like a horror movie trailer. “Bushy tailed college grads who go down there don’t come out the same as they went in.”

“I’ll take that under advisement, Mr. Stoker.”

“For the love of christ call me Tim!”

It really was a pity - Jon had actually liked this job.

*******

It was remarkably easy to commit arson in central London.

Jon had done it once or twice. Three times, actually, although when you think about it arson was a criminal charge and only truly existed so long as someone was charged with it, so technically you could say that Jon had done arson zero times. In his defense, you try making it through Oxford without doing anything embarrassing. 90% of your time was in class or schoolwork and 10% of it was being hazed. At least Jon hadn’t fucked any pigs.

Jon hit up the usual stores, and stashed the usual implements in his rucksack. It was a careful week after his conversation with Tim, as he couldn’t afford for the older man to connect the dots. He made a show of going home at a timely five pm, startling everybody around him, and paced in a tight circle around his flat until he gave up and watched mindless telly until the clock struck midnight.

He took a cab to the park a few blocks down from the Institute, and walked the rest of the way. It was a cool, dim night in London, and the foot-traffic had slowed down to a steady trickle of young people in tight clothing. Jon pulled down his baseball cap on his head, fished a key out from his pocket given to him by a helpful and friendly janitor, and took a back entrance into the Institute.

Said helpful and friendly janitor, whose allegiance had been won because Jon was a “nice young lad” and “I always wanted to burn down the place myself, I’m happy to see the next generation give it a go” had helpfully told Jon that there were no security cameras inside the Institute. A grievous oversight, but good luck for Jon tonight. He took the stairs down to the basement, zipping his jacket up tight against the inescapable chill, and pushed his hat further down his head as he navigated his way towards Artifact Storage.

He unlocked the door with the janitor’s key, hands shaking, and slipped inside into the dusky and unlit room.

It was pitch-black, and Jon quickly fished a torch out of his backpack. He flipped it on, letting it slowly scan the room. It was the lobby into Artifact Storage, familiar from his stake-out missions: you walked in, met the bored woman behind the desk, checked in or checked out what you wanted, and if you needed to go inside she would press the button that unlocked the heavy climate-controlled door and let you into the hallway inside. The only other door in the lobby was to the office of the Director of Artifact Storage, a terrifying short and squat woman with silver hair pulled into a bun.

Jon leaned over the counter and jammed the button, holding his breath until he heard the door click open. He quickly twisted the handle, swung the heavy door out, and slipped inside, taking care to grab one of the chairs in the lobby and prop it open. Quick escapes were necessary.

He was in.

The torch lit up a map taped up to the wall, and Jon squinted at it. Section A, Section B, Section C...he remembered the classification from the document he read a week ago, and slowly walked down the hallway until he found the heavy climate controlled door marked ‘SECTION B’. He carefully wrenched it open, taking care to grab a rolling cart and using it to prop the door open, before stepping inside. He fished the canister of gasoline and the lighter out of his backpack, giving the gasoline a good shake.

It was a library. Small, and instead of shelves there were long metal racks with filing boxes stretching long into the darkness, but Jon knew a library when he saw one. Each box had a clipboard attached to it, and most boxes had very large and terrifying stickers on them painted sickly yellow or dangerous red.

The only thing in the library that wasn’t a filing rack was a battered and beat couch. And the only person in the room besides Jon was a woman, blinking up at Jon blearily from where she had been passed out on the couch.

“Er,” Jon said.

The woman sat up, squinting at Jon’s torchlight until he guiltily aimed it just to her left. She had a wild mane of curly brown hair, and was wearing a pencil skirt and ruffled burgundy blouse. A blazer was folded at one end of the couch, clearly being used as a pillow, and she looked strongly as if Jon had just woken her up from a very nice nap.

“Whuh,” the sleepy woman said.

“My mistake,” Jon said, “this isn’t the loo. Go back to bed, this is - er, a very bad dream, goodnight.”

“Whutuhiseet,” the woman slurred.

“It’s - very late, go back to bed.”

“Alright,” the woman said, falling back on the couch. After a second, her snores echoed through the room again.

Jon very slowly crept backwards. Actually, on second thought, his mission could wait for tomorrow. Bit of a cock block, this, but that was alright -

“Hey! Who are you!”

Jon, hand on the handle of the door, squeaked and turned around.

The woman was back up again, and this time she seemed actually awake. She was frowning mightily at Jon, and was already sliding off the couch in stocking feet to glare at him. Jon was aware that he did not look like an innocent person in these events. The gasoline did not help.

The woman’s eyes trailed to the gasoline, then widened. Jon ineffectually tried to hide it behind his back.

“You’re trying to burn down Artifact Storage!” the woman accused, somewhat fairly.

“Not all of Artifact Storage,” Jon said guiltily, “just the Leitners.”

The woman stared at him further, as if she was a special guest on Tim’s Sims Shack nature documentary.

“Why,” the woman said slowly, “would you want to do that?”

Despite himself, Jon found himself puffing up in indignation. “They’re evil, nasty little books that shouldn’t exist. Forget studying and - and containing them, we should be making sure no more of them ever disgrace the world again. We should be burning every one we see. They’re pure evil given literary form, they are a disgrace to books and libraries, and if I ever met Leitner myself I would beat him to death with a rusty pipe for subjecting me to his fucked up books.”

The woman stared at him.

Finally, she said, “I’m Sasha James. Want some help?”

“I - er, wouldn’t that get you in trouble, Ms. James?”

“I like this job but I hate Leitner and his fucked up books more,” Sasha said gravely.

Jon, having found a kindred spirit, held out the lighter.

Sasha James took it, a wide grin splitting her face.

*********

Jon didn’t remember much else of that night.

There was definitely arson involved - or, seeing as they hadn’t gotten caught, just some good old-fashioned fire starting. He had the sense that they had both been so giddy with adrenaline that they had immediately joined the raging uni students in the late night bars, toasting their success in toasting. There had probably been quite a bit of alcohol.

When he woke up the next morning, it was in his narrow and uncomfortable bed, face to face with an unfamiliar snoring woman. For a second, two, Jon was briefly convinced that he had done something so drastically out of character it meant that a fucked up book had body swapped him with Tim. Bodyswapping was more likely than him having casual sex.

Then Jon remembered the arson, and he exhaled in relief as his life made sense again.

“Ms. James,” Jon whispered, poking her in the arm. She snuffled and muttered something. Jon poked her harder. “Ms. James, we have work.”

Sasha turned around, turning her back to him and pulling up the blankets. “Go back to bed, Tim.”

Ti - oh god. Jon felt like he was in a CW drama. This was why he didn’t interact with people, far too much likelihood that he would accidentally end up interacting with somebody who had sex.

“Ms. James,” Jon hissed, extremely embarrassed, “you have to get up!”

“Mergh mergh fuck off,” Sasha James said.

Jon, like a true gentleman and hero, got up and made them both strong tea. He squinted at Sasha, recalling everything he knew about her (slept a lot, liked arson, hated Jurgen Leitner) before digging out some instant coffee and making some of that too. Finally, after shoving a hot cup of sludgey black liquid at the woman, she grabbed the cup and chugged it until she was able to sit up and open her eyes.

She blinked at Jon, who was already picking his hair in an attempt to get ready for work. He could clearly see the thoughts ‘you aren’t Tim’ run through her brain. Hah! He could be the narrator of the nature documentary for once!

“Uh,” Sasha James said, “I’m sorry, did we…?”

“Commit arson? Yes.” Jon paused a beat. “But as I don’t believe we were caught, call it an indoor campfire.”

