#♔ || about (verse three). | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dejwritesarchived · 2 years ago

Text

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀human, choso kamo

it's been two years since the fall of the jujutsu world, and now choso kamo is finally able to keep the promise that he made with special-grade sorcerer yuki. to no longer live life as a curse but as a human. just his luck; his bubbly next-door neighbor is the one that helped guide him through it.

♔ ˖ ✧ — general warnings: female reader, her/she pronouns, female anatomy described, black reader written in mind and their will be descriptors, modern au but also in jjk verse, kinda my own interpretation and theories on how jjk will end, super self-indulgent bc it's my bday, neighbors to lovers (is that a trope), love making yay, mention of other jjk characters, a lot of jumps that are separated by dividers btw, somewhat plot twist at the end // smut warnings: missionary position, hand holding, mentions of hickeys/love bites, usage of spit, big d*ck choso is a warning in itself, implied of oral (m.receiving), handjob // word count: 5.5k, minors dni.

YOUR NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOR, CHOSO, WAS EXTREMELY MYSTERIOUS. He only came out of his apartment for a couple of things—going grocery shopping, possibly working, and jogging. You never saw him being friends over. You never saw him bring a lover over. Nothing. Your curious mind always wondered if he was just a loner; maybe he didn’t have any family members alive. It was just him in the small countryside of Japan, and he was just taking his very lonely days day by day. Or was it cruel of you to assume? It wasn’t really your business as a young foreigner just enjoying her youthful years of traveling.

You’ve been everywhere, searching for a permanent home after deciding to step away from your actual job. Malaysia, Nigeria, Brazil—you have been traveling for a while, and now it seems you may have found your permanent home for good. The small town wasn’t as busy as Tokyo, but it got lively when the people got together to throw small festivals to celebrate things. If you recall, tonight’s festival celebrated the anniversary of the eldest married couple living in the community. Everyone was prompted to bring a dish, baked goods, or gifts. You took it upon yourself to make onigiri because it was one of the easiest dishes you couldn’t butcher without the eldest questioning your cooking skills.

With your best outfit, you glanced at Choso’s door and began your journey down to the main court of the community with your dish. You could hear the laughter and music of the people in the community as they were setting up. You could see the eldest couple, Mr. and Mrs. Aoki, slowly dancing to the music that was blasting through the speakers. Huge smiles on their faces caused their eyes to crinkle and for them to hold on to each other a bit tighter. Despite such a fast-paced song playing, they took their time indulging in each other’s company as if they wouldn’t have each other anymore the next day.

“You look gorgeous,” You heard one of your friends, Hinata, say.

“I can’t let you outdress me this time,” You joked while placing what you brought on the table with the other variety of foods.

“It’s only room for just one hot person in the small community, and it seems like it’ll be me,” He responds. “Now it’s three,” He jokingly sighed in despair.

“Three?” You questioned as you were glancing over the drinks that were offered.

“You, Me, and your neighbor,” Hinata responded. He ran his fingers through his sandy brown colored hair before speaking again, “I’m so jealous. I’m stuck with Old Man Keigo as my neighbor.”

“He’s not that bad.” You laughed.

“He knocks on my door at three in the morning, asking if I have seen his cat. I didn’t even know we were allowed to have pets.” Hinata sighs.

“Choso literally never leaves his place. I don’t even think he watches tv,” You responded.

“Still better than Keigo,” Hinata answered.

“Is it, though? You’re not curious about why he’s so lonely? If he has a family? Friends? If he wants to make friends?” You asked, and Hinata’s face scrunched up in confusion.

“Maybe he’s running away from his past life,” Hinata said while searching for a plate. “You should give him some food.”

“Why do I have to do it?”

“You have an adorable, friendly face. Would you rather Old Man Keigo do it?” Hinata’s head motioned to the older man, who was nodding off to sleep in the corner. The children in the community managed to begin to place items on his lap to see how long he wouldn’t notice.

“The goal is to get him out of his apartment, not scare him in.” You grabbed the plate out of Hinata’s hand. “How am I supposed to know what foods he likes? If he’s allergic to anything?”

“Hm, just give him one of everything. Now my lovely friend has arrived to help me get through this party. Toodles.” He disappeared in the sea of people, leaving you alone with a plate of food.

You knew he was most likely meeting with his local drug dealer, getting his weekly weed fix to get him through his work week as an administrative assistant at a law firm.

You did what Hinata suggested, placing one of everything on the plate. You were positive that the amount of food on the plate would have been the same amount that the community's people would give him. Especially considering that some already whispered about him. They weren’t bad whispers or gossip but whispers of kindness. You remember Mrs. Aoki telling you how he helped her carry her groceries in her house. Or the young mother that lived in the home down from your complex told everyone that Choso taught her young son how to ride his bike without training wheels. So, if Choso were to finally leave his home—maybe he would see how kind everyone was and how this community was like a huge family. He had already been helping out around here.

As soon as you were done, you returned to your apartment. Your steps were slow and steady to prevent you from spilling food everywhere. When you reached Choso’s door, you mentally prepared yourself for what to say. Should you do an introduction first before giving him the food? Should you lie and say Mrs. Aoki told you to bring the food? What if he doesn't accept the food? Well, that wouldn’t be so bad. You were his neighbor who only said hi or bye to him, giving him food. He’ll probably think it’s been poisoned or something.

You knocked three times. Two times softly before a loud one that could be heard in the small apartment. You stepped back when you heard the sound of the door unlocking. When he stepped out with a towel wrapped around his waist, your heart glanced down in embarrassment. Your brown skin heated, and your heart felt like it was flinging around your chest like a balloon that had just deflated. You never thought a plate of food was so interesting until now.

“Uh, I’m sorry for interrupting your plans. I just thought that I should bring you food from the festival. Mr. and Mrs. Aoki are celebrating their anniversary.” Your words were moving so fast that he even was trying to comprehend what you were saying.

You took a deep breath before speaking again, “You never leave your apartment, so I thought it would be nice to get you some food. I wasn’t sure what you like, so I bought a bit of everything.” Your hands extended the plate outward, and he grabbed the plate out of your hand with the hand that wasn’t grasping on the blue-colored towel that was wrapped around his waist.

Now that the plate was no longer in your hands, your curious eyes couldn’t help but take a peek at his body. His body was like it was sculpted by the best sculptor in Japan. The many Greek statues of God’s body used him as a reference if possible.

“Thanks,” Choso says, and his lips curve into a sly smile before he returns back into the comfort of his own home.

With a smile on your face, you turned around to return to the celebration and Choso on your mind. The festival continued, and you even shared a rolled blunt with Hinata to end the night as you gossiped about random things. He asked about Choso and could tell by how your glossed lips curved into a smile that it went well. He didn’t question more of it since the intoxicating high of marijuana finally hit him. However, he did point out that he believed Choso and you would get along quite well.

Hinata’s prediction wasn’t far off, considering two weeks afterward, Choso tagged along with you to go grocery shopping. You remembered dragging your shopping cart down the stairs loudly as he followed you.

“What’s up with the cart?” He asked as he walked by your side; he noticed that you didn’t take the usual turn towards the community exit but instead went towards one of the elder's apartments.

“Oh, I usually go grocery shopping for some elders. It helps so I won’t have to carry all the bags from the grocery store.” You gave him a smile. “You have to work smarter, not harder, so you won’t have back problems in your early thirties.” You joked.

Choso’s lips formed a perfect shape ‘o’ as he realized how smart the idea was. The closest grocery store is about a fifteen-minute walk from here; it would make sense to have something that would be easier for you to carry your bags. His dark eyes followed you as you went door to door, asking some of the older people if they needed anything from the grocery store. You did with such a bright smile that Choso found his cheeks growing hot as he watched you respectfully bow before wishing farewells to your neighbors.

Kindness, you had so much of it and weren’t afraid to give it out. Perhaps that’s why Choso admired you so much. You were like a ray of sunshine; he questioned where you were during the Shibuya, Culling Game, and other events that shook the sorcerer world. How could someone like you be so kind and bubbly when such events happen? He wondered if you had family members that died during the Shibuya incident.

“I have three people's grocery lists and money. You know you don’t have to tag along if you don’t want to.” You said as you dragged the cart behind you.

“I have nothing else to do, and I have grown to enjoy your company compared to your friend,” Choso admits as he walks by your side. “He’s a hyper one.”

“Oh, Hinata? Yeah, you have to catch him when he’s off work. Other times he’s either high on weed or caffeine.” You chuckled. “I appreciate the company, then. It isn’t a lot of people around our age that live here.”

“I noticed,” Choso responds. He shoved his hands in his leather jacket pockets. “I like it like that compared to the city.”

“You used to live in the city?” You asked as you stopped at the crosswalk.

“Well, I work in Roppongi as security at some clubs. That helps pay the bills and such. I did live there originally, but it was too busy there. As if Roppongi never sleeps or something. So, I moved.” Choso explained while you two crossed the street.

You noticed that your arms kept bumping into each other with each step you took next to each other. It was like two magnets that kept gravitating toward each other despite being far apart.

“You as a security guard? You don’t give me security guard vibes,” You chuckled.

