#Gloria Chin: interactions

[theoriginallastnailinthecoffin]

A Gentleman and A Professional

Chapter Three: Goodness

Summary: You don’t know what you should say, but it doesn’t matter. He fills the space and leads you.

Tags: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Physical Abuse, Consensual Kink, Hurt/Comfort

A/N: I have no beta. But I hope you enjoy. Link also in the cut.

Chapter One: Innocuous

Chapter Two: Opportunity

Chapter Four: Neighborly

18+ Only - MINORS Do Not Interact

It’s clear he’s slowed his pace to match yours. Each step brought the apartment complex closer. For the briefest moment, you allow yourself to pretend that what you’re doing is acceptable. You feel the weight of your arm pressed into his, his body solid and warm against yours.

Is this what it’s like? You couldn’t define the “it” but you knew it was a feeling, some sensation, some thing you needed to feel on some shameful, simple human level. A conversation topic for you and your therapist to jaw over. If you could ever admit to it.

He slowly pulled his hand from his pocket to part with you and grabbed the front door, holding it wide. You smiled a quiet “thank you” as you stepped through.

The sound of laughter filled the hall. The ladies in the front office bantered with an older gentleman at the desk.

Continuing up the stairs, one of the older ladies called out, “Welcome back, hun!”

You looked up to return the greeting, but saw your neighbor throwing her a charming, genuinely bashful smile and a small wave.

“Good morning, Gloria. I hope Mittens is well.”

“She is, thank you sugar!”

The sight before you was so sweet you could ignore the two butterflies warring around inside you as he ducked his head.

You heard another woman chastise Gloria, voices distant – “He could be your grandson, behave yourself!” “Hush Maria! He’s such a good boy!”

You climbed the stairs beside him and approached the elevator in silence, smiles firmly affixed to each of your faces.

You chanced a glance at him and felt a third butterfly enter the fray.

The elevator ride was quiet after he pressed the fourth floor.

For a moment you lost yourself in time, wondering what came next. You hoped your husband was still asleep.

You eyed your neighbor’s reflection in the fingerprinted brass panels of the lift as he moved. The jacket came off, draped across his arm. His shoulders, wide. His hands, strong. His thighs, muscular. His eyes--

His eyes shifted to meet yours in the reflection.

Caught, you let your attention trail up the series of back-lit buttons and over to the expired inspection notice, committed to the ruse.

The soft ding unexpectedly drew the metal doors open, and the butterflies were released, as a darker shade of reality settled into place.

In this moment, there were no words for what you thought, what you wanted, what you did not want but you could not bring yourself to move.

Your Neighbor cautiously steps in front of you, and your chin drifts upward to his sudden much too close presence.

He replicates that sweet smile from earlier, held loose on his lips, eyes gentle as his six-foot form fills the door way.

“We should do this again.” You feel the warmth of his words, the intention a visceral manipulation, a caress to your heart. Careful.

“I’d like that.” So, so much.

He smiles again.

So much it’s too much.

Nerves pull your gaze downward. You’ve spent too much time in the elevator. The ladies at the front saw you together. Suddenly your conscience tells you walking down the hall together is too incriminating –

He tsks to himself, bringing your attention back to the moment and to the vascularity of his hands. Gently patting at random pockets, eyes locked on yours.

“I think I forgot my mail key down stairs earlier.” That’s a new one – a lie with a kind, assuring smile.

You don’t know what you should say, but it doesn’t matter. He fills the space and leads you.

“I really enjoyed your company.” A slow smile. “Thank you.”

You only truly realize what he’s doing when he steps aside and holds his arm out to keep the metal doors from closing. He’s giving you an out.

There’s a bittersweet pain in your chest, sudden sharp and brief.

You carefully step through the doors past him and look back. This time you match his gaze and hold it, communicating more than you intended as the doors begin to slip closed.

“The pleasure was all mine.”

He smiles like he knows.

“Until we meet again, neighbor.”