Sasha James drank more of her coffee. Jon grabbed his clothing and disappeared into the loo to get changed.

When he re-entered his bedroom, she snapped her fingers at him. “Right! We got pissed after! Good times, mate!”

“I have to assume,” Jon said politely. He was doing his very best to be very polite, because Jon knew he was rude and didn’t want his new coworkers to know that until his probation period was over. Maybe he should have waited until after his probation period for the arson? Would it look bad on his annual review? “Do you need to borrow some clothing? I think we’re about the same size.” Oh, no, was that rude to say to a woman?

Sasha James squinted at him. “It’s like you’re not hungover at all. How old are you?”

“Twenty five?” Be polite, Jon! “And you’re...thirty seven?”

“I’m thirty one, asshole!”

Oh no. Women hated it when you called them old. “You don’t look a day over twenty seven!” Jon cried, panicked.

“Have you met a woman?”

“I had a grandmother?”

“I’m going back to bed,” Sasha James said.

Unfortunately, Jon knew that it would be very suspicious if they both skipped, so he forced Sasha into one of his suits that...looked much nicer on her than him, but whatever, and hustled them both to work. Now that the adrenaline had worn away and the sense of purpose in his holy mission had burned up with the cleansing flames, Jon found himself biting his nails in agony in the Underground.

They had to know. Someone must have caught them. Maybe there were secret CCTVs in the Institute. Maybe Sasha was going to rat him out - but she had helped, so wouldn’t she just be ratting out herself? Was she a double agent? Mr. Bouchard was never going to forgive him, no matter how nice he was and how much he seemed to like Jon to the point where he rather wished someone had given him the ‘Stranger Danger’ speech as a child so he would know what to do. Jon was going to go to jail, or worse - get fired.

Sasha, cooly sipping her coffee and looking somewhat fly in sunglasses and his suit, did not seem disturbed by any of this. Jon’s rapidly spiralling panic attack must have been obvious, because she casually flicked a finger on his forehead. Jon yelped with pain.

“Take it easy, mate. If they catch us, I’ll just say that the books made us do it.”

Jon scowled at her, rubbing his smarting forehead. “The books?”

“Sure.” She waved her fingers spookily as the Underground rattled forward into the heart of London. “Brainwashed us to do their evil bidding of -”

“Destroying them?”

“There’s a lot of arson Leitners,” Sasha James said sagely. “Trust me, this is just a normal day in Artifact Storage.” She clapped him reassuringly on the shoulder, and Jon fought a blush. “Don’t worry. We performed a public service, kiddo. St. Peter’s gonna give us a medal when we get to the pearly gates.”

“I’m an adult,” Jon said, scandalized. He had gray hair!

“Well, I guess, but I don’t know your name, so…”

Jon squinted at her. She squinted at him back.

“You’re thinking that if you don’t give me your name I can’t rat you out to the feds,” Sasha said flatly.

Jon pursed his lips.

Finally, he settled on, “You don’t rat me out to the feds and I won’t tell them that you’re in an illicit relationship with Mr. Stoker.”

“Mr. - how did - what!”

“It’s Jonathan Sims,” Jon said gruffly, crossing his arms. He was slightly hungover and his nerve were jittery and he had set fire to his workplace the previous night, but somehow Jon thought that his heart was jackrabbiting in his chest for a different reason. Somehow Jon felt as if his heart couldn’t stop thumping behind his sternum because Sasha James was staring at him, head cocked, as if he was a mystery she was interested in finding out. “That’s my name.”

Sasha James stared at him, as if surprised, before her face broke into a wide and happy smile. Jon hunched his shoulders up, embarrassed, faintly aware he was blushing. “It’s nice to meet you, Jonathan!” Then she grabbed him by the collar, shaking him slightly. “And there is nothing illicit about me and Tim, and there is nothing between me and Tim at all, we are just friends, so get that out of your little head -”

The train rattled on towards the Magnus Institute, and towards the slight smell of smoke in the air.

*******

Sasha: are you coming 2 the pub w/us 2nite?

Sasha: come onnn you should comeee don’t feel awkwardddd

Sasha: I know you hate a) group settings b) drunk people c) Tim in a group d) drunk Tim and e) Tim drunk in a group but that’s no reason not to come!

Sasha: Tim is physiologically incapable of not adopting men 3-5 years younger than him it’s in his blood you can’t escape his affection

Sasha: or at least I find it funny so I’m not letting you

Sasha: Jonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn

Jon: Yes I’ll come, I need to talk to both of you.

Sasha: WAHOO

Sasha: wait

Sasha: really?

Sasha: did you commit ars*on again

Sasha: wait if you did don’t tell me the courts can request text transcripts

Jon: No, I just need your advice on an urgent matter.

Sasha: do you need to be drunk to do it

Jon: ...maybe.

Jon: ....Mr. Bouchard offered me the Head Archivist Job?

Jon: Which is stupid because I’ve worked here for barely four years and you’ve worked here for about ten years I think. And you’ve published five papers in parapsychological research. I know I helped you figure out that this place is a weird trauma mill but it was really mostly you. It’s completely ridiculous to promote me and I’m afraid it’s favoritism. For potentially heinous ends? This feels awful because it’s such an honor but I would never stop feeling stressed and guilty because I know so many more people (like you) are so much more qualified. Or qualified at all.

Sasha: holy shit

Sasha: ...do you remember the speech I gave you on stranger danger?

Jon: I’m afraid to mention this to Tim because he might beat up Mr. Bouchard for both my honor and yours.

Sasha: Jesus at this point I don’t even want a fucking job anymore. What bullshit. I’m never going to get promoted and I just need to accept that. This isn’t your fault, Jon, seriously, thank you for telling me.

Sasha: we can talk about this at the pub

Sasha: in private. Off the radar.

Jon: Looking forward to it :)

Jon: did I use the emoticon right?

Sasha: Yes, Jon, you did everything right.

#tma #jonathan sims #the magnus archives #tma fanfic #the magnus archives fanfic #sasha james-centric #this is an implied fix-it everybody lives fic #crack #comedy #absolutely nothing sad? in a MEG FIC?#sasha james #tim stoker #jon is based off me at a new job anxiously calling everyone 'mr'#rest assured sasha is trans but it just never came up #my writing

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maimeelai · 3 years

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me finishing the uncanny counter and heard one very, very little mention of the philippines: 👀 👀 verse? 👀 new ocs? 👀 rp? 👀

#( ooc || general. )#i'll be in my other multi :D #sdsdfsdgfdgdfgfdgfgff

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icecoldtwin · 3 years

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Intro 1 (feat. PAFK)

/Howdy all! This is the mod of this blog, running and keeping it organized for a friend until they decide to take over, if they do! Any and all asks and replies from Luci will be from them, but I’ll be coordinating to them through discord.

I’ll be posting our introductory rp together to showcase Lucifer and how he gets into @punsandfuturekingsmen‘s Arthur’s town, where he’s currently staying. This is part 1! If you read it, please enjoy!

Link to all Intros:

1 (You are Here!)

Lucifer scowls as he kicks at the back wheel of his bike without force, glaring at it hard before he sighs and shakes his head. He was a block away, just a block, from the auto garage he had been pointed to. And his stupid, beautiful bike died a block away. "Fucking scrap metal..." He grumbles before just giving in and pushing it the rest of the way, grumbling to himself the whole time even after he walked into the shop with his bike parked out front.