“Really? My boss says otherwise,” He runs his fingers through his hair. “He said I look intimidating.”

“Maybe it’s the mark across your face.” You motioned to your own face. “What is that anyway? A tattoo? Birthmark?”

You watched as Choso rubbed at the back of his neck nervously. His cheeks staining the color of red before speaking, “Birthmark.” He says before his eyes averted downward in embarrassment.

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” You nudge his side. “It’s cute.” She adds before skipping ahead to enter the grocery store.

Choso followed behind you with heated cheeks as you held the first list. You were putting stuff in the cart you brought along. “Have you always lived there? Seem like everyone knows you.”

“Only for about four months now. I traveled a couple of places before settling here.” You answered. “I must say that Hinata did make it much easier. I was like you at first. All bottled up in my apartment, and then Hinata became my friend. The rest is history; Hinata even decided to set me up with one of his friends.”

“And how is that going?” Choso asked.

“He canceled the first two dates, and we’re supposed to hang out another day,” Your shoulders shrug as you look at Choso, who couldn’t quite comprehend how nonchalant you were taking the situation.

“What about you? Anyone special in your life? Met someone nice during your security gigs?” You asked while grabbing another thing off the shelf.

Choso took the other list out your hand and started to search if any item on the list was in the aisle you two currently were in. You couldn’t tell if he started helping to avoid your question or if he was genuinely being kind. He reached behind where you were standing to grab something behind you.

“I don’t really do relationships. Yeah, I have had flings here and there.” Choso explained. “So, there’s no one from my security gigs.” He chuckles.

Your eyebrows raised in curiosity at his question, but you didn’t want to pry anymore into his business. You took the list from his hand and motioned for him to pull the cart. With a sly grin, Choso followed behind you. The dark-haired male was growing comfortable with you, and he couldn’t explain to himself the warm feeling he felt when he was around you.

A DRUNKEN HICCUP ESCAPED your lips as you let your head fall into the palm of your hand. Your mind felt like it was spinning, and your body felt like it was a bowl of Jell-O. You brought the glass to your taking another sip of the intoxicating alcohol that you knew you had too much of. Finishing the last bit in the glass before letting your face collide with the table you sat at. You knew it was irresponsible to drink alone, especially considering you had to travel about five blocks to your house. But you didn’t think you would get stood up by Hinata’s friend. They were supposed to be here to walk you home and ensure that you got home safely. But they didn’t bother again.

You sat up, running your manicured fingers through your coils, before you saw a familiar figure walking by the bar that you were in. It seemed like he felt your drunken glare since his eyes met with yours when he turned around. Choso. You hadn’t seen him since he told you about his brother when you guys walked together to the grocery store. You watched as he raced to the door to approach you, and you couldn’t hide the foolish grin on your face.

“Choso! Come, sit down and have a drink with me!” You shrieked, holding up the empty bottle of sake.

“You’ve reached your limit, Y/N. It’s time to go home.” He says.

“But he hasn’t shown up yet. Hinata’s friend didn’t come.”

“Just stay here while I pay your bill, okay? Don’t move!” His finger points at you, and you can only smile and give him a thumbs up.

You plopped back into your seat, watching as he paid for the drinks you had within the night. He returned and helped you up, but you stumbled back, causing him to grab a hold of your wrist to catch you. He noticed the short skirt you wore tonight and wanted to question if you were cold, but right now, he had to get you home. A long sigh tumbled from the dark-haired male before he unzipped his hoodie. He tied the hoodie around your waist and turned around. “Hop on.” He says, motioning to his back.

“Choso, you’re going to carry me all the way home. You’re such a gentleman.” You happily sigh as you climb onto his back.

He carried you in silence until you were so curious about why he was out so late. “Why were you out so late? It can be dangerous out here when the sun goes down, you know?” Each word that left your mouth was interrupted by a hiccup.

“Says the drunk one; someone could have taken advantage of you if I didn’t see you.” Choso lectured. “You’re so irresponsible, you know?”

Your lips formed a pout as you wiggled your legs with each step Choso took. “I just thought he would show up. I’m sorry for my ir-responsible-ness.”

Choso chuckles at your words, considering that you completely butchered the last part of your sentence. “It’s okay. But to answer your question, I just went to the cemetery to visit my brother. It’s much more peaceful for me when I go at night.”

“Well, did you enjoy your visit?” You asked.

“I did. I’m sure he’s tired of me bothering him, though.” He responded.

“Well, I wish I would have been able to meet him. If he’s as cool as his older brother, I’m sure I would have liked him and his company.”

“He would have liked you also. Especially considering you being so nice to me. Seeing the good in every fuckin’ body. Including that guy that stood you up.”

You grew silent. Choso’s words suddenly sober you up. You blink several times before speaking, “He promised he would come.”

You found yourself repeating that phrase again and again.

“I heard you the first time you said it,” Choso answered as he began to walk up the steps connected to the complex's top level. “Just wish you would see that the guy clearly isn’t interested in you.”

“And how would you know that? You told me weeks ago that you don’t do relationships or haven’t even been on a date. Just hookups,” You backfired.

“I don’t need to be a relationship expert to see that you deserve better than to get stood up in some busted bar that hardly anyone knows about as if the guy is ashamed and is afraid to be with a foreigner. Now, can I have your keys to open your door?”

Silence overcame the two of you again. Why were you two so comfortable enjoying each other’s silence? Why was his silence so comforting? Why did it calm you down? Why did his words hit you so hard like that?

“I think I left my purse at the bar.”

“Seriously?”

“I’ll just go wake the landlord up; I’m sure he has a spare key. Then I’ll just go get my purse tomorrow. I'm friends with the owner, so I’m sure she’ll put it up for me.”

Choso didn’t say anything. Instead, he walked next door to his apartment, unlocking the door. “No need to be a nuisance to the landlord so late at night. You can crash here until the morning, and I’ll get your purse.”

“You’re so kind. One day I will pay you back plus some.”

Choso opened his apartment, and you were in awe at how he decorated his small space. Maybe, your mind was mentally hyping it up due to the alcohol in your system. But you felt at peace in here; it could have been because it smelt like Choso. A scent that you grew familiarized with the more you spent time with him. You noticed how clean his place was. He had a couple of plants in the corner that were clearly taken care of. He had a record player in the other corner with a stack of vinyl records. Your eyes couldn’t help but remember the small details in his apartment. So caught up in your surroundings you don’t even notice Choso kneeling down to remove your heels after your feet finally hit the ground.

“I could have done that myself.” You said.

“Mhm, sure.” He sarcastically responds before searching his closet for something you can change in. He gave you a shirt and some shorts. “The bathroom is all yours.”

You stumbled into the bathroom to change into the clothes. The shorts and shirts are clearly too big for you. Your arms wrapped around your waist as you glanced at yourself in the small mirror above the sink. You looked a mess, and you couldn’t believe that Choso saw you in this manner. Felt like he was viewing you at your lowest all because you got stood up by some guy.

Choso seemed to be getting ready to shower when you were done in the bathroom. You swallowed the lump that suddenly formed in your throat before walking further into the room, “I can sleep on the floor. I am the intruder here.”

“Nonsense, I don’t mind sharing the bed. Unless you’re like-“

“No, it’s not that. It’s just you’ve done so much for me tonight. Carried me home, paid my bill at the bar, now this.”

“It’s okay. It’s kinda on my list to be kind to someone similar to how my brother would be.” Choso answered truthfully.

Your eyebrows raised at his comment, but you didn’t argue as you climbed into the bed and got comfortable. You rolled over on your side and tugged the blankets further on your frame to attempt to sleep. Choso went on to take a shower, and minutes later, he joined you in the bed. The bed sank downward when he joined you, and you hated to admit that you wanted to move closer foolishly. You bet he was a wonderful cuddler; he had the arms for it. Before you could utter goodnight to Choso, the alcohol you consumed caused your body to finally relax on the fluffiness of the bed. Your eyes fluttered, attempting to fight your sleep until you finally fell into a deep slumber.

When morning came upon you, you woke up and could feel an arm around your waist and warmth upon the back of your neck. If you concentrated hard enough, you could even feel Choso’s face upon the top of your coils. It took you by a shock that you didn’t fall asleep twisting your hair and throwing on a scarf, but then you remembered the events of last night. You remembered the piggyback ride. You remembered the talk about you being too kind and always seeing the good in everyone. You remembered forgetting your purse. You figure you were such a nuisance, so you had to make your grand mistake.

You attempted to wiggle out of his grasp, but the grip got a bit tighter. A subtle groan escaped from Choso before you wiggled your way to turn around to face him. Your lips gasp apart to stare at the sight in front of you. His black hair sprawled across his face creating the most reckless bed hair. You took in the way he let out a soft snore here and there. How long his eyelashes were. The birthmark that decorated his pale skin started from one cheek to across the bridge of his nose and to the other cheek. Your cheeks heated, seeing his eyes flutter open and catch you staring.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you.” You stuttered your words out in embarrassment before turning around to break eye contact. You’ve given up wiggling away at how close the two of you were, but he didn’t loosen up the grip either. Actually, he pulled you closer. As if he didn’t want to let you go.

