#A little and small messy drawing of the sinclairs. I needed this.

[solivagant-muse]

Mini Sinclairs

[reveriesofawriter]

book rambling don't mind me

the book kept saying anharion was his title... so was that also his name? did his name become a title when the Betrayal happened? does "anharion" translate to Betrayer or is that just what he's known as? was it a mistranslation from the old language? edit: I just reread the part where sarcean said he used to be called something else and now I feel like that's going to give away the whole ~is he the sun prince~ thing

I've seen some theories about the Collar and to what extent it actually controls james and like. as much as it would be less big and exciting to see it this way... what if the Collar is mostly symbolic? bc sarcean can talk people into doing what he wants anyway and james was obviously not immune to the charm (it's magnified for him even) well before will knew anything about himself or his powers so what if the collar was just a way to show other people that anharion belonged to him? but GOD if this moral stronghold of not wanting to manipulate james into kissing him and wanting him to do it of his own free will stops these boys from having a lil smooch for the majority of the third book I will Die

I've also seen people try to draw lines between will/sarcean and james/anharion as far as their past/present personalities and the consensus seems to be that will has a more clear line between himself and sarcean but I saw someone say it was more like intrusive thoughts and I think that's fascinating, also that will is seeing james and not anharion the betrayer when he looks at james but james in every sense is this cocky little asshole (affectionate) who flirts and uses his powers to take advantage of people while anharion in the past wasn't like that sooooo I think will isn't Seeing james as who he is I think he's seeing anharion for who he used to be before he turned against sarcean. which is so interesting when you think about will saying people shouldn't be judged by what they've done but what they can do

the tangled web of who hates who is so messy but I trust violet to, if not outright take will's side, then to convince the others to let him go like banish him or whatever instead of killing him right away (even if james's powers would physically protect him from that I just need violet to believe in him)

I'm still thinking about little 6 year old will setting a rich fucker's clothes on fire bc he laid his hands on a woman who was nice to him, how violet saved his life and he's spent every day after that trying to return the favor including using a newfound power he doesn't know how to control yet to set her free from a cage in another country

can't wait to see how the narratives shift when we get other perspectives on what the past was really like bc from what I can tell sarcean and the lady weren't really In Love they just had a fling one time

on that note I thought will was switched out for the girls somehow when they were kids but elizabeth was told her mother had a son before her and she believes that son is will, which would mean will is both blood of the lady and the dark king, which brings to question who his dad is bc they said it wasn't simon but I don't think his birth was a virgin mary situation, also I know sarcean got around but are will and simon's family related any closer than one ancestor thousands of years ago? is sinclair will's father?

I don't think tom and violet will fight to the death, tom may die in another way tho

what's the fourth kingdom and how does that pay into this? bc the first gate was in england the second was underwater somewhere and the third is in italy so the fourth...? on that note there must be more stewards alive who weren't in the hall when it was torn through, people who either left that life behind, or like cyprian at the beginning who didn't drink from the cup but still follow the lifestyle, or maybe like small covens of stewards who never went to the hall bc they found their own communities elsewhere idk it's just very eurocentric to think everyone from everywhere would meet up in this one place when the whole rest of the world exists

will needs some alone time after all this someone give him a safe place to rest and a hot drink

phillip and visander... and the unicorn....... love triangle of the ages... (I wonder if visander will find his way back into a man's body somehow or if he's stuck looking like katherine forever lol) (realistically. I don't think this man fucked his horse. but. metaphorically? metaphysically? whatever they had was probably as erotically charged as that magic scene right?)

[scarofthewind]

Slashers on Mother’s Day

A/N: Here is the first part of the mini, multi-fandom series I am doing in honor of mother’s day! I hope you all enjoy this pure fluff!

Mother’s Day master post

Warnings: None, pure fluff and joy, reader is a mother obviously

word count: 2.6k Tip Jar (every bit helps!)

Spoils you too much:

Charles Lee Ray: “I think she’ll like this one, what do you think?” Charles asks his daughter who stood next to him, looking up at the overpriced jewelry in her father’s hands. “Too big,” she shakes her head and Charles agrees after looking it over once again. He already had a whole basket on his arm full of stuff for you ranging from stuffed animals your daughter had picked out to flowers, jewelry and even some pieces of clothing. Just as the two thought they were done shopping and walked over to the check out, Charles pauses by the perfume stand and looks them over, picking up a few and smelling them before bending over and letting his daughter smell. “Smells like grandma, Dad,” she scrunched her nose as he quickly put it back. They spend more time shopping than they need to but the smile on your face when they bring out the loads of gifts is enough to make everyone happy. 