Arthur felt like the air was colder when he meandered in, but he wasn't sure why. Maybe the heat had been turned down. His uncle gave him a look from behind the counter at seeing him, but Arthur waved him off. He wasn't going to let his uncle pay him to sit around and tinker in his back room. That wouldn't keep the shop running. Arthur shuffled a little until he could see who was waiting. "Oh hey. You guy. You're here for the bike, right? Can you give me a rundown?"

Lucifer looks at Arthur and raises an eyebrow immediately once he looks at him. "Fuck happened to you?" He asks in a small grumble before huffing softly. No it wasn't his business.....but he still wanted to know. "Dunno. It started stuttering down a few roads back then just shut off completely about a block away."

Arthur frowned at him. "It’s been a long few weeks." That was really all he wanted to say, and he clapped his hands together with a soft sound, and rubbed them. "Anyways. You have the keys? I'll take a look. Sounds like you might have a loose fuse."

Lucifer grunts softly and holds the keys out to him as he eyes him. ".....Are you even....medically able to work? No concussion?"

Arthur snorts. "All due respect to ya, I won't hurt your bike, if that's what you're worried about. My head is fine. If I couldn't work, the boss-man here wouldn't let me within a hundred feet of the building." He took the keys in hand, finger through the ring, and swirled them a moment as he made his way back to the garage.

Lucifer scowls and rolls his eyes as he follows after him, tugging off his helmet and fixing his hair with a hand pass.

"Well ex-fucking-cuse me for being concerned someone who looks like a mummy is about to work on my only way of getting around."

Arthur didn’t seem perturbed. Annoyed customers that were a bit rough-around-the-edges weren’t uncommon in the shop. "Hey man, I get it. You're concerned for your baby." He hummed as he made his way to where the bike was resting. There were a few chairs around and when he heard the sound of creaking leather behind him, he snagged one for the guy to sit in. "I'm not judging. But I promise the shape I'm in might be rough, but it's still good." He straddled the bike to turn it on before immediately frowning.

Lucifer huffs and straddles one of the chairs to rest his arms on the back of the chair as he watches Arthur.

"I guess you're the expert. Still, just....I dunno, don't mess it up more."

Arthur's frown was still on, and he touched the metal with his real hand. "Hey. This is like... really cold? How long have you been here again? I thought you just got in."

Lucifer tenses just slightly and narrows his eyes.

".....Is it? Yeah I got here like, a few minutes ago but it's not like it's super-hot outside. It did just stop a ways away too, had to fucking walk it here."

"Yeah but if it was running for a while it shouldn't be this cold." Arthur’s expression was a thoughtful one. "That might be your problem too. I mean, the engine gets super-hot and if you don't let the bike warm up first, the metal doesn't expand to where it should. The pistons will overexpand because they get hot from the bike engine running, but the rest of the metal hasn't warmed up enough to expand first. So that affects the cylinder bores and you can end up with scuffing and maybe even seizures in--"

He had been talking, clearly invested in what he was saying, but when he glanced up at the biker, his voice dropped out.

Arthur blinked. "Uh.....seizures in. uh. that area. Which... can cause parts to break. And your oil flow might not be the best which can... cause other things to break because it's not properly... um. Warm. Enough to circulate, I mean."

Lucifer blinks as he listens - most of it going right over his head. He was never that great with machines like this, that was always-... that was never his own strong suit. But he tries to listen.

At least until Arthur looked at him and he raises an eyebrow at his look before scowling.

"So i just am not letting it warm up enough before driving?"

"Uh.... probably." Arthur saw his scowl and forced himself to look away, though he did shoot another quick glance back. "I mean. Metal is affected by temperature a lot and it can change the size and shape. So if part of the bike is super cold and part is super hot... They're built to connect together kinda perfectly. Like a 3d puzzle. But a puzzle won't go together the right way if some pieces are too small and some are too big. And these pieces move, so when they don't fit it just-- makes things mess up even more."

Lucifer scowls more but this time less because of Arthur and more at himself. So...he was basically ruining his bike.

"Gotcha. So.. basically parts of it are too cold while others are hot."

"Basically." Arthur hummed. He chanced another glance at the guy. "If the oil gets cold it doesn't move as well too. So that can muck up parts that need it if you head out too soon. And I already mentioned the other stuff. If it's running this cold? I could see that causing issues. But I'll see what broke so I can get it fixed up. That's just more a future reference kinda thing."

"Right. Well. Guess it's good to know to try and keep the thing from breaking down again."

Lucifer hums softly, thinking. He'd have to possibly get more layers he supposed. Annoying. But it would help hopefully...

"Yeah exactly." Arthur left the bike, grabbing the handle of one of the rolling toolboxes. He came back and started undoing some of the parts so he could have a look inside. "Hey uh.... can I get your name?"

Lucifer watches him closely, resting his chin in his hand and his elbow on the back of the chair. ".....Lucifer. And yours?"

"Oh-- Arthur. Arthur Kingsmen." Arthur smiled at him. "Like the name on the front. Uh... you look...familiar. Have you uh. been here in Tempo before?"

Lucifer raises an eyebrow and glances down at himself.

"....Pretty sure I'd be more then 'familiar' with how I look. Don't exactly have one of those faces, ya know? But no. Never been here before."

"Well-- i guess that's true." Arthur rubbed at his neck with a wince. "You just uh... look like someone I know. Knew. Sorry." Arthur focused on his work instead, swallowing hard.

Lucifer blinks in confusion and stares.

".....Well, never met anyone who looked like me while I've been traveling. Nice to know I'm not the only giant around I guess."

Lucifer hums as he watches him, frowning lightly.

"-- Yeah." Arthur swallowed again. "It's a bit uncanny. But yeah. I hope you like Tempo. If you're here for a bit I might suggest the pizza place in town for food? Or if you like spicy things, maybe Pepper Paradiso. It's really good. Good milkshakes, too." He only paused in offering it, given Lucifer’s look.

It... might make them sad. But they needed the money right now, too.

"....Thanks I suppose. Dunno how long I'll be staying. Don't really have a place to stay or much money to my name right now."

More like almost none. Hopefully he had enough to cover this but it would be close he was sure....He just hoped a part didn't need replacing that they had to order a part for.

"That's too bad." Arthur frowned. "Hopefully this won't take too long then. But uh-- nevermind." Arthur rubbed at his neck again with another wince, leaning into the bike.

"Thanks at least. I'll keep it in mind in case I do stay."

Lucifer says before frowning as he watches him.

"You sure you're doin alright?"

Arthur nodded. "Oh-- yeah I'm fine. Just forget I'm sore without thinking." He hummed. "No worries. Won't mess up your bike." He leaned further in. "If you do, I think there's a cheap place near here to stay. Tempo doesn't get a lot of people passing through."

"Yeah? Where at? I might as well look it up to see if I can actually afford it, just in case."

Lucifer says and blinks as he realizes where his gaze had been going. Well. He could at least appreciate good looking things. Even if he wouldn't say it.

"You have a smartphone?" Arthur asked as he worked, feeling the guy's eyes on him. He really cared about his bike being taken care of right, didn't he? "I can get you a link to their site you can check out."

"Yeah I do. I need to connect to your wifi though… saving data, ya know?"

He actually didn't even have data. Nor did he actually own this phone. But....the guy didn't need it anymore. So it was fine.

"Oh yeah." Arthur glanced over at him. "Clients get to use it, so you're good. I think the password is on that board behind you? If it's not, I'll ask Lance." He pulled off a piece of the bike, sufficiently loosened, and set it next to him on a creeper.