“Choso?” You asked as you could feel the tip of his nose on the back of your neck.

Your skin was littered with goosebumps, and your body's hair stood up.

“Hm.” He groggily answered.

“I may have been drunk, but I do recall you mentioning a list. You said one of the things on the list was to be kind to a person the same way you would think your brother would. Is that what you’re doing with me?”

“Yes.”

Now you were back, turning around to meet his sleepy alluring gaze. “And you think your brother would do this? As in, cuddle his neighbor?”

“He’ll carry you on his back if you were too intoxicated, but I don’t know if he’ll do this. I can stop if you want,” His arm detaches itself from your body, and your body suddenly feels cold without it.

You grabbed it and put it back on your waist. “No, I’m okay with it. It’s just I’m curious to know why me. Why be kind to me?”

“Because you’re kind to me. Always been kind to me.” He answers truthfully. His fingers brushed one of your coils out of the way, and those goosebumps returned again.

“I know, but no amount of kindness equals cuddling and shit.” You said. “I’m not complaining because this is very comforting, but I don’t want you to feel obligated to be kind to me-“

“I think I’m in love with you.”

“What? Choso, that’s such a-“

“I know, and I’m not expecting a response to that just yet. I know it’s quite hard to process especially considering that you’re most likely hungover at the moment. But I am willing to wait whenever you’re ready.” His eyes shifted closed as if attempting to fall back asleep.

“And what if I have a response to that right now?” You asked.

“Then, spit it out already.”

When those words left his mouth, you rolled a bit closer to place a kiss on Choso’s lips. It started off innocent at first. Quick, subtle pecks before the kiss deepened. Before he pulled you closer, by the way, to taste more of you eagerly. Just as his strong arms brought you closer, you could feel his cock poking at your plush brown thighs—rubbing against you for some form of friction that caused Choso to let out a breathy sigh in between breaks of the kiss. Your hand climbed in between the two of you to rub at his hardened cock through the gray fabric of his shorts.

“Shit,” Choso’s head fell back on the pillow after biting at your full plump bottom lip.

The heated makeout session lasted until the two of you were breathless, and your mouth was wrapped around his cock until he began to feel your pussy around him. You tore each other's clothes off until they decorated the wooden floors. The taste of Choso stained your tongue, and you felt like you were intoxicated. Not due to the alcohol you consumed the previous night but to Choso’s actions. He kissed your neck and collarbone with his body on top of yours. The kisses on your golden skin made you whimper out for more, and for you to grow wet. His teeth bite down, and the gasp that you let out causes all the blood to rush to his cock. Choso’s fingertips tip toed in between your bodies to cling onto the fabric that was in between his callous fingers from indulging in toying with your clit.

His plush lips kissed your lips, and in between the heated kiss that was causing Choso, he could only say. “Tell me what you want, Y/N.”

When you made eye contact with Choso, you felt so soft inside. Butterflies erupted in your stomach as you stared up at Choso. You lean up to kiss his lips, but he pulls back. “Tell me what you want,” He’s dipping down to kiss upon the bite mark he left on your flesh. “Use your words.”

“I want you.”

Those were the words Choso wanted to hear. In just a quick and eager motion, he’s pulling your panties down. Like a hormonal teenager, he’s letting his hardened, clothed cock rub against your wet folds teasingly. Your juices staining the cotton fabric of his grey-colored Calvin Klein briefs. You wouldn’t believe labeling him as a tease, but he drove you insane. How can he make you confess that you wanted him and edge you on until you can feel your own essence staining the inside of your thighs?

He kisses you lightly, but it feels heavy and rough because it takes your breath away. His right hand tugged down his boxers fully, and you couldn’t help but feel your heartbeat increase at the weight of his cock on your abdomen. He hawks some spit in his hand to coat his cock in it, wanting to make this experience pleasurable and comfortable for you. With his fingers intertwined with yours, he’s sliding inside you. Choso felt how tightly you gripped at his hards, with your eyes squinted shut, getting used to his large size.

“I’m sorry.” He’s repeatedly saying as he’s peppering your face with subtle kisses. His cock rested inside you until you finally opened your eyes.

The once intense feeling of his cock stretching you out was replaced with the satisfying feeling of wanting more. Choso didn’t need to hear your voice to begin moving. His hips rotate forward into the cushion of your spread thighs. It was quite a sight to see how your pussy was swallowing his cock with each thrust forward or roll of Choso’s hips. However, the half-curse-half-human couldn’t think straight with how your moans echoed in his ear. They sounded so sweet, so wonderful. One of the most beautiful things he has heard after that band Tame Impala. His callous hands, you were sure had many sins imprinted on them, push your thighs apart just to tug his cock out of you.

“You’re going to make me come, fuck.” He said breathlessly.

Even with his comment, he still pushed himself fully inside of you again. Surrendering in wanting you to feel full once more. The sound of his headboard smacked against the wall, and Choso was so grateful that you were his neighbor because any other person would have been knocking on his door for him to keep it down.

You never really thought that this would happen. That you and he would cross such a line to express how you felt for each other. But you weren’t complaining; you enjoyed the way Choso’s hand grasped at every part of your body. You enjoyed the way his face was red as ever due to a mixture of the feeling of his cock being balls deep inside of you and exhaustion. Or how he let his fingers rub at your clit to send the most dangerous electric shock down your spine.

“I’m about to come.” Your words tumbled out like a broken record.

Before capturing your lips onto his—Choso says, “That’s what I want.”

And with those words cursing your lips, you felt like you were on cloud nine. The enthusiastic feeling felt like you were tugging a rubberband back and letting it snap back into its rightful shape. The lower half of your body felt like it went through a slight shock as Choso fucked you through your orgasm. In your mind, you were screaming for him to just come inside you. But you knew that could have just been the bliss of the moment. As if he read your mind, he’s pulling just as his face scrunched up in pleasure. His cock twitches in anticipation as thick ropes of cum begin oozing out, decorating your tummy. The only thing you could do was admire the sight of Choso coming down from the fleeting feeling of busting a nut.

Just like that, your relationship with Choso blossomed when his body collapsed next to yours, and the only thing that you could hear was your loud thoughts about a mere promise you made two years ago. But you knew that the only thing that mattered right now was the fact that Choso was happy.

The autumn leaves crunched under your shoes as you walked around the cemetery. You grew accustomed to visiting here once every month since you managed to start the progress of that promise you made to him. When you finally found the tombstone you were looking for, you could tell that someone had stopped by possibly a day before you. Bright red tulips were next to his picture to replace the ones you put out a week ago. Placing the flowers down before kneeling to pay your respect, you smiled brightly before speaking. Quite odd to be talking to a tombstone, but you were sure he could hear you somewhere.

You placed the flowers on the grave as you kneeled to show your respect. You smiled brightly before speaking to the tombstone that sat in front of you. It was wonderful to see that the gifts and flowers that were around still looked fresh. You assumed someone else most likely was here before you.

“Hey, Itadori, it’s me. Y/N. I just wanted to update you on the promise I made to you.” You let out a sigh, realizing that you had lied to Choso.

You fed him some story about moving here to Japan after exploring the world, despite you technically already being familiarized with Japan. You’ve witnessed it all before deciding to leave the sorcerer world behind for good. Granted, it sat heavy in your heart, and you felt like a coward not helping in the gruesome war of taking down Kenjaku and Sukuna. But you had to put yourself first, which you wanted many of your friends to do.

“Choso is doing well, just like you said he would. He’s okay, and he’ll be fine. You don’t have to worry about him, Itadori. He’s adjusted to the human world quite well. He no longer feels like a curse but a human. ”

━━ ♡ TAGS // @maydayaisha @eiflawriting @violxtbxbyy @shirohyorin @kama-star @maxi8898 @calandra24 @tashniko @certifiedlovergir1 @alekstraszas @soumies @thismf7 @shyartnerd564 @longloes @succubusonthedoorstep @stunnababyyabyyy @comatosebunny09 @si00p

#choso kamo x reader #choso x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #choso kamo smut #anime x reader #anime smut #female reader #black reader #jjk x black reader #anime x black reader #x black reader #black fem reader

741 notes · View notes

convxction · 6 months ago

Text

Walhart: You forget your place, BOY. I am the Conqueror! I will unite the world! Chrom: No! ...I will. And not by FORCING all the people to choose the sword or the knee. Peace will only come by stoking people's hearts...not their fear.

🇨🇴🇳🇻🇮🇨🇹🇮🇴🇳: a STRONG belief that is not likely to change, or the strong feeling that your beliefs are RIGHT.

Independent & Selective & canon & *headcanon compliment & **mix between Eng. & Jp portrayal & multi ship & multi verse & oc friendly ♔𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐦 of Fire Emblem: Awakening / 覚醒Kakusei / 13 Roleplay blog. Shepherd by Faty and you can find me also @/sentofight a multi muses blog.

*headcanon: I have built chrom for years now so he is mostly based on how I interpret some events & dialogues & interactions featuring him or other characters who have mentioned him.

