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thebeauregardbros · 5 years ago

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LFRP: Alus Beauregard | Crystal Server

THE BASICS ––– –– –

Occupation: Free Paladin | Field Medic | Café Proprietor

Hobbies: Fashion | Tea Brewing | Pastry Creation | Jewelry Making | Reading Faerie Tales

Race: Miqo’te (Sunseeker Descent)

Sexuality/Romance: Asexual / Panromantic

Relationship Status: Single; never married

Languages: Eorzean | Common. Understands all languages; possesses The Echo.

Alignment: Neutral Good

PERSONAL ––– –– –

Alias: “Alice” (💢)

Residence: The Goblet, Ward 8 : Sultana’s Breath Apartments; Wing 1; Apartment #21

Place of Work: Café Nobilitea: Lavender Beds Ward 20, Lot #8 | Anywhere his Eorzean Grand Company sends him.

Birthplace: ??? (Grew up in Eorzea; particularly in the Thanalan area)

Fears: Slugs | Failing to keep his comrades safe | Failing to save his enemies from themselves

APPEARANCE ––– –– –

Height: “Tall for a miqo’te” (5′8″/173cm)

Build: Barrel-chested, muscular; untoned muscles | Long legs, wide shoulders, slender hips.

Age: Unknown; nameday 20 yrs ago. Approximately 23 summers old.

Gender: Male

Skin tone: Tan; Gold Undertone

Eye color: Heterochromia; Deep Fuschia (Right) | Golden Yellow (Left)

Hair color: Golden Blonde

Body Mods: Pierced ears.

Distinguishing Marks: [SPOILER] Large amounts of large-scale bruises and scars all over his body. They are almost always covered up with his clothing. There are no visible scars on his face, neck, or hands.

Common Accessories: Large amounts of gold jewelry; Excessive rings, bracelets, pocket watch chains, earrings, tiaras, circlets, crowns | Large amounts of fresh and/or fake flowers; On his lapel, coming out of his pockets, warn as a flower crown, tucked in his hair, tucked amongst the buttons on his outfits, etc.

BODY LANGUAGE ––– –– –

Walk: Excellent posture; he carries his upper body with strength, while his legs nearly cross in his stride like an elegant female runway model.

Voice: His voice is often strong, clear, deep, and commanding, with the slightest hinge of huskiness. While off-guard, however, his voice cracks into a higher pitched and goofier voice. His quiet tones are very soft and sweet, like a warm fuzzy blanket wrapping you up in it on a cold winter’s night. (Voiceclaim/reference: Johnny Yong Bosch, particularly his roles as Vash from Trigun and Zero from Marvel vs. Capcom.)

Tics or Mannerisms: His speech consists of a shakepearian inspired word usage with a consistent disuse of contractions, similar to Urianger. | He tends to step-dance or become especially physically clumsy while nervous in social situations. | He will elegantly dodge all physical contact, even minor, unless he is comfortable enough with you to make the first contact.

Smell: Gardenia (Jasmine) / Cuttlebone dust

Posture: Constantly straight and erect; shoulders rolled back, chest out. Never looks truly relaxed, even while sitting. A model of good posture.

Disabilities: [SPOILER] Surface numbness on his scar tissue. Mild numbness in his left-hand fingertips.

RELATIONSHIPS ––– –– –

Romantic Partner: (None.)

Parents: Gwenneg Beauregard (Adoptive) (Deceased)

Siblings: Arc Beauregard (Twin Brother) (Alive)

Children: (None.)

Extended Family: (Unknown.)

Pets: Various unnamed wild songbirds and a fledgling Dodo that followed him home. He keeps feeding them, so they keep coming back, but he does not claim ownership of any of them. | He has also developed a relationship with a wild white horse he’s named Marion who consistently comes to his call. | His military-issued chocobo is named Erminia.

Other: Alus considers everyone he meets to be a friend.

PERSONALITY TRAITS ––– –– –

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between / Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

Addictive / In Between / Nonaddictive

RP HOOKS ––– –– –

Café Nobilitea: Alus is the proprietor of a western-style teahouse with a distinct theme for elegance, royalty, and other-worldliness - His café is bright, full of flowers, and always playing soft kind-hearted piano music; the type of place a person could become lost in whence they’ve become tired of the grueling and dark outer world; a real heaven and haven. He often spends his free time there and enjoys sitting with his customers to get to know them.

Grand Company Militia: Alus is a very active member with the Eorzean grand companies in fighting against the Garlean empire and any other threats to the peace there might be upon the world. It’s very possible your character might have teamed up with him at some point in active duty.

The Prince on a White Horse: Alus patrols random fields often in order to keep the peace. Your character or someone your character knows might have been saved by the mysterious ‘Prince on a white horse’ while being attacked by bandits or beastmen, who oft leaves without giving his name.

A Fellow Warrior Of Light: Alus has helped out the Scions of the Seventh Dawn on occasion due to his status as a Warrior of Light; one of many.

LOOKING FOR ––– –– –

Long-Term ANYTHING!: Friendships, rivalries, casual familiarities, romances, anything. Alus has lived a long life without any PC RP interactions, and I feel his writing suffers for it. I want someone who will be there for the long run and get to know him. I want stories to develop. I want Alus to grow because of other people.

Open-minded villains!: Alus has the patience of a saint and will befriend the nastiest of criminals no matter what. Alus will stop them from directly committing serious crimes he may be there to witness (murder, kidnapping, robbery, etc.), but will ultimately be very forgiving and calm when dealing with these topics. He wants to genuinely make a connection with people he doesn’t understand and strives his best to soften anybody’s heart, no matter how hard. His ultimate goal is to change their ways for the better through patience and understanding.

Platonic flirts!: Alus has a lot of love to give and happy to give it to nearly everyone and anyone. He throws around the words ‘I love you’ quite easily, and if he is especially crushing on someone, he will hold their hands and hug them openly despite his normal dislike of physical touch. He is most happy when he has a large circle of queerplatonic relationships, but will be absolutely exclusive to their ‘steady’ when he has made that romantic commitment.

Distant family members!: Alus knows very little of the Beauregards; his adoptive father and surnamesake did not speak of them much. Alus is fascinated with Elezen culture and considers himself one of them. He would be incredibly happy to find anyone with the same last name who would welcome him to his adopted ancestor’s information.

ADVENTURE!: Once in awhile, let’s RP somewhere other than a unmoving place. Let’s RP in a dungeon. Let’s RP while doing gold saucer chores. Let’s RP while talking to random minor NPCs. Let’s RP while doing something other than just sitting! It can help a lot with improvisation and keep the creative juices flowing.

ABOUT THE MUN ––– –– –

Who I am: Hey, my name’s Will. I’m a 24 y/o prep cook living in Alaska. My family’s straight-up wiccan, I got 3 black cats, I love super flashy ridiculous fashion, 1980s comedies, and my favorite game’s Bayonetta. I’m a queer Aquarius with mild ADHD. Buddhism and pacifism are super important to me. I love the McElroys?? and uh. I yell in caps a lot. i WILL make you a playlist of music if you ask for recommendations, don’t fuckin tempt me. I’m a casual goofus fuck. here’s my ‘me’ tag on my personal,

Server: Balmung, Crystal Data Center

Time Zone: Alaska (GMT-8)

Availability: 11AM-2AM (subject to change)

Writing Style: Rapidfire! 95WPM. I like to RP just like I type normally - as thoughts pop up, I type ‘em, just like if I was talking. I’m not a big fan of waiting for turns; I have an anxiety disorder and that particularly makes me extremely anxious! However, I am happy to do short paragraph RP with you if we’ve been RPing long enough. Huge paragraph RP is 100% OK on Discord!

Platforms: In-game(preferred) or Discord.

Restrictions ––– –– –

No ERP!

No Permadeath! I really do not want to RP with anyone who intends to eventually kill off their character, either. This is a legitimate trigger for me.

RP Fighting...? I’ve never done this before. I’m not a fan of physical injury so it’s unlikely I would want to, either. But if the situation really calls for it, I’m open to learning. I will not allow you to permanently disfigure or disable my character - temporary injury is alright, but please talk to me about it first.

Mature Themes...? This is okay for me. Swearing, murder, prostitution, drugs.. I’m an adult! I don’t mind these themes being mentioned or being used as a backdrop to a prompt. Alus isn’t a fan of these things though! So just keep that in mind.

Sexual Assault...? For the most part, NO. However, a forceful kiss? An inappropriate touching that stops as soon as my character says no? Maybe. Ask me beforehand and be clear about what you’re thinking, no surprises.

More Info ––– –– –

Click here for Alus’ RP blog and all the memes and asks I’ve written for him!

tags;

@ffxiv-crystal-rp @crystalxivrp @mooglemeet

#final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #ffxiv rp #ff14 #ffxiv lfrp #alus beauregard #crystal data center #meme

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ourcollectivefantasy · 5 years ago

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OC Profile

The Basics ––– –

Age: 480 (Human equiv. 48)

Birthday: October 18th.

Star Sign: Scorpio.

Race: Sin’Dorei / Blood Elf

Gender: Cisgender Male

Face / Body Claim: Ewan McGregor

Marital Status: Married, but separated [for over 10 yrs]. No plans for divorce.

Relationship practice: Polyamory

Server: Wyrmrest Accord - Horde (Faction Neutral)

Physical Appearance ––– –

Wardrobe: 80s London Punk. Black on black, otherwise greyscale or muted, cool colours. Studded leather jackets, spiked combat boots, vintage punk rock band t-shirts. Prefers solids with classic lines. Almost all clothes are second hand from Charity Shops.

Hair: Bright ginger. Short faux-hawk style with long sideburns. In the Winter months, keeps a trim beard.

Eyes: Emerald green.

Height: 6′7″

Build: Swimmer/Jogger's athletic, slim build. Slightly under weight but muscled.

Common Accessories: Wears lots of rings of bone, metal, and stone on his fingers. A plethora of necklaces and bracelets on each wrist. Carries a Dwarven vintage carved silver cigarette case & matching lighter. Never without his comm and his motorcycle keys. Concealed throwing daggers in inside jacket pocket, as well as a coil of steel guitar strings, and full dagger in his boot, always. Wears a small silver hoop earring in right ear.

Distinguishing Marks: Sprayed with freckles all over his body and face. Missing both middle fingers. Thin white scar across his throat (affects his voice; graveled). Silver coin sized scars on fronts and backs of hands and feet. Banishment symbol burned into his chest. Small K scar over his heart; large K scar on right shoulder.

