#[ character musings ] you bleed just to know you're alive

[walkedfire-a]

thinking of the amount of shit buck got for his 'buck 1.0' phase and sleeping around. but everything being consensual. its never implied he strung people along (he's shocked when the catfishing happens) only that he slept around. and if its clearly communicated between two parties that its just a hookup, then that's okay. and i don't think he should have gotten as much shit for it as he did. especially since it implies buck's partners weren't aware. like he's allowed to have meaningless hookups and so are the people (women) he hooked up with. there's also something to be said that the people that have a problem / make fun of him for it are the ones that are either older or in committed relationships.

there is nothing inherently wrong with having one night stands. and it shouldn't be seen as something negative or bad if both parties are consenting and aware.

his '1.0' phase should be seen as less of 'he was a player that strung people along' and more as a reflection of not finding fulfilment in one night stands. and later discovering that what he wanted was more meaningful connections with people. but being unsure of how to navigate more personal relationships because of lack of experience.

[bymuse]

𔘓 ⚖️ . ִ ֗ how they would cry to you

≡ ⌂ ⌕ ❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘❙❙❚❙❘❙❘❙❚❙❘❙❙❚❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ♡゙ written by muse

ˑ 𐇛̲﹗angst, hurt slight comfort, no comfort on neteyam's end lol, established relationships, grief, mentions of gore and injuries, death, bad mental health

cointains SPOILERS ! read at your own risk

characters : neteyam, loak

➷ NAVIGATION/MASTERLIST

neteyam

the first time you saw neteyam cry, was with a firm hand pressed upon his bleeding chest.

“neteyam, look at me.” look at me, or i'll lose it. look at me, or i'll lose you.

the blood gushed out of the wound. you felt it stain the lines on your palm. sticky and thick. something that would seep into your skin and leave its mark for eternity.

both of your hearts thumped in tandem. yours in fear, his in an attempt to keep him alive.

“it hurts,” he said through gritted teeth. his fearless and ambitious facade fell apart, piece by piece, until neteyam couldn't pick them back up again.

you pressed harder, hoping it would numb the agony and soothe the lines on his face, but to no avail.

“i know. i'm sorry.”

everyone surrounded neteyam. his parents, his siblings. and you, his beloved.

a wet, warm hand grabbed around your wrist. you knew it was his without glancing. you were familiar with his touch, and you began to fear one day you would grow to be a stranger to it.

“what is it, neteyam?”

veins popped on his neck.

he was struggling. you knew he was struggling, but what could you do? the only thing you could offer was your undivided attention as you listened to him.

“i want to go home.”

within a blink, your heart scattered. guilt and regret came up your throat in the form of bile. you wanted nothing more than to empty your stomach. it tasted sick.

sick. because if you went with him, you could've avoided this. you could've protected him. you could've brought him home. but no, he pushed you out of the way to bring his sister and tsireya somewhere safe.

something you failed to do in the end, seeing that kiri and tuk was nowhere here.

they would miss this. they would miss his last breath. they would not see their noble brother smile for one last time.

“i want to go home,” he said once more.

“you will. just stay with me, alright?”

against the deafening sound of gunshots and pitter-patters of rain, you barely registered the crack in your voice. the break of a promise.

with what little strength left, neteyam caressed your cheek and smiled.

“i want to show you the forest.”

“i would love that.” you accepted his touch, despite the metallic stench of blood coating his hands. you leaned over, closer, to shelter him from the rain. protect him from what you still could.

his touch didn't linger long.

once he withdrew his hand, his breathing slowed.

the blood wouldn't stop, flowing until the blue feather attached to his armband turned into a dark crimson hue.

immediately, your hands faltered. your vision stung with the amount of tears you were holding back.

“you're going to be fine. we'll patch you up and head back to the forest straightaway. no delays.”

were you consoling him? or were you consoling yourself?

“okay.” his thumb rubbed your hand. “i believe you.”

his words did more to calm you down, instead of him.

hope began to bloom.

be that as it may, one glimpse, one tiny grin was all it took for you to understand: he wasn't going to make it.

you heard it: the petals of hope crushed beneath the weight of truth.

his gaze darted between jake and you. you could tell he wanted to tell his father about your mating bond. how you both had mated before eywa weeks prior to this day. how you both agreed to announce it next week.

the two of you planned this meticulously, excited for a bright future together. he promised to wait.

neteyam couldn't wait any longer. you couldn't either.

he clenched your arm. you understood right away, nodding at his pleading look.

it was now or never.

“dad, i一”

he paused.

oh.

the second his heart had stopped beating, you had felt it first hand.

you witnessed the breath caught in his mouth vanish, as his pupils enlarged and the darkness consumed him.

no.