**mix of eng & jp: I do not entertain the idea of chrom being the butt of jokes in the f.e. h.eroes universe or any other eng. localization. don't get me wrong, i love a good humor but only when it does not rib and butcher a muse's character. i add some elements from the japanese lines to compliment my own portrayal of him. you are free to ask me to elaborate more about this. i love to share no worries! that does not mean that all eng lines are crap ok? i stand by the "You deserved better from me than one sword and a world of troubles." best line for chrom and it is the english one. in your face haters.

the three big rules: ♔have fun & ♔be patient & ♔be respectful & ♔drink water--ah, these are four LOL

♔SHEPHERDS' HQ || ♔ RULES || ♔KING || ♔ INQUIRIES || ♔ VERSES || ♔HEADCANONS || ♔ THREADS || ♔ SUPPORTS

special posts section:

Birthday celebration tag | birthday celebration post

#ooc.|| faty speaks #pinned post.||#[two years later in making this ... finally.#[the aesthetic are all over the place but eeeeeeeeeeeh

2 notes · View notes

a-koschyei · 1 year ago

Text

VER. THE RED SORCERER WILL WAKE THE SLEEPER & SILENCE THE BELLS

♔. synopsis : canon adjacent, mixing in elements of deathless and taking this verse as koschei's alt. tsar of life origin story. rewriting some details & emphasizing the undercurrent of the plot to reveal koschei faked his death in book 2 and was the mastermind behind the events of the series. he usurps medved, and becomes the new summer-demon towards the end of book 3. most plots can take place after the series, when he's on the brink of waging a war to take over medieval rus' and the other chyerti realms, particularly morozko's.

in the 11th cent. during the reign of vladimir the great, yuri, a polovtsian khan who plundered and traversed the entirety of the great steppes with his nomadic warriors, sacked a village near serbia and took a country girl as his wife. the girl's name was danika, and she belonged to a balkan line of witches & sorcerers who worshipped the giver, dazbog (the chyert of summer and tsar of life).

some time later, after confirming she had the ability to see the unseen chyerti, dazbog gave her his jewel, the alatyr stone. he promised to protect her so long as she wore it and did not let him fade from memory. when the time came, she was to pass it down to the youngest of her three sons. she only had two at the time.

that year, yuri led an unsuccessful attack against prince mstislav, son of vladamir. yuri was killed in combat, but danika and her sons were spared, though taken as slaves, under the condition that they assimilate and convert to christianity. danika converted, for the sake of her children and the unborn one she carried, but hid dazbog's jewel, wove him into her prayers and never forgot about the chyerti.

♔. the polovtsy / polovytsians. turkic nomadic warriors (aka the cumans). the name comes from the old slavic word for "blonde" "pale yellow" due to the color of their hair and/or their cream colored akhal-teke horses, known for their speed and golden metallic sheen. by the events of the book (14th cent.) the polovtsy fled from the mongol invasion of rus' to different countries, but many also joined the golden horde and became generally referred to as tartars, along w other turkic groups. (koschei's fairytale is based on a famous polovtsian, khan konchek) ♔. dazbog / medved. a slavic solar deity who resided in buyan but also the underworld. in the summer, he was a man in his prime, accompanied by wolves. in winter, he was a one-eyed old man who wore a bear skin during his hibernation in death's realm. canon doesn't say this explicitly, but medved is lame daba, aka dazbog after his demonization, which christianization (and koschei) caused. very few know him by his old name & nature. ♔. alatyr stone. in this verse, it's a red-gold jewel connected to dazbog's power and a gateway to buyan. it's his equivalent to the sapphire morozko passed to vasya. in book 2, it's the stone koschei uses as a decoy death.

i. three roads, three sons: koschei was born and raised in tmutarakan as a slave, serving first as a groom, then a farmhand, and when he came of age, he and his brothers were dragged into a war between princes for vladamir's throne. koschei's mother gave him dazbog's jewel hoping it would protect him, and it did, but during the winter march, his brothers were taken by the frost. in the spring when the war was in full bloom, koschei's contact with dazbog became more direct and frequent. he often carried him away from the brink of death in the battlefield in the spirit of a wolf to buyan, where he'd heal him, feed him, and teach him the art of war and magic.

eventually, dazbog aided koschei in deserting the war. during this time, he traveled the principalities around kiev freely, but the past, the threat of death and imprisonment, and the growing disdain for witches and sorcerers chased him out of every place he hoped to settle. he went to baba yaga's midnight country where he formed a romance with tamara and earned the favor of the golden mare and firebird, zornitsa, the fastest horse of yaga's flock. with her, koschei was able to outrun any threat or foe, and was carried to farther lands, away from kiev and the church bells.

♔. the golden mare / firebird : diverting from the book, koschei's mare is named zornitsa, the morning star, and she's the same in every verse. koschei wins her favor on his own, as he was a worthy rider at the start. later, he loses favor and that's when tamara & the golden bridle ( without spikes !! ) come into play.

ii. the wolf, the firebird, & the horse with a golden mane: he ended up in the newly founded village of moscow when it was still pagan, and was set on making his home there. ivan yurovich was the name he used to avoid recognition (given his growing reputation in kiev), and upon his arrival the lord offered him riches, land, and a seat at his table if he sold him his golden mare. koschei accepted, but used sorcery to transmute a wolf into the likeness of zornitsa, then asked her to hide in the wood in her firebird form.

the lord's sister, yelena tomislavna, had the gift of sight too. she caught on to the ruse, but kept koschei's secret. in time the two fell deeply for one another, but koschei was not a preferred match. he contrived a plan to have the lord spot the firebird during a hunt, and as he suspected, the lord promised yelena's hand to anyone who'd manage to catch it for him. koschei rose to the occassion, again presenting a wolf who simply forgot it was not a firebird, and the wedding was set.

♔. ivan yurovich : his birthname in this verse (see this post to dive into the rabbit hole). after his brothers' deaths, their nickname for him (due to his lankiness) continued to be his preferred name. he goes by koschei yurovich through his pre-immortal travels, then later koschei bessmertny. kasyan lutovich is the current alias. after his identity reveal he goes back to being referred to as koschei bessmertny. it's a name he's proud of, so if you ever call him ivan, it's on sight !!

iii. the midwinter feast : during their engagement celebration, morozko was an honorary guest, as it was his midwinter holiday too. he took great interest in yelena and had her tend to him the entire night, much to koschei's agitation and moscow's speculation. when the frost demon left, a panicked idea took root among the folk that yelena could not marry. she would need to be morozko's tribute for maslenitsa, the sunfeast, or else they'd face a late summer and risk another deadly famine. to escape the hysteria, koschei and yelena fled to a secret place tucked between realms in the midday road which koschei called yaichka for it's golden wheat fields that looked like a sea of yolk.

it was in that field, while koschei was stealing food from buyan, that the noon wraith, sent by dazbog, lured a lounging yelena into a trance and danced her into midnight and then back into moscow. when koschei found out, he and zornitsa raced through the midday road from buyan to moscow, but a devotee of dazbog could only find the middays of spring and summer. what felt like hours of riding were actually weeks. he arrived on winter's last sunset, through the red flash of the last day of the sunfeast, but the people of moscow had already strangled yelena in the snow and tossed her body into the sacrificial fire.

koschei begged morozko and dazbog to undo what the people had done, using the water of life and the water of death, but the twins refused to intervene with fate. herein laid the trappings of a secret war, where koschei set his heart towards revenge against the people of rus' and the twins who'd wronged him. for the moment, they were none the wiser. dazbog took koschei into buyan and continued to mentor him until he eventually used the knowledge to formulate a spell that would have him take dazbog's power and remove himself from death's reach so that he could confidently enact his revenge on the frost demon and people of rus'.

♔. the chains of the winter king : this feast was the memory vasya found morozko imprisoned in, and the man she saw was koschei ("ivan"). as tamara's sister later explains, kasyan's face is not koschei's real face which is why she did not immediately recognize him. so this is the first glimpse we get of him in the series. i'm establishing that koschei, working through medved, was responsible for the creation of this prison memory, but it was just that. a magical simulation on loop. no historical events could be changed by meddling.

iv. the golden bridle: zornitsa urged koschei against his plan, but he needed her speed to catch dazbog's chariot in his journey towards death's country, when he was most vulernable. he created a golden bridle that would bind zornitsa's will to his own. then he seduced tamara once more, and tricked her into placing the bridle on zornitsa. with the bridle on, koschei seized his opportunity and struck his fatal spell on dazbog just before he could reach morozko's country. but the spell was complex and too slippery for a human mind. they both tumbled into rus', and when koschei finally came to, he found himself immortal and alone, but not entirely successful.

v. lame daba : killing a dual natured god in one blow was impossible. in the fall, dazbog split in two: his primary form (the summer wolf) was killed and absorbed by koschei; but the winter bearskin of his hibernating form still remained, and koschei's spell had inadvertently reanimated the husk in the effort to make himself deathless. koschei's life force was removed from his body, but was stored in medved, the eater, whose mind and memory became a mangled and rotted version of dazbog's, tainted by koschei's essence and vision of him. medved then represented a mockery of life fueled by it's hardships and became the tsar of the upyr, the insatiable undead.