Tattoos: Small sound wave behind left ear. Maiden’s Anguish at base of throat/along trapezius. Pirate ship (enchanted) on left bicep. Two birds holding banner that says ‘BAD SEED’ over a skull on right bicep. Troll-style boa constrictor wraps from right knee, up thigh, and across hip. Small gypsy clan symbol (skull ontop of a rose) on lower back.

Personal ––– –

Profession: Founder and CEO of Blacksong Records.

Hobbies: Partying - frequent patron of Succulent Tart, Howling Owl, and Red Moon. Recreational drugs & drinking. All things music: goes to punk rock concerts, buys and trades vintage records, plays mech-guitar, repairs broken guitar pedals and amps. Riding and repairing motorcycles. Extreme sports, primarily stunt biking and surfing.

Languages: Traveler (Native), King’s Common, Dwarven, Thalassian, Orcish Common, Sign Language.

Residence: Lordaeron Coast, and sometimes Silvermoon.

Birthplace: Quel’Thalas

Religion: Mildly Old Ways/Traveler (Pagan).

Relationships ––– -

Spouse: Kharris Dawndancer-Blacksong

Dating: Aelberyn & Jericho Bloodsword (Primaries), Saeil Moonblade, Se’lysona Riverblade.

Children: Aelenna Sinead “Sean” Bloodsword & Fib Bloodsword, both almost 5 yrs.

Parents: Maebh Blacksong & Daigh Blacksong (deceased).

Siblings: Younger brother, Kieran Blacksong.

Other Relatives: One female younger cousin, Fox. Status unknown.

Sex & Romance ––– –

Sexual Orientation: Pansexual

Preferred Role: Dominant | Submissive | Switch

Preferred Position: Bottom | Top | Vers

Libido: Extremely High

Turn ons: Power, confidence, high intelligence, witty sense of humor, empathy, submissiveness, great conversation, flirty.

Turn offs: Trying-too-hard, mind games, wall flowers, air heads, big egos, pretty but no substance, bad conversationalists, people that only talk about themselves, drama queens, brats.

Love Language: Quality Time & Physical Touch

Kinks: BDSM, WAM, leather & latex, sensory deprivation, mask play, blood play, knife play, age or pet play, dirty talk, phone sex & sexting, being watched/performing or watching, sharing/group sex, cuckolding, orgies, sex clubs, casual sex.

Relationship Tendencies: Prefers casual sex and FWB. Romance adverse, and very selective about who he gets into commitments with. Once committed, stays in relationships a very long time and plays the emotional role of Dominant, with a focus on care giving and very protective.

Traits ––– -

* Bold your character’s answer.

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open-Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between / Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

Additional information ––– –

Smoking Habit: Often. Smokes mainly bloodthissle. Drugs: Often. Very into party drugs. Long history of struggle with heroin. Alcohol: Often. “Defaults” to functioning alcoholic, but can get crazy at parties.

RP Hooks ––– –

Music Fans - He runs a small but successful punk rock music label. If you’re into rock, punk, or even just a music fan, you’ve probably heard of Blacksong Records or even one of his bands. You may even know his face from music magazines; he’s often in the background at concerts or industry parties. Feel free to mention it!

Pirates & Sailors - He used to run a very successful and well known salvage company (Atlas Treasure Salvage, or ATS). They were well known in the Booty Bay, Bilgewater, and Orgrimmar ports. It’s possible you saw him around “in the old days”.

Drugs - He’s well connected among drug dealers as both a buyer and seller. Got a big party you want to sell to? He’s your in. Or maybe you’re looking for pure quality and tired of thugs selling you stems in the Drag? He’ll get you the good stuff if you’re willing to pay top coin.

Motorcycles - He’s a frequent shopper at gear head garages around Quel’Thalas. He also stops off at biker taverns for a pint on the way home from work. You may have seen him. Or maybe you just notice the brand of his jacket or boots are a familiar favourite amongst aficionados.

Gossip Rags - Is your character SUPER into Silvermoon tabloids? Iloam is “reportedly” dating one of the hottest couples of the SMC Elite crowd, Baron & Baroness Aelberyn & Jericho Bloodsword. Paps frequently snap them slipping into vine covered cafes and exclusive night clubs. Your character may have a theory on the whole ‘are they or arent they’ debate that keeps socialites guessing on the trio’s relationships status.

OOC Info ––– –

Mun is 21+ in age. Dark themes/ERP friendly.

I have been playing WoW since the beta for Vanilla and gone through many phases of enjoying PvE aspect (including a raiding guild), but at this point I only play for RP and have no interest in game play. I prefer Discord text RP for 1:1 or small group scenes. I generally only login to game for RP events or by request.

For text RP, I am very bad about forum style/casual post RP and will generally lose track of it quickly. I also try to stray from forum style post on Tumblr for the same reason. The best way to RP with me to set a date/time to both login to Discord or game and set aside several hours to write out a scene together.

I’m a very fast typer and tend to do multi-para for scene sets only, and then fall into a more natural rhythm as the scene plays out. I do not ask that partners match my post length.

Communication is very important to me. OOC discussion of dark themes or comfort level with ERP will be discussed first. I am happy to FTB or avoid topics that are triggering. I also ask that my partners always feel comfortable letting me know if for any reason big or small, they need to cancel a scene or are not feeling up to it. Real life will always come first.

Contact Information ––– –

@ourcollectivefantasy is Iloam’s In-Character blog, shared with characters of Aelberyn and Jericho Bloodsword.

@blacksongrecords is Iloam’s record company blog. Look here for event announcements!

All follows from my OOC blog @desolatedangel.

I am reachable in-game via mail on the name: Ilóam

Feel free to send me an ask or message for my Discord handle, but if we haven’t met before I prefer we mutually follow each other’s Tumblr and interact a little bit before giving that out.

#character profile #iloam blacksong #please boost #if you so desire #:)#UPDATED #although I realize Ive never done one of these??#lol

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diveronarpg · 4 years ago

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Congratulations, LISSA! You’ve been accepted for the role of BENVOLIO. Admin Minnie: Our Bellamy has come home at last, and I am so excited to welcome you as well, Lissa! Your application was, in a word, gorgeous. I could viscerally feel Bellamy’s heartache and his struggles with every line, and you mapped out a beautiful peacemaker who has yet to find peace within himself. While I read and reread your prose several times, it was your passion for Bellamy that really made this an easy decision. The level of thoughtfulness and care, Lissa, was next level, truly. It became very clear to us how deeply you loved Bellamy, and I’m so excited to see Bellamy blossom on our dash. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER .

ALIAS:

Lissa.

AGE:

21.

PREFERRED PRONOUNS:

She/her.

ACTIVITY LEVEL:

My time is limited because of university and my part-time internship. However, I’d say I’m able to pop up twice/thrice a week, more or less!

TIMEZONE:

GMT -3.

HOW DID YOU FIND THE RP?

I found this RP some time ago, so I can’t say for sure. Probably through the tags, though!

OTHER RP ACCOUNTS:

https://dantesinfcrno.tumblr.com/.

IN CHARACTER .

CHARACTER:

Benvolio as Bellamy Santo Domingo.

WHAT DREW YOU TO THIS CHARACTER?

“ WAR-BEGOTTEN. ” ╱ “ HIS KICKING A MEANS OF DEFENSE FROM CRUELTY. ”

NATURE VERSUS NURTURE, an undying question with no solutions, a concept with a spectrum that falters and crumbles in the hands of Bellamy: a boy, born amidst carnage, picking flowers in haunted fields and gifting beauty upon the world like a stolen flame only pertinent to deities. He wears no crown of laurels upon waves of untamed hair, but every spring spats thorns before his feet. Bellamy cradles them, plunges them against his veins, his chest, his neck, puncturing his flesh with words whispered by fated winds. Kindness is dangerous as a sharp blade, if wielded with enough precision. He refuses, time and time again, this visceral call from the woods, from the ivory castles that know of corpses and festering. He refuses, vices and sins unbecoming of him –– but they are already there, lurking in the shadows since air reached his lungs for the first time. Bellamy pretends not to see it, but those who stare deep into his eyes can recognize the Stygian darkness that swims underneath honeyed warmth. A flame is still scorching, no matter how domesticated.

IN AN INTERLUDE, he swears there will never be carmine stains in his fingers. He lays awake at night, however –– the blood his heart pumps might as well not be his own; might have been harvested off the bodies buried beneath Verona’s sacrilegious grounds. Bellamy wonders, a heavy conscience his first determining trait, if he is not punishment from the heavens to the Santo Domingo lineage, if he is not a life sentence determined by God to appease the remnant lambs saved from slaughter. As he moves through the Montagues, through his own people, Bellamy looks in a mirror, and sees nothing. He has always been a ghost, meant to carry what no one desires to hold close.

BELLAMY IS NOT A SLAUGHTERHOUSE of the likes of his father: he is a morgue, eerie place of eternal unrest. Battlecries do not linger in his tongue as prayers do; his knuckles suffer a lesser offense than his guts once a punch is thrown. Violence is a betrayal to the murdered saints that crawl through his spine, and once again–– Bellamy refuses to bow before his birthright. In a world of dog eats dog, he opts to remain alive until his last breath is stolen from his lungs, his canines and claws kept safely hidden underneath trained porcelain touch. To be made out of steel, and not crush all tender things that take root in his soul –– is it foolish, or is it admirable? The looks of pity are the only answer he has ever gotten.

“ POETIC AND PHILOSOPHICAL SOUL OF THE ANCIENT GREEKS. ” ╱ “ CURSED WITH GENTLENESS. ”

KINDNESS & WEAKNESS, he learns, are not the same. Mercy is a weapon like any other, and Bellamy learns how to use it. They do not see it ; and dismissal becomes a habit for this ruinous shrine Bellamy dares call his body. He supposes, amidst war, it’s a privilege to have surprise by one’s side: no one expects the quietest of children to strike with such ravenous fury, hellfire blazing against raw flesh. Bellamy doesn’t speak of grief, of this century-old wound that has found a nest inside of his lungs, of this monstrous butterfly learning how to morph itself into anger.