“neteyam?” you choked down a sob.

no reply.

a drop of rain rolled down your cheek. it was rain, you convinced yourself. it wasn't anything salty or burning. it certainly wasn't streaming from your eyes.

you traced his features. the handsome face you would awake to once you both announced that you were mates.

happiness was so close. it was right at the palm of your hand and you struggled to hold onto it. an immortal love, now dead.

letting go, you gazed at your bloody hands.

the second he died, a part of you did too. a mate was another half of you. you would never recover. for the nights that would come, you would be mourning for a lover and a version of you that used to smile and love.

“neteyam?” neytiri's voice shook.

you wished you could shout, scream or thrash around like neytiri. but somewhere along the line, you became exasperated.

you couldn't move an inch. your body wasn't listening to you. you just crouched there, hands in your lap as neytiri wailed into neteyam's corpse. for a second, you thought you were the one who died.

as every sound turned muffled and every colour faded in your eyes, you reached out to wipe the tears left on your lover's face.

the day eywa reunited with her child, neteyam had cried, knowing it would be the first and last time he did.

loak

when loak cried, he used his tears to wash his hands.

he told you they were dirty. smeared with his brother's blood. it was his own imagination, he knew.

after returning from three brothers rock with neteyam's lifeless corpse, he had been cleaned. somehow. he didn't remember who helped him. days passed in a blur. loak wasn't even certain that he moved at all.

instead of his family's marui pod, he slept in your home. he couldn't bear to enter his pod. not where it was filled with memories of neteyam. he was afraid, if he entered, he would face neteyam's ghost.

“loak?”

he flinched at your voice.

gingerly, you sat down in front of him. the weather was gloomy; showing no sun, just gray clouds. it bathed the room in a shade of loneliness, of hiding, of grief.

“the ceremony will be held tonight.” you dapped a cloth around his sweaty forehead, not bothering to look at him because you knew what would await you. “are you prepared?”

“tonight?”

his voice was meek, barely audible if the wind blew inside.

you'd inhale a sharp breath, before searching for his gaze. there you would find the remnants of a broken boy.

gone were the molten gold of his eyes. all of it were replaced with red. had he been crying while you went out again?

“let's get you ready, okay?”

loak wasn't sure what happened, but somehow he got himself changed in his funeral attire. as for the intricate face paint and beads, you were the one who did it for him.

right. you were always there for him.

it was you who urged him to bathe. you, who dried his hair. you, who fed him when he forgot to eat. you, who rubbed his shoulders when you didn't know what to say. you, who made sure he survived when he was set on dying.

he sniffed. the noise stole your attention instantly.

“loak? what's wrong?” you placed down the bowl of paint, wiping your fingers clean. “why are you crying? tell me, sweet boy.”

loak never noticed when he cried. it just happened. but now, he felt the tingles on his skin. the burn in his eyes returned.

slowly but surely, he was feeling again.

“i'm sorry.”

“what for?” you furrowed your brow.

he wanted to cup your cheek like old times, but it was still hard. his soul was only beginning to return to his shell of a body.

“you've been taking care of me for the past few days, and i didn't even acknowledge or thank you.”

your breath hitched.

“i wasn't myself,” he admitted.

“it's alright. i'm fine.” you didn't care if you were shuddering to compose yourself. you couldn't break. not when one of you had to be strong. you cracked a grin. “i'm just waiting for my loak to return to me.”

the loak she fell in love with. the boy who lived like there was no tomorrow. the one who tickled her and kissed her beneath the moon.

“do you miss him?”

you closed your eyes for a while.

“so much,” you said. “do you think he's coming back?”

silence.

what was i expecting?

you ignored the disappointment that shot down the last shred of hope in your heart. it's too soon, anyway.

you gathered the disarray of fabrics and paint on the floor. loak watched you, without saying another word. you couldn't bear the shame of asking him such a crude question. you needed to be patient, but great mother you just missed the sound of his laughter.

at the entrance of your marui, your back faced him for good. you were sure you were about to cry. you were grateful for his silence. if he had spoken a word, you一

“yes.”

it was one word.

one word, and the dam broke.

now, both of you were crying. you cradled his sobbing body in your arms, absorbing all his apologies as he repeated it on the skin of your shoulder.

neteyam was dear to both of you. for such a beautiful soul to return to eywa this soon, none of you could accept it.

especially loak.

you'd watch him wallow in guilt everyday and know there was nothing you could do. you'd lose slivers of him with each sunrise. it took every fibre in you to not beg him to snap back into reality.

“the blame isn't yours to shoulder,” you said. “you didn't shoot him, loak.”

“i brought him there.” for spider. he had exchanged neteyam's life for spider.

“no, he followed because he was your brother. he followed, despite the dangers, because he cared about you.”

it was true. wherever loak went, neteyam followed. wherever loak brought him, he would go.