Brahms Heelshire: Brahms did all his shopping days before Mother’s day, but the amount of items he’d purchased made you question his sanity. “Don’t look at me, she picked that out,” Brahms shrugged, pointing to your daughter who was giggling next to you. “Mommy will look like a princess,” her contagious laugh made Brahms crack a smile as you put the simple tiara on your head. “Uh oh, the Queen needs to watch out,” he joked, resting his head on his palm as he watched you continue to open the countless gifts scattered in the living room. “You know this was too much right? Flowers and a card are usually what’s expected.” You told him with a smile. Brahms nodded over to the coffee table where a giant bouquet of flowers and a few cards sat, a shit-eating grin on his face. “I think you got this one for yourself,” you said to your daughter who was playing with the stuffed animal she had picked out as well. Another giggle erupted from her as you tickled her sides, Brahms watching from his spot, his heart flooding with a warmth he wanted to keep forever. 

Jason Voorhees: Since he doesn’t come from money, or have it for that matter, he likes to spoil you in other ways like physical touch or by waiting on you hand and foot. “I can get to the bathroom by myself you dork,” you told your lover as he carried you from the couch to the bathroom, only letting you down when you were inside. When you shut the door, Jason turned around to look at his daughter who was coloring a picture for you for Mother’s Day. “Look! Look!” She squealed in joy, waving her father over before pointing at the messy shaped people. “There’s you, me, and Momma!” Her eyes looked up to Jason with excitement and happiness that made him smile. “Should I draw her another one?” She asked, reaching across the table to grab another piece of paper before aggressively scribbling on it. The bathroom door opening made Jason move towards you, picking you up and walking you over to the kitchen table, not wanting you do any moving on your own today. With a soft kiss to your head once he sat you in a chair, he moved to sit next to you, watching as your daughter gave her artwork to her mother and wondering how he got so lucky. 

Bubba Sawyer: He woke up with the sun and so did his kid; both of them ready to spoil you as soon as you woke up with small gifts and lots of love. “I think we should make chocolate chip pancakes!” Bubba’s son said with a lopsided grin as they both stood in the kitchen. Looking at the stove, Bubba scratched his head, unsure of the recipe or how you even make them, his child doing the same thing. “Maybe we just make coffee?” The little boy suggested and Bubba nodded, moving over to the coffee machine and getting it started. “Flowers,” Bubba said suddenly, remembering what it was he thought he was forgetting. With a determined nod, his son took off to the garden to pick some of the wildflowers before bringing them inside to help his dad make them look pretty. Carefully taking the vase over to the table where a card and some homemade candy sat, Bubba set the flowers down and nodded in approval. “Boys?” You asked from upstairs, tiredly waking up and running your hands over your face before hearing two sets of footsteps come barreling up the stairs. “Happy Mother’s Day, Momma!” Your son shouted as he leapt across the bed, tackling you in a hug before Bubba did the same, nearly knocking the air from your lungs. The faint smell of coffee in the air and the spoils of a father and son with more than enough love to give, made your day the best. 

Wakes you up with a kiss and breakfast:

Michael Myers: “I made this at school for her,” Michael’s daughter said to him, holding up a poem about mother’s day she’d written for you. “I’m sure she’ll love it. Can you do me a favor and set the table?” He said gently, watching his daughter nod and walk over to the silverware drawer while he continued working on the bacon and eggs that were hot on the stove. It was quiet between the two like usual until his daughter spoke once more, “I’m hungry, when’s she waking up?” Turning the stove off and putting the pans on the opposite side of the appliance, Michael wiped his hands off on the kitchen towel before looking over at his child. The vase full of flowers almost blocked her tiny body from his view but when he stepped around the table, he could see her eyes that matched his, glimmering with excitement. “You stay here and I’ll go get her okay? Get your poem ready that you made for her,” Michael watched as she grabbed the paper and held on to it as he walked upstairs to the bedroom where you were sleeping peacefully. Looking around to make sure his daughter didn’t follow, Michael walked over to the side of the bed where you slept and began peppering kisses all over your face, watching you twitch and let out a low groan at being woken up. With a small smirk, Michael began kissing lower, his mouth attaching itself to your neck before you shot up, pushing him off you. “Happy Mother’s Day,” he chuckled, watching you smile and shake your head at him before moving to press a kiss to his lips. 

Pelle: All you felt were the feather-light kisses of your husband as he pressed his lips against your cheek, waking you from your sleep. As your eyes opened, Pelle pulled back and grinned down at you, letting you sit up before pressing his lips to yours, “Happy Mother’s Day to the best one in the world,” he said softly, your heart warming at his words as you hear the bedroom door open and your kids come walking in, the eldest holding a tray of food and the youngest carrying a cup carefully towards you. “We made breakfast- well- technically Dad did,” your oldest said with a smile, setting the tray down on your lap and letting his sibling set the cup down on your nightstand. “You didn’t have to do all this,” you said with a small smile, letting your kids hug you tightly, the youngest one crawling into bed next to you. “How else would we show our appreciation for you?” Pelle hummed, the corner’s of his eyes crinkling as he smiled. “We also have flowers and a few cards for you but I left them in the living room,” your eldest told you before he turned and went to get them. “Love you Momma,” the younger sibling said, yawning at your side with a tired smile on their face. “I love you too,” you replied, pressing a kiss to their head before looking down at the food on your lap and digging in. 