I YEARN FOR PEACE. I yield. I must provide diplomacy for a world eager to end in flames. He repeats such verses as if they’re the poetry he is so fond of –– because the truth is, gentle elegance is a decision he has taken much before he could stand on his own legs. He is an absurdity, an oxymoron, an anomaly. Is that such a terrible thing to be? Is he in the wrong, to still mourn over those who wished to see him dead? He prays, quietly into the dead of night. He prays, and the world listens, but only for a moment. This is all the hope he has, and is it not an exit wound worse than any other? Relentless wishing upon a star, begging for a deity to descend from paradise and provide salvation–– in the end of this path, Bellamy forces himself to become Pariah & Messiah (if not him, who else would find reason amongst blasphemous madness? who else would shamefully bow their head before the cross, and beg for their sins to be forgiven?).

THE CURSE THEY SPEAK OF IS A BLESSING IN DISGUISE, for Montagues & Capulets alike are far too consumed by the fiery flames of murderous passion to understand the gravity of each battle they initiate. Bellamy has run out of ways to explain the weight of the blood that paints cobbled streets red ; decides to act as a fortress for his people (this entire city, plagued by a tale of two selfish families). PEACEMAKER, they say, as if it’s an insult –– as if his loyalty doesn’t lie deeper than any other soldier’s ; as if he has not sworn down his life for the chance Verona might see the sun rise in shades of joyous amber ; as if he hasn’t halted his existence to serve & protect.

BELLAMY DOES NOT offer words enlaced with poison to those who subdue him –– his throat aches with screams locked in for too long, but he dares not speak unless he delivers alluring arguments that might lead all out of danger. This is what he has never chosen for himself, and yet–– he bears it. For his father, for his brothers, for Roman and Marcelo, for the warriors that spit on the paths he follows with religious diligence, for the mothers in this nightmarish town that provides no comfort to their sons but death.

THE MIND HE HAS CULTIVATED, albeit mocked by many, is a powerful companion to the tender heart he has crafted with mangled hands. Innocence is vulgar in a world like this –– but Bellamy’s good will is not one borne out of naiveté. This is what both armies do not understand: Bellamy is not moved by his kindness, nor is he propelled by volatile emotions –– what blooms underneath the tender facade is a deliberate choice he will take, time and time again, funded on principles that have raised Athens from the ground up. This is what he will not abdicate. This is what no one sees, for he is more ghost than man, more mind than matter: amidst wicked and tempestuous men, Bellamy raises himself above raging waves, an unmovable marble tower.

HE, OF COURSE, STILL PICKS UP A DAGGER ╱ a gun, infiltrating loveless troops in order to conquer peace. There is no other way, he has realized. Perhaps crumbling is necessary for rebirth ; perhaps some sins can only be washed out with blood. As Francis Butler once said, “the nation that will insist on drawing a broad line of demarcation between the fighting man and the thinking man is liable to find its fighting done by fools and its thinking done by cowards,” so Bellamy goes to the front lines ; not with the blind desire to create chaos ╱ but to make change. If the weight of the pen is not enough, he will find a way to be heard.

“ SINS OF OMISSION. ” ╱ “ PUT OUT THE FIRES. ” ╱

“ SELF-LOATHING. ”

BELLAMY DOES NOT REST, his mind unable to encounter a moment of quiet. When will this end? He could only ever sleep once he turned his back to Verona, bloodshed no longer marring his door –– but still, he woke up in a cold sweat at least once a week, and it felt like betrayal, deep down in his bones. ATLAS could never hide his true nature, for the Earth would still weigh heavily down his shoulders. He wasn’t missed, of course, too much of an oddity, with idealist visions that somehow disturbed the choleric landscape they lived in. And yet, as he traveled around the globe, as he became renowned for his grasp of law & justice, insatisfaction was in the back of his mind. What if–– they died? What if–– Marcelo disappeared one night? What if–– Roman could not handle life on his own? What if––. No amount of change was capable of drowning this out, when the city that has birthed him was still ablaze. You have become selfish. He would stare at open windows, and the desire to book a flight would bellow inside of his every vein. Embrace your fate, for cowardice is unbecoming of a Santo Domingo.

BITTER ONCE HE LEAVES, bitter once he returns. Is there anything he could do, to prevent this miserable tale of a prodigal child coming back to a nest they’d long forsaken? No matter how many books he has memorized, there are no words that can explain this feeling –– no one can comprehend him, for his scars are invisible to most. He stands, tall and proud, but darkness comes for him, and he howls to the moon, for it is the only being who understands his pain. You, too, fester in ruby shades against your will. You, too, become eclipsed by a purpose much larger you could ever hope to be. You, too, are still following the footsteps of the sun. Bellamy can no longer abstain from this war, so he wears adamantine armour (a brilliant mind, a beautiful smile, poignant words). Some days, it’s easier to pretend he is no longer holy. Some days, he drowns the taste of copper from his tongue with wine. Some days, he cries –– for those he killed ; for his own spirit, mutilated. Most days, he becomes a sacred image made out of steel: I am no angel, but I can try, I must try.

“ BELLAMY MAY BE BORN INTO WAR, MAY HAVE BEEN BRED INTO IT, BUT THAT DOES NOT MEAN HE WILL HAVE TO SUBMIT TO IT — NO, HE WILL FIGHT. ”

( ADDENDUM . ) In the novel, Benvolio is a static character, lacking much depth beyond his diplomatic role, as he is often the only voice of reason amidst a vicious crowd led by a herd mentality. I aim to translate his wish for peace as his primary motivation, but root it deeper –– the system in which Bellamy was raised in should have, in theory, destroyed all tenderness his nature would have provided him with. So where does it come from? How has he protected this piece of himself, even when surrounded by death? Bellamy is a strong character –– not only because of his physique, but because his mind is a fortress. I believe his philosophical spirit has always pushed Bellamy to see life beyond the walls of his own home. I believe the love he felt specifically for Roman and Marcelo urged him to value humanity much more than any other soldier of his kind. His gentleness has always been a choice: not always a conscious one, but a choice nonetheless. But no one has only one principle to follow, and morality is a grey and temptatious thing. Bellamy might not be easily led to a fight, but he has always been a protector –– his self-loathing and the ingrained idea that his life is worth less combine to form this selfless persona, sometimes to the point of toxicity, to the detriment of his own being, willing to do it all for whomever is in need.

What is most intriguing to me, concerning Bellamy, is that he is a paradox in more ways than one, which creates a multitude of paths he could take. He strives for peace, but is still fighting a war. In his core, he believes this conflict is useless and only acts as a catalyst for more pain, but since he desires to protect his loved ones (which includes the mob he was raised in, his family and friends, but might as well include a stranger in trouble) & honor his name, he came back to Verona as soon as he was summoned. He has been altruistic for so long it has worn him out, and now selfishness claws at his bones (he has left once, and perhaps he still thinks too often about doing so again –– Bellamy dreams of forgetting this city, wakes up and tries to repent for wishing to find an identity that goes beyond his occupation inside the Montague ranks). The kindness he chooses to exude is in high contrast to the anger that boils on his blood like a second skin –– he is tired of this game, he is exhausted of worrying and burying everyone that has once made him smile (and what does it take, for a guardian angel to turn his back on his people? What does it take, for a god to abandon his creations to bloodshed, and finally allow forgetfulness to consume his brain? I feel like Bellamy is constantly on the edge of an abyss, staring into the void, the point of no return daring him to step further). It almost feels like his body and his mind are disjointed, and his own wishes have been suppressed in order for him to fill in the shoes his family needs him to.

I don’t think Bellamy is moved by passion and intense emotions, even though his biggest motivators are linked to the people he cares about –– in fact, he cares so much about them, that he has always been willing to die by the sword if it meant his father and mother would be safe, if it meant Roman and Marcelo could enjoy a longer and happier life. He is not a cowardly man, never had the chance to be, even when the world became his home –– I envision that Bellamy has seen and lived many tragedies, probably had his hands on a few of them. It will weigh down on his back, on his shoulders. This type of character will always carry an omen on their bodies, no matter how hard they try to wash it out. I think this is a cycle that shackles Bellamy down and he still isn’t sure if he can break free from it (or even if he wants to do so, for being selfish has brought him unbearable guilt during his travels & Bellamy can’t forgive himself for straying away from the path delineated for him since birth): he was raised to be lethal, and he remains in this dark setting where flowers can not bloom, trying to force the petals to come out anyway, trying to grasp the sun and gift it to Verona, and the inevitable failing of this turns him disgusted by his own reflection, desperate to prove himself and justify his existence by doing his duty for the name Montague.

WHAT IS A FUTURE PLOT IDEA YOU HAVE IN MIND FOR THE CHARACTER?

GODHOOD. Verona is a city of sinners, and Bellamy’s hands are not devoid of their own –– however, in them, there is a gentleness carved out not from the absence of violence, but despite it ; a temple raised in the name of Agape, as Bellamy becomes a god, ready to purge & forgive, to kiss the feet of those who have walked upon a dirtied path & purify them. Odin Bello is not the first to use the Santo Domingo’s ears as a confessionary, and he certainly won’t be the last –– there is something in his eyes that prompts people to open up ; to make offerings and sacrifices in exchange of honeyed prayers, for it’s the holiest thing Verona has to offer (a boy still, whose halo is faded ╱ whose body’s a litany of mysteries and nocturnal waves). This is the closest to peace they can get, half-angel at their doorstep, wings bled dry, gunpowder on his hands –– it is sublime as it is terrifying, and some can not bear it (Rafaella, for one, seems to be terrorized by his very image, insistent on driving him away as he pleads for her to see the light: where in God’s name is the child I’ve met, don’t you wish to forge a kinder ending to us all?). In his search for peace, Bellamy has long forgotten his own humanity –– he’s always had to bury it in order to fulfill his role as a son, as a warrior, as a scholar, as a peacemaker (there is no space for him to simply be, and he often wanders around Verona, searching for an exit ╱ the world has not given him an answer, neither has the mob). What is he, but a weapon? What is he, but a forsaken deity? Bellamy has crossed oceans and continents, and still–– he isn’t seen. Is there one to embrace him fully, vices & virtues, blood moon & sunshine? Is there a way for Santo Domingo to dissolve himself of his own existence, but without guilt? The thoughts often haunt him –– but alas, he has to rise in the morning, for his own life is not the heaviest weight he has to carry.