medved had no true recollection of his previous life and neither did anyone else. koschei then realized that to kill and usurp a god meant to erase them from memory, and when medved began to wreak havoc on rus', morozko imprisoned his brother with a murky recollection of the time before they were at odds. likewise, the world had an obscured recollection of koschei and who he was before -- but the witch women of midnight and the crossroad demons who had witnessed what he'd done remembered. they did not have the means to intervene, but yaga did cast out her daughter tamara, and shut all the roads of the chyerti realms to her and koschei so they could never come back.

vi. the tower of bones. now unable to reach buyan and the sleeping bear to retrieve his death and finish what he started, koschei set up camp in a place he called, bashnya kostei, the tower of bones. he offered tamara a place at his side, but she refused and left him. thus began the campaigns against the people of kievan rus' that inspired the tales of koschei the deathless. eventually, he took to keeping a lower profile, used sorcery and glamors to hide his rotting appearance, recruited the surrounding chyerti to do his bidding, and conjured scrying spells to keep morozko blind to his machinations and whereabouts.

vii. the bear & the nightingale. in dreams, koschei could sense any perturbances with medved given their inconvenient entanglement. after years of nothing, he saw a young girl with familiar green eyes and the gift of sight approach the bear at his clearing. if koschei could not get to buyan, he figured the sacrifice of a witch could summon medved into rus'. so he riled the bear awake in secret and planted the idea in his subconscious. the bear was successful, through the death of a different witch, but when he was foiled and bound again by the sacrifice of a father. koschei moved on to the back up plan: a counterspell to yaga's banishment using the alatyr stone, the red flash of the last winter sunset on maslenitsa, and the power charge of a witch from her bloodline.

book 2 & book 3. from here, we set up the events of book 2. koschei's core motive is a power grab, particularly for buyan and the chyerti. not knowing where vasya ran off to, he took on the alias of kasyan lutovich to infiltrate moscow and investigate vasya's remaining family there, hoping to find another witch/sorcerer with the sight who could charge and destroy the stone, thus "killing him" but really his body disintegrated and reappeared in the water of life in buyan, where he began to gather his own chyerti forces and used medved as a puppet & distraction in book 3 to buy himself time.

taking over moscow & destroying the bells was supposed to be an added treat that went a little haywire (understatement), but was not the primary goal. this was getting medved bound again at the right time while koschei was in buyan, getting his death back, hiding it somewhere else unknown, and merging with what remained of dazbog's power so he could become the new tsar of life. when vasya returns to the clearing seeking medved's aid, she finds his bearskin limp and koschei standing in his place. further notes & divergences can be discussed and/or will be posted as hcs.

#♔ . ⧽ v. winternight * 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔰𝔬𝔯𝔠𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔯 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔴𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔩𝔢𝔢𝔭𝔢𝔯 & 𝔰𝔦𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔰 #this is long but really just ask that you read the indented footnotes/divergences #everything else is for reference & context and went in a little deeper bc tbh this is going to be my secondary verse of choice #and the backbone of all his other non-deathless verses #anyways let's give the series a lil extension w a new villain who loves the drama of faking deaths teehee #major spoilers ahead if you haven't read the books!

12 notes · View notes

musiinqs · 3 years ago

Photo

♔ ◜ — 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑀𝑂𝑁𝑇𝐸𝑆𝑄𝑈𝐼𝐸𝑈 𝐼𝑁𝑆𝑇𝐼𝑇𝑈𝑇𝐸 : 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑒𝑡 𝑝𝑟𝑎𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑒. ◞

⟨ ♕ ⟩ your royal highness, it is our greatest honour to extend to you an invitation to attend the montesquieu institute for higher education. you are to be part of a select few, alongside the other highly gifted candidates of our educational program and so we offer our deepest congratulations. we hope the institute will be a place for you to call home, as we wish for our staff and facilities to cater to your every need.

the montesquieu institute is an institution for higher education located just outside of the swiss city of geneva. founded in 1806, amidst the political upheaval of the early nineteenth century, the institute has set out to strenghten monarchal international relations and cooperation within europe. today, invitations to the acclaimed institute have been extended to royal heirs all across the globe who, as future leaders of the world, are key players within the future of power and peace.

giving the students ample opportunity to further not only their own education but their diplomatic relationships to other nations, the montesquieu institute offers excellent educational standards and everything else needed to shape their pupils into competent leaders. aside from the usual educational spectrum they focus especially on activities that further both leadership skills and team work, such as team sports or student government activities. knowing this, one might assume montesquieu students to be busy with self-improvement all day but while this is certainly the image the institution portrays to the outside world, it looks much different within its walls. here, these royals are after all just one thing: young adults, far removed from the tight shackles of their homelife and families, experiencing what might be their very first taste of freedom at a place where, for once, they aren’t within the public eye.

♔ ◜ — 𝑆𝑈𝑀𝑀𝐴𝑅𝑌. ◞

montesquieu institute is an 18+ discord verse telling the stories of both students and staff members at the renowned montesquieu institute for higher education. the institute caters to royal families across the globe, aiding these young adults in not only obtaining a degree, but in developing the skills to become the leaders of future generations. while some may grasp every chance of self-improvement, others see a whole new set of opportunities presented to them on a silver platter — away from the prying eyes of their families and the press, they can finally shamelessly experience their youth. or, well, let's not draw any conclusions before seeing next week's magazine headlines.

♔ ◜ — 𝐺𝑈𝐼𝐷𝐸𝐿𝐼𝑁𝐸𝑆. ◞

𝑶𝑵𝑬 . just keep into account some basic roleplaying etiquette. this means no godmodding, bubble roleplaying or metagaming. make sure to communicate with each other in case of (potentially) triggering subjects, and message the admins about any major plots. since we’re a small group, we also expect everyone to be welcoming & treat each other with respect. out of character drama will not be tolerated, and we ask you to please approach one of the admins, should you encounter any issues.

𝑻𝑾𝑶 . the group has a total of fifteen muns, of which three slots are reserved for the admins. each mun is able to apply for three muses at the start, and can apply for a maximum of six over time. muns can pick up a fourth, fifth or sixth muse when demonstrating consistent activity for all others. we may expand on the number of muns within this group if possible or requested. all muns are expected to be eighteen years or older, and all muses & faceclaims should be between twenty and thirty-five.

𝑻𝑯𝑹𝑬𝑬 . interest checks will be posted in our server on a weekly basis to take note of members’ engagement with and interest in the group. members will have twenty-four hours to react to the interest check, otherwise they will be removed. hiatuses are possible, please contact an admin in that case !

𝑭𝑶𝑼𝑹 . diversity is heavily encouraged & we ask all muns to consider using faceclaims of colour, or faceclaims who are gender diverse and / or body diverse. we ask that for every mun, at least half their characters are diverse. this means that for your initial three characters, at least one must be diverse.

𝑭𝑰𝑽𝑬 . we really urge members to be diligent when choosing faceclaims. for monarchies of non-white countries, we expect you to choose faceclaims whose ethnicity (partially) matches the country of your choosing. for example, thai royals will have to be thai. they may be of mixed ethnicity. we also allow for royal families of colour in white countries, as well as royals of colour for white countries as half siblings or adopted siblings, but not vice versa.

𝑺𝑰𝑿 . please be mindful of others when writing (potentially) triggering content & use trigger warnings, the nsfw channel feature or spoiler tags whenever necessary. we also ask you to communicate with your writing partners, just to ensure everyone is comfortable writing mature content. the list of triggers we would like you to keep into account this group can be found below.

♔ ◜ — 𝑀𝑈𝑁 𝑆𝐿𝑂𝑇𝑆. ◞

the discord verse has a total of eighteen slots of which currently one are available.

♔ ◜ — 𝑀𝑂𝑅𝐸 𝐼𝑁𝐹𝑂𝑅𝑀𝐴𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁. ◞

for more information about montesquieu institute we invite you to join our discord server in the source link. the server will include more information, such as application format, current members, established royal families & wanted connections. for any questions, feel free to approach us via tumblr or message any of the admins through discord !

𝐽𝑂𝐼𝑁 𝑂𝑈𝑅 𝐷𝐼𝑆𝐶𝑂𝑅𝐷 𝐼𝑁 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑆𝑂𝑈𝑅𝐶𝐸 𝐿𝐼𝑁𝐾 !