"Mmm.....yeah. Your bearing seized. Looks like insufficient oil lubrication. Which would make sense if it's running cold and can't circulate. Looks like the journal needs replacing. The crankshaft got too hot. And I don't think we have any in the shop right now so we'll have to order one."

Lucifer glances behind him and puts in the password, frowning slightly. He'd need to charge this soon… he didn't wanna fry another phone trying to charge it his own way...

"....Order one? Ah....any fucking idea of the ballpark of how much that would be?"

He grumbles, sounding angry - but not really at Arthur more just the situation.

If Arthur noticed he was annoyed, he didn't respond to it, focused as he was. "Mmm.... it might be a few days to a week probably?" The place we get them from is a bit aways. But It shouldn't be too long. And journals are cheaper than ball-bearings at least. I can probably get you an estimate at about.... forty, fity ish? For the part and replacing it. Since we'll have to disassemble parts of the engine."

Lucifer flinches. Well. That was about 30 more dollars then he had. And that included trying to get a motel room to keep up appearances...

"Well shit....since I'll be stuck in town for a while it seems....know any places that are hiring?"

Arthur paused, before nodding, swallowing something warm and thick. "Are you good at waiting tables? Or with bookstores...? Go to Tome Tomb or Pepper Paradiso. Tell them Arthur sent you. They're uh... some of the staff isn't available, so they could use some extra hands, I'm sure."

Lucifer makes a small face. That sounded like a lot of people interaction....which most jobs he supposed are. He hated having to be 'customer friendly' though.

"Guess I don't really have much fucking choice...." He grumbles to himself, glaring at his phone as the room drops a little in temperature.

Arthur shivered. Someone must've opened the door to let in more cold air. "Well. What kinda jobs are you good at?"

Lucifer thinks, trying to think of what he could say that would be believable without seeming impossible.

"Well...I'm strong as shit after taco bell, i guess?"

"After....taco bell?" That made Arthur look up, giving him a confused glance. Was that a weird meme he hadn’t heard? You had the power of god and anime on your side, after a crunchwrap surpreme?

"I have no idea what that means. But the restaurant might be able to put you in the back to help move boxes? Or maybe check with my uncle. He's in with some guys who do construction. So he might be able to get you on a job if he likes you."

"I dunno, heard it was a saying."

Lucifer says with a shrug. Not like he ever ate taco bell to fully understand exactly what that meant.

"…I could probably do construction. I guess I'll ask, see which one even works...see which one doesn't fuckin ghost me." He says with a small snicker.

Arthur raised an eyebrow at him, but shrugged. "Tempo is pretty small. You probably won't need to worry about that. You wanna keep your bike here in the meantime?" He hopped off with a stretch. "I can give you a lift to that motel if you want. Though if you do some work for Lance and his buddies, he might let you crash on his couch and save a few bucks."

Lucifer frowns as he thinks, staring down at his phone. "....yeah i guess I'll leave my bike here. And I'll see if...Lance, right? See if he has any jobs. But I'll go to the motel later."

Won't have to pretend as much if he's not staying with someone else after all.

Arthur nods. "Whatever floats your boat. Lance is in the main part of the building. The guy who looks like me but with a beard." Arthur hummed, pointing back towards the front where he'd first come in.

"Ah...short guy who was behind the counter?" Lucifer asks as he stands up, snagging his helmet to rest against his hip.

"Don't call him short to his face if you wanna get a job." Arthur laughed.

Lucifer snorts with a small smirk. "Fair enough. Don't want to insult my possible future fucking boss."

He says with a smirk as he turns to walk back to the other room.

Arthur looks back at him as he heads out. He'd comment on the number of fucks the guy was giving, but he himself didn't have any. And it wasn't like Lance wasn't used to that kinda talk in his circles. "Good luck with that."

Lucifer waves a hand over his shoulder to let him know he heard but doesn't do much more than that. He really hoped Lance did have some sorta job so he didn't have to do…retail.

He didn't want to have to deal with almost punching another dick wads face in while working.

#msa oc #Lucifer 'Jones'#punsandfuturekingsmen #intro post #rping #ic #long post #Luci Reacts

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the-house-rabenius · 5 years

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Male Garlean Human (Midlander) 32 Staff Officer Alias/IGN Sam Blackwell History

Sammael is from Garlemald and was once considered one of the more capable staff officers there, having worked his way up from quartermaster to aide of an officer–a cousin–whose name he won’t disclose. He defected from the VIIth Legion during the battle at Carteneau, believing Nael van Darnus to be mad–only to be proven right. Facing considerable mistrust in spite of the valuable information he possessed, he wandered Eorzea for some time under the name Sam Blackwell and would eventually settle in Ishgard following the end of the Dragonsong War, assisting with Allagan research, a specialty of his, in Azys Lla. He presently serves in the Unsung Heroes free company as quartermaster, researcher, and–much to his surprise, as he does not consider himself to be at all qualified–engineer. He now lives part-time in the Goblet, near Ul'dah, and can sometimes be seen in the city. He rarely travels unaccompanied, being well aware of the risks inherent in being a lone Garlean, and is usually out with a fellow member of his free company. Garlean attempts to recapture him have not let up in the slightest, and he continues to wonder why, given that any information he may have must be by now years out of date.

Physical Appearance

5'11, lithe and slender: a scholar’s build, not a fighter’s. Sam takes a considerable amount of care with his appearance; not enough to be a fop, but he’s always neatly dressed, hair tightly braided, with not even a loose string on his buttons. For colours, he favours blacks and dark blues with a hint of metallic accent–typically gold, silver, or steel. His eyes are silver-grey, and his third eye is hidden behind a magitek device.

He is a native Garlean and a Pureblood, and his accent is a dead giveaway that he’s upper-class. His dark hair is an anomaly, and some have suggested that he may not be so pure as he claims.

Personality

Neat, orderly, and punctual: these are the three tenets by which Sam has always lived his life. He’s lost the bean-counter mentality he had in his early days as a Garlean quartermaster; rough living as a fugitive defector in Eorzea has given him an uncanny knack for scrounging things up from the most unlikely of places. In his off hours, he can be found with his nose in a book or his hands in the dirt–he keeps a generous library and a small greenhouse, where he’s currently focusing on raising medicinal plants.

If asked, he’ll tell you he settled in Ishgard because he found the cold weather refreshing, which is certainly the truth–but not all of it.

Hooks

1) His former high rank within the Garlean military has made him a target of some harassment in the past. Anyone with a history of service against the Empire or strongly associated with the militaries of the Grand Companies may be aware of him, and his accent is unmistakable.

2) Sam hasn’t professed devotion to any of the Twelve, but he attends services so regularly in Ishgard that any absence from his parish church would be noticeable. He greatly admires the pageantry and art, and is very eager to learn more.

3) He’s an avid gardener in his spare time, and is always looking to acquire rare specimens or talk about advances in conservation and cross-breeding. He has an interest in rare books as well, but is wary of running afoul of any proscriptions.

4) Rumors abound that he’s capable of repairing Garlean devices, and has even done extensive research into Allagan technology. He’ll insist the former ability is nothing special in Garlemald, though he is looking for a workshop where he can fabricate parts.

5) Sam is in possession of a Dark Knight’s soul crystal. Another Dark Knight, or anyone sensitive to that sort of energy, may be able to notice it. Sam knows what it is, but seems wholly incapable of using it–though it seems to be using him quite freely…

Contact

In-game: Sam Blackwell Discord: Varian Wrynn#2280 US-East night shift player, typically available from 5pm-5am EST. I prefer to RP in-game or via Discord, but if Tumblr is your only option, I will make do, however there may be some formatting issues while I learn the medium. I am 18+ and dark/mature themes are to be expected. If you are under 18, I will still RP with you, however I ask that you please let me know so I can tone things down to an appropriate level.