Thomas Hewitt: “A little to the left- just a bit more- perfect!” Thomas taped up the Mother’s Day banner in the place his daughter instructed before moving back and looking at it with a nod. “What flowers should I get?” His son asked as he came through the front door, hands covered in dirt. “Anything that’s bloomed and that’s not brown already,” Thomas told him before the boy took off outside. The daughter walked to the kitchen, fixing up the rest of the food before setting the table and getting the coffee ready. “You should go wake her up, Dad, I can get the rest of the stuff set up since there’s not much left.” With a nod, Thomas moved towards the stairs, making his way to the bedroom and opening the door only to find you sitting up in bed. “Did we wake you?” Thomas asked as he walked over, leaned down, and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. You shook your head after he pulled away before moving to your knees to chase after his lips, kissing him once more. A low chuckle left him once you had your fill, a lazy smile resting on your face. “Happy Mother’s Day to the best woman in the world.” He said gently, watching you smile before following him downstairs where your kids waited with a wonderful meal and decorations. 

Vincent Sinclair: “What are you doing?” You laughed tiredly as Vincent proceeded to press kisses all along your face and neck, tickling you lightly. “Happy Mother’s Day,” he cooed, helping you sit up before he practically dragged you to the kitchen, showing you all of the food that he may or may not had Bo help him make for you. “Momma!” You heard your twins shout as they ran over from the living room, nearly taking you out as they hugged your legs. “Happy Mother’s Day! You���re the bestest Mom ever!” “We made you some stuff come look!” They both were such high energy that it made your face hurt from smiling as they pulled you over to the living room where they had little crafts all over the place for you. A painting of their handprints as well as Vincent’s that formed a tree made your heart flutter and you knew you’d be hanging that on the wall soon. The front door opened and Bo walked in carrying flowers for you and some candy for the twins, making them turn their attention towards him for the time being. “Happy Mother’s Day to the mother of my nieces,” he smiled at you, giving you a hug before being tackled by the twins as they searched him for the candy. Walking back into the kitchen, you put the flowers in a vase and moved to wrap your arms around Vincent, pressing your lips to his for a second, “Thank you for all this.” With a small laugh and his arms tightening around you, Vincent replied, “Anything for the love of my life and the mother of my two amazing daughters.”

Almost forgets but his kid reminds them:

Billy Loomis: “You’re lucky I told you,” Billy’s daughter laughed from her spot on the couch, a children’s show playing in the background as he struggled to get everything in place before you woke up. Billy cursed under his breath as he nearly knocked the vase that had a beautiful set of flowers, over. “That’s a bad word,” his daughter chimed and he gave her a look that made her face the T.V. quickly. Running his hands through his hair, Billy cleared his throat and poured you a cup of coffee just as you were walking down the stairs, tightening your robe around you and coming into the kitchen. “What’s all this?” You asked, looking down at the cards on the table and the bag of gifts that sat in your chair. “Happy Mother’s Day!” Your daughter shouted, leaping off the couch and running towards you with open arms and a wide smile. “Did you two do all this for me? You didn’t have to.” You said, looking over to Billy who smiled at you in return. “Of course we did, you’re the best mother anyone could ask for.” He pressed a kiss to your lips before his daughter gave him a look, knowing damn well if it wasn’t for her, he would’ve forgotten. However, at least now she had something to blackmail him with. 

Bo Sinclair: “Which one?” Bo asked his daughter as he held up two bouquet’s of flowers. “You’re probably going to need both since you forgot,” she sassed back, going back to texting her friends on her phone. “You think she’ll know?” He panicked, taking both anyways and walking over to the card section. Bo managed to sneak out of the house before you woke up to get you Mother’s Day stuff and he prayed that you would stay asleep until he came home. “It’s Mom, she knows everything.” With a glare, Bo ignored his teenaged child’s response before checking out and practically speeding home, making it just in time before you came sauntering to the living room, sleep still on your mind. “Happy Mother’s Day mom,” your daughter said with a smile, giving you a hug and distracting you from her dad’s struggle with putting the flowers in a vase. “He forgot didn’t he?” You whispered to her and she nodded with a small snort of laughter, “Yeah but don’t worry, I put him through the ringer for it,” she replied and you laughed in response before letting her go and making your way over to Bo who was trying to play it cool. 

Bughuul: He didn’t mean to forget; the time he spent between the human realm and the realm of the dead had his senses all backwards. So when his son came up to him and asked him what he got you for Mother’s Day, Bughuul panicked. “What do you think she’d like?” He asked his son who thought about it for a second before responding, “Something simple like flowers or something else she likes.” Bughuul sighed, trying to think of what to get you before settling on black roses and a few books and candles he thought you would enjoy. “Thank you for reminding me, I would’ve forgotten without you,” the deity told his son as they set the gifts up nicely in the living room before you came walking in with a cup of coffee in your hands. “Happy Mother’s Day, my love.” Bughuul said gently, watching his son bound over to you and give you a tight hug. “He forgot but don’t worry, I reminded him!” Your son shouted happily, much to Bughuul’s shock and he promptly apologized for the rest of the day. 