#rpt #discord verse #discord rp #appless rp #royal rp #she's finally here

38 notes · View notes

westerosei · 2 years ago

Photo

º . ♔ ⸻ the capital of king’s landing welcomes LORAS of HOUSE TYRELL, the SER of HIGHGARDEN. news borne by a raven sends word that he bears a resemblance to ALI GOZUSIRIN. the TWENTY-SEVEN year old CIS MAN is reputed to be GRACIOUS and LOYAL, but with the eyes of court watching their every move, they might turn out to be SPOILED and IMPULSIVE. when songs are sung, their verses speak of IMPECCABLY POLISHED ARMOR (PERHAPS TOO ELEGANT, TOO EXTRAVAGANT, BUT WHO WOULD TELL HIM THAT?) ; THREE ROSES IN A FIELD OF GRASS, STRETCHING TOWARDS THE SUN, FOREVER UNTOUCHED ; A CHARMING GRIN ON HORSEBACK, SHARED WITH ALL, AND A SECOND, SOFTER SMILE, SHARED WITH ONE. whispers throughout the seven kingdoms claim that their allegiance lies with HOUSE TYRELL & RENLY BARATHEON, where they conspire to SHIFT THEIR GRANDMOTHER'S SUPPORT TO RENLY'S CAUSE. but in the end, fealty means little when you play the game of thrones.

hi all !! i’m s, and i write loras :) it’s my first time diving into the got rp scene in a while, so bear with me as i regain my footing, but i’m so excited to be here! my headcanons for loras are below the cut, i can’t wait to get writing with all of you!

as a child, after robert’s rebellion, loras was sent to squire for renly baratheon in the stormlands - while he hated the place, longing desperately for the warmth and sunshine of the reach, he found a distraction in lord renly himself. he would never admit it aloud, but loras would go anywhere (even to the depths of the north, though loras despises the cold) if it meant being at renly's side.

loras is incredibly fond of his siblings, despite the fact that he's closer to margaery's age than his elder brothers'. he would die for any of them, and he hopes that he's proven that, not only in word, but in action. he fears they may not feel the same way about renly's quest as he does, but he hopes that he'll be able to convince them as much as he hopes to convince his grandmother of renly's capabilities.

though loras' strength and prowess with a sword is something that's unquestionable, his book smarts are lacking. when he was being tutored as a child, he always wanted to get away, frequently sneaking off to find other things to do. he much preferred to be outside, running in the gardens or practicing swordsmanship. he was a troublesome child, but, in his mind, it wasn't as if he was going to be lord of highgarden at any point - willas was the one who needed to do well in tutoring; loras wasn't even the spare to the heir. he could handle his father's disapproval, but never his grandmother's, though - she was always the person he was trying to impress.

loras truly believes that renly would make a better king than stannis. he knows that stannis' claim is too strong for renly to pass it by without major repercussions, but stannis' personality is lacking, while renly is charismatic and charming, in loras' mind. he thinks renly would make a better king, and he would admit that (albeit only to renly and loras’ own inner circle) if asked.

loras genuinely believes that he is one of the best fighters that westeros has ever seen. he knows that his reputation precedes him, as well as the fact that some believe he's a better jouster than he is a fighter, but he knows better than to take those words to heart. he knows his worth, and he believes that anyone who doesn't see that worth will be proven wrong in due time. despite knowing his own worth, though, loras is reckless, and would never turn down a challenge. he knows that this could get him into trouble, but he hasn't yet found himself in a situation he couldn't get himself out of.

loras is wary of the whispers of a targaryen return to westeros. he knows of the history of his family intimately - the tyrells and the targaryens had always been closely intertwined. in fact, it was this intra-familial association that led to loras being sent to the stormlands to squire for renly, in an attempt to prove house tyrell's newfound loyalty to house baratheon after king robert ascended to the throne. his ancestors may consider him a traitor, but they are long dead, so he tries to pay that thought no mind. his devotion to renly is unshakable, and no targaryen from across the narrow sea could change that, even if those whispers about three dragons are true.

#oath.intro

6 notes · View notes

godsvvept · 2 years ago

Text

º . ♔ ⸻ the capital of king’s landing welcomes ELIA SAND of HOUSE MARTELL, the BASTARD / LADY of SUNSPEAR. the TWENTY - FOUR year old DEMIWOMAN is reputed to be GREGARIOUS and VENTURESOME, but with the eyes of court watching their every move, they might turn out to be UNCOUTH and TEMERARIOUS. when songs are sung, their verses speak of A STEADY HAND WRAPPED AROUND A LANCE, READY TO STRIKE AND BREAK INTO A HUNDRED PIECES AGAINST THE OPPONENT; "I AM SEEKING, I AM STRIVING, I AM IN IT WITH ALL MY HEART"; BLACK BRAIDS, OF THE HORSE AND OF THE GIRL RIDING IT, ALMOST AS ONE. whispers throughout the seven kingdoms claim that their allegiance lies with HOUSE MARTELL, where they conspire to COMPETE AND COME OUT AS VICTORIOUS ON THE KING’S WEDDING’S FESTIVITIES’ JOUSTS & PROVE HERSELF WORTHY OF TAKING PART ON HER FATHER’S PLANS. but in the end fealty means little when you play the game of thrones.

full name : elia sand. alias / nickname : el, lady lance. age : twenty - four. gender and pronouns : demiwoman and she / they. orientation : bisexual biromantic. occupation : n / a ( bastard of sunspear + aspirational jouster? ) faceclaim : banita sandhu

date of birth : eleventh month of the year tba. parents : oberyn martell and ellaria sand siblings : four older half - sisters and three younger sisters. significant other : n/a. she has no intention of nor inclinance for marriage. religious affiliation : the faith of the seven.

application ; full statistics ; tdlr and connections below the cut.

trigger warning for : mild mentions of sexism.

names have power, a weight to them that can lift you up or carry you down — elia sand, fortunately, lives a life that allows her to pick the first, disregarding any comparisons between them and their more infamous namesake. the name is the only thing they have in common anyways — the name and oberyn martell, possibly the one true center of this elia’s world. as the oldest of the new generation of sand snakes, elia’s life is much inspired on her father, from her preference to her sisters over anyone else, to her liveliness, even to her hobbies.

they first ride a horse as an infant, oberyn’s left arm around them and the right hand at the reins. elia doesn’t think she has stopped riding ever since — either that be with her father, her mother, her sisters, her cousins, and, finally, alone. it is easily the thing she likes doing the most, and she treats horses both as faithful companions but also as a reliable travelling method.

elia loves traveling, and has consistently explored dorne for the past five years, mostly as a semi - anonymous presence granted by her bastard status, her carelessness about her own outlook, the blades she carries in her body and, oddly contradictory but simultaneously, the very poignant features that tell just who she is ( and anyone in dorne knows better than to cross a daughter of the house martell, much less one of the viper’s own spawns ). as such, she has gained quite a knowledge of not only the dornish terrain, but also of the people, noble born or not.

unfortunately, this does not stretch to beyond the borders of dorne, for as wild as she may be, elia knows she can not tip too much outside of the line not for her own sake, but for the sake of those who love and worry about her ( they had one elia leaving dorne, and never returning, and this elia knows that as much as she tries not to catch up with ghosts, there is only so much she can do about it ).

she’s lived her life mostly unencumbered due to her privileges as oberyn’s daughter, and her mother’s worries of allowing her in the martell schemes, but elia, too, was granted a role, only recently. for years, she has yearned to be a part of the notorious sand snakes — the sisters she has admired for her whole life, each more terrifying and magnificent than the other — and even if that has been delayed ( now for her own sake ), it would have been very hard for her elders to keep her out of it when an actual targaryen comes to share a roof with you, along with her essosi companions and whole three dragons.

elia, unlike nymeria or tyene, lack the finesse for politics, and, unlike obara, she lacks the toughest skin of a true warrior and yet unlike sarella, she has often skipped all of boring history lessons given on the water gardens, but elia, too, is a note - worthy member of her house, and she can be of help.

less infamous than her sisters, the martell hope she can use that “anonymity” in their favor, learning of kings landing and telling both about it, and also dorne, to a queen who is more foreign than she is westerosi. is it a ploy to keep her obedient and feeling as if she belongs, as if she matters? perhaps. is it working? well, we’ll see. elia definitely is trying, and is excited to do so — it’s better that she’s been advised to act as if nothing out of normal is happening, and that’s what she hopes she can do, even in such an unfamiliar place as king’s landing.

fondly known as lady lance around her acquaintances and some competitors, elia has started jousting as a teenager, inspired by their father’s own remarkable career on the chivalrous sport. despite some prejudice faced by her insistence on playing and running when it is not a typically feminine sport ( not that she is typically feminine, anyways ), elia is headstrong and continuously pushes to make themselves known and a viable competitor on the tiltyard, something that they intend to also happen in king’s landing — no better opportunity than on a wedding’s celebrations, after all.

#oath.intro #this will likely still be edited #but i wanted to get it out so i can properly start plotting for my bb

14 notes · View notes

farewcllwanderlvst · 2 years ago

Photo

⸻ꜰʟɪᴘ ᴀ ᴄᴏɪɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴡᴀʏ ɪ ꜰᴀʟʟ | 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐘𝐉𝐎𝐘

º . ♔ ⸻ the capital of king’s landing welcomes THEON OF HOUSE GREYJOY, the LORD of PYKE. news borne by a raven sends word that he bear(s) a resemblance to JUNG JAE WON. the 28 year old MALE is reputed to be PASSIONATE and BUOYANT, but with the eyes of court watching their every move, they might turn out to be INSECURE and HAUGHTY. when songs are sung, their verses speak of A MIRROR SHATTERED , SHARDS DRIPPING CRIMSON, A PORTRAIT AS LOST AS THE REFLECTION WITHIN | A PIECE TRYING TO FIT, IT DOESN’T BELONG | AT WAR WITH TWO SIDES, A HOWL IN YOUR HEART, SALT IN YOUR BLOOD ; THERE IS NO VICTORY whispers throughout the seven kingdoms claim that their allegiance lies with HOUSE STARK, where they conspire to ASSIST THE STARKS, RETURN TO THE IRON ISLANDS & PROVE HIMSELF TO HIS FAMILY (BLOOD AND NOT). but in the end fealty means little when you play the game of thrones.