I WILL NOT ERP UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES.

@mooglemeet

#lfrp #mateus #garlean #ffxiv rp #mooglemeet

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anthropwashere · 5 years

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so how was your trip? I hope it went better than you were expecting

It did go better than I expected, actually! And thank you for providing me a springboard to hop off on, because I sort of wanted to organize my thoughts on the whole trip to reflect on everything.

(This got kind of long, oops, my b)

So, in case anyone else skims this, I haven’t been back to my home town in something like seven or eight years. I ran off to the Air Force right before Thanksgiving of ‘09, there was a brief visit the summer of ‘10, and I can’t recall when exactly, but the then-boyfriend and I made another brief visit six-ish months after that. I’d left on shaky terms with my aunt and uncle but stayed away because I have a, haha, all-around bad relationship with my mom. (The visit then-bf and I did left me with bruises on my arm, not because she hit me but because she wouldn’t let go.)

I was… nervous. Anxious as hell is probably a more accurate description, haha. But 95% of that anxiety was totally unfounded! I had a lovely time catching up with all my SoCal family (we’re Irish American, so I’ve got clusters of not-as-close relations spanning the entire country). The aunt and uncle who took me in my senior year of high school were an honest joy to catch up with, and it was really nice catching up with the other aunt and uncle out there too. Plus I got to hang out with all but one of my cousins, and she’s getting married next summer so I’ve got the best excuse in the world to catch up with everyone all over again in my favorite part of California!

The best catching up was with two of my cousins, the one nearest my age and the youngest. I’d fallen out of touch with the nearest-in-age years back (we’re both equally crap at it, haha), but the three of us had dinner together twice and she and I fell right back into laughing ourselves stupid over everything like we’d only seen each other a few weeks back. And my youngest cousin is just as big a nerd as I am, so we spent like, hours, talking about writing and her RP stuff and world-building and dumb Tumblr jokes. It was great. :D Youngest cousin’s best friend since, like, kindergarten tried to go into the Air Force as well, but Basic uhhh, basically broke her from the knees down. So she got out before she really got in, but she’s doing really good and seems really happy even with the physio she still has to do. We laughed over all the bizarre/awful shit of Basic and did compare/contrasts of what it was like for when I went through versus her while the family stood back a few feet with vaguely concerned expressions. (Me: We had messenger bags when I went through, you? Her: Regular backpacks. Me: Oh okay, I heard trainees were hand-carrying stuff for awhile since the rumor mill said a trainee hung themselves with the bag strap. Her: Holy shit, yeah, I can see that. Everyone else: nervouslaughter.jpeg) She got a kitten while I was there and he is the sweetest boy and she’s gonna be such a good cat mom. :)

It was also wonderful to just drive around my home town and see what’s changed and what’s remained the same. Thanks to the absurd existence of the Santa Clarita Diet I’ve blabbed that’s where I’m from on here on several occasions, and it’s uncanny just how specific the natural light of SoCal is compared to other places I’ve lived. Also I did a walk-by of Yoki’s apartment from S1 because it’s an apartment I used to walk by all the time on my way to high school, and I was right! They did edit the front to look shittier! There’s still well-trimmed bushes and cherry trees and a nice fence like I remember!! Also, the couple jokes about how shitty Newhall is are much funnier now that I’ve seen the amount of gentrification they’re sinking into the downtown area. I mean, yeah, my street is just as ugly and old and not a place you’d want to walk ‘round at night as it was when I lived there, but downtown? Is adorable, what the hell.

AND MOUNTAINS. YOU GUYS. I missed mountains so goddamn much. I haven’t lived anywhere with mountains since ‘11 and I legit started crying on my drive back from the beach (the Pacific is so much more alive than the Atlantic, ah it was gorgeous!!!!) because there was a 40-mile stretch of farmlands and orange groves cradled in all these burnt-brown mountains. And even though my home town is in a valley it’s still full of all these steep hills and crazily curving roads and I really just enjoyed driving around grinning like a loon. I’ve got to get back on the West coast one day, oof.

I mean, it wasn’t all perfect of course. There was a strong undercurrent of worry for one of my uncles and their oldest son for personal stuff I’m not gonna splash out here. I was tempted to go track down a friend from high school who lived just up the street from the shitty apartment I grew up in, but I knew it would have been an awkward mess and I just… didn’t want to force that on her or her parents by surprise. And even though I’d flown out with the full intention of not seeing my mom, I did end up doing lunch with her one day. I literally only agreed to that because when I told one of my aunts that, she braced herself against the kitchen counter and said, “Fuck, you’re gonna leave me with that?” And like, yeah, 100% guilt trip, but also 100% a justified reaction.

And speaking of her, it was so gratifying to have the (awkward, kind of embarrassing) conversations about my mom with all the other family members. They’ve only had her side of things for years and she is very, very good at playing the victim. I laid out my side of things and every single member of my family was like, “Oh, okay, yeah, you did yourself a solid.” One of my cousins straight up said I was the smartest one of us for getting out of the worst situation any of us grew up in on my own steam. And it was gratifying yeah, but also kind of astonishing, to have this conversation with so many different people who have all kinds of different familial relationships with her, expecting that I’d have to die on the hill of “I literally don’t have the energy and I live 2,600 miles away from her,” but that… didn’t happen. Everyone agreed. Everyone had their own negative but justified opinions of her. Everyone felt like they had to deal with her instead of just have her around as part of the greater SoCal family.

So, yeah. The lunch was rough, but it would have been so much worse if my aunt and uncle hadn’t agreed to come with. Yeah, she sent me 50 texts after that lunch with only a handful of grudging (necessary) replies from me. But I got through it, I got the one box of stuff left of pre-military stuff in her storage (that I’ve been paying for for eight years since hey, steady income who?) out and packed up for my uncle to ship for me. I got a new number/phone yesterday so I finally, finally can wash my hands of her desperately wheedling texts from new pre-paid phones every couple of months. I found some cute things at an antique shop I used to go to all the time as a kid. I had the wackiest sleep schedule because insomnia and jet lag and OTC sleep aids are a hell of a combo. I read a whole book for the first time in like six months and got a bunch of writing done!

And I have to keep saying this: it was so gratifying to be proved right over all this mom shit. I don’t want a competition, I don’t want horrible things to her, I just don’t want her in my life without excluding the rest of the family, and I feel like I’ve finally made the first steps towards that.

Also, while I was waiting for my plane to begin boarding my aunt texted me to wish me a safe flight and to tell me that my uncle had said saying goodbye to me had been like saying goodbye to one of their own kids. I just about started crying right there in the terminal. :’)

I’m not gonna read through all this because I’m sure I’ll get embarrassed, but all in all? Excellent trip, glad it wasn’t on fire while I was there, looking forward to seeing everyone again next summer. :)

#hello what's up my middle name is overshare #but this trip was SERIOUSLY overdue and i really liked it and it was such a relief to like it too

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findroleplay · 1 year

Note

MxM advanced literature request. AU | kpop/kdrama + other fandoms

lowercase intentional: i don't write my replies in lowercase.

please, COMMENT, MESSAGE, FOLLOW or ADD ON DISCORD if interested. I do not respond to notes >:( /lh

some things to note before roleplaying with me: ✦ discord only ( i am willing to compromise writing on tumblr)!