Norman Bates: With how fast Norman was running around the house trying to set up decorations and get the gifts ready for you, his daughter truly thought he’d end up breaking something. “Calm down, she’s not going to notice,” she told her panicked father as he quickly ran into the kitchen to get breakfast finished and add the finishing touches on your gifts before he remotely began to calm. “I can’t believe I forgot, I feel horrible.” He said, a disappointed look on his face that made his daughter pat him on the back. “It happens to the best of us, no need to worry. Mom loves you and she’ll love all this stuff you set up for her no matter what.” Norman smiled gently at his daughters words before your figure caught his attention ad he made his way over to you. “Happy Mother’s Day,” he grinned, bending down and pressing his lips against yours before he lead you into the kitchen to eat. 

[choicesyouplayandmore]

Lost Words (Chapter 2)

Link to previous chapters: Chapter 1 I Click on the Masterlist to see if any future chapters have been published already. 

Note: Good news guys! This fic is going to turn out longer than I thought. I originally planned 3 chapters, but I’m pretty certain that Ernest and Claire are going to need more time than that. 

Book: Desire and Decorum

Pairing: Ernest Sinclaire x MC

A/N: Ernest and MC confront each other about their feelings in the garden. 

Warnings:  Will explore Ernest’s feelings of grief. 

Tag list: @brightpinkpeppercorn @princesstopgun @mind-reader1 @lynn1214 @xo-endlessmayhem-xo @bennycumberbuns @bruhvs @danyfreshh @cocomaxley @youngbloodbound @sweetfluffyunicorn18 @tinygooplandroad @marywitchjane @shelivesinthewoods @flyawayblue56 @lizeboredom @laniquelovely @blackwidow2721 @katurrade (I could not tag two people, not sure why?) 

Word Count: 1362 words 

Last time on Lost Words...

“Mr. Sinclaire………Ernest.” she stopped in her tracks, standing right in front of him. Her confident, yet earnest gaze held his own.

“The reason why I asked for a private conversation with you….is because…I want to ask about us.”

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

“Us?” Ernest echoed, turning around to meet her gaze. 

A serious look came over face. Eyebrows slightly raised in anticipation, standing with her hands nervously placed in front of her. Eyes glistening with sincerity, he felt as if could almost see the reflection of his own quizzical expression. 

“I want to know where we stand.” 

“Oh.....we are standing on the lawn.” 

“.......No.” she chuckled nervously. 

“Ernest.....you’re special to me. I want to know....if you perhaps feel the same way. About me.” 

The words pierced his heart like a dagger. Really? She really does? Eyes wide open, mouth slightly agape, he staggered backwards. 

No. It can’t be. You can’t. He scolded himself. You must tell her the truth. 

“Claire...” 

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

The sound of heavy rain pitter pattering onto the window-sill echoed across the room. The tie and suit jacket he usually wore had been tossed to the side. He was sitting on the floor with his hair tousled, dress shirt buttoned halfway down, leaning against the large marble-wood doors. His aching, smarting eyes were closed, face contorted in pain. The alcohol bottle that he had completely drained the night before lay next to his feet. 

“Wh-.....why?” He mumbled to himself in a shaky voice, ignoring the soreness in his throat. What did I do? He questioned. What did I do to deserve this? Had I not loved her with the whole of my being? Promised to do anything for her? Given her everything I could?

..........Yet why was it still not enough? 

Picking up the empty alcohol bottle, Ernest tossed it at the wall opposite him, watching as the bottle shattered into pieces.

Because I am not enough. He thought. I couldn’t give her what she needed. I wouldn’t be able to give any woman what she needs. 

I am unlovable. 

Now kneeling upright on the floor, Ernest bowed down to bury his shaking hands into his face, his body shaking with heavy sobs, tears staining the burgundy carpet a dull colour. 

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

He could barely make the words out of his mouth. The pain in his throat throbbed harder as each millisecond passed by. 

 “....I’m sorry....I can’t.” 

Tears welling in his eyes, he bowed his head down to look at the floor. Turning on his heel, he started to make his way back to the mansion, leaving Lady Edgewater where she had been standing. 

“Ernest......Ernest wait!” Lady Edgewater cried, the betrayal in her voice ringing clearer and clearer with every note. Hitching up her skirt, she ran towards him, grabbing his wrist in an act of desperation. He spun around to meet her eyes, face contorted in a forlorn expression. 

“Why are you doing this to me?” she asked, her voice now barely a whisper. “The time spent reading Shakespeare’s sonnets by the fireplace. Gushing over our favourite artworks together. Despite having any pick of woman in the room, always dancing with me because you knew I had no one else to dance with. And last night, running after you when you stormed out of the party......” the words gushed out of her like an overflowing tap. She couldn’t control her emotions no longer. 

“....Did it all mean nothing to you? Nothing?” she spoke quietly, eyes welling up with tears, her voice now hoarse with pain. 