The doors close on his words. You walk to your unit alone.

x-+-x-+-x

Days passed and by this time you’ve come clean to your therapist. She listened to your efforts to describe this ‘Neighbor,’ punctuated by furrowed brows and pauses as you gathered your thoughts. You belatedly realized that it was in fact these very details that told her what you really thought and what you felt when your brain could not find the words.

���There is no fault in recognizing someone else’s goodness.” She – of course – was referring to how he’d opened the door for you and how he’d greeted you at the café – and continued. “Nor does it mean you are unfaithful if you appreciate someone else’s attractiveness.” At no point had you mentioned how absolutely disgustingly hot he was.

You bit your tongue. It was so much more than that. But her words were a salve and the guilt-infested wounds from self-flagellation began to heal. He was genuinely really kind. You felt like you could be friends. If that’s what he wanted.

Men and women cannot just be friends. They secretly want to fuck and always end up fucking. Your husbands words rang clear as the first day he’d said them. When you told that story to your therapist she wore the most compassionate “make it make sense, my dear” expression. Enjoying the physiques of both men and women further complicated things and you realized he couldn’t accuse you of infidelity if there was no one else in your life.

You were so grateful to have her in your life.

x-+-x-+-x

Friday crept up again.

As you brushed your teeth, you eyed your cream chiffon blouse. Most days you made it to the office, but today you chose the comfort of your own quiet office. A half-assed mental health day. Still, you dressed yourself to impress yourself, mumbling the mantra you’ll feel more put together.

A familiar notifying ping sounded from your nightstand. You knew what it said. It was Friday.

Rinsing your toothbrush, you recalled his last stream.

The girl was sat on a sybian saddle, ankles shackled to the floor. Her hands were bound behind her back, her hair braided into the rope around her wrists, eyes pointed to the ceiling. Overstimulated, she kept leaning back, so he placed two small clamps on her nipples with long delicate chains that ended in his grip. When she’d lean back, he’d tighten his fist just enough, tugging the sensitive skin forward to bring her back into position. When she came, crying, he wiped her tears and slide his fingers into her mouth. Then you came.

Placing your toothbrush back in the holder, you imagined what it would feel like to be one of the girls.

Pouring cream into your coffee, you considered a tentative yes/no/maybe list.

Sitting at your desk by the sliding glass doors, eyeing his balcony and yours nearly touching, you wondered how many times he could push you over the edge.

[albertbutyoucancallmebert]

@stuckinuniformdevelopment

(prev) Teddy had been sneaking nervous glances at Bert ever since he noticed his anger. He flinched at the harsh but well-deserved insult. Then he sheepishly sunk in his seat as he rubbed his bowtie between his fingers and tapped his foot. “I’m glad it got cleared.” He sighed. “Because I wasn’t sure if I could get away with reporting them…” After a moment of silence he turned his attention back to his notebook while avoiding Bert’s eye. “Autumn’s… well, they seemed friendly. I figured that she was just trying to get me to run my mouth.” He rolled his eye. “And that I was seeing her true colors after I stopped helping with laundry because they took advantage of it.” Teddy put his hand on his cheek in lieu of his chin while he continued. “That’s why their behavior today confused me. They came running when I screamed. She helped me with first aid. She didn’t care about the damn scientist gossip they always hounded me about. And she didn’t lose interest when I refused to say what happened.” Then he let out an exasperated huff. “Too bad their idea of helping was carrying me to Gloria. Even if I didn’t want that annoying quack near my arm. But, erm…” Teddy awkwardly chuckled as he rubbed his head. “…the doctor said she did it right. So it’s fine? I guess?” Then he shook his head as he pointed at the deacon with a poppy on her hood and wearily said, “I don’t even know how to categorize Gloria… If anyone saw our interactions out of context they’d think she’s sweet and I’m an ungrateful dick yet..,” He squeezed his fist while glowering at the little sketch. “…I am so fucking sick of her treating me like a kid for kicks.”

Bert listened along to Teddy’s Autumn explanation. There were a few things that alarmed him, but he wasn’t sure whether to cut in or wait until he was finished. Such things included, goodness gracious, Teddy let out an entire scream? And what’s this about scientist gossip? Wait a minute… Bert knows her!