( ADDENDUM . ) Unlike the two other plots I will lay out in the next sections, this one is directed inwards. Bellamy, in my perception, has always seen himself in relation to others –– how he can help, what can he do for them, how his existence can be a tool for others to improve their own lives. He has always filled in a role: his motivations are genuine, but how does one push forward, when dedicating all of their energies to everyone but themselves? I think Bellamy had his time away from home & from the traditional boxes he had to fit himself into, but still–– it was marred by so much guilt and the constant stress of receiving dire news, because Bellamy had always been aware Verona would not change its ways, especially not with him gone. So many of his frustrations are still boiling underneath his skin –– he is out of place, he hasn’t found himself, he doesn’t feel like he can fully pursue his dreams & wants because it would mean letting someone else down. He is still the soldier that put all of his desires on hold in the name of honouring his ancestors, and while he takes pride on this, on his family–– it is oh, so unfulfilling, to aim for peace and come back to war, to raise your voice and not be heard.

I’m very invested in my character’s psyches, and I fully believe every character has many layers that deserve to be explored with utmost dedication –– no one is merely one thing, and it would be quite sad to portray any fictional being as such. I want to explore Bellamy’s vision of the family he so loves, and for which he has given up so much for, how adoration balances itself out with the bitterness he tries to drown so desperately, how he dedicates himself to his job & position even though he feels disgusted by posing as a bodyguard, when the loyalty of those he protects is bought with money and not with the respect he preaches all living creatures should be deserving of. I want to see beyond his quest for peace –– will he ever let his guard down? Will there ever be someone he trusts, beyond the feud that extends over Verona? Will Bellamy find understanding, someone he can speak to, someone that crawls underneath his skin and finds he is so much more than a peacekeeper? Most importantly, will Bellamy discover himself? Will he find his strength to power through this reality he never wished to come back to? Where will he find it? How will it transform him? Is love capable of holding him up, moving him forward? Will the hunger for more break his heart, will the ugliness of bloodshed turn him sour at last?

BROTHERS IN ARMS. Bellamy is a man of the past –– his core survives on sweet memories of a flourishing spring that will never come back. Laughter, juvenile & booming, was something he could only share with Roman and Marcelo, the two friends he feels actually belong to him, with him. Bellamy has never dared to utter his adoration aloud to either of them, has never admitted he’d rather die than see them perish. The love he has given them was perhaps lukewarm, when compared to these two feisty demons with hellfire for hearts: Bellamy’s affection was a tender kiss to the temples, soft massages to erase their aches, a moment of quiet as he wiped the sweat from their foreheads. He never promised to remain by their side, but in his chest–– he knows his place is right beside them, perhaps below them, but still close. And Bellamy has thrown that to the wind once he up and left, consumed with a selfish desire to live as a person, and not a warrior born out of a patronym. He loves them, will always love them most of all –– but maybe that is not enough. Maybe there is an abyss in between them, an ocean separating their souls. Lucky for them, Bellamy is willing to cross it with undeterred determination –– anything to safely tuck them away inside his rib cage ; his drive to protect grows stronger when near them (is there anything he wouldn’t do for these remembrances of boyhood? He is scared of discovering there isn’t, so he blinds himself once Marcelo comes by, once Roman’s cologne reaches his nose). The tally of his sins would grow & grow, and the only ones that would make such fate bearable would be his brothers.

( ADDENDUM . ) Bellamy’s friendship with Roman and Marcelo is one of the things I’m extra eager to explore! First and foremost, because I am sure, beyond Bellamy’s immediate family, these two are his most important people & there is very little he wouldn’t do for them. And, boy, would I like to discover what the limits of this friendship are! Is there a line Bellamy, the loyal Patroclus to these two Achilles, would not cross, even when concerning the people closest to his heart? Would he ever forsake them in the name of his morals? Alternatively, what absurdities would he commit on their names? What lengths would he cover, to see both of them living a long and happy life?

In the book, Benvolio is in a lower position than Mercutio and Romeo –– which is mirrored here, so it opens up a myriad of possibilities. Italian mafias are known for a strict code of conduct & sense of hierarchy, and they also work as famiglias, obviously. So I picture that, although they were raised together, there was always a thin line separating them: Bellamy always considered himself less than Roman and Marcelo, and was satisfied to occupy this lower rank & serve them in any way he could. It interests me in the sense that, even though they’re his closest friends & probably the few people that have always accepted him (because this is another one of his struggles –– both his “softer” personality and his gender identity are probably strange concepts to his traditional family in the same manner, and acceptance is not something Bellamy has ever had plentiful of), I still think Bellamy tries and holds himself back with them –– there are parts of him that are occulted, and purposefully so, from the ones he loves most. So I’m thinking, once he left, it was probably a huge shock for Roman and Marcelo –– no one saw it coming. Of course Bellamy did his best to remain in contact, but still, dissidence is dissidence. So how do they receive him back? Have Roman and Marcelo ever actually seen Bellamy with the same eyes he sees himself with? How much of an abyss has originated in between them, after these four years of distance?

BLOODHOUND. Loyalty and obedience, when combined, are quite a dangerous threat to one’s honesty and commitment to good deeds, especially when an involvement with the mob is concerned. His continuous absence has not gone unnoticed –– and many have frowned upon his return. Bellamy, a soldier? he has heard them laugh. Bellamy, a fighter? he has felt their scorn from the weight of the stares that follow him as he steps into a room. It brings him sick nostalgia ; one that leaves his stomach turned upside down. The children that used to sneer at him for taking care of stray dogs & cats are now his companions in this senseless war (and yet they all seem too eager to see Bellamy fail –– they doubt him, untrust creating a wall between them. More than isolating, it’s demeaning to a man who is willing to give out his life to honor his father’s ╱ a man who has slashed all of his hopes & dreams to fulfill a path that does not belong to him). The bellicose bickering within the ranks, however, does not disturb him –– Benvolio does not get the credit he is deserving of, for hiding so well underneath porcelain features. These soldiers have nothing on the silent storm that builds inside of Benvolio –– his heritage has always been written out in shallow graves, tainted by fate ; by the numerous gods of Death. Now, he is forced to reach for it, to hold it (it scorches his fingers, it gifts him endless agony, but he lets it have its rightful place next to his beating heart). How far into umbriferous rivers can he sink? ╱ What is the limit of this painful allegiance to his own name? Bellamy does not sleep, for all his nights are wasted away in wondering –– what will I become? And that is perhaps the only murder he is not ready to commit.

( ADDENDUM . ) Concerning this point, I’d like to explore a few paths. Firstly, how was Bellamy received back by the Montagues? He was never a figure on the receiving end of much respect, since his quest for peace turned him into a black sheep of sorts, but surely leaving amidst a war was not an act appreciated by many. Are there suspicions of him? Is he a victim of something similar to military abuse from his peers? Trust was certainly lost, and Bellamy is willing to take the steps to conquer it back –– not for himself, but in the name of his poor father, who deserves as much. The point is, how far is he willing to go for this acceptance? Better yet, in order to show the loyalty that he has always cherished for his parents & for the Montagues, is Bellamy willing to go against his principles? Of course, he is wearing their armour while vouching for peace, but this is not a plan that can be considered definitive.

He is merely a soldier, but would he go against the hierarchy he was raised to respect, if he felt the orders given were unjust? Spoiler alert: I think he certainly would, which would only make the trust he is desperate to regain even more of a distant perspective. I think Bellamy would struggle to try to maintain the scales even, to find a balance between obedience and his principles –– but that won’t work forever, and, at some point, he will have to decide what reigns (and that is one more inner turmoil for him to face). This is something that will always be at the core of his development, in my opinion, and it can fluctuate.

For example, Bellamy is a scholar. I see him as the observing type, listening before he speaks. He tries to understand people to the best of his ability. So, of course, he will interact with Capulets and, instead of seeing them as the enemy, he will more likely take a humanist approach. These are individuals, with their own families & struggles, not beasts to be slaughtered –– this is where Odin Bello comes in, for I think he’ll be a very important piece for Bellamy’s development in this sense, because the Santo Domingo willfully trusts people, no matter their background (everyone should have a second chance, should they not?). He is not ignorant or unaware of how this can end, but he is certainly a character with the most disposition to understand someone coming from a different place than he is.

If the time comes where he has to end one of them (and I’d like him to –– whether because it’s a request from Roman or Marcelo themselves, or a decision Bellamy comes to in order to defend them, because his protective nature is not just for show, and it definitely has darker roots), it would be a large blow to his constitution as a person. I don’t think Bellamy would ever forgive himself, and guilt would consume him –– it’s a great source to explore the underlying shadows he has, his self-hatred, and where would those things lead him (would he leave? Would he consider himself, at one point, far too gone & take a leap into war? Would he take his own life? Would he ever betray the Montagues to save another?).

I think this is intriguing as well, because Bellamy’s motivations are directed outwardly –– to achieve peace for the city, to save his loved ones from pain, so on and so forth. So his relationships to others will be determinants to the paths he’d take –– because it’s an instinct of his, to think of others before himself. But, then again, can he be convinced to embrace his selfishness? Can he turn his back to them all, if enough buttons are pushed? Everyone has a breaking point, and Bellamy seems to outright neglect his needs and limitations in order to step in for others –– which means a breakdown is in order, but also that it will take plenty of build-up!

ARE YOU COMFORTABLE WITH KILLING OFF YOUR CHARACTER?

Yes, for sure, if it serves a purpose!

IN DEPTH .

IN-CHARACTER INTERVIEW:

› WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE PLACE IN VERONA? ‹

CARAMEL-HUED IRISES meet the ethereal roof of the Cathedral of Verona –– it used to be his favorite place, even when the Capulets reigned over it, for it raised Bellamy closer to a God he could hear ╱ could understand better than he could a war that tinged his family with nonsensical losses and burials, hollowed out spaces carved on their roots as the sunset started resembling more a battleground than a kingdom of beauty. Bellamy recalls the singing that used to echo inside luxurious walls, filling his heart with choirs of warm voices (the boy swore he could feel an angel’s grasp touching his hands, inviting him to reach higher ╱ he never did, terrified of the consequences of holiness, but perhaps he was gifted with a martyr’s heart, and was that not much heavier?). Now, however, the Montague mark has erased memories of saints & softness alike –– there is always a dulled tud to be heard ; a silent ache overflowing from his bones. Bellamy taps his pen against the question he posed against himself: it was a heavy blow too soon since his return, but the Santo Domingo only knows kindness to wounds that do not belong to him. There is a heavy sigh as mulls over his options –– even his home is a lie, one that bears a dismantled innocence he’d rather avoid. In the corner of his notebook, Bellamy writes down, cursive letters delineated with delicacy: “ the library. ” It is no different than the church, for the countless shelves boast about the Montague heritage –– in Verona, there is nowhere to turn, for every piece of the city tells a story not in ink, but with blood (he tries to tell himself he does not hate this, that a part of him does not fester once he walks outside, breathes in the air soaked with death). When Bellamy sinks into immeasurable knowledge, however, it’s easier to forget the reality that awaits him outside the Montague’s fortress –– even as a man, as a soldier, Bellamy lingers in empty rooms, a stack of books by his side as the hours come and go (he does not distract himself with the noises outside, with the possibilities with sharp claws, as poets and philosophers and theorists feed him sublime words). What else could he ask for, but this make-shift serenity?