✦ i'm okay taking the canon characters into our own personalized universe; no need to stick with the plot!

✦ i do not accept ocs. although everything will be set in an AU, so no need to keep everything about them canon. I LOVE HEADCANONS<3

✦ 18+.

✦ i am comfortable with dark-themed stories and collaborating with the story, as well as talking OOC. would be nice if you're the same!

✦ literate and up (350+ words), past tense, third person, paragraphs.

✦ communicative. if you interact with me just to ghost me mid-plotting etc, don't bother pls.

✦ CET (timezones don't matter that much to me, so you can be from anywhere in the world)!

✦ comfortable sharing a writing sample; your past replies are fine, no need to write one on the spot!! my writing samples

so! i am looking for anything involving modern fantasy; it doesn't have to be the focus but i prefer for it to just be there. otherwise i'm okay with any genre except apocalypse & zombies, super futuristic and military-focused rps! i am extremely creative, and if you are too, we should make a whole universe together no problem! i adore worldbuilding so never hold back your creativity - even if the idea sounds silly to you, i am sure we can bake a tasty cake from it nonetheless!

i do not do double ups, but i am down for multiple ships. what that means is that we play multiple characters, for platonic and romantic relationships, then make them interact depending on where the plot goes. in case of romantic ships, there will be time to play them out seperately depending on what we agree upon!

no self inserts i beg :((

not a fan of "i prefer to play bottom/top" SWITCHES COME MY WAY!!!

my intro can be found here!

my carrd, which includes other rp info (triggers and more) i won't put here to not make this post too long (it also includes my discord).

lastly, i will list the boy groups and kdramas! i'm okay with crossovers btw ;) for kdramas, i prefer AUs as well, we can either inspire from them or sneak out the canon characters!

tempest hanbin, hwarang, hyuk

onlyoneof nine, yoojung, rie

ateez wooyoung, seonghwa, hoongjoong

wayv xiaojun, ten, yangyang

seventeen jeonghan, jun, wonwoo

oneus xion, ravn, hwanwoong, seoho

astro eunwoo

victon seungwoo, subin

p1harmony keeho, theo

semantic error

beyond evil

stranger from hell

unintentional love story

abyss

island

the glory

light on me

to my star

wish you

the uncanny counter

tale of the nine tailed

tomorrow

business proposal

flower of evil

i am also willing to take inspiration from other fandoms aside from kdramas. although, kpop fc preferred! keep in mind that all the settings WILL be MODERN.

the winx

disney

wednesday

shadowhunters

marvel

league of legends (lore, including arcane)

valorant

genshin impact

game of thrones

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laylaschreave · 6 years

Text

unagi

a/n: hello!! this fic is literally so overdue I cry, like,,,pre ball overdue. yikes. *goes to hide in my shell* but I honestly haven’t had a single ounce of motivation until yesterday where I churned more than half of this out. HOPEFULLY I get the remaining two fics out this week that I need to: another wesla and a brief james one. wish me luck my oc brethren. anywhoooo hope you enjoy this, twas a lot of fun to rp with my sustenance of life water. word count: 3919

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l a y l a

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One.

“...Hazel was being surprisingly ridiculous, saying if I didn’t stop playing the same song she’d hide all my sheet music and cut the strings on my guitar to boot.”

Two.

“Which is a horrible threat! It’s a beautiful song and hard, why shouldn’t I practice it so much?”

Three.

“But sure, when the wonderful Prince of New Asia practices the same song over and over no one has a bad word to say about him.”

Four.

“Not that he’s a bad guy, he’s actually pretty decent. Little serious but that’s off topic. All I’m saying is that I deserve my rightful playing time without fear of anyone destroying my instruments.”

Fi—

“Hey!” My eyes zeroed in on the smug stable hand currently offering my horse a fifth sugar cube. “I see that! You know she already has too many.”

Wes smirked without even looking at me. “Has too many what? Sugar cubes? Is she collecting them now?” He looked up at Cleo. “You shouldn't be doing that girl. Don't become a hoarder.”

Smartass.

My expression fell flat, batting his hand away from her mouth. “You know what I mean.”

He chuckled. “I actually don't. Please enlighten me.” Translation: please indulge me. I humored him.

“Has too many. Eats too many in a day. Spoiled.” I patted Cleo’s side for emphasis, making the horse snort and shake her head as if protesting.

Wes bore an amused look I saw often whenever I joked or bothered him too long. I couldn’t figure out if it was a good or a bad thing. Did it matter?

“She’s not that spoiled,” he continued, looking over at Wyatt’s horse. “If anything Altivo is the most spoiled. The prince caves in more than I’d expect.” Altivo looked at us, almost as if he knew we were talking about him, chewing his food and huffing through his nose. “You need to stop,” Wes added, assuming he would get it. Instead Altivo neighed and Wes shook his head before giving Cleo another sugar cube.

I, on the other hand, eyed Altivo warily. “It's eerie how similar him and Wyatt are.”

“Does he also neigh a lot?” He patted Cleo’s nose.

I spared him a side glance. “Would it be surprising if I said yes?”

That earned a laugh. “You two argue too much. I’m not trusting you on this”

“He's the instigator,” I countered, lifting a shoulder. “And you should most definitely trust me.”

“Instigator, huh?” He flashed me one of his crooked grins. “It’s funny how you’re all very dramatic.” Our unspoken but agreed upon middle names.

I began to walk along a crack in the cement away from Wes, holding my arms out as if I was balancing on a tightrope. If I had turned around I would’ve seen a smile tugging at Wes’ lips in my direction before he turned back to the horse. “I'm not dramatic. That's Wyatt's area of expertise.”

“Yesterday you were complaining about how he ate the last cookie without asking anyone if they wanted it first.”

I reached the stable directly across Wes, turning around and resuming my balancing. “A very justifiable upset.”

“It was a cookie.” He gave me a serious glance, like his next addition would be a game changer. “Did you claim the cookie as yours?”

I paused then mumbled with a frown. “No. He should've politely offered regardless.” We were all surprisingly possessive of our desserts. Except maybe Hazel, though she seemed to be immune to most Schreave related traits.

Meanwhile Wes tried and failed to suppress a smile as he threw and caught an apple with his hand—amused by my denial. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind when I eat cookies with someone else next time.”

“An excellent takeaway,” I smirked, making my way back over to him.

He shook his head, moving onto the next stable and remarking what a journey having siblings would be. I asked if he ever wanted a brother or sister to which he readily replied yes, though wasn’t made possible due to his parents separating. Hearing more about the situation of his parent’s divorce and how it impeded upon him ever having any siblings... well, it made me more appreciative of mine. Technically, a divorce wasn’t exactly legal, but somehow he trusted me enough to tell the story of his family.

His mother’s family was of Twos. His father’s of Fours. Apparently, when his mother realized she wasn’t too satisfied with the different lifestyle her husband could give her as a Four, her parents acted quickly. Discreetly, they utilized power and money to help her end the unfortunate marriage they never quite agreed with.

I was quiet as I considered his story, touched he’d confided in me before stepping after him at a loose follow. “When did it all happen?” I quickly added in a fumble, “You—well, you don't have to say anything if I'm... being nosy.”

He smiled awkwardly as he fed the horse. “No, it’s alright. It was years ago.” A pause. “I was... ten. Or maybe eleven? I don’t really know since years tend to blend in with each other around that time.