He uneasily fidgeted as Teddy moved on to Gloria. However, Bert couldn’t help but smirk slightly as he remembered the wonderful nickname that one had called him online. Teddy Bear…

When Teddy was done talking, Bert pointed at the sketch of Autumn. “I have seen the one with the circular glass before. I knew her as Amanda Becker. At least, I think this is the same person? It was years ago. They had a labcoat, ID and everything! They would mingle with folks during breaks. Embarrassingly, I thought she was an actual scientist for a little bit until I realized I never saw her during actual work hours. Once I figured out she was a Glornist, she disappeared after I reported her."

He sighed and swirled his milkshake around with his spoon. “They have tried to… Well, they have stolen stuff from me before, and have tried to tamper with my food and drink. And they have tried to spread egregious career-ending malpractice rumors about me. But those never stuck because people either didn’t know who she was talking about or thought she was talking about someone else.” Bert sighed. “I wonder what ever became of Albert Schneider from microbiology…”

[stuckinuniformdevelopment]

@albertbutyoucancallmebert

(Previous) Bert furrowed his brow in an angry grimace after hearing about Mike’s nosiness. What a creep! He made a mental note to never let Mike touch anything of his ever. He barely paid attention to what Teddy had to say about Terry. The only thing that got Bert paying attention again was how this ‘very kind’ deacon killed a person. “Ah! So it was this freak who must have framed my ol’ research facility janitor pal Mort.”

Teddy had been sneaking nervous glances at Bert ever since he noticed his anger. He flinched at the harsh but well-deserved insult. Then he sheepishly sunk in his seat as he rubbed his bowtie between his fingers and tapped his foot.

“I’m glad it got cleared.” He sighed. “Because I wasn’t sure if I could get away with reporting them...”

After a moment of silence he turned his attention back to his notebook while avoiding Bert’s eye.

“Autumn’s... well, they seemed friendly. I figured that she was just trying to get me to run my mourh.” He rolled his eye. “And that I was seeing her true colors after I stopped helping with laundry because they took advantage of it.”

Teddy put his hand on his cheek in lieu of his chin while he continued. “That's why their behavior today confused me. They came running when I screamed. She helped me with first aid. She didn’t care about the damn scientist gossip they always hounded me about. And she didn’t lose interest when I refused to say what happened.”

Then he let out an exasperated huff. “Too bad their idea of helping was carrying me to Gloria. Even if I didn’t want that annoying quack near my arm. But, erm...”

Teddy awkwardly chuckled as he rubbed his head. “...the doctor said she did it right. So it’s fine? I guess?”

Then shook his head as he pointed at the deacon with a poppy on her hood and wearily said, “I don’t even know how to categorize Gloria... If anyone saw our interactions out of context they’d think she’s sweet and I’m an ungrateful dick yet..,” He squeezed his fist while glowering at the little sketch. “...I am so fucking sick of her treating me like a kid for kicks.”

[chuuyanaurkahara]

Dani Lore

this is shorter than azrael's. everything that is written in this text is straight out of my brain. again the same as with azrael lore, italics mean additional info.

----

Basic stuff

Dani is a 17 year old suicidal teen. After a bad fight between their two parents, they(14 at the time) killed themselves for the first time. Alexander Destora, their father, revived them though.

Many similar 'incidents' follow. After years of suicides, revivals and whatnot, they got bored of the same thing repeating over and over again. They kind of gave up. Sometimes they still try, but not as much as previously.

Their deaths left behind many physical scars(which I will talk about later). The most noticeable ones are the ones on their face and legs.

They have a slight stutter.

Dani learned water and ice magic and is very good at both of these. They prefer using ice magic. Because of that, their body temperature is below average.

Personality or stuff like that

They're shy and very introverted. Dani tends to be sarcastic and a bit mean at times, despite not really meaning it. They're just bad at reading and delivering specific tones.