› WHAT DOES YOUR TYPICAL DAY LOOK LIKE? ‹

IT IS PATHETIC OF HIM, to gather the unstopping questions he received upon his return & write them down to pin answers proper enough (underneath his skin, however, the truth lurks as a viper: you can only spit out honesty to yourself, face half-eclipsed, in secret ╱ no one desires to hear you once the pleasant river that flows down your tongue stanches ; once the corpses start floating up from the depths of your soul to the shore of your lips, disfigured & dismembered, like the crude words you never let out). His handwriting seems to stare into his soul, calloused fingers trembling as his mind splits –– the facade, his candor, the middle-ground that is as unsatisfying as what Bellamy has to offer. He is twenty-four, a degree in law under his belt with a specialization on international relations –– but he is a bodyguard ╱ a soldier (it all depends on who asks) ; and his most prized possession is no longer his mind, but the strength of his brawl. Bellamy finds it strange, even, that they trust his hands to protect –– most days are accompanied by the weighty stare of his peers, as if he is not a pacifist but instead a grenade. It is almost demeaning, for a man of the law to stand by people, but only for a price (as if any life can be monetized ; as if that is not a sin by itself). His mere stance inside the Montague ranks make him a corrupted figure, unclean –– it’s worth it, he mumbles under his breath, it’s what I was made for (his heart seems to rebel with the strength of a caged bird as he steps further into this organization).

His days are spent idly, almost –– his fists are always clenched ; bile is always clinging to his throat, acidic & nauseating. There is no beauty to uncover in Verona, no enthralling tales waiting to be discovered. –––– I spend all of my days trying to be heard, even though I am well aware soldiers are not supposed to have mouths. –––– he whispers to himself, a tender smile forming on his lips (it’s an instinct, more than a reflection of joy). One day, perhaps, his fight will be worth it –– at least, that’s what he tells himself, in order to have half an hour of rest every dawn.

› WHAT HAS BEEN YOUR BIGGEST MISTAKE THUS FAR? ‹

IT’S A QUESTION THAT HAUNTS HIM SINCE CHILDHOOD, for Bellamy often wonders what he could’ve done differently –– is there any choice he could’ve taken, that would spare him of these results? No matter the frequency with which he falls into these pits, the conclusion he comes to tends to be the same: fate would have been kinder only if he had been born under a different name, far away from the plagued streets of Italy –– but since he is a Santo Domingo, the list of his mistakes extends itself much further than the date of his genesis, going back to the first man to shed their skin in the honour of a Montague and not their own. Bellamy’s nails dig through the palms of his hands –– it throbs, but it’s the subdued ache that he is used to welcoming with open arms (he does not pity himself, for his low worth is a fact ingrained on the insides of his thighs and his teeth). –––– What mistake have I not made? –––– he wonders aloud, and his voice echoes and shatters inside this chamber of forgiveness (but even God has abandoned him, no glories to be bestowed upon Bellamy’s solitary altar). His eyes are closed once he starts scribbling, uninterrupted consciousness as he lists his regrets: tearing apart my mother’s womb ; surviving the trials humanity forced upon a frail child’s body ; laughing when I shouldn’t have ; refusing to smile when I should’ve ; abandoning the city that gifted me all I have ; returning to the place that crushed my hopes ; being too tender ╱ being too harsh ; simply being –– not a fleshed warrior, not a kinder deity (just Bellamy, a fine friend, and nothing more).

› WHAT HAS BEEN THE MOST DIFFICULT TASK ASKED OF YOU? ‹

TO STOP VALUING LIFE, is what he writes down, without much thought. As a combatant, one must first learn how to fall (how to perish) before picking up a sword or lifting their fists. As a protector, Bellamy grew up listening that his life was no more than a shield to his king –– and perhaps, he never truly learned how to give this up, this desire to become more than these red threads of fate ordered him to be (more than carnage, this was his reason for leaving, was it not? To find the parts of Bellamy Santo Domingo that extended beyond mob ranks & fancy nomenclatures for murderers). His dilemma was a sword with multiple edges, and it ended nested inside his chest, puncturing his heart –– no one seemed to mean a thing for the war that raged on, no matter how beloved ; entire families could be wiped clean and left without a proper ending ; kind strangers could become his next target (and, oh, perhaps the smile Bellamy had given them was more ominous than an act of docility ; perhaps he has more claws and canines than he wants to admit).

› WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON THE WAR BETWEEN THE CAPULETS AND THE MONTAGUES? ‹

I WANT IT TO END, and the words are furious, burning against paper –– his pulse seems to strike with force against his jugular (Bellamy feels every beat, and in his mind, there’s always the awareness it might be his last). –––– It has gone for far too long, it is not worth it –– it has never been. –––– he is a preacher to no one but himself in this moment, solitude providing him an outlet for the emotions he so adores to bottle up, muttering under his breath as the light inside his eyes flickers (it can’t go out, but God –– how to keep a candle ablaze when the winds blow harsher with each new day? How to maintain the warmth inside his muscles when winter consumes him whole? How, how, how?). Bellamy pushes against the current, but his legs are paralysed and frozen ╱ phantom limbs, as he tries not to succumb to the ghostly nature that has followed his every step. Bellamy writes, and writes, and writes –– he has also ran away, he has also tried to become someone else. But now, he is determined to fight –– he isn’t sure of the how or when, but the gun already weighs in the palm of his hand. Time is ticking ; eyes bore into his back. I WANT IT TO END, AND I WILL END IT (and, oh, Lord, what is the cost of this one more choice?).

IN-CHARACTER PARA SAMPLE:

EXTRAS:

Pinterest board.

#accepted #accepted: benvolio

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365daysofsasuhina · 5 years ago

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[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Two Hundred Eleven: Random Laughter ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: A Light Amongst Shadows ] [ AO3 Link ]

It...really confused him at first. They could be doing just about anything, and she would just...laugh. Typically it came out of nowhere - a complete and utter silence...interrupted by a giggle.

For a time, he thought maybe he was doing something that just...made her laugh. But then there was once where he was literally just sitting and reading, Hinata working on some random knitting project...and it happened! She suddenly brought a hand to her mouth and just...giggled. The house was silent. He wasn’t moving.

...what was so funny about knitting, he had to wonder.

She could be doing anything. Watering her flowers, doing dishes, folding laundry. And then bam, she’d break into a chuckle!

It drove him nuts for a while. What the heck was so funny?!

“Hinata…”

“W-what?” Wiping a tear, she turns to him, trying to catch her breath from another random burst of merriment.

“What the hell is so funny?”

“Oh, well...it’s sort of a long story…”

“I’ve got nothing else to do.”

“I was just...thinking of this mission Kiba-kun and Shino-kun went on with me once...and Kiba, he -” A pause as giggles escape. “He w-woke up...in his sleeping bag...and a caterpillar had started crawling up his n-n-nose!” With that, she’s gone again, dissolving into a howl of laughter.

...what?

Sasuke just stares at her incredulously as she tries to rein in her amusement. “...uh...okay. What made you think of that?”

“Oh, I don’t know...it just came to me.”

“It just...came to you. You didn’t see a caterpillar in the backyard, or...hear from Kiba lately?”

“No...stuff like that just...pops into my head sometimes! You don’t...you don’t do that?”

“Uh...no.” Maybe because he doesn’t have all together too many funny memories to pull from…

“Aww...well, that’s just...a thing I do, I guess.” Another few giggles.

“I was...so confused for so long about that…”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I thought maybe you were laughing at something I’d done.”

“Oh, n-no! Well…” A short snort. “...I guess I might remember funny things about you sometimes.”

“...when am I ever funny?”

“To be fair...I don’t think you usually mean to be,” Hinata admits, smiling sheepishly.

“...all right, give me an example.”

A moment to think. “There was this one time...you were trying to cut some kind of...vegetable? I can’t remember. And when you went to cut it, it...it just…!” A hand tries to stifle her laugh. “It went f-flying! All the way across the kitchen! And you just...you stared at it. And your face...it was like it had insulted your ancestors! I’d never seen you make that face before, and it cracked me up!”

Sasuke thinks for a moment as Hinata struggles to keep calm in the background. That...doesn’t ring any bells, but then again...he doesn’t have much reason to commit that to memory. “Why do you remember that kind of stuff?”

“I don’t know...I just do. I laughed so hard at you trying to cut that thing, I got lightheaded! I guess I just...hang onto things that make me laugh.”

“You’ve never done that during a mission, have you?” Seems like a good way to blow one’s cover...

She considers that a moment. “...not that I can remember? But I’m in a different mindset when I’m working. But if my mind can start wandering when it’s quiet, and I’m just sort of...spacing out, it just...goes to things like that sometimes. I can’t tell you why.”

A dark brow perks. “...well, all right then.”

“I still can’t believe you don’t d-do that…”

“I don’t think I’ve heard of anyone doing that. Random memories, sure...but enough to bring you back to laughing out of the blue?”

Hinata’s expression turns sheepish again. “...is it weird?”

Not bothering to stop a snort, he draws her to his side with an arm. “Yes, it’s weird.” Ignoring her pouting wriggling to get free, he gives the crown of her head a kiss. “But I like your weird, remember?”

That gets her to still. “...I guess that’s true.”

“You guess?”

She doesn’t reply verbally, instead just sticking her tongue out at him.

Giving a mock deadpan look, he pinches her nose between his knuckles and watches her eep in surprise. “Don’t be rude.”

“Sasuke, that hurts!” she whines, tone muffled as though with a cold and hands slapping at him lightly in reprimand.