“......Of course it did! It meant the-.....” Ernest exclaimed. 

Now standing only a feet apart, she spoke louder this time. “Then why suddenly give up? Or am I just another plaything for you to toy with.....while you court someone better?” she said, shaking her head while glaring straight at him. 

“What? Absolutely not. I’ve never shown any woman any particular interest at all! No woman but you, Claire.” His voice trembled with emotion, hurt by the accusation that she had flung in his direction. 

“Then why are you trying to push me away? What happened between us?” she wailed. 

“Claire.” Ernest interjected. 

“I’m sorry. I thought I could do this, but I was wrong.” 

Blinking back tears, he turned around and strode towards his carriage, his back hunched over in a way as if the grief had slammed itself onto his shoulders. 

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

What did he mean? Claire sat at her dresser, pondering the events of the day before. He thought he could do this? He thought he could be with me? She repeated his words again and again in her head. 

Yet again after her mother’s death, she felt lonely and abandoned. Her father had been busy with business, and she was only starting to get to know her grandmother, leaving her to face the snobby and cruel remarks of other aristocrats alone. 

Ernest had been her greatest solace during this time. He carried a strong, quiet, and strangely comforting presence with him. When the reality of living in high society hit her hard, he only needed to sit with her, look at her, or accompany her in some sort of way to make the pain go away. If only for a while. 

With a heavy sigh, she lifted herself off her seat, moving to her drawing room in which Ms.Parsons was waiting for her. Even if she felt miserable and confused, she still needed to fulfil her promise to see Ms. Parsons today. Perhaps it would even make her feel better. 

“Good afternoon, Lady Edgewater.” Ms Parsons greeted her with a usual friendly smile. 

“Good afternoon, Ms Parsons.” she said, suddenly feeling slightly more cheerful than before. 

Apart from Ernest, it was Ms Parsons that always made her feel better. After all, they shared the same sly sense of humour, the same sharp wit, and most importantly, an excellent sense of intuition. 

“You look down today.” Ms Parsons commented, brows knitted together in concern. 

“Yes....it’s difficult to describe.” 

“Perhaps it’s got something to do with Mr Sinclaire?” she suggested in a careful manner. “I saw the two of you arguing in the garden from the window yesterday. We were waiting for you in the drawing room....but neither of you came.” 

“.....” Claire’s eyes fell to the floor, suddenly watering at the memory of the events of the day before. 

“Girl. Tell me about it.” 

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

“Wow. That’s rough. I can’t imagine Ernest doing that. Something must be really holding him back.” 

“I know, but I can’t imagine what. Throughout our relationship.....we’ve always depended on a mutual understanding. My understanding of his pain from losing his ex-wife. And his understanding of my loneliness after my life was turned upside down. Now I can’t understand him anymore.” 

Ms Parsons nodded thoughtfully. “I guess he feels so far from you.” 

“Yes....even though he’s so nearby. When we talked in the garden that day, the way he spoke to me.....I felt as if we were miles apart. Even though we were standing inches away.” 

“Well......” Ms Parsons chuckled. “I think I’ve found your solution.” 

“You have?” 

“Since he’s so terrible at talking to you.....why don’t you go talk to him?” 

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

Before long, Claire found herself in the middle of Ledford Park’s big grass lawn. Despite the pouring rain, the lilac flowers swayed gracefully from left to right. 

How strong they are. She thought to herself. I must be strong now, like a flower swinging against the beat of the rain. 

She was already completely soaked in water, from head to toe. Her once perfect up do had been ruined, hair now clinging tightly to her face. The rain water splashed across her, coating her eyelashes with rain drops that fell when she blinked. 

Walking towards the backdoor, she took a deep breath, and gave the brass knuckled door a loud knock. 

Only a moment later, Ernest swung the door open. A look of shocked pain flashed across his face as he saw her. 

Making a small gasp, Claire was stunned by his appearance. His messy hair had been tousled across his head. He was not wearing a jacket, or even a tie. The dress shirt he usually wore had been buttoned halfway down, baring half of his naked chest. His eyes were red and swollen, the area under his eyes still slightly wet. Had he been crying? She thought to herself. 

Cutting her mid thought, Ernest grabbed her shoulders and pulled her into the house. 

Note: And here’s Part 2! Yes it is a bit longer than Part 1 this time. I hope it was not tooo angsty. (I told some of you that it would be a little bit sexy, I think that’s going to be for later.) As per usual tell me what you thought and let me know if you want to be tagged. 