Dani's actually very smart. Despite their inability to read tones, they're not stupid and don't fall for tricks that easily. They always predict surprise parties that are thrown for them.

Dani is very jumpy. They flinch at almost every unexpected touch. The teen predicts horror movie/horror game jumpscares and still jumps when they happen.

They cry easily.

After too many social interaction, they can feel overwhelmed and have a meltdown.

They occasionally suffer from breakdowns and/or panic attacks. They get haluzinations and their thoughts fully consume them. While panic attacks occure, Dani's not perfectly aware of their surroundings. Their haluzinations might deform the people who try to calm them down. This sometimes makes them panic more.

Despite not liking physical contact that much, Dani cuddles with Azrael whenever possible. They can be very clingy.

Appearance

Dani is about 1.37metres tall. They have tan skin, which is littered in giant scars. The most noticeable ones are the ones on their face and feet. They have a similar form to burn scars, but the edges are much sharper. The scarred skin feels stiff and is much colder to the touch than their unscarred counterpart.

After one suicide, they had to be 'sewn' together. At some parts of their skin you can still feel the strings holding the pieces together. Their 'puppet' parts(Dani likes to call them that) of their skin sometimes rip when they're stretched too much. This means they have to be very careful when moving.

Dani got most of their scars from one 'incident'. At that time they froze themselves and jumped down a high building. As soon as they hit the ground, they practically exploded everywhere due to the freezing. The scars just appeared after being stitched together and revived.

Their black hair goes down to their chin and their bangs cover their dark blue eyes and parts of their 'puppet' skin.

Dani mostly wears big sweaters(with kitties on them) and long skirts. They'll wear pants sometimes too, but they like skirts more.

Friend and other Relations

Their father and mother's relationship never was good to begin with. To solve this, they made Dani. But spoiler alert; their relationship got worse and it ended with Dani's father, Alexander Destora; cheating on Dani's mother, Jasmine Destora Reitner. The fight they had after that, lead to Dani's first suicide. They divorced shortly after their death. Dani mostly lives with their father(who they can't stand). Only in the holidays they get to live with their mother.

Dani's first friend was either Lou(18 years), or Ellie(17 years). They can't really remember. They're in a 'extroverted adopted introverted' relationship with both of them. The only difference is that Ellie sees them as a friend; and Lou sees them as an adopted child.

They accidentally called Gloria(19 years) 'mom' once. Dani appretiates the woman and likes her cooking and kindness. She helped them through some mental breakdowns and panic attacks.

Dani's friendship with Sally(18 years) is kind of like the friendship between two cats. They appreciate eachother. When they're spending time together, they're mostly just reading something in the same room. They don't really interact when spending time together.

They started being friends with Azrael to piss off their father, but after a while, a real friendship formed. This friendship eventually turned into a romantic relationship. They're both really cuddly in private. Sometimes Dani just sits on Azrael's lap while they themselves are half asleep and their partner is working on something.

slight nsfw/suggestive stuff coming up, just don't read that if you're uncomfortable with that

They like being tied down and dominated. Maybe even a bit degraded. If someone calls them slut or hoe though, it's a major turn off, even if it's dirty talk.

[musesbykai]

@wardogxicarus replied:

"Gloria shifted her weight from one foot to the other and back, visibly unsettled by the answer. “I still feel.. human, though.” There was a pause. “Do you really think I’d become a traitor to MECH?” Her tone signaled just how much their last interaction weighed on her mind."

-

Godzilla sat in thought, claw even going up to his chin to think. "No. I must admit, my own anger towards Rodan's previous actions fuelled that statement rather than truth. While you do have his DNA, you have your own mind and you are capable of making your own decisions." He gave her a smile in an attempt to reassure her that those were his true thoughts.

[pinacoladassmau]

27 🍹

Stede finished the tie, knotting it gently across Ed’s collarbone, before stepping back to admire his handiwork.

“There you go. Like I said, you wear it well.”

Ed’s fingers traced over the meticulous folds and lines of the silk. “Am I a fancyman too, now?” He asked.