“he would never blame you. he loved you so much, how could he?”

you sunk into each other's warmth. by the time, both of you calmed down, the sun was setting. the face paint streaked down his cheeks.

you called out to him.

“so would you wash your face and bring him somewhere one last time?” your meaning struck him.

bring him to eywa's hold.

“you're coming too, right?” he sounded desperate. so eager for your support. “i won't be able to do it without you.”

you rested your forehead against his.

“i'll be with you, every step of the way.”

reblogs are appreciated

( 2 posts in 1 day the fandom is about to get sick of me & im kinda dazed rn pls point it out to me if u see any spelling errors )

written by muse 2023

[subway-tolkien]

Regarding Izzy's role in Ed's life, whether he was a father figure, mentor, jilted lover, whatever, this popped into my head and I'm just going to throw it out there for whoever wants some Izzy+Ed character study.

Season 2 spoilers, obviously. 2nd person, Ed POV. Not really a fic, more like meta-as-prose. I don't know, I just woke up and I'm hungry, leave me alone.

Listen, you're a traumatized teenager, you've just killed your dad, you've never had a positive male role model in your life, and you're on a pirate ship at the mercy of a vicious captain who might as well be your fuckin' dad all over again. You're questioning your life choices and maybe sometimes the churning sea below seems more inviting than it should.

Then one of the other crewmen, a gruff little guy with 2x4s on both shoulders, maybe he sees you struggling, maybe he sees your potential, maybe he sees you as someone easily manipulated—maybe all three. He finds you sniveling and bleeding in the hold after your nth whipping of the week, but instead of laughing and spitting on you like the other crew, he sits down wordlessly and hands you a hunk of bread and a flagon of pisswater ale.

You're a fuckin' idiot, he says. Mouthin' off to people like that's gonna get you killed.

Maybe if they weren't all fuckin' dickheads, you mutter. I'm gonna kill 'em all someday. You don't, not really, you don't want to kill anyone, but you're angry and scared and that's what comes out of your mouth. You hope you haven't just signed your own death warrant by threatening what amounts to mutiny.

Fortunately, your new companion laughs.

Guess I've got to toughen you up, he muses. If you're gonna live long enough.

He takes you under his wing, brings you scraps of food and shows you how to use a sword. He teaches you how to mask your pain, how to ignore it. He teaches you the value of ruthlessness, the importance of a reputation. He's your best friend. He's the father you never had. He's handsome and brave and everything you want to be. You're a little bit in love with him but you don't understand what it means, so you push it aside and focus on staying alive.

Over time, he turns you into a passable pirate, then a good one. At some point your own instincts kick in and it turns out you're not just a good pirate, you're the best, you're a natural, and eventually you're in command of your own ship. Of course, you bring on your mentor as your first mate. You owe him that much, and you're nothing without him by your side.

The glory days are beautiful.

As time goes on, that mentor relationship shifts and changes into something darker, something a little twisted. You can sense that something's changed for him, maybe for you, too. When you find out what it is—sexual attraction, romantic attachment, whatever form it takes—you're curious, admittedly, but your daddy issues, while pretty fuckin' bad, keep you from taking that final step. Maybe you do harbor some attraction, you do love him in your own way, but not the way he wants. Maybe you try, a drunken night here and there, but it's not what you want. You don't know what you want.

You dodge his advances, you change the subject, you fill your time together with plans and strategies so there's no space for the monster between you. You keep breaking his heart because you don't know how to have that kind of relationship with someone who effectively raised you the way your dad never did.

The chasm between you cracks and starts to widen.

Decades later, you're middle-aged, your mentor—though he's not really that anymore, is he? Your relationship has mutated into something almost unrecognizable—is stuck in a rut, happy to be behind the door you're throwing your whole body against to open. Where he once led you to freedom, he's now the keeper of your cage. Everything is gray, gray, gray. The days are long. The sea looks too inviting again.

Then, one day, you hear of a new pirate on the scene, who turns out to be a fascinating, silly, wonderful creature, and you fall in love for the first time. It's VERY different from the love you have for your former mentor, and he knows that. He hates it. Maybe he thought you were just incapable of giving him what he wanted, but turns out you are capable, it's him that's the problem. You've broken his heart again. You're changing, for the better, which takes you further and further away from him.

Then your heart gets broken, and he takes the opportunity to drag you back to his side, except the gray, gray, gray is now black, a void of pain and loneliness you can't fill, you'll never fill. He thinks he'll be enough. He is not. Pain gives rise to the darkest parts of yourself you hoped were long dead and you make the world regret the day you let yourself be hurt. You do the hurting, in the hopes it makes the pain stop.

Spoiler: It doesn't.