Headcanons ⸻

Rose Colored Memories. Balon Greyjoy knew fairly early on that his youngest son was unlike the children he previously sired. He was too compassionate, too eager to please, and too emotional for the iron blood that should have been in his veins. He discarded the boy, and focused on the three children he could make use of. Alannys Greyjoy loved her youngest son all the same, and with Balon’s absence of love she attempted to compensate (she could never quite tip the scales, though she did succeed in citing the envy of her elder children. they all knew who mother’s favorite was). Theon, only a child, did not understand why his father never so much as glanced his way, why his siblings barely tolerated his presence, and why his father was so eager to pawn off the son he never had use of. Theon looks back on his time in Pyke with rose colored glasses and unhealthy idolization. He was too young to see the true picture of the life he lived. When asked about his time in Pyke and his family, he would say his brothers and uncle were far too playful sometimes (they weren’t cruel, they weren’t bullies, it was all well meaning fun), his mother was a wonderful storyteller (she wasn’t losing her mind, she always recognized him, why wouldn’t she?) and father mourned the loss of three sons, not two (he loved theon. he truly did! any bruises left on his skin were meant to make theon tougher, to make him strong. and his father never turned a blind eye to his tears because theon had never cried).

A Fruitless Rebellion. Theon recalls the day with a vivid clarity in his mind. His elder brothers were dead, his mother was his tears, and his father’s dreams had been crushed into ash. He had attempted to comfort the man, only to be swatted away and stumble into his weeping mother’s arms. The bargain had been struck behind closed doors, and Theon had not been privy to the brokered deal deciding his fate. His mother had told him between her sobs, and Theon tried his very hardest not to shed any tears for the sake of his mother (and for the sake of his father as well, because iron born men did not cry). Theon had desperately tried to meet his father’s eyes, but the man did not spare him a glance. In his stead, he met the eyes of a man that Theon later found out was called Eddard Stark. Warm eyes despite his attire meant for the cold, he held gaze with the frightened child and Theon, for the first time, felt seen. More than a burden, more than a child to protect, but as a person. At the time he didn’t understand the feeling, deeming it strange, and unlike anything he had ever known before. It was a long time before he realized that gaze was a trait, but not of the North.

Stranger in a Strange Land. The North was terribly cold. It was Theon’s first observation upon arrival to Winterfell but far from his last. The people acted strangely, he was their hostage and yet all he had ever known of the word appeared incorrect. Did hostage have the same meaning in the North as it did in the Iron Islands? In Pyke, a hostage meant shackles, a cell, lackluster food if any at all, and a clear lack of freedom. That could not be said for Winterfell, at least for the ten year old child who had played no part in his father’s uprising. Instead Theon was given warm furs, a room of his own, schooling and a friend in the form of Robb Stark. His memory was scarce on how the friendship came to be, only that it had never felt like obligation and it had made him feel safer than any hostage should have felt.

Panopticon. It was with age that Theon began to learn, though vastly different from the ways of the Iron Islands, that the North did have shackles upon him nonetheless. Despite being treated as a ward in most respects (for which he should have been more grateful then he was), there were many ways to remember he was, just as well. a hostage to the North. A walking reminder came in the form of Jon Snow, the bastard son of Eddard Stark. What Theon first saw as favoritism, he later learned was indifference. Catelyn Stark favored her own children as any mother would, and in her eyes, neither Theon Greyjoy nor Jon Snow had a place in Winterfell. The worst of it was when other Lords and Ladies would visit Winterfell. He and Jon would be ushered away, out of sight or in the back of the room like they were some dirty secret the Starks kept behind locked doors. It was far easier taking out the ire he had on the bastard, and so Theon did. With taunts and cruelties he knew would hurt the lad the most.

Hidden Afflictions. Distorting the past was far easier than the present. The Starks were his captors and he should have detested them, despite being aware of this (how it should have been) Theon knew it wasn’t true. Jon Snow was a target for his anger, and a rival (in the iron islands that would have been it, nothing more) but Jon Snow was also fun. Not only in his teasing and prodding (though those played a part as well) but as someone to challenge Theon, to be honest with in a way he could with little others. Little Rickon who toddled after him even when Lady Catelyn called him not to, with the most efficacious smile a toddler could possibly have. Little Bran, who Theon was sure would not remain so little, he would spring up like a weed and outgrow them all. He was already climbing to greater heights than the rest of them, it would only fit. There was Arya, who had a better aim than either of her brothers (not that theon would ever tell them, he would be admitting to seeing her practice weaponry). Sansa was more distant than the rest, much like her own mother, but Theon still remembered when she had only begun needlepoint. To this day, he didn’t know what possessed him when he offered his own clothes for her to practice (especially not when he purposely cut a hole into his own favorite shirt for her to fix up, but she’d been so delighted so there was no regret). Friendship with Robb Stark hadn’t been a choice, not a responsibility, and if Theon had given it a word to it he would have chosen honor. Someone to josh with, who wanted nothing in return but friendship, someone who cared what happened to Theon probably more than anyone he’d ever known (he’d like to think if his father did try a rebellion again, Robb would fight for his life but it was something Theon would never dare to ask).

Heart in the North. When Eddard Stark became the hand of the king, Theon didn’t think much of it. It seemed more natural than not. If anything, little Sansa becoming a princess was more interesting news (not by much, it was fitting for her frankly). Then King Robert Baratheon was murdered, Eddard Stark was put on trial and Theon felt fear like he had never known before. It was more than the day Balon’s rebellion failed, when he’d lost his brothers and his home. Not only was Lord Stark at risk but Sansa and Arya as well. The thoughts were suffocating. Theon imagined never seeing Sansa and Arya ever again, he had always thought he’d watch them grow, see who they would become. He imagined never seeing Eddard Stark ever again, nevermore seeking his advice, never again seeing a fatherly gaze (he remembered meeting those eyes for the first time. that day when his father had refused to see theon, ned never hesitated). Winterfell was not his home, and the Starks were not his family. So why did even the thought of their loss hurt so much more than any heartache he’d ever known?

Loyalty in a War(d): The first time Theon received word of Eddard Stark’s survival, it had felt like a dream. If not for the wilting presence of Jaime Lannister, it would have felt far too surreal to be true. The sentencing was unkind but Ned Stark remained breathing, and that produced more relief than Theon could believe. Calling Robb Stark ‘King of the North’ came as easily as the breath in his lungs. It made think of his own father, and for the first time experienced seeds of doubt for the man’s actions. Balon Greyjoy struggled with something Theon had found terribly simple. Bending a knee to a remarkable man wasn’t an act that needed twice of thought, let alone a rebellion. Perhaps Robert Baratheon was not the great man that Robb Stark was? Or perhaps Theon Greyjoy was not the same man Balon Greyjoy was. Did this make him stronger of a man, or weaker of one?

Plot Points⸻

An extension of the first plot point, is Theon’s warring viewpoint of what he was taught in the Iron Islands vs what he was taught in Winterfell. When Robb Stark is called King of the North, pledging fealty to him comes naturally to Theon, which makes him wonder why his father struggled so terribly with it (though struggling may be an understatement). He’s wondering if loyalty is something that makes him a weaker man than his father, or a stronger one? Is kneeling a weakness or a strength? Are the Starks his family or his captors?

The second plot point is Theon’s opinion of his own self, and in relation, his place in the world. He wears his arrogance and pride like armor, as if it would hide all his many insecurities. It’s far easier boasting, cracking jokes, putting others down, than allowing any smidge of his own self worth into the forefront of his mind. He knows so little of his people, of the Iron Islands, the home he was supposed to return to someday (if he was ever to return at all, but that was a thought he often didn’t allow). Not to mention the sword hanging over his neck the day his father decided his son’s life wasn’t a worthy leverage any longer. The fear that he mattered to no one, that if he were to die his memory would be buried with the word unimportant just like his brother’s had been. Theon wanted to matter, if not only to the world but to others as well. Even the ones who claim to care for him, he harbors doubts. There was nothing Theon could offer them besides his own self, and that wasn’t much worth at all.

#ᶠˡⁱᵖ ᵃ ᶜᵒⁱⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵉᵉ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ʷᵃʸ ᴵ ᶠᵃˡˡ | 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐘𝐉𝐎𝐘 #oath.intro

4 notes · View notes

gryffindordaughterofathena · 3 years ago

Text

MEET MY OPEN HEART MC

Although all of us play with the same main character for Open Heart, yet the characters that we have created in our head are vastly different from each other and even from our in game version. So I thought I'll make this post with the two versions of my MC, Diana Ramirez. Because I love them both.

Just a normal girl who gets thrown into things that can hardly be considered normal during her three years of residency at Edenbrook Hospital.