“I think you might be.” Stede mused, his hand moving to rest on his chin; a place it didn’t stay for long as a woman joined them by the bar, sidling up to Stede’s side.

She was a small, petite thing; with blunt cut bangs, chocolate hair and a pointed but not unkind stare. Ed would have described her as a swan or a gazelle, yet there was a quiet intensity that didn’t suit either. Next to Stede’s ridiculous get up, her baby blue dress looked particularly understated; accessorised only by a simple brown belt cinched at the waist and-

And Stede’s hand. Stede’s hand on her hip.

Ed’s heart dropped in an instant; the electric, intoxicating feeling of Stede’s touch evaporating immediately as his mouth went dry and his head buzzed painfully and his body grew cold.

“You must be Edward,” She smiled politely, nestling into Stede like she belonged there (Ed supposed she did) “I’ve heard all about you.” And I’ve heard nothing about you, Ed thought, bitterly (hating that he was so). The silence that followed was thick, palpable; so dense one could have cut it with a knife.

When Ed continued to say nothing, Stede jumped in, attempting to salvage the interaction.

“Yes! Mary, this is Ed.” Stede introduced, gesturing towards him. Ed. God he felt sick. Hadn’t he been happy a minute ago? “Edward, this is my wife, Mary.” His hand moved gently to the small of her back, and Ed wanted to scream and scream and scream.

Wife.

Maybe he wanted to cry instead; to fall to his knees and sob and weep like a small, mewling child.

Wife.

Or maybe he’d fling himself into the roiling, unforgiving Pacific Ocean, letting the sea salt and brine and waves wash away the hollow, unjust ache that had found a new, tender, wounding home inside his naive chest.

Wife.

God, he’d do anything, anything if it meant not feeling like this.

Ed had never wanted an old fashioned more in his life.

Stede Bonnet had a wife.

Of course he was fucking married.

“You work together, right?” Mary asked, as though nothing was wrong. As though she hadn’t unwittingly shattered Ed into a million tiny fractured pieces. As though she hadn’t stepped on his rose coloured glasses as soon as she’d arrived, pressing against Stede in all the ways Ed craved, but now understood he’d never have.

“Um, kinda. Work adjacent to each other, I guess.” Ed said tersely, not entirely sure how he was grinding out any words at all.

“And you made the cake? It looks lovely.”

“No, I- my friend Roach made it. Should check him out if you’re ever in Compton, he owns a bakery. Not that you’d ever be in Compton- Would you excuse me?” Ed asked, releasing himself from this hellish conversation of small talk and unspoken truths, walking off without waiting for a response.

—-

Stede found Edward sometime later, hiding away in his study, perusing his impressive library-esque collection of books as Ed returned his copy of The Beautiful and the Damned. “Two souls are sometimes created together���and in love before they're born” Gloria had said. It settled over Ed with a great, heavy melancholy; a once sweet, sentimental quote turned bitter and ashy on his tongue. Was Mary that for Stede? Were they in love, before they were born?

“There you are!” Stede exclaimed, half-breathless, half-relieved as hell entered the room. Ed didn’t look away from the bookcase.

“Here I am.” He said numbly.

“Are you okay?” Stede joined him, his soft warmth radiating beside him. Ed hated the gentle care in his voice. How could one man be so considerate and inconsiderate all at once?

“Yeah. Needed a breather. ‘M just not good at these things, man.” Ed half-lied; dancing, flitting around the truth. “You didn’t tell me you had a wife.” He tacked on, trying to sound as casual and noncommittal as possible.

“I- it never came up.”

“I know your favourite colour is blue but your wife didn’t come up?” Ed laughed, an empty, vacant laugh.

Stede was quiet. Ed could feel him fidgeting nervously next to him, wringing his hands like wet cloth.

“I was… afraid.” That was…not the answer he was expecting. “We got married so young. Basically as soon as we graduated. I suppose I never mentioned it, because I didn’t want you to think less of me. For having a highschool sweetheart shotgun wedding.”

Ed turned to him, and fuck was that a mistake. Stede looked so devastatingly soft, and so devastatingly unsure.