And then a bunch of weird shit happens, you kind of die a little bit, and there's mermaids and lesbians and drag queens, it's a whole thing. You claw your way back to sanity and the love of your life, while your former mentor finds himself and his capacity to love in a way he never really understood. You are learning who you are apart from each other and this machine you've built together. You learn to be softer, he learns that being softer is not a character flaw or a weakness. He learns how love is strength. You learn how to trust other people. It's a process, but you're getting there.

The chasm between you remains, but on either side are the beginnings of a bridge.

He said, in the beginning, he wouldn't die for you, except he sort of does, in the end. As he sends you off with his last breaths, he tells you to be yourself, to let yourself be loved. He got you this far, kept you alive long enough to find your place, the right hand to hold, the family you've been searching for since the last time you saw your mother. He didn't know that's what he was doing the whole time, but it was. He didn't know that was how he loved you. You didn't, either.

He dies in your arms, just as you've finally figured out how to love each other the right way. Not as mentor/mentee, father/son, lover to lover, but a secret other thing. Something uniquely yours, too real to define. You never did find your balance in life, but you find it now, your hands covered in blood as his big, stupid heart stops beating.

You lay him to rest in sight of the sea he loved so much, where you can visit and tell him about your days, the fun things you've done, the new life you've built for yourself. There's an even greater divide between you now, life and death, yet somehow you've never been closer. The two of you, a pair of lonely wooden puppets suddenly become real.

You miss him like a limb—and isn't that fuckin' hilarious?

There are nights you can't sleep and you find yourself standing at the window watching storms roll in, the lights of passing ships. You can hear something on the horizon, something in the way the water whispers to the sand as it kisses the shore. A message just for you, not in a bottle but carried by the wind.

You're still a fuckin' idiot.

You smile.

"Love you too, man," you say, an you go back to the life he never meant to give you. The life you wouldn't have without him.

[glitch-e-stardust]

Eh, wasn't gonna publish this but screw it.

Silly drabble thing that came from thinking about the whole 'unimplemented spikes' mechanic in the sta.rt a.gain art book.

Warnings for character death, gore, eye trauma and, ya know. What I outlined above basically? ye ah

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

...You'd always ignored this part of the House until now, another room, with no hint of anything important sparkling inside to draw your eye. Nothing but a waste of space and time...

Until today anyway. When it hit you, passing that same dark doorway, that time is the one thing you have in infinite excess.

....That. Was a mistake, as it's turning out. Even now you can barely force a dry chuckle that rasps jarringly through the tattered remains of your vocal cords, your throat. The sickeningly steady trickle of blood that flows from.. Far too many places right now gushing all the more violently as you convulse around your own mistake.

You always were So Blinding Bad at your job.

The boulder, the keys, the crests... There were other mistakes, you're sure. So many other mistakes. And just as you thought you had the script worked out, thought you knew it all by rote and heart, you go and make another alteration.

The floor had looked normal, to your idiot eye, normal except for a few small divets but surely.. The House is. Well it's not that old but it changed right? When the King set up here he changed it, moving walls and floors and... A little damage was to be expected, was it not?

So on you ambled, the half blind leading the as good as blind - for following you. It was quick at least, initially, the sudden sharp pain in your foot sending you tumbling forward, only to feel the starbursts of agony bloom in your leg, your abdomen, your torso and, most hilariously of all, your one remaining good bloody eye. Bloodier now, you suppose, as what's left of it doubtless oozes down the very blade that has robbed you of all sight in this moment.

Somewhere in the distance you can hear them. Yelling. Screaming. Shock and anger and........ It's so far away. You're thankful for that. You don't really want to hear it, not right now. You're well aware you screwed up and well aware they can see. It won't matter soon anyway...

And yet you can't seem to stir much of a care for your situation. Other than perhaps some utterly morbid fascination. This is new, after all! You've never quite felt this before! The burning, cold sensation of metal lodged deeply within you, pinning you like a butterfly, suspended midair as a trophy to your own glorious stupidity as you slowly bleed out.

It's a bit like your dagger, you muse, as panic turns to a gentle lightheadedness, the pain now almost as distant as the terrified (and doubtless disappointed) voices droning someplace so very far away from here. The same dizzying sense of floating, if a little augmented by the very real nature of your position, the numbness, your senses slowly shutting down.

You're not getting out of this one. And you realize, with a small jolt of guilt, that you don't even mind. Not really. It's peaceful, knowing there's nothing more you can do here. Nothing but wait for the hoursands of your own blood to drain away.. Nothing but wait for..

........

..You awaken in the field, the sun is bright, the clouds are fluffy, the birds are singing quite beautifully. And you're alive.

Alive, and wracked with guilt and the pain from injuries your body has yet to register it's sudden lack of.

You roll over, slowly, tentatively, wincing at the movement, and lay face down in the grass. Trying to smother the scream you can already feel clawing its way up your throat and into the world.

.....

...You probably shouldn't do that again....