“Part of me hoped things would never actually end on divorce—even when she claimed for the first time that she could actually do it. A year after it happened, I realized maybe I should be grateful for not having a sibling.” Wiping a hand on his stained jeans, he continued to bring out more hay for the horse. “It would’ve been a lot harder if I’d had a little kid with me during all that.”

I picked up a piece of hay, spinning it between two fingers. “Maybe it would've been a little nice too. Not necessarily easier, but someone going through the same thing.”

He frowned a bit to himself. “No because he would’ve been younger than me. It was hard enough at my age. I can’t imagine if I’d been younger. It might’ve been more confusing.” Turning to face me, he gave a sheepish smile. “I didn’t really mean to take our conversation down this road, I’m sorry. It’s really not that big a deal.”

I smiled a bit, sensing his need to change the subject and a feeling I was all too familiar with. I poked his shoulder with the hay. “Back to cookies and overdramatic siblings? Or the Selected's uncanny skills to be everywhere all at once?”

His smile turned soft at my words, looking half relieved and amused by them. A change from his crooked smile. I liked it.

The thought was ruined when he snatched the hay from my hand and stuck it between his teeth, reminding me of a picture perfect country boy surrounded by horses and stables. “How uncanny are these skills?”

I sighed simply. “Very. They're nice and all but they're so... present.” Scrunching my nose up, I reached down to a crate and handed him a couple apples to continue his feeding.

“Well they can’t be past.” His expression immediately revealed that he knew his joke was kind of the actual worst.

I blinked. “You're lucky you're good with horses.” Still, a smile tugged at my lips while he only sighed.

“Yes, they can’t tell how awful I am.” The white horse put his snout against Wes’s palm, silently asking for another carrot. His smile was relaxed as he obliged the horse, a typical feature when I took the time to really study him. There was something that seemed to put him at ease while he worked, no matter what it was. Peaceful. “They’d probably run away if they could understand all my sentences, however.”

“Why, do you reveal your deeply dark and personal secrets? A coveted stamp collection maybe?”

He snorted. “I don’t even know what coveted means.”

“Long desired, yearned for. Wanted.” My brows rose. “Do you have a stamp collection?”

“Stamps are expensive.”

I picked up another piece of hay, sticking it behind my ear. “Sad. I was hoping for some juicy gossip.” I stepped right up to—Bella? Ella?—and scratched her neck. “What has he told you, hm?”

It only took a moment’s glance to see his eyes roll. “Just so you know, I said run away because of my terrible jokes. Not anything else.”

“Which is exactly why I'm concerned for the animals. They can't take any more.”

He shot me a glare. “Luckily, they don’t get what we’re saying.”

I smirked. “Luckily.” Walking over to a large crate, I sat down and let my legs swing, adjusting the skirt of my dress around my legs. I brought my attention back up to him only to see he was watching me. He blinked.

“Your dress is going to get dirty.” Did it matter that much to him?

I looked down at the pale pink fabric once more before shrugging slightly. There were already dirt stains at the hem, what would a couple more do? “I don’t mind. I’ve done worse.”

“Oh, please do tell me one of your wild stories, Princess.”

“Fell into the pool sneaking back in, spilled melted chocolate at dinner, had wine poured all over me when I went out... The list goes on.”

His shock was admirably fake. “You‘ve snuck out of the palace before? What a rebel.”

“Aren’t I?” I intoned with a feigned proud smile, earning a laugh from him. Nice laugh too.

“What do you even do?” His dark eyebrows wiggled in his own goofy way. “Do you have a secret stamp collection?”

I nodded soberly, trying to recall my severely limited knowledge on stamps, of all things. “My first edition 1951 President Truman is my crowning jewel.”

“Uh... well, that’s nice?” Apparently I pulled it off well since he couldn’t tell if I meant it or not.

I laughed, swinging my feet. “I’m not a closet stamp collector, don’t worry.”

His hands raised in surrender. “I wouldn’t put it past you to get excited about stamps.” He had the oddest ideas about me.

“Seriously?” My brow rose, skeptical.

His eyes widened at my expression and he moved to hide behind the horse. “Maybe.”

“How on earth do I look like a closet stamp collector?” I stood and followed him, peeking over behind the horse with both my brows quirked up now. A smirk appeared as much as I could tell he tried to hide it, scurrying behind—Bella!—this time.

“Because you’re fancy like that.”

I kept up my pursuit after him, narrowing my eyes and only mildly offended. Did I really look that stuffy? “My fancy is not stamp collecting.”

He chuckled, feet quickening in his pursuit to get away from me. He knew me well enough by now. “How am I supposed to know?”

“It should be obvious.” I rounded the horse only to see he had rushed into the next stall.

“I don’t know about that,” he called back, “I kind of picture people that say “coveted” as stamp lovers.”

I scoffed to myself and stepped over to the wall separating us, gripping the top to glance over at him. “Then maybe I should start expanding your vocabulary.”

Another snort. “How would you suggest doing that exactly?”

“Today I teach you coveted. Next time I come it’ll be another word.” I lowered my face, allowing only my eyes and brows to be seen over the wall as I mirrored his previous action, wiggling my brows. “Exciting prospect, right?”

His eyes found their way over to me in the moment, narrowing as he stepped over to place some hay on my head. “Oh yeah, I can’t wait.”

I didn’t move for a moment, instead rolling my eyes. Although that small movement made one small strand fall onto my nose, triggering an excessively strong sneeze. A sneeze that made the rest of the hay fall around my face while I tried to bat it away, stumbling backwards into Bella’s side. In turn it made her bump me roughly back into the wall, my hand twisting at the sudden movement. I groaned and glared at Wes.

There I went again, embarrassing myself in front of him. “Thank you for all of that.”

What I failed to notice was that somewhere in my fumbling around the stall, Wes had moved closer to the wall to watch me in half amusement and slight concern. Except when my glare met his gaze, our faces were much closer than either of us realized. I watched as his breath caught, my stomach flipping that he was even more handsome up close. It only took a moment for him to snap out of whatever had happened, pulling away. I blinked.

“You sneeze too easily.” Pretending it didn’t happen? Encouraging. Though I couldn’t help a scowl at his comment.

“Because that’s something I can control.” I bent and gathered a fistful of hay, coming up to throw it all over him. Fine, we can both pretend we obviously weren’t looking at each other for a little too long.

His sharp gaze found mine again for a few seconds before smiling smugly. “See? No sneeze. It’s all about being aware and,” he pointed at his forehead, “Unagi.”

I could only stare in bewilderment. Did he seriously just… I hopped up on the wall stealthily—for once—the upper half of my body hanging off as I leaned over to smack his shoulder with a huff. “Wes!”

His laughter filled the stall as he took a step away. “What?!”

“You obviously watch way too much Friends,” I observed, climbing off and walking over to his stall.

“My dad “accidentally kept” some of mom’s inherited copies before she left. If she ever noticed, I have no idea.” A pause. “You should probably not pass that information to anyone.”

I stepped through the doorway, with the beginnings of a smile playing on my lips. “That you use Unagi on a regular basis?”

“I don’t use it on a regular basis. It just fit the situation.”

“Mm.” A pause of my own. “Then I guess you should start calling me Princess Consuela Banana Hammock.”

Wes didn’t hesitate as he burst out laughing, deep and hearty that I couldn’t help a soft chuckle of my own. “Yes, I’m the only one that watches Friends too often.”

“Hard not to.” I stepped up to the horse. Not just a horse. Altivo. Boo. “What about you? Crap Bag your new name?”

He raised both eyebrows. “Harsh words from Princess Consuela.”