“What part of me makes you think I’d ever judge you, Stede?” He asked, brows furrowing.

“I- god, you’re right. I’m sorry Edward, you’re lovely, of course you wouldn’t have- I should have known-” Edward ignored the lovely and held up a hand to stop Stede’s apologetic rambling.

“It’s fine, mate. Caught me off guard is all.” Ed lied and Stede’s shoulders visibly relaxed.

—-

Ed spent what felt like an extended eternity in that study, surrounded by Stede and Stede’s things and Stede’s books. But he had to rejoin reality eventually, so he slunk out of the room many many minutes after Stede had exited to host his own party; careful to the outskirts of the already former social circles.

He had no desire to join any conversations, but the talk he overheard was interesting enough.

“ Did you hear about the embezzlement? How pedestrian. ”

“ I heard a rumor that he was sleeping with his second cousin. His cousin! Could you imagine?”

“ You simply have to visit France in the Winter. It’s divine. Never did quite develop a taste for snail, though.”

“You’re positively glowly. When are you due? Not that you’re showing my dear!”

“ November. A thanksgiving baby, if all goes well.” It was Mary’s voice, pleasant and polite and gracious. She smiled courteously at an older woman, nursing a chilled glass of water— no wine, no liquor, no cocktails, not with a child on the way.

Ed wasn’t sure what he’d expected. That’s what married couples did, right? Buy a home, build a family. Fancyman was as nuclear as they came, it should have been no surprise that he’d want the traditional perfect job, perfect house, perfect 2.5 kids. And yet— it still stung.

Fuck did sting; a thousand tiny wounds eating, chipping, slicing away at Ed’s heart. A heart he had thought had found love. But, as he was learning, it was a tainted and dark and painful kind of love. An unrequited kind of love. A dangerous kind of love.

And still, Ed couldn’t bear to let it go.

Even if-

Stede Bonnet’s wife was pregnant.

Start here 🍹

[elegancefandoms]

“If getting sent to juvie taught me anything, it’s that you should never trust a man. Even if they claim they care.” Gloria said with a shrug. Maybe she was being cynical, but she had learned in the last couple of years that life wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. “That and you need to look out for yourself. Because nobody else will.” 

[a-more-delicious-happiness]

Hi! I’d like to know more about Alajandra. Do you have a bio for them?

Hey! Well, I haven't yet written a bio for Ala yet, but I could start drafting one here. Thank you for the motivation ^_^. I would be keen to know about your MC if you play as well :)

Name: Alajandra Gloria Astroza Roxburgh (Alex to her friends, Ala to Merula - in the quiet private moments as their friendship -> relationship develops)

Heritage: Mapache Chilean (Maternal), Scottish (Paternal)

Gender identity: On the feminine side of non-binary (she/they)

Sexuality: Bisexual, but prefers women

Birth date: July 23 1973 (on the cusp of Cancer/Leo)

Blood-status: Pure-blood

Current residence: Inverness, Scotland

Wand: Hornbeam, dragon heart-string, eleven-inches, inflexible.

Animagus: Condor

Patronus: Kelpie

Appearance:

Height: 1.63m (5 foot 4)

Weight: 75-80kg~

Build: Medium, broad shoulders, masculine build with a feminine curves on the hips.

Face: Strong jawline, square chin with dimple, heart-shaped face, medium nose with a small bump on the bridge, high cheekbones, smooth, generally unblemished. Full dimple on left side of her mouth, half dimple on right side of her mouth. Bow-shaped lips, bottom lip is slightly fuller than the top lip.

Eyes: Protruding shape, dark chocolate brown. Sharp, fierce eyebrows with a strong arc.

Makeup: She only wears a little purple eye shadow. Subtle black eyeliner. Some concealer under her eyes from long nights. Some bronze contouring around her jawline.

Hair: Short, semi-curly mane with a cowlick, just above shoulder length (think Prince Henry's hair in Ever After). Jet black hair with copper/caramel balayage. Block sideburns to just below her earlobe.