“I’m barely even touching you…”

From then on, he occasionally asks what it is that makes her laugh whenever it happens. Most of her answers are from her younger years...before the pair of them really ever knew each other. Stories with her teammates, or Sakura and Ino...a few about Naruto. Every so often there’s some from family, even the stoic Neji.

...in a way...he’s a little envious. So much of his life was spent in so dark a place, with such a serious focus on his goals, things like this never happened. Or if they did...he wasn’t paying attention. He couldn’t pay attention.

It makes him realize just how much he missed.

And yet, in another, it’s a view into Hinata’s past he’d never get, otherwise. Each little snippet tells him something new about her, or her friends, or her family. He can almost picture most of them, Hinata telling each tale with sprinkles of giggles in between her words. They almost become a bit cathartic for him. Little peeks into her life before it became so intertwined with his.

And then...Sasuke gets one of his own.

They’re working on dinner one evening, the pair of them splitting the work, like always. Hinata’s had a craving for ramen, so they’re trying to make some from scratch. As Sasuke works on the noodles, Hinata begins peeling the hard boiled eggs in the sink, giving them a gentle squeeze to crack the shell and remove it.

She’s marked the ones she cooked earlier in the carton with little marker marks on the tops of the shell. And as she gets into a rhythm...she doesn’t notice that she’s actually grabbed a blank egg. The first squeeze, to her disappointment, doesn’t crack it. So, she tries harder. And...a little harder. Until, lips pursed with annoyance, she decides to give it a slap on the counter.

...raw egg splatters everywhere.

Turning at her gasp of surprise, Sasuke looks Hinata up and down. Her jaw is dropped in shock, eyes wide, her front speckled with egg. It’s all over the counter, dripping down the cupboard doors and pooling on the floor.

They both just...stare at it for a moment.

...and then Sasuke bursts into a deep belly laugh.

Looking at him, Hinata watches as Sasuke leans back against a clear part of the counter, noodles temporarily abandoned as he drowns in mirth.

“Did...did you really just…?” he tries to ask, wiping at his eyes.

Puffing up indignantly, she stutters, “I-I just…! I thought it was -?”

He cuts her off with another laugh, a hand coming up to rest over his face. Gods, when was the last time he laughed this hard? “...oh man...you’re a mess.”

“N-no joke!”

“Here...you go, uh...clean yourself up. I’ll handle this.”

“But -?”

“Go. It’s fine, really. I can handle it until you get back.”

Turning a bit sheepish, she does as asked, mumbling about investing in an apron.

Wiping up the aftermath, Sasuke gives one last chuckle to himself. This might just be the first of his new stockpile to laugh at later.

.oOo.

More random fluff, which honestly? Is one of my favorite things to write x3 Even if making this as long as I like to try to keep this was a little hard, haha~ I try to keep an average of about 1200 words...and overall I'm actually at about 1450, woo! Though, on that note, just a heads up for the upcoming SasuHina month (which, yes, I'll be doing and posting to these accounts on both AO3 and Tumblr): those entries will likely be a LOT shorter. I'm going to TRY to do both my dailies, and those...and I'd rather focus on keeping my average word count for this project. So if the SHM entries are short, apologies...it's just gonna be a lot to juggle during my free time in addition to the RP I like to do, and other fic projects I've got going on another account / blog! Buuut yeah, now that that's out of the way: a slightly early entry, woo! And yeah, some simple fluff. I've always HC'd Hinata as a major daydreamer, so...having her thoughts wander and make her randomly laugh is EXACTLY what I picture her doing, haha - so I knew just what to write. Poor Sasuke doesn't have as many happy memories to draw from...but with Hinata, he's going to finally make some n_n Anyway, since I'm a lil early, off to another project I go for the night! Thanks for reading~

#sasuhina #uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #a light amongst shadows [ canon verse ]#365daysofsasuhina

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agirlinhell · 6 years ago

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OKAY SO I’VE HAD A LOT OF ASOIAF / GOT RP BLOGS FOLLOWING ME LATELY AND I JUST HAVE TO LET YOU ALL KNOW THAT CLEMENTINE HAS SEVERAL VERSES, IN DIFFERENT ERAS AND IN DIFFERENT FACTIONS OF THE SERIES. I mostly follow book canon, as I’ve read all the books and I’ve watched all the seasons, but I am also show friendly, as well. I will be using Amandla Stenberg, Nyane Lebajoa and Indya Marie as her faceclaims. As this is A Song Of Ice And Fire / Game Of Thrones, there will naturally be explicit and mature content in a variety of different ways. She is bisexual, as in canon. There are six verses in all.

Although, they are not officially in my verses quite yet, allow me to elaborate them for you. Long post under the cut!

#1: Clementine is a skinchanger and a spearwife beyond the Wall whilst possessing greensight. She’s lived among the Free Folk all her life and was born near Hardhome. When she and the entire horde of the Free Folk are being driven south by the Others. she’s actually quite capable of defending herself even for a small girl, she’s taken out a few lone wights by herself. Clementine had faced the wrath of the likes of rangers of the Night’s Watch, slavers from the eastern cities, Hornfoots and Nightrunners, men and women of the Frozen Shore, men of the Ice-river clans who feasted on human flesh, snowbears, shadowcats and even other wargs. But worst of all the enemies she had fought were the wights, those moving corpses who only devoured the flesh of the living without a second thought. The girl had seen the likes of giants and mammoths, and she could see through the eyes of the beasts of the land and the birds in the skies, things that the girls of the south would hardly begin to imagine. Yet, at only age sixteen, she had managed to survive long enough to make it to The Wall. She wonders what the lands are like Beyond The Wall, survival is all she’s ever known. When the Free Folk are brought south of The Wall, Clementine is being taught how to read by Shireen Baratheon and the maesters at Castle Black. She has a shadowcat for a companion and can warg into it and take over its body as its host. The Free Folk both fear her and respect her, and several of the men of the Night’s Watch can say the same. Some think that she is descended from the Children of The Forest because of her golden eyes, but that is up to speculation. To put it very simply, this is her verse for any muses from the North or Beyond The Wall. I can easily see her being tangled up with Melisandre or the Boltons, perhaps she can possibly help Jeyne Poole escape Winterfell? She is age sixteen in this verse. This verse will be tagged as v; I MAY BE YOUR PRISONER BUT I AM A FREE WOMAN. ( A SONG OF ICE & FIRE / GAME OF THRONES. || THE FREE FOLK. )

#2: Clementine is a Princess of the Summer Isles. She serves Queen Margaery Tyrell as a lady in-waiting while serving as an intermediary between the Iron Throne and the Summer Isles as a princess of one of the isles and is one of their representatives so that trade between Westeros and the Summer Isles can continue further. Clementine is of Rhoynar, Summer Islander and Naathi descent. From a young age, she had been taught how to fight with a spear and shoot with her goldenheart bow and arrows that could pierce through even steel plate, as in the Summer Isles, women are considered equal to men. At age sixteen, she is well versed in many languages, the arts of love, music, song, dance and war. She leaves the Summer Isles on a swan ship to The Reach to broker a deal with the Hightowers at Oldtown at a young age while accompanied by an entourage of her own, and Alerie Hightower selected her to be one of ladies in waiting at Highgarden. Clem travels with Margaery and her relatives all throughout the events of The War of The Five Kings until they reach King’s Landing. When Margaery is betrothed to Joffrey Baratheon, Clementine is introduced in court, as well, and is seen as an exotic beauty by much of the court. She gets a lot of requests for marriage or simply sharing her bed from many lords of Westeros, including but not limited to Jhalabar Xho, Aurane Waters, Willam Wythers, Perros Blackmont and Daemon Sand, because many want the riches and treasures that the Summer Isles provide, and Clementine is an attractive young lady, something she will use to her advantage in court. ( **Note: this is what happens in my portrayal, if you portray any of these muses, this does not need to happen. )

She wears the feather capes that the Summer Islanders are known for and her loose silken diaphanous gowns from Naath, her hair is adorned with a myriad of butterflies and flowers in her hair and dressed in brilliantly colored feathers of exotic birds, silks, seashells and gemstones - rubies, sapphires, emeralds and pearls, along with the gowns and Myrish lace that Westeros provides when serving Queen Margaery Tyrell. Yet her heart always lies with her home. Afterward, she intends to venture to the Temples of Love in the isles and allow others to share her bed, as was expected of her and all other individuals on the isles, male or female, lowborn or highborn, as a way of worshiping her gods. She keeps to the gods of the Summer Isles and the Lord of Harmony of Naath and she’s been rumored to practice water magic, but this is debatable. She will protect her Queen with her life if need be.

Her fellow companions at court are Megga, Alla, Elinor and Leona Tyrell, Margaery’s cousins, Alyn Ambrose, Alysanne Bulwer, Meredyth Crane, Alyce Graceford, Taena Merryweather of Myr, Leonette Fossoway, Mira Forrester, Sara Durwell / Flowers and Septa Nysterica, a sister of the Faith. Through it all, even though she finds King’s Landing fascinating at first, she grows to yearn for her motherland… and learns that the capital is a pit of vipers. In A Feast For Crows, Clementine is accused of lewdness, fornication and high treason by The Faith and is arrested for crimes she did not commit. In a Dance With Dragons, Clementine’s currently awaiting her trial alongside the queen’s within the Sept of Baelor. To put it very simply, this verse is for King’s Landing and any shenanigans that may occur there, and it will be tagged as: v; YOU SHOULD SEE ME IN A CROWN. ( A SONG OF ICE & FIRE / GAME OF THRONES. || KING'S LANDING. )

#3:Clementine is a dragonrider, sorceress and noblewoman of the Valyrian Freehold, a daughter of the ancient House Targaryen, of the union of Aenar Targaryen and a princess from the Summer Isles. Keeping to the Gods of Old Valyria and the Deities of the Summer Isles, she finds herself praying to both deities, never truly having a preference of any of them over the other. One of the most striking things about her physical appearance are her violet eyes and her silver hair from her Valyrian ancestry, yet her skin tone is purely Summer Islander. It seems her lady mother won the genetics lottery. Clem has a good standing relationship with her half-siblings and most notably in Daenys Targaryen who would later to be known as Daenys the Dreamer renowned for foreseeing the Doom of Valyria twelve years prior to it’s fiery downfall. Clementine is dragonrider to the dragoness Zalliel. They practically grew up together from the time she was only an infant girl in her crib, as she’d been holding her egg to keep it warm. Zalliel, like her rider, had a thirst for adventure and freedom. Although not the warlike type, the dragoness would fight to the very bitter end to protect her rider. Her lord father, Aenar Targaryen, had paid a fine amount of gold for one of the best blacksmiths in the Freehold to make his youngest daughter a Valyrian steel sword, as Clementine had a intrigue for blades and the art of war, despite her calm and gentle exterior. Her lord father always knew that she had a fire burning in her heart. Clementine named this blade Dark Sister and so when she soared into the battlefield on dragonback, she would be seen fighting with it, as well as using one of her lady mother’s goldenheart bows and arrows. Clementine is a warrior through and through, and the blade has passed down to the future generations of House Targaryen, such as Queen Visenya Targaryen, Maegor Targaryen, Prince Daemon Targaryen and Lord Brynden Rivers, to which the sword is now lost to history.