[beastofhearts]

Skylar Bloxham character sheet

Character Chart Character’s full name: Skylar Bloxham Silva Reason or meaning of name: Skylar means “The sky” and “guarded” both related to the character personality. For the parents it just sounded nice Character’s nickname: Sky o Kyla Reason for nickname: Just shorten forms of the name Birth date: 04/03/2012 Physical appearance Age: 29 How old does he/she appear: 20-25 Weight: 65ks Height: 1,70m Body build: Strong and muscular. Shape of face: square but with soft edges Eye color: light green Glasses or contacts: Nope, she as 20/20 vision Skin tone: trigueña/sun kissed Distinguishing marks: scar on the left rib Predominant features:height, arms and hair. Hair color: Blonde Type of hair: curly with lot of movement Hairstyle: most of the time is just free falling on her shoulders. Voice: strong, it does not waver easily Overall attractiveness: 8/10? she is cute; has a bright smile and is in top shape but is also often bruised and drenched in sweat from training. Also her skin is not-great Physical disabilities: None for now, maybe a little umbalanced on earth Usual fashion of dress: Sporty or whatever is comfortable Jewelry or accessories: She doesnt wear on a daily basis, but when on formal attire she is often seen with a wide gold collar. Personality Good personality traits: Energetic, positive, active, open, nonchalant Bad personality traits: imposing, reactive, quick to judge, jealous Mood character is most often in: contempt and/or happy Sense of humor: joyfull, easy, sometimes dirty Character’s greatest joy in life: flying Character’s greatest fear: captivity, being unable to do what she loves Why?: because she doesnt think she can do very well at any other thing What single event would most throw this character’s life into complete turmoil?: No idea, probably loosing someone she loves again to muggle causes OR suffering an injury that keep her disabled and away from the skies Character is most at ease when: Swimming Most ill at ease when: Parties where she has to behave and interviews.  Enraged when: sees something she thinks its unfair (from racism/sexism to referee stopping a match) or downright cruel Depressed or sad when: remembers her siblings Priorities: Bad ones, probably. Life philosophy: “ One breaks its bones just by living...might as well have fun while at it“ If granted one wish, it would be: Bring her brother back Why? : Because she misses him, why else? Character’s soft spot: Children, tender shows of affection Is this soft spot obvious to others?: Not really? I dont think so Greatest strength: her unstopable will power Greatest vulnerability or weakness: over-confident can make you do stupid shit Biggest regret: I dont think she has one? She is kind of a simple girl. Minor regret: Not a regret per se but more like a what if, is that what would had happened if she had stayed with Sidney back in Michigan Biggest accomplishment: Being bought by the Puddlemore United Minor accomplishment: Learn to live alone after being use to have someone else with her (her brother, friends or girlfriends) Goals Drives and motivations: -redacting- Immediate goals: - redacting- Long term goals: -redacting- How the character plans to accomplish these goals: -redacting- How other characters will be affected: -redacting- Past Hometown: Oahu, Hawai Type of childhood: good and easy one, full with adventures and love Pets: A stray dog named “perrete”and a Tortoise called “Embajadora de las Islas britanicas, Filomena Sinclair Niʻihau” or “ Niʻihau” for short First memory: Broken images of a friend she had in the past Childhood hero: Her parents Dream job: being a kid? Probably being an auror. Then she faced reality and NOPE, thats a shitty job. Education: Universitary Religion: Wizards dont have a religion that I know off Finances: Medium class family Present Current location: Department on London Currently living with: her pet, Gremlin Pets: the devil in disguise of a Sphynx Cat Religion: Wizards dont have a religion that I know off Occupation: Beater on the Puddlemore United Finances: Medium - high class if´s that what you are asking Family Mother: Mirari Silva, Relationship with her: Good! She is probably the one from who Skylar takes all the extra energy. Mirari would like her to relax a bit more tho...and bring her grandchildren for christ sake!. She is getting worried she had forgotten how to knit baby socks Father: Bendek Bloxhan Relationship with him: Their relationship is good, however he wasnt okey with Skylar following a sport field as a career. He is now more chill now that she has been accepted in an international team, but still worries a lot about her financies Siblings: Nathan and Clarke Bloxham Relationship with them: The relationship with Nathan was always great, she was his sidekick for all their adventures and shinnanings. They had each other back all the time and for whatever the other one needed them. Clarke was...not so close to them since she had to take the role of the “mother” when Mirari wasnt home and had to take the blame for them for waaay to many years. The relationship is not the best, but they are still family and care for each other Spouse: Didnt marry, but had 5 year relationship so.... Relationship with him/her: Good, very good. They balanced each other pretty well and they made each other happy .SIdney was the one who took care of Skylar after Nathan dead. They broke up due to work and Skylar needing to get away. They are still on touch and in good terms Children: None Relationship with them: Other important family members: Nope. Favorites Color: Vibrant orange Least favorite color: Grey Music: Loud, dance, happy and energetic kind off. She doesnt care about genres as long as it makes her dance. Food: Kebab or friend fish on the beach Literature: Doesnt read frequently :c Form of entertainment: Sports! Playing and watching Mode of transportation: Aparition and broom Most prized possession: A small gift Nathan bought for her after her fist match. (Redacting) Habits Hobbies: believe it or not, she loooves puzzles Plays a musical instrument?: Nope, but she knows a bit about them Plays a sport?: A lot of them: Quidditch, Quodpot, Broom racing, Swimming... How he/she would spend a rainy day: Bored, annoying Gremlin and/or cleaning the house. Going crazy its also an option. Spending habits: she is BAAAAAD with money. Nathan, and then Sidney, used to take care of that kind of things Smokes: Nope Drinks: Yeah but not too much. Her couch doesnt allows it Other drugs: No, its forddiben for Quidditch players What does he/she do too much of? Training, exploring new things What does he/she do too little of? Taking care of herself Extremely skilled at: Flying on Broom Extremely unskilled at: whatever requieres hight precission and small movements; knitting, drawing, most artistic things Nervous tics: walking from side to side, cracking her fingers and drum with them on her leg or near by table Usual body posture: Confident with the hands on her pockets Mannerisms: -redacting- Peculiarities: - redacting- Traits Optimist or pessimist? Optimist Introvert or extrovert? Extroverted at 200% Daredevil or cautious? Daredevil, she is gonna kill herself one day Logical or emotional? Emotional, top 10 wost combos ever Disorderly and messy or methodical and neat? Disorderly but not Messy Prefers working or relaxing? Working IS relaxing for her...but yeah working Confident or unsure of himself/herself? Over confident Animal lover? Yes she is.