[proelio-procusi-a]

mini   character   playlist   :   share   at   least   five   songs   that   remind   you   of   your   muse,   or   that   you   associate   with   your   muse's   character   arc.   including   lyrics   is   optional.

Vax'ildan

1 Running up that Hill - Samuel Kim cover

Say, if I only could \ I'd make a deal with God / And I'd get Him to swap our places / I'd be runnin' up that road / Be runnin' up that hill / With no problems

2 This is Gospel - Panic at the Disco

Don't try to sleep through the end of the world / And bury me alive / Cause I won't give up without a fight / If you love me let me go

3 Death is a Bird Flying - Dominik Zingler, Nicolette Stewart & Port Sulphur Band

Death is no man / Death is no wraith / Death is a bird / Flying

4 Far From Home - Sam Tinnez

I'm sending a raven / With blood on its wings / Hoping it reaches you in time / And you know what it means

5 Hey Brother - Avicii

What if I lose it all? / Oh sister, I will help you out / Oh, if the sky comes falling down / For you / There's nothing in this world I wouldn't do

Mollymauk

1 Empty - Chase Atlantic

Tell me why the fuck I feel so empty / This might be the reason that she left me / Mama, what's the reason I feel empty? / I might pop another, please don't tempt me / Tell me why the fuck I feel so empty

2 Freak Show - Dead Posey

One for the money, two for the freak show / Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh / Three gettin' ready, four 'cause you never know / Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh

3 Afraid - The Neighborhood

When I wake up, I'm afraid / Somebody else might take my place / When I wake up, I'm afraid / Somebody else might end up being me

4 Cast the Bronze - Raynes

Make me bleed if you need to confirm that it's something I can do / And I'll paint it red / If you're still unsure, let me lie for a day / Before they formally announce me dead / When I'm gone, cast the bronze for the bust of my head / To be displayed in the library / Engrave that I gave my consent / To be anything that anyone prefer I be

5 I'm Still Here - Cover by Colm R. McGuinness

And I want a moment to be real / Wanna touch things I don't feel / Wanna hold on and feel I belong / And how can the world want me to change? / They're the ones that stay the same / They don't know me 'cause I'm not here

Weylyn

1 I Did Something Bad - Taylor Swift

I never trust a narcissist / But they love me / So I play 'em like a violin / And I make it look oh so easy / 'Cause for every lie I tell them / They tell me three

2 Devilish - The Phantoms

Revenge, my favourite dish / Your sins falling from your lips / Lights out, time to make a wish / Oh oh oh, so devilish / So devilish / Oh so devilish

3 Sinners - Barns County

Dancing on cold feet / Marching on cobble streets / Oh sinners come down, yeah-eh-eh / Yeaaah, I must be good for something / Yeaaah, yeaaah, yeah

4 Warriors - Imagine Dragons

In youth, you'd lay awake at night and scheme / Of all the things that you would change / But it was just a dream

5 The King - Rosendale

The father decreed / The new rule of law / His son to be banished outside of the walls / But the son had a plan / And his heart was convinced / There'd never be room for both king and a prince

Caleb

1 The Man who Can't Forget - Bart Zeal and Karliene

He saw his whole world breaking / That tortured soul I met / In a prison of his making / The man who can’t forget

2 Turn Out the Lights - Crane Wives

You don't have to believe every single thought / That tumbles through your head / Just 'cause it sounds like you talking / Sometimes all you can do / Is say goodnight and tuck your demons into bed / 'Cause they're not worth fighting

3 Ember - Katherine McNamara

You'd hold me (hold me) / Control me (control me) / You stole me (stole me) / Your plan almost broke me / Ashes remind me / Just who am I / I am ember / 'Bout to start a wildfire (wildfire, wildfire) / I am ember / Burning down your empire / Glowing brighter than the darkness inside of you / Can't escape the flame no matter what you do

4 Angel on Fire - Halsey

And I'm fading away, you know I used to be on fire / I'm standing in the ashes of who I used to be / But I'm fading away, you know I used to be on fire / You know I used to be on fire

5 Waving Through a Window - Cast of Dear Evan Hansen

Give them no reason to stare / No slipping up if you slip away / So I got nothing to share / No, I got nothing to say

tagged by : @astraltouch tagging: @notyetfixed @infernaliscor @aschcregen @xbadnews @arcanecast @cupcaketrickster

[lestatsdulac]

I'd love to hear a bit about all 3 WIPs you mentioned! (or a snippet, if you're so inclined!)

Thank you sister! ❤️

The Price Paid: this is my F/F banshee WIP! It follows a woman named Rosaline, living in a lonely village on the edge of a marsh, meeting and falling in love with a banshee, Ciara, who is trying to recover her memory to get revenge on the one man that haunts her.

"I think I had been dead for a very long time before I met you, Rosaline. I don't feel that way now; with you I could pretend I am alive."