I laughed. “Only going by the script. But I’ll forego that nickname in place of another, if you really can’t appreciate masterpiece that is Crap Bag.”

“I think the horse doesn’t appreciate being called that.”

I let out a small, feigned gasp of offense and went right up to Altivo’s face, looking him in the eye. “Never.”

Glancing back at Wes I saw his eyes roll, picking up some hay to feed Wyatt’s prized animal. “I’m done. Are you going to trail me as I go do my other chores or are you actually going to remember you have a meeting with the Queen and Mr. Hiddleston in…” He glanced at the clock I knew was behind me, smirking, “twenty minutes.”

My eyes widened. He hates when I’m late. “Shoot, I still need to change.” I began to rush out the stall before I remembered one very important thing. “Thank you,” I said with a wide smile, pointing at him. Turning around I continued my haste out of the stall, but not quick enough to miss the smile tugging at Wes’s lips as he watched me go.

“You’re welcome…”

I wondered what he meant when I heard a residual “shut up,” from him, though by then I was already halfway out the stables.

I’ll ask him tomorrow.

—————

several wes-filled days later

—————

My favorite stable hand didn’t see me coming.

From behind, the picture of him patting the horse’s neck and riding off into the horizon was downright tranquil. I perfectly imagined what I’d come to call Wes’s-perfect-relaxed-horse-smile he probably wore.

He, of course, didn’t expect me to come riding hard and fast on Cleo, a wide grin splitting across my face.

“On your left!”

He jumped as I sped past him, likely uttering a snide comment to his horse. I slowed down eventually, tugging on the reins to circle back towards him and call out, “Beautiful day isn’t it?” An innocent smile as I tucked a loose strand from my braid behind my ear.

He glared and called back. “You ruined it, princess.”

Cleo and I trotted to his side, a scoff from me. “Oh please, you probably needed the wake up call.”

He tsked. “You mean a heart attack? I think I would’ve lived without it.”

“Deny all you want but I bring such excitement to your life.”

“Oh joy, did you bring the dictionary today?” I chose to ignore his fake excitement.

“As a matter of fact I did,” I argued with a slight lift of my chin. “Word of the day: masquerade.” Some excitement broke through my expression, a small smile that he mirrored with a shake of his head.

“Have a mask yet?”

“Almost. Finishing touches.” Clicking my tongue at Cleo, I tugged the reins to face the same direction as Wes, calmly walking the palace grounds alongside him.

“Finishing touches? Such as?”

“Finding the right shade of ribbon. Plus the gold sparkles keep coming off and I’m afraid one of them is going to get in my eye and scratch my cornea.” I made a face, imagining wearing an eye patch instead of a beautiful mask for Ben’s birthday. Not a pretty picture.

He chuckled. “Seems like a lot of work to cover up your face when it doesn’t need it.”

I lifted a shoulder, the compliment completely going over my head. “I like getting dressed up from time to time. Plus it being Ben’s 21st makes it more fun.”

Wes mumbled something under his breath I couldn’t understand, the hint of a smile on his face before returning to his normal tone. “His Highness is getting old.”

A small laugh from me. “You aren’t too far off yourself.”

“Ah, but there’s a difference when you pass the 20’s. Ask him and he’ll tell you.”

“Because he’s so old and wise now.”

“You mock me now, but one day you’ll see I’m right and when you do, you will rue the day.”

I laughed shortly. “Dramatic, Unagi.”

“I don’t even remember what show that ones from... but it’s old.” Wes apparently was fond of old things.

“Rue the day? iCarly. Emmy worthy masterpiece.”

“I guess I’m just cursed to quote old comedies for the rest of my life.”

“Then maybe you’re actually the old one.” I spared him a side glance. An almost 20 year old isn’t that much older than me. Luckily.

Not that it mattered. In any significant, date worthy way. Not at all.

“Old soul. My dad’s fault.”

“I like it,” I stated honestly, focusing on the tree line ahead and smiling a bit to myself.

From the corner of my eye I saw him glimpse quickly in my direction before shaking his head, gaze also on the path in front. “So, do you think you’ll finally be too busy to come around here? Because of preparations.”

I frowned slightly. “I don’t think so. My mom’s taken most of it over, wanting it to be more special.” I looked at him with a wry smile. “Why, getting tired of me?”

I had been coming around the stables a lot more frequently since that fateful fall, but I never thought he minded. At least until now.

Wes laughed, though that didn’t do much to reassure me. “No, not at all. I just meant…” He shook his head. “Nothing, it was just a joke.”

I paused, fiddling with the reins. I’d had too many experiences where people—including my own family—had only said what I wanted to hear to leave them in peace. I didn’t want the same from Wes if it came from some odd sense of duty for the royal family.

“If I really do interrupt your chores too much, I- well, I don’t have to come around as much.”

As much as the suggestion made my stomach turn, it was true nonetheless. I didn’t want any more pity friendships, especially from someone who seemed to be one of the most genuine people I’d ever met.

“What? No! I—” Wes stopped himself, focusing on his reins and only increasing my curiosity for what he wanted to say but didn’t. “I... I think it’s nice to have some company.”

I let out a barely audible sigh. Well, I guess that’s good enough for now. I nodded my agreement. “Even if your company includes princesses who talk too much and throw hay at you?”

His laugh was a bit nervous at that. “Oh, but those are the best kind of princesses.” Oh how I wished such a small phrase didn’t make me all giddy inside.

I chuckled softly, keeping my cool. “You might need to up your princess standards then.” Because putting myself down was the key to keeping my cool, apparently.

“I like my standards…” he said, a puzzled look in my direction before resuming his usual humor. “Funny, unagi-less, understands my references, terrible at lying—except when it’s a lie for herself—”

“Um, excuse me.” My eyes narrowed, forgetting any previous awareness of my growing crush on the stable hand. “I’m an excellent liar in all situations.” Ten seconds ago being a prime example.

“Oh yeah, totally. 100%.” He nodded, clearly not meaning it. I huffed out a breath, reaching across our horses to shove his shoulder.

“Hey! No pushing while on a horse. It’s dangerous.” An annoyingly smug look. “Rules apply to you too.”

“I think you can handle a shove from me,” I intoned dryly, resuming my grip on the reins.

Shaking his head with a chuckle, he pulled on the horse’s reins to gallop back into the stables we had come full circle back to. I followed him inside, dismounting Cleo once we came to a stop.

“What’s next on the ‘Wes, get to work’ list?”

“That’s an awful list name. It sounds like you’re nagging at me.”

“‘Wes please finish your chores with a Friends episode on top?’”

A click of his tongue. “That’s not catchy enough.” Turning on his heel to face me, he smirked. “And I have to bathe some of the horses with the rest. I don’t think you’ll want to stay around.”

My nose wrinkled at my least favorite part of tending to the horses, one I never was fond of sticking around for. “Not particularly. I’ll clean Cleo up and be out of your hair.”

He laughed a bit then paused. “I’ll be done with that in a couple of hours if you want to come bug me again.” His tone was teasing, but I couldn’t help an encore of the flutter in my stomach that he actually liked having me around.

Still, I wasn’t going to let up my teasing any time soon, pursing my lips. “I’ll see what I can do.” I began to guide Cleo away by her reins, calling over my shoulder. “Be careful what you ask for!”

“Well, I asked for nothing!” he called back with a scoff, though I could hear a smile in his voice. A cute, crooked smile.

I simply wiggled my fingers in a wave and disappeared into Cleo’s stable, already planning the headache I would fake to sneak my way back here.

#selectionoc #//fics #//wes

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