from: Here removed self persepcion and relationship with others because i got tired

[arrogvnces]

     it wasn’t always easy, being them. or rather, it wasn’t easy being them within the other’s space. when mina and sinclair first met, she couldn’t stand the sight of him. he, on the other hand, was thoroughly amused at how explicit she was in her disgust and hatred for him. there was no one in their grade that didn’t know every one of her thoughts on the spoiled, capitalist, overrated brat that sat behind her in math class. and if said brat happened to get a higher grade than hers, and not so subtly bragged about it to hear what new curse word she could come up with, well. . . that was just one of the many days at st. emilia’s. one can imagine what a delightful surprise it was for the tired faculty, when one afternoon of studying in an empty classroom ended in a kiss sinclair hasn’t managed to wipe from his memory. 

     everything leading up to that moment was fuzy, except for when the frown she often wore in his presence was replaced by a dark and foreign gaze, his body trapping her against the wall. he hadn’t meant to get so close, but her familiar tirade about how his life was much easier than hers, when the phonecall from his father still burned in his pocket with words of yale and engagement and you have a year, set him on edge. he’d felt like being careless. when his lips had crashed on hers, he’d waited for the push. maybe a slap, or a scream. but then her soft delicate mouth had moved against his, and hatred turned to something else entirely. he doesn’t recall how the rest of it went, but when he’d come to it, mrs. hawtridge stared at them beet red before marching off to the headmaster’s office. him and his messy hair, tie lying on the ground and chest exposed. mina and her skirt hiked up, buttons undone and face flushed. they got a deserved two weeks of punishment, though nothing could wipe off the grin on both their faces. in retrospective, sinclair knows it would’ve never lasted as much as they wanted it to, arranged marriage or not. but back then, all he saw was her. all he wanted to see was her, the only good thing in his miserable life. 

     what came after was a time that can only be described as the first time sinclair park felt happiness. it was in the afternoons spent studying for their college entrance exams, the eager make-out sessions in utility closets that always went too far, helping her sneak out of her host family’s house to drive around in the dark, trying to keep their distance but failing as if nothing made sense when the other wasn’t around. 

     he remembers the first time she was privy to a discussion with his father, the man raising his voice about sinclair’s choice of major. when he’d hung up, spent from listening to the verbal abuse, she’d stood up and promptly kicked a chair. “who does he think he is to talk to you like that?” she’d practically spit venom, cheeks red and canines showing. it was a comical, and freeing all at once. while she raged, he watched in contemplative silence. he’d forgotten what it was like to see someone be angry at his father. his mother had grown apathetic years ago, and everyone else was too scared. but here was an eighteen-year old girl who couldn’t even begin to imagine the power leonard park held, calling him the world’s biggest cunt. sinclair had laughed uncontrollably, stopping her in her tracks, when the laughter turned to quiet sobs. it was the most honest moment they’d ever had, and the one he hated the most. that day, something changed between them. the teenage carelessness, the casualty of their intense relationship --- it was gone, replaced with a truth he was hoping to keep from her forever. the truth that sinclair was not a spoiled brat with the world at his fingers, but a bird in a cage he’d given up trying to escape. 

     piece by piece, she put him back together, without covering the cracks or painting over the mold. in return, he dragged her out of the world inside her head, of the anger and hatred she harbored towards anything that went against her. for a moment in time, shortly after their arrival at oxford, he believed he could open the cage. she made him believe as much. 

“you don’t owe your father anything, sinclair,” she would repeat, laying next to him. “if you’re scared about the money---”

     “i’m not,” he’d assure her, having built enough plans in case he’d stepped too far out of line. he knew, without a doubt, that he could live without leonard’s money. “i’m going to fix this.” at the time, she hadn’t know what he needed to fix. but the weight of the finality of his engagement kept dragging him down, until it exploded the first time he met henrietta huang. 

     she isn’t anything special, is what he first thought. if anything, the more he looked at henrietta, the more he missed mina. how many times during that dinner did he have to stop himself from getting up and catching the first flight back?  how many days after it did he live with that secret knocking on his chest, making mina stare at him, as if she’d already guessed what was happening?