Our Bleeding Hearts: this is a vampire F/F WIP which happens over a century of history. Aemilia, a battle hardened warrior vampire, is out for vengeance on the evil empire that destroyed her world, but the only person who can help is her ex- the former artist's muse Elise, who she failed to save from being turned- as long as they don't kill each other first.

"You told me once you'd chase me across the stars when this world ended. I asked how you would know where I was. You never replied, just smiled, and I never doubted you."

The Message in the Bottle: this is harder to describe and one I've not worked on for ages! It's epic fantasy and planned as a duology, in a world where each country has different magic from their gods. It follows five characters- a prince, Favian, a sailor, Sol, the new queen Rutoria and twin magicians Rakia and Rikia- as they're pulled into the mistakes of the gods and their parents' pasts, even though they want to live for themselves.

"He should be silent. He should show some of the self-preservation that's kept him alive through a desert, a drowning, a mutiny and a destiny. Still, despite this, he speaks up."

[xmenwickedgame]

☕

Send ☕ for my muse to rant about something in character

"You know, I'm...I'm lucky I have such a caring support system. M'gann didn't have to seek me out, didn't have to...help me, like she did. Neither did James. I don't understand it, sometimes. I mean I do--I used to be like that, you know, before I learned what a shite-spiral this world is. I didn't think there were any good people left...and I certainly never thought I deserved...mmh...

"I just...it was so hard for me to...to f-find my footing after Erik...let me go. I was so...ahh...just...there were a lot of demons, a lot of baggage and my body didn't...really survive those years all that well. Do you know how hard it is to stay afloat without any support, especially when you're disabled? So much of our society is not wheelchair accessible; I can't tell you how many times I've fallen trying to walk because there's a bleeding step in my way. I can't do that anymore, I have arthritis for fuck's sake. I can't imagine the hell my life would be if I were paralyzed. Almost happened, you know, when I was a younger man...mmh...

"Anyway, sort of, I've sort of gone off track, but my--my point is, I'm very lucky I have help now. I'm lucky to be alive...

[spiritedoperetta-moved]

Is there something you actively craft about your writing style, such as literary techniques utilized, or a specific word choice that sows itself into your writing based on the character? Is there something you wish to change about your writing style? If you're feeling kind, why not shout out a writer whose work you like? A roleplayer preferably; let's share the love!

Well, when I write. I like to get into the shoes of my character. Try to feel what they feel, see what they see. Think as they would. Which is easy for OC’s seeing as how I made them, so easy shoes to fill when you’ve crafted them. This of course may change, if you do something with a canon character. Like my Big Boss, Venom Snake, Solid Snake, Wolf, etc etc. Since they have canonical ways of acting that you must stay true to at first, but are free to experiment and go to different pastures as they develop in your own narrative.

For Grey, I tend to think in the head of a War Torn Veteran who has been alive for thousands of years. He’s easy to set off, upset about where his life has gone. And is driven by his feelings more so than his head, gut or heart. He doesn’t tend to care about how he talks, so obviously he curses and uses very generic vocab that gets the point across with what he’s trying to say. Who has time for big words that more than likely a minority will know what the fuck it means? He’s trying to say what he wants and make sure you understand what he’s trying to articulate. If he wants to tell you to fuck off, he won’t hesitate. He will tell you straight up. And most of all. You don’t scare him. And more than likely, no one ever will. He’s more brutish and forceful in mannerisms and constantly stressed and his body is always tense and on guard. At any moment he could be ambushed or swinging at someone who wrong him.

With Vastor, it’s a bit of a mixed bag. Obviously with Grey being his Father figure, some influences in speech bleed off into him. But, unlike Grey. He likes to tease, keep you wondering. Using certain ways of talking to throw you off if he wants to fuck with you. But, he’ll come around eventually. He doesn’t bring out his ‘Grey’ side unless you actually make him want to make you go away. He truly does take after his Father at that point, giving you angry glares and going from a Gentleman to an angry bastard. But, 99% of the time he’s a Gentleman using moderately high vocab or mannerisms and restraining himself more than his Father. Whom has no filter or shackles holding him back. Vastor is obviously more civilized than the former.I also like to test run muses. Muses I make from Scratch like these two tend to sow their own stories and personalities the more they interact with others. They sometimes go off the beaten path. Which I cannot implore people enough, to test run your muses with friends before making blogs or putting them on a Multi. They may change from what you originally had planned. For example, Grey originally was designed to be a lot more nicer. But, the way he went as a muse has obviously diverted off course and even helped design himself all the while. And people love him now. Especially with him being the way he is has definitely opened up plenty of doors for development as I have built him up over the past two years. He wasn’t even meant to be 2000 years old or even cursed when I made him, either. Those came later as he developed, and figured out for himself how he wanted to act inside of my imagination. Hell, he’s even my damn first asshole muse. And has made way for a lot more jerk muses in his wake.In terms of changes…I’d like to write like some of my friends do to be fair. I feel like my writing style is too blunt. That it just goes to home far too quickly and my word play is weak. I don’t tend to hit the nail on the head as I would like. Meanwhile some of my friends styles have me wanting to write as they do. It’s rather inspiring when I get to interact with them. I want to modify my current style into a interesting fashion as they have. So that’d be something I’d like to change, be less blunt with how I write actions and the like. And well, I’m too embarrassed to even throw them an @ on here. But, they’re rather close people to me. So they should know who they are.