Clementine was born - and grew up - within Valyria, and magic was at its height in the capital and in all the known world. At its apex Valyria was the greatest city in the known world, the center of civilization. Within its shining walls, twoscore rival houses vied for power and glory in court and council, rising and falling in an endless, subtle, oftsavage struggle for dominance. She enjoyed much of her childhood and adolescence there, loving to soar around the seemingly topless towers in the city, or spending time with her family in Lys. She kept monkeys, apes, panther cubs, and parrots from the Summer Isles as pets. She was taught in the arts of love and war, in many languages and was taught how in the magical arts by several sorcerers and mages hired by her lord father and lady mother. She is of Summer Islander, Naathi, Rhoynar and Valyrian descent, and was a member of the Young Dragons faction of Valyria. House Targaryen at the time was not considered a powerful house, compared to the forty other noble families of Valyria, but Clem cared little for court politics, but she was seen as a beauty amongst the dragonlords. In the Freehold, dragons were usually tamed with dragonhorns, sorcery and whips, but Clementine disliked the cruelty and thus attached herself to Zalliel in other ways, by way of kindness and companionship. After Daenys the Dreamer prophesied that Valyria would be destroyed, Aenar sold his holdings in the Valyrian Freehold and the Lands of the Long Summer, and moved with all his family, wives, wealth, slaves, and dragons, with House Velaryon and House Celtigar following behind them to Dragonstone, a bleak island citadel beneath the Dragonmont, a smoking mountain in the narrow sea. The Targaryens were far from the most powerful of the dragonlords, and their rivals in Valyria saw their flight as an act of cowardice. However, because Aenar had moved his family away from Valyria, the Targaryens were the only dragonlords to survive the Doom in 114 BC and the following Century of Blood.

Clementine, however, was unhappy with the whole ordeal, feeling as if her entire future was being torn away to rot and sit at the very westernmost precipice of the Valyrian Freehold - Dragonstone, especially near a place as foreign and strange as Westeros. She helped her family with their affairs in Essos, most predominantly in the wars of the Free Cities. After staying for a few years at Dragonstone, deciding to rebel against her father and refusing to stay any longer in the bleak citadel before she withered away, took all of her things and her dragon and soared away from Dragonstone to travel the known world. What happens to her afterward is still debated by the maesters of the Citadel to this day, and her adventures vary depending on the tale. Some say she had affairs with several Westerosi lords - and even ladies, others say she eventually united the Summer Isles under her rule - something that was uncommon amongst the islanders, while alternate sources claim she was a consort of a YiTish god-emperor. What is known, however, is that she’s had many lovers - both men and women - and several adventures in her life and eventually returned to Dragonstone by way of a ship and brought Dark Sister back to the ancestral home it belonged to, and that she lived a very long and natural life. To put it very simply, this verse is for any pre-ASOIAF / GOT characters before Aegon’s Conquest. The tag for this verse is: v; I AM THE DRAGON'S DAUGHTER. ( A SONG OF ICE & FIRE / GAME OF THRONES. || THE VALYRIAN FREEHOLD. )

( Note: Slavery, incest and polygamy are all a part of Valyrian culture, especially amongst the nobles. Her father had many wives and Clementine\s half siblings, as was common in Valyria, married and had children together. Incest is common among the noble families of Valyria and even then they’re often political with no romance involved and Clementine is a noblewoman, so it’s entirely possible she may have been betrothed. Slavery exists in this time period and Valyria profited off of slavery. Please keep in mind that I tolerate NONE of these things as a mun, but it is something that does happen and I will not be sugarcoating it in my portrayal, but I will always tag it when mentioned. )

#4: Clementine is a lady of Dornish, Summer Islander, Naathi and Rhoynar descent and owes her allegiance to House Martell. Although mostly underdeveloped in comparison to the rest of her verses, Clementine was born and grew up in the Summer Isles before being sent to Dorne as an older child as a negotiation agreement for trade, and she grows fond of Dorne while staying there. Eventually, she works together with Arianne Martell, the Sand Snakes and Arianne’s entourage to crown Myrcella Baratheon as true Queen of the Seven Kingdoms by Dornish law. In A Storm of Swords, she attends Ellaria Sand and Oberyn Martell and saw the consequences of the trial by combat go horribly wrong, with the Red Viper’s death having a critical blow on the Dornish. During the later parts of the books, she stays back in Dorne and attends Doran Martell with anything he might need, all while taking care of Princess Myrcella. To put it simply, this verse is mostly for interacting with characters from Dorne and mostly southern Westeros. The tag for this verse is v; SHE WHISPERS INTO THE EARS OF MEN. ( A SONG OF ICE & FIRE / GAME OF THRONES. || DORNE. )

#5: Clementine is a Princess of the Summer Isles, and was born and grew up in the isles. She was sent by her lord father to negotiate with the Free Cities on matters of trade... only to be kidnapped by Basilisk Isles raiders and to be sold as a slave in Meereen, first as a female fighter in the fighting pits, before being noticed by some of the Masters and being taken to the Temple of the Graces to be trained as a Red Grace - all of this against her will. When Daenerys Targaryen enters the scene, however, Clementine is one of the first women to raise the sword for the Dragon Queen. Daenerys frees her from her bondage as a slave and a Red Grace and Clementine has been loyal to her - and her entourage - since. This verse is used to interact with any muses of Slaver’s Bay or any individuals who are aligned with House Targaryen in the present time. It will be tagged as v; I'D RATHER DIE ON MY FEET THAN LIVE ON MY KNEES. ( A SONG OF ICE & FIRE / GAME OF THRONES. || SLAVER'S BAY. )

#6: Clementine is a young lady trained to become the next Black Pearl of Braavos, one of the most proeminent courtesans of the city. From a very young age, she was educated and trained in various cultural pursuits such as art, music, poetry, calligraphy, song, dance, history, literature and flower and fan language. She’s an educated girl of good social standing, who is oft present at festivals and entertainments, and is hired as a mourner at funerals. She, like her lady mother, enjoys high status and is famous worldwide. She, like every other courtesan, has her own barge and servants to work them, as slavery does not exist in Braavos. Her beauty has inspired many a song and she is showered with gifts from goldsmiths and craftsmen beg for her custom. Nobility and rich merchants pay her large amounts of money to appear alongside them at events, merchant princes pay royal ransom to have her on their arms at balls, feasts and mummer shows and bravos are known to kill each other in her name.

She is famous, respected and wealthy and enjoy a kind of celebrity status as well as a certain kind of mystique, and she is cultured and beautiful. She sleeps on rose petals and wears silken skirts that rustle when she walks, and great lords beggar themselves for her maiden’s blood. She can trace her descent through the female line to the daughter of Bellegere Otherys, a pirate queen who was the first Black Pearl, and King Aegon IV Targaryen, and thus the earlier generations of the Targaryen Dynasty as a whole, as well as having other bloodlines such as having royal descent of both a Princess of the Summer Isles and a Sealord of Braavos. She dresses in charcoal grey, purple, blues so dark that are almost black, and blacks as dark as moonlight. Clementine is age sixteen and is still in the process of following her mother’s footsteps. This verse is used for muses of Western Essos, moreso the Free Cities and particularly Braavos, but Clementine can easily travel elsewhere. This verse is tagged as v; THE BLACK PEARL. ( A SONG OF ICE & FIRE / GAME OF THRONES. || BRAAVOS. )

#( VERSES. )#OUT OF THE APOCALYPSE. ( ANGIE SPEAKS. )#( y'all know i had to do it to 'em. )

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alexicacvs-a-blog · 5 years ago

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// I am curious. Why the infernal trash heap? What drew you to the character and how do you portray him since his actions are controversial?

@abysmalpyre

I’m glad you asked that. I was going to eventually write a massive meta post on it. So I’ll put this under a read more. Also I’m switching to Gray from Case Files cause the recommended artwork keeps switching to her, and it feels like it’s trying to goad me into making a blog for her. Fuckers. *Ahem* Anyway this will be a compare and contrast from another series known as Fate/Stay Night. It’s a very popular eroge visual novel that’s been around since 2004. It’s spawned many iterations of it’s routes: Fate (Studio Deen. Under Fate Stay Night) Unlimited Blade Works (Deen, Ufotable) and Heaven’s Feel (Presage Flower, Lost Butterfly, Spring Song also done by Ufotable. Also the saddest of the three routes. Fuck you Nasu.) And many spin off (Case Files of Lord El Melloi II, Fate/Apocorypha, Fate/EXTRA (Extra/CCC, Extra CCC Fox Tail, Extella, Extella Link), Fate/Hollow Ataraxia, Fate Tiger Coliseum, Fate Unlimited Codes, Emiya no Gohan Chi (Today’s Menu for the Emiya Family), Prisma Kaleid Illya (the anime is horrible), and the popular mobile game Fate/Grand Order. I think the japanese version is #1 on the charts.

Anyway that being said I’m going to be Fate on main for a moment.

Anyway to start with I also rp as Kirei Kotomine from Fate over on @inaniscultus. Kirei Kotomine, is wat we all tend to call the Trash Priest. He’s what basically started this off. Kirei like Endeavor is a dad. And a shitty one at that. Kirei unlike Endeavor isn’t able to comprehend human emotion and feeds off of people’s misfortune of those around him. In other words he’s a walking schadenfreude. It gets to the point where his he makes his wife and daughter both miserable and he wants to end his life. He’s ultimately “stopped” when Claudia, his wife, kills herself. Though in reality he never loved her, he can never feel love and his only regret was not killing her himself. He gives his daughter up because hes not capable of raising her. Though they both work for the Church, he never once tried to get in contact with her.