     “so, are you cheating on me?” she’d asked casually, sitting on his bed while he stared at his fingers in contemplation. the question drew out a long sigh from his lips, legs carrying him to the space next to her.

     “of course not,” he’d replied, hesitantly taking her smaller hand in between his two.

     “then what’s wrong?”

     he’d entertwined their fingers together, making a mental capture of the moment that they could never return to. “what i’m about to tell you might sound crazy, outdated and perhaps a little illegal, but it’s a truth about my life you deserve to know.” he’d stared into those deep dark eyes, already brimming with unshed tears, always too smart for their own good. “you know my family’s company?”

     he remembers when realization hit her, a startled laugh resonating in the air, hand withdrawing from his touch as if it was contaminated. they’d argued about his omission for what felt like the entire night. he had no excuses, nothing that could make the tears stop falling. 

     “that’s fucking great sinclair, pretending like we had a plan when you knew deep down it was never going to come true,” she said, still full of energy while he felt his dwindling down by the second. 

     “i did believe in those plans, i was trying to figure out a way to make my dad give up but he doesn’t give up, okay? even if he knows it’s gonna’ end in deep shit he’s too proud to back out.” he’d sighed while she cried, both in their own corners of the dorm room. he’d expected her to get up and leave, but instead, she’d wiped away the tears and sat once again by his side.

     “do you like this girl?” was her first question.

     “i’ve met her once, mina,” he’d answered, unable to even conjure anything about henrietta that was memorable. 

     “she’s going to be your future wife,” she’d declared, a last nail in the coffin of sinclair park. he didn’t respond because there was no use. she likely would. “does that mean we’re over?” 

     “i don’t want us to be. i don’t think we should be. i know it’s selfish to ask you this but, i don’t have to go back yet. i still have some time left to live the life i want.” he’d kissed her then, passionately, and she’d kissed back with just as much strength. it felt like their first kiss, maybe because they knew it would be the first of the lasts. he’d draw back long enough to whisper the truth of his heart. “i love you.” and she’d kissed him with all she had, as if the world would end the moment they stopped. that night, it was skin against skin, breaths mixing together, fingers and mouths in places that made them lose all sanity, that made him silence the noises slipping past her lips with his own. it was messy, passionate and melancholic all at once. it wasn’t the last time, but if it had to be, what a way to go out. 

------

     standing where he stands, knowing what he knows, sinclair wouldn’t trade the time he shared with mina for anything. it was a time of growth, of first love, of understanding their places in this world. he could’ve never kept up with her --- she was meant for much more than he ever was, and she would get there someday, he had no doubt about it. there was no more resentment towards her for breaking up with him before their time, for confusing him with the calls after he got to new haven. no resentment as his phone lights up with her name, though there is a small jolt of surprise. mina kang. no picture. 

     “hello?”

     “sinclair, hey,” her voice feels foreign, although entirely the same. has it been five months since they last spoke? “am i interrupting you?”

     he looks back towards where henri, charlotte and jinhao happily chat away on the rooftop restaurant. henri catches his gaze and waves, an eyebrow raised. he shakes his head, turning back towards the view. he’ll tell her later. “no, is something wrong?”

     “not at all, i know it’s been some time since we’ve talked, but i’m calling as a courtesy.” 

     he frowns a little, but keeps it off his voice. “for what?” 

     “i don’t want you to see me walking around your campus and think i’m stalking you,” there’s a lighter gait to her voice, almost as if she’s grinning on the other side. 

     “what do you mean, walking around campus?” he turns once more, henri rising from her seat as charlotte looks at him quizzically. “are you visiting?” 

     “wow, you’ve gotten slow. i mean, i’m going to be a student at yale, i got the scholarship to transfer !” nothing is wrong per se, and yet he feels a rock dropping at the bottom of his stomach, his girlfriend approaching, a half-smile on scarlet lips. 

     “. . . congratulations, you deserve it,” he means every word, and yet he knows the way they come out of him, almost as if forced. why does he feel so wrong?

     “jeez, i’m going to excuse your last of enthusiasm on the chinese standard time.” she giggles, and he wonders how do you know where i am, before remembering they still follow each other on instagram. 

     “i guess, i’ll see you around then,” he tries to keep his tone neutral, suddenly hit with memories he wasn’t willing to remember about mina. how it was always her way or the highway, how he couldn’t talk to any girl without sparking an explosion of jealousy, how she seemed almost angry when he granted her wish to break things off. 

     “i’ll hold you to it, i need someone to show me around,” she replies on the other side, and he’s about to hang up on one of the weirdest calls of his life, when she calls back. “oh, and sinclair?” 

     “what?” he says, letting henri takes his hand as she mouths ‘who is it?’ 

     “tell henrietta i said hi,” and the line goes dead.