[bella-ca]

Bound: A TRR AU

Mireya has always known she was different. She just didn’t realize how much. Upon her 18th birthday she gets information that will forever change her life. The stuff of her nightmares is reality. The things that go bump in the night really do exist. It’s up to her and her family to fight these monsters. Her life will never be the same. What happens when she falls in love with one such being? Will she live up to her legacy or become what she hunts?

A/N: My muse kept telling me this story needs to be told. I love anything related to supernatural/horror beings. I decided to name my MC. the Y/N= your name format was a little too impersonal for me. This is a TRR love story. It is a slow burn. This is unbeta. All mistakes are mine. I hope you enjoy. Disclaimer: All characters belong to choices by Pixelberry. I’m just borrowing them. Same with the pics they are not mine.

Warnings: violence, cursing, murder, revenge, death, underage drinking. By reading you are acknowledging you are at least 18 years of age.

Word count: 1571

Masterlist

Chapter 3

7 years ago

Before you could scream they attack. Alex pushes you out of the way as they descend. You scream seeing the wolves bite Alex. You hear Josh scream as one attacks him. You reach for your dagger pulling it from the holster. One of the wolves tries to bite you and you lash out with the dagger stabbing it. It howls as the dagger tears into the flesh, the wound starting to smoke and burn. You stab it again and it retreats running away with a howl. You run to Alex and stab at the beast. You managed to get stab it once before you feel the other one grab you and throw you against the wall. Your head hits the concrete wall pain erupting from your skull. You feel dizzy you touch your head and see blood on your hand. You grab the dagger right before the beast comes at you again. You stab it and it howls. It takes off. The other one growls at you before following the others. Once they are gone, You look and see Josh laying next to you dead. The look of fear still in his face. “Josh!” You scream crawling to him cradling his hand in your head. “No Josh please!” you scream looking for your phone. He’s already gone. You hear moaning and look over and see Alex still alive and bleeding out from a wound to the stomach. “Alex!” you scream running over. You grab your phone seeing that it was smashed in the attack. “Shit!” you yell. You place your hand on Alex’s stomach to try to stop the bleeding. “Reya..” He says coughing up blood. “No Alex dont talk.” you tell him. Tears running down your face. You grab his phone and dial 911. You tell them where you are and wait for them to arrive. “Help!” you scream. “Someone help!” “Reya..” you hear again looking down. “Shhh..I'm here you tell him. “You're okay? He asks. “Yes Alex I’m okay.” “I…..I…” he tries to talk coughing up more blood. “No Alex..stay with me dammit. Don't you leave me!!” you tell him tears streaming down your face. “Reya, I have to tell you.” He says looking into your eyes. “I...I...have always loved you. You are everything to me...even….even if you don't love me back.” He tells you tears streaming down his face. “I...I..just had to tell you before I...I….” “No damn you No!! This is not goodbye Alex!” You tell him “You can't leave me!” “I...I..love you Reya.” You bend down and kiss him gently on the lips. You hear sirens in the distance. “I love you too Alex...please, don’t leave me.” He gives you one last smile before closing his eyes forever.

You are in a daze as the police and ambulance find you in the alleyway. You can hear them asking you questions, but their sounds far away. All you can see is Alex and Josh dead in your mind. Alex confessing his love for you and closing his eyes. You don't even notice the paramedics talking to you. “She’s in shock.” You hear one of them say. Then the voices blur once again. You begin to feel dizzy unable to catch yourself. Then darkness.

***********************

You wake up in the hospital with your mom, dad, and sister at your side? “Mireya.” your mom says grabbing your hand. “Alex, Josh...where?” you start to say, then the events of the night flash thru your mind. You try to get up. Your head pounding. “No! Alex Josh!” You cry looking at your mom as you sob. “I’m so sorry Reya.,” your father tells you pulling you into a hug. “No!” You scream crying. You fight to get out of bed. “No!..I need to see them!” you say trying to get out of the hospital bed. “I’m sorry mija. They are gone. You need to take care of yourself.” your father tells you. “No!...It’s all my fault…” you tell them. “They died protecting me! It’s all my fault.” You break down in your mother's arms until exhaustion takes over and you cry yourself to sleep.