Complexion: Olive, red-based tan.

Tattoos:

Left chest: "To be the love of my own life...", Collarbones: "I don't say this lightly, so don't take this lightly...",

Left shoulder/bicep: Lion geometric stencil (red/orange colouring) with a crab as a crown (blue/purple colouring),

Left foot: "It's not what you've lost, but it's what you find" (she get's this in her fifth year while still hunting for Jacob but finds such solace with her friends, and unexpected yet unspoken sparkles in some of her interactions with Merula)

Jewellery:

Hands: A ruby and diamond gold ring and Claddagh gold ring on the left middle and index fingers. Two thin gold bands on the right ring finger. Flower and gold leaf resin ring on right index finger.

Piercings: Ears - gold dagger on left ear, and thick gold loop in right ear. Gold industrial on left ear. Gold helix on right ear. Diamond square stud on left nostril, gold ring on right nostril.

Dream Profession: Magi-archeologist (Druidic, Incan, Andean, Egyptian ruins) or Potioneer

Hogwarts information:

House: Hufflepuff

Top O.W.L Classes: Potions, Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures and History of Magic (she is more a lover than a fighter and these subjects come more naturally to her, but she will get much better at DADA and charms in her later Hogwarts years).

Favourite professor: Professor Sprout, but a deep adoration for Professor McGonagall

Dormitory: Between Rowan's and Tonk's bunks. Giant squid soft toy on the bed. Small cabinet of potions ingredients and a mortar and pestle. Lino prints of Egyptian symbols (done herself) on the walls above her bed.

Glass jewellery case of earrings and necklaces...with a small box with a delicate silver necklace, a jaguar with obsidian spots and emerald eyes, enchanted to sparkle - she doesn't know why has has it...but she saw it one day on a school trip to Hogsmeade, in a little antique store...and in a flash she saw it in her minds eye sitting on the ivory collarbones of a certain Slytherin. She bought it on impulse, but hasn't worked up the courage to give it to...to 'rula.

Extra-curricular interests: Piano, Egyptian mythology, tarot, geology.

Family:

Brother: Jacob William Astroza-Roxburgh

Birthday: 23 April 1964 (Taurus...and uncommonly trouble-making for a Taurus).

Other family: Gloria Maria Astroza (mother, healer), William Jacob Cinead Roxburgh (father, historian), Maria Eugenia Coloma (maternal abuela, Machi, Maphuche shaman), Alexander Rory William Roxburgh (paternal grandfather)

[daisydevorak]

I’m skipping ocs but this one has my heart in a fucking vice grip. Meet Arthas! He’s the palace’s handyman and hates people. [More infos + shirtless version under the cut. OH, and he’s a werewolf >:3c]

Full Name: Arthas 'Belladonna' Stewart  Nickname: "Please don't" Age: 32 Birthday: August 26th (Virgo)  Gender/Pronouns: he/him Sexuality: Considers himself a questioning straight man but is still very curious, never bedded another man before but wouldn't be against it.  Race: Human/werewolf Height: 7'0 in human form, 8'0 in werewolf form Physical Description: Arthas is quite the imposing sight atop his 7 feet height, and his icy gaze is quite intimidating when he's staring back at you. His brown hair gets paler towards the tip, shaved hair at the back, wavy rat tail kept shoulder blade length with longer, curly hair at the top. His left arm is completely missing, leaving a large and extremely visible scar behind, with some others around it. One scar adorns the left side of his neck and another one marks his jaw. Arthas is on the heavier side of body hair, but not to the point of being considered a "bear", and he keeps his face well shaved except his chin. His piercings counts a vertical labret, ⅝ inch ear plugs, nose bridge, tongue, septum, nipples and a prince Albert, all surgical steel. He's large, bulky and on the muscular side. His werewolf form is the same color as his hair with a white underbelly and long pointy ears. He still has his piercings and missing arm, but grows to be 8 feet tall and his sclera becomes black.  Personality: Arthas is a lone wolf by choice and preference, values animals' and nature's companionship over human interaction, and when forced to socialize, he comes off as grumpy and unapproachable. He isn't scared to tell you the harsh truth without regrets so you leave him alone and absolutely *despise* being restrained and/or controlled. But Arthas wasn't always like this; younger, he was very popular amongst his friends and family, always being the center of the attention, now he shys away from it at all cost, hermiting himself away from prying eyes. When you get to know him better and he grows fond of you, however, he becomes much softer and kinder, much like when he's with his animals, but this wall is hard to get through and would require a lot of work, effort and patience to win over his temperament. 