*I use the white MC face in game, despite my MC being Indian-American, because the Hispanic MC's smile creeps me out a little.

Over the past one year Dr. Diana Ramirez has become a comfort character. So here's everything about her.

♕︎𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕄𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕀𝕟𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝔻𝕚𝕒𝕟𝕒

♔︎Name : Dr. Diana Torsha Ramirez

♔︎Home : Her family has two homes, one in Kolkata in West Bengal, India and another in Chicago, Illinois (her parents currently stay here)

♔︎Ethnicity : Indian-American

[Note : Her Dad's American while her mom's Indian. We will learn more about them soon.]

♔︎Nicknames : Di, Rookie and Torsha

♔︎Immediate Family : Stephen Ramirez(Father), Indrani Mitra Ramirez (Mother), Daniel Stotra Ramirez (Younger Brother)

♔︎Education : John Hopkins University

♔︎Appearance : Long Wavy Black hair, dark brown eyes.

♕︎𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖 ℝ𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕠𝕞 𝔽𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕤 𝔸𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝔻𝕚𝕒𝕟𝕒

❁She's almost never seen without her glasses as she's highly myopic. Her nearsightedness has lead to many embarrassing situations all throughout her extremely awkward school years.

❁She is well versed in English, Hindi and Bengali.

❁Diana is a mythology nerd and a huge potterhead.

❁She is extremely close to both her parents and although she will never admit it she loves her brother to death.

❁She keeps in touch with her best friend Valerie Thomas even now, they have monthly video chatting sessions where they catch up about their respective lives.

❁Di says she's an animal person if asked whether she's a cat or a dog person. But she secretly a little biased towards cats (don't tell that to Jenner 🤫)

❁On her 17th birthday her maternal grandmother gave her a watch that used to belong to her, she wears it on every important event of her life.

❁She can recite Bengali poems and she often sends Tagore poems recited by her to her family in India.

❁She's terribly arachnophobic.

❁Unlike popular belief, she's one of those rare doctors who can function without multiple cups of caffeine.

Tagging:

❁She and Naveen often have long discussions about their shared cultural heritage.

@genevievemd @jamespotterthefirst @drariellevalentine @rookie-ramsey @aleynareads @openheartfanfics @miss-smrxtiee @terrm9 @aestheticartsx @fireycookie @maurine07 @starrystarrytrouble @schnitzelbutterfingers @tsrookie @anntoldstories @iemcpbchoices @stygianflood @sophxwithers @actuallybored @iloveethanramsey @natureblooms24 @chemist-ana @mercury84choices @casey-v @uneravine @mm2305 @mrsethanfreakingramsey @smilex1104 @missmiimiie @shanzay44 @sweetheartdetectivex @potionsprefect @headoverheelsforramsey @jerzwriter @mainstreetreader @coffeeheartaddict @adiehardfan @mia143 @kdjdhdvksojs

#dr. diana ramirez #open heart #choices #choices stories we play #pixelberry #meet my mc #oph meet your mc

29 notes · View notes

gylesfarwynd · 2 years ago

Text

º . ♔ ⸻ the capital of king’s landing welcomes GYLES of HOUSE FARWYND, the LORD of THE LONELY LIGHT. news borne by a raven sends word that he bears a resemblance to ANDREW KOJI. the THIRTY-FOUR year old CIS MAN is reputed to be OBSERVANT and CHARISMATIC, but with the eyes of court watching their every move, they might turn out to be BLUNT and DISTRUSTING. when songs are sung, their verses speak of CALLOUSED FINGERTIPS ON SOFT PALMS ; THE GROUND, WARM WITH BLOOD FOLLOWING A FIST-FIGHT ; THE TASTE OF SALTWATER ON THE AIR . whispers throughout the seven kingdoms claim that their allegiance lies with GYSELLA GOODBROTHER and HOUSE GREYJOY, where they conspire to CLEAR HIS FAMILY'S NAME and GAIN NOTORIETY. but in the end, fealty means little when you play the game of thrones.

BIO — tw :// violence, blood, abuse, neglect

ONE.

You are the oldest of three brothers, the lord heir to the Lonely Light, a title that is mocked as much as you take pride in it. The Iron Islands, surprisingly, treated you well as a young child, trained with a wooden sword in hand since your fingers had the dexterity to hold one. You played out on the beaches with your brothers, born in quick succession after yourself. Close knit, the three boys and their father were a quiet and desolate house, keeping mostly to themselves, finding friends only in the servant children. Reclusive. You showed a kindness innate in your heart that was not present in every house in the clash of fake weapons ringing with laughter and the sharing of meals as abashed as throwing food under the table for the dogs only when the coast was clear. The Farwynd boys were sweet children, but kindness is not always repaid in full to ironborns. It was too easy to be made a fool of, to be taken advantage of, and so the warmth you offered aged and turned to ice, cold and ruthless.

You don’t hold any animosity towards your family, even with your youngest brother’s birth costing your mother her life. The same could not be said, however, for your father, a once loud and eccentric man gone quiet with grief, his stoicism turned madness felt throughout the castle you called home. It was only you boys then, yourself no older than ten when you became the emotional caregiver of your younger siblings, a heavy burden for one so young. It turned you distant, reserved. You were to take over this house one day, and you could only shoulder so much distress before you began to bend and break under the very weight of it, your own sanity occasionally slipping with the neglect of your own psychological needs, “If you take care of everyone else,” therefore births the question, “Who takes care of you?”

TWO.

You remember the first time you were ordered to punish a servant, it haunts your dreams to this day even after having killed men, decades of piracy and battle, gore red and slick between fingers and caked under nails, splashed on your chest and neck leaving a horrible rust stain. You remember being fourteen and being told to leave more than a bruise, the feeling of a cane in fresh fingers, still a child but cruelty is bred in the veins of noble houses and, eager to please, you had done your worst. Still sometimes you wake in a cold sweat by candlelight and see the red ribbons of skin, but you had won something that day; praise. This, you were taught, is what it meant to be a Lord, to be the heir to your house. This was what it would take to be someone.

THREE.

House Farwynd’s name, particularly the branch of the Lonely Light, came with a reputation, a stereotype. You were called skinchangers, accused of lying with seals and birthing half-human children. You were considered mad by most. A nasty reputation, one that filled the oldest Farwynd son with hatred, the taste of poison on your tongue since you were old enough to understand the things said about your family, about your brothers. They were a quiet house, surely, kept to themselves on their land and rarely ventured out for politics or otherwise, and therefore they must be different; distasteful, animals.

Fighting became your lifeblood, trained under many different masters you learned the art of battle, more fond of hand-to-hand combat than swordsmanship. You’re a ruffian, a monster on the battlefield, and loyal to a fault. You won’t hesitate when it comes to someone you love, those far and few between; your brothers, Asha Greyjoy, Gysella Goodbrother, and if necessary their families as well. You stands all too willing to lay your life on the line for the sake of fealty, of promises you had made either stone sober or drunk off of dinner wines, face flushed when you placed your hands on either of Asha’s shoulders after knowing her for so many years and said with earnesty, the dark pits of your eyes serious yet hazy, voice stern, fighting against a wretched warble, “I will not forget your goodwill, and I will fight with you as long as you will have me.” The laugh that followed and the breaking of a smile on both faces as she patted your back, a crooked grin. Though amused, you stood by the consequence that she believed you, and thus it was written in stone and blood. Above all else you are a man of your word, not a liar nor a thief. A distrustful, destructive, and harrowed creature, but gravely honest.

FOUR.

She took you in, she trained you herself alongside Gysella Goodbrother and there a bond was built that would last, as far as you’re concerned, the rest of your life. She offers you something you had never had; independence, a choice. You had always been shackled to your name and made to play the part of the boy heir and the caretaker of your brothers. You gave everything you had to your family, and you would do it all again, but now they weigh on you, they hold you back. You’re a man now, a fighter, and you cannot bear to spend the rest of your days rotting away on the island and patiently waiting, as sick as it sounds, for your father to die. Gysella offers you the position of first mate, when she does it’s still a bit of a pipe dream, a long way to go to success, and at first your father vehemently refuses to allow you to leave as the heir to his house. He doesn’t want you to waste your time becoming a pirate, and you don’t want to be a pawn. The only hope he has as he watches you leave is that perhaps you’ll marry the Goodbrother girl, a hope that after a decade at sea seems to diminish with time. He hopes, you postulate, you marry at all.

Your brothers, younger than you, have already found wives, fathered children, and you waste your time at sea, refusing all the proposals your father works so hard to scrounge up for you. You do not say this, but you still believe in a fantasy as old as time; love. The word, though demure and enticing, tastes like blood in your mouth so you swallow it down and instead say that marriage does not suit your lifestyle, and children even less so. Sometimes when you close your eyes and listen very closely, you can hear death knocking at your door already, “Are you sure,” it asks, teeth sharpened and dripping with black, “that this is how you want to die?” elongated canines and obsidian eyes, as if to taunt you, concludes with just a single word, “Alone?”

#oath.intro #i promise i write better than this i SUCK at bios #like bad #im gunna do a wc page and everything in a bit but i wanted to get this up rq

4 notes · View notes