***********************

“Is she okay? Liam asks. “Yes she is fine. Her father gave her a silver dagger. She fought and wounded Nicolas and the women and they ran off.” Drake tells him. “I tried to warn her, but she didn’t listen.” He says rubbing his forehead. “You weren't supposed to warn her Drake. You weren't supposed to be seen.” Liam glares at him. Drake looks away rubbing his neck. “What of Nicolas and the women?” Liam asks. “I took care of the women. They will no longer be a problem, but Nicolas fled. I tracked him, but he hid himself well.” “He will be a problem.” Liam says taking a drink of scotch. “Keep looking. He needs to be stopped.” Liam tells Drake. Drake nods. “Does she know what she is?” Liam asks Drake. “I don’t think so.” She has not left her home since the funerals. Liam nods. “Keep me informed Drake. “Once she knows her legacy she could become a problem for us.” “Will do” Drake tells Liam before heading out. Liam sighs. He had heard of the prophecy, the one who would put an end to all of his kind. He never thought it would be a reality. The more he hears about this woman and her heightened abilities, the more he believes that the prophecy is true. She would either destroy or unite his kind for the better good. He had yet to meet her or see her, for fear he might imprint. He has heard stories of how beautiful this woman was and how one look would make him want to protect and even love her. Drake already broke protocol by warning her of the attack. He was supposed to watch her and not reveal himself to her, but he couldn’t help himself around her. If his greatest warrior couldn’t resist her, then Liam knew he had to be strong. There might be a chance that he would have to kill this woman himself in order to save his kind. He needed to be the one strong enough to save his people. All he can do is hope she would understand and that it wouldn’t come to that. He paces back and forth. He needs to run. He waits until dark and then shifts to his wolf form. He runs thru the forest his mind on this woman and the prophecy that was foretold.

***********************

It's been two weeks since Alex and Josh’s funeral. You told the police everything you knew and they looked at you like you were crazy. They said it was probably wild wolves that attacked you but you knew better. The police confiscated your fake ID and wrote you a ticket. They did not give you jail time due to the deaths of your friends and left it up to your parents on how to punish you. Your parents put you under house arrest. You took a leave of absence from your job. You spent your days locked in your room staring at photos of your two best friends. You spent most of your time on the computer researching everything you could on werewolves. Your parents and sister did their best to console you but it was no use. You had managed to get ahold of a bottle of liquor from your parents stash and drank it to numb the pain. Your father had finally had enough and dragged you to the basement when your sister and mom were away for a weekend. “Mireya, we need to talk. This had to stop.” He tells you “Dad, I know but they were my best friends. They died because of me.” you tell him tears falling from your eyes. Your father sighed giving you a hug. “I wanted to talk to you about the attack.” “What about it? “You asked him “I believe you.” He says looking straight into your eyes. “What do you mean?” You ask him. “I believe you about the werewolves.” He tells you. “You...you do?” You ask. “Why do you think I gave you that specific dagger?” He asks you. “It was pure silver. Why do you think the werewolves ran away. Silver is one of the few things that can harm them.” You eyes grew wide taking in your father’s words. “He walks over to a statue in the corner of the room. He reaches behind it and pushes a button you had no idea was there. The wall slides open revealing an array of pure silver weapons from knives to guns, silver bullets and the like. You see a row of books on one side with the name Lycanthrope. You walk over to the hidden room. “What is all this? You ask your father. “Well for starters, It has to do with my job.” He tells you. You look at him surprised. “I am a bodyguard yes, but not the kind you think. I protect people...from werewolves. We come from a long line of hunters. Werewolf hunters.” You look at your father speechless. Your father looks at you with a grin. “I have been training you since you were sixteen for this moment. It’s time you knew about the family business.”

Chapter 4

Thank you for reading!! Reblogging and comments are appreciated. It will keep me motivated to write 💜💜

If you would like to be added or removed from the tag list, let me know.

Bound Taglist:

@bobasheebaby @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @hopefulmoonobject @alj4890 @super-secret-fandom-blog @thequeenofcronuts @indiacater @katurrade @furiousherringoperatortoad

[walkedfire-a]

anyways thinking of buck having ptsd after the bombing, also for a couple days after having some hearing loss . like he was right near the bomb , they really just glossed over it.

[walkedfire-a]

new tags part one

[ character musings ] you bleed just to know you're alive

[ headcanons ] sorry for leaving and growing up

[ ooc ] WHAT THE FUCK IS UP KYLE

[ shitposting ] fuck ya chicken strips

[ in character ] your boldness stands alone amongst the wreck

[ prompts ] i never meant to start a fire

[ isms ] i burned down la and you left me there

[ other ] edits

[ other ] keep tag

[ visage ] born to rain clouds when they blew the flame out

[ aesthetics ] i'm not dying but i bleed now

[ other ] mun things