Then you have Tokiomi Tohsaka. While Tokiomi seems like a good dad, he ultimately ends up giving his daughter up to an ancient mage who ends up subjecting her to horrors and abuses her. Now let me back up and explain that the mages in Fate are akin to those in the MLA and even like Endeavor where those with a strong line of magecraft are revereed. Marriage amongst families as old as the Tohsakas, Edelfelts, Matou/Makiria and Einzberns has to be between the ones with the strongest lines. And that way a child of strong magical lineage can be born for the sake of passing on techniques or in this case magic crests. Tokiomi can only give his crest to one sibiling and that’s Rin being the oldest. So that’s why Sakura is given up. That and if she were kept in the Tohsaka household chances are that she would have a sealing designation placed on her. What this means is that she’ll be frozen cyrogenically, and then be experimented on while alive. That’s not pretty. So Tokiomi did what he had to do. Feeling it was the right thing to do. Though there’s speculation that if Tokiomi lived, Rin would be cold and calculating. Trash Priest ends up killing him.

Then you have Zouken Matou who was once known as Zolgen Makiri. Now Zouken didn’t start off bad. He was an idealistic man who wanted to create a peaceful utopia, the problem is that he let his ambition corrupt him and he became a vile man who only cared about seeking out Heaven’s Feel, the Third Magic. He wants to turn Sakura into a grail for his own ends, and is why Sakura is fucked up. He’s honestly the worst person in the fucking world, next to Shinji.

Finally you have Kiritsugu Emiya, who is a mage killer. He’s an assassin that kills mages. And while he’s done some horrible things like kill his father, kill his mother figure, but also cheated on his wife. Insulted Saber (Artoria.). However at the end of the Holy Grail War, he atones by saving Shirou and adopts him as his son to take care of, and tries to get his Illya back. He realizes where he went wrong and tries his best to change. Until he dies.

I see Endeavor a lot like Kiritsugu. Yes Endeavor said and did some fucked up shit. But when I read back through 190 and 191, he does show that he regrets what he’s done. And the true reason why he did what he did was so that his children could handle his quirk. Everytime he uses his quirk he overheats himself and he doesn’t want them to go through that.

Like Tokiomi he wants it so that he can pass off his technique to the next child. But like Kiritsugu he realizes where he fucked up and wants to truly make amends and he does try.

Not to mention that I live in a household with an abusive parent. The difference between Endeavor and my mom is that Endeavor is actually being sincere. When my mom apologizes she offer up but I did that so you could see x y z. That’s not a true apology. It’s not genuine and makes it seem insincere.

TL;DR: I see Endeavor like Kiritsugu, and that Endeavor can show that he can change. He’s nowhere near the shittiness of Zouken. Never be Zouken.

#ooc #asks #answered #tw: suicide mention #tw: abuse mention #tw: zouken matou #abysmalpyre

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vaedar · 7 years ago

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Headcanons: Valyrian Geography, Geology, Climate

In this post, I'll be giving a general description of my headcanons for the geography, geology, climate and other related matters of the valyrian peninsula. It is important to remember that the details and descriptions given here apply only to interactions in this blog for RP purposes and references, they are not official nor canon unless stated otherwise. Also important to remark that some of the descriptions may not fit the laws of reality because this is fantasy and GRRM himself has stated so when people try to give logical, realistic and scientific explanations to how the ASOIAF world works.

Over here you may find more of my headcanons on Valyria. Under cut because it’s a little long.

Terrain

The majority of the lands in the peninsula are filled with mountains, hills, cliffs and valleys between them. These mountainous regions were more common to the north and center, extending to the southern areas though with reduced heights ( sort of like a 'T' form ), along with the Fourteen Flames. Roads were built between these mountain paths to connect the valyrian cities. To the east and west, the mountain ranges were lower, considered to be more hills rather than mountains but cliffs were actually common right by the coasts. Beaches did exist but more to the south, as well as rivers that flowed in the valleys created between the mountains of the center, north, east and west ( as shown in the map ). Some of these beaches actually had black sand, one of the many effects of the volcanic activity in the peninsula.

Fourteen Flames

It might be best to start off with the heart, life force and source of the Doom in the valyrian peninsula. The Fourteen Flames is the canon name given to a chain of active volcanoes, where creatures such as dragons and firewyrms could be found. They've been burning for thousands of years ( probably more ), even before the Valyrian Freehold was first founded. These volcanoes affected both directly and indirectly the entirety of the peninsula and a little beyond, in positive and not so positive ways. The valyrians with their magical prowess learned to control or tame the fury of the fires ( as they did with dragons ) to the point where civilization could thrive albeit the close proximity of such a dangerous and deadly force. They were mainly concentrated on the region between the cities of Tyria and Oros, north to Valyria but there were also isolated peaks scattered in other areas of the land. The more common types were composite volcanoes but there were also shield and cinder cone peaks.

On the positive aspects of the presence of these active ( but thanks to valyrian sorcery ) controlled volcanoes, volcanic soils ( in real life known as andisols ) developed and impacted agriculture, fauna and flora. It was particularly positive in the norther region of the peninsula, over at the Lands of the Long Summer, where produce was abundant ( back then, more so than the The Reach in Westeros ). It's from here that most of the food comes to feed the lands and peoples all around the peninsula and a little beyond, connected by the wide and long dragon or valyrian roads. All sorts of crops were grown ( tomatoes, olives, grapes, corn, citrus fruits, tea plants, vegetables and spices ), and from these, the best wines were produced. There was also a wide variety of plants and flowers.

Another positive and it's actually one of the things the valyrians are or were known for the most, are the precious minerals and materials mined from the area in the Fourteen Flames. The constant but controlled flow of magma from within the earth's crust and then of lava that solidifies, as well as volcanic ash; make these precious minerals and metals pretty abundant—though they are highly dangerous to mine. Amongst these minerals and ores mined were gold, silver, garnet, obsidian, and of course, the all famous metal for the 'magical alloy' integrated into valyrian steel ( on that in another post ).

On the negative aspects, the danger would probably be the highest hazard, not just for the risk of eruption but the quality of the air and how the volcanoes affect the general climate. This however, is something that valyrians did control through sorcery and other ways, and the rest of the peoples adapted through out thousands of years. The mining for slaves was fatal and hundreds ( and more ) died while mining in the Fourteen Flames.

Climate and Weather

In terms of general climate over the valyrian peninsula area, it can be comparable to that of a real life Mediterranean climate only a little hotter still. We know that seasons in the ASOIAF world are still not really explained but when the true summer time is on the valyrian peninsula, it's more often hot and dry rather than humid but not to the point of the arid dry climate of Dorne. The seasons of spring and fall are not really noticeable and during winter, the temperatures are generally more on the higher average of warmth for the winter period. Humidity is higher then and rains are far more common than summer season but it does not snow. At night, the temperatures did get a little lower but not much to make a significant difference from daylight temperatures. It's a pretty stable climate.

Particular things that do have association with the existence of the Fourteen Flames in the peninsula are the presence of more clouds, most of them from the volcanoes. The light of the sun does filter through however, enough to give the higher temperatures on the land. An effect of this interaction can be seen in the valyrian sunsets, which are commonly more vividly red ( mixed with the blue, it could be thought to have purple hues as well ) rather than the more orange-yellow hued sunsets observed in the rest of the continent. In the evenings, the clouds maintained a somewhat red tone to them mixed with the dark grey, an effect of the faint glow originating from the Fourteen Flames reflected on the clouds and sky above the volcanic mountains.

After the Doom

|| To be applied to all verses taking place after 114 B.C., and based on the Path of the Last Embers storyline ||

The massive and simultaneous eruption by all Fourteen Flames changed the valyrian peninsula entirely. It was no longer an attached area of land but shattered in three main islands surrounded by dozens of smaller ones. The area where the Fourteen Flames stood is now known as the Smoking Sea. Though the majority of the volcanoes were swallowed by the catastrophic tsunamis and the sudden rising sea levels, there are those still above ground centuries after the Doom. It's their fires that can be seen in the distance away from the coast, the red hue reflected on the skies and clouds with even more intensity than before the Doom, as they are now active due to the lack of powerful valyrian magic to control them.

The peninsula was mainly shattered and divided into three main islands right over where the rivers used to flow through the land, where it was easier for the giant waves to wash inland and swallow it. Due to the submerged ground, the water is sometimes muddy and very difficult to navigate. A form of volcanic fog covers great part of the land ( mainly the northern area ) that remains as well as the entirety of the Smoking Sea, which can be toxic for unprotected people. The survivors of Valyria are protected from these toxins in the ruins of the city.

The climate does differ slightly from that before the Doom in the temperatures, now a little less warm and more humid, less sunlight manages to filter through the thicker clouds and fog. For long years, they were low enough to be considered cold or tempered but in the recent century or two, it has risen again enough to once again be on the warm and hotter side. Vegetation has slowly began to cover the ruins of the valyrian cities and the rest of the land, growing unhindered by civilization. Animals did survive the Doom and others from outside places, mostly flying or swimming fauna, have moved and now inhabit the remains of the shattered peninsula.

UPDATE:

It is important to remember that this is a fantasy world, so I would like to add that had the Doom taken place in our real life world, the whole planet would’ve been rendered uninhabitable and pretty much the human race would’ve gone extinct. In the best of circumstances, human race would’ve been thrust back into the stone age. So a reminder that these headcanons are all based on the fact that his is a fantasy world, and that laws of nature and physics do not always apply here, considering we have the factor of magic mixed into the equation, which is something Valyrians were skilled in.

This is all for the general descriptions of the headcanon for now. Please do keep in mind that they have the purpose of serving as references and can be modified accordingly to the interactions. The images used are all found on my board of Valyria over at Pinterest, the artists and/or sources are there.

#i read up so many things for this ok #all the volcanic things and such and it was a bit tricky to remember that it is fantasy and so i gotta add in fantastical elements #so the fantastical thing is that valyrian magic allowed them to survive in that sort of place filled with 14 active volcanoes xD #as it is in the books cuz it bad when just 1 volcano is active and erupts with the ashes and sulfur and all that imagine 14 #but yeah let's pretend the magic is almighty ok xD #headcanons #hc #headcanon #vaedar valyria #[ L E N T O N ] Valyria #writing these long ass hc's is exhausting and i've already been exhausted from lack of sleep cuz worrying and stress and anxiety for PR #i just wanna go to sleep now xD

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