Favorite Drink: Freshly sourced water Favorite Food: Deer tenderloins, cooked rare Favorite Flower: Belladonna

Other Bits: Arthas can shift in his werewolf form at will, at any time of the day. When a full moon approaches, he becomes more agitated and impatient but still has full control on himself. His full moon transformation is painful, and once a werewolf (during the full moon) he's a bit more aggressive than normal, but again has total control over himself. He will occasionally get random ghost pain in his left arm, but you'll never guess because he hides his pain and torments very well behind that cold and grumpy mask of his.  Magical Abilities: None Familiar/Pets: A pet rat named Guss and a few other wild animals that keeps him company sometimes.  Patron Arcana: The Hermit Canon LI: -  Voice Claim (Optional): Strix from Paladins

Brief History: Arthas was born and raised in the small village of Sarpor, located next to the larger city Vesuvia. It was a poor little village that focused on hunting and gathering to fend for their needs, the count too selfish to come to their aid both protection wise and monetary wise. For years, Arthas helped take care of his family since his father died at a very young age, leaving him, his siblings and his mother behind. Being the eldest of six and without a father figure, he was the one to take on that role and provide parental care to his brothers Ludwick, Marth and Kurt, and his baby sisters Monika and Gloria, helping his mother with finances by working multiple jobs at the same time. Because of that, Arthas developed skills in many domains, thus making him very popular and respected throughout the village. Everybody knew his name and everyone knew they could count on him. Life was hard and harsh but it was still his prized, tranquil life… Until a werewolf was spotted near the village's outskirts, threatening to attack them. Everything happened too quickly that day; he was working on repairing his neighbor's fence, hammering down nails in the wood, until his left arm was caught as he was swinging the hammer down. Blood started pouring from the werewolf's jaw as it's teeth ripped through his flesh, tearing muscles and tendons away until his arm gave up at the shoulder joint. The beast was, in fact, already deeply wounded by the village's hunters and was ran after by a couple of them, but they couldn't do anything about the attack except trying to kill it as it was chomping down on Arthas' arm, causing it's blood to enter the gaping wound left behind and turn him into a werewolf. Merely a few days later, his scar was already closed because of his new werewolf blood, but this came with a price; every full moon, he transformed in the same creature that attacked him (and survived). First thing he did was to exile himself from his village, reluctantly abandoning his family behind and giving the family's responsibility to the second eldest son, Kurt, but it was for the best. And everyday, he taught himself how to control the beast inside of him, teaching himself how to sync with it, think like it and be one with it. Arthas became a solitary man in the process, a hermit if you will. But even if he wanted to stay alone in the woods, he still had to make a living, he still needed to work, he couldn't leave his jack-of-all-trades skill perish and go to waste. So instead, he decided to become the Palace's handyman even though he despises nobles, keeping himself away from people and working with them only when he needs to. 

Extended History (Optional): TBA

[andromedarune]

Bede x Hop Request:“Just Desserts” (p2)

REQUEST ~ “I have one, it’s a hop x bede where bede feels bad for being mean to hop, but is too scared of apologizing to him in fear of rejection. Due to his past at the orphanage and his overall fear of being left alone again. So he decides to send homemade desserts to hop with secret messages ,anonymously . Hop Figures it out when the desserts stop coming after bede gets sick badly ( maybe a bad fever from exhaustion, anything that stops him from baking will do). You can include opal or the other gym leaders teasing hop on who could be sending the treats. I hope this is okay.”

A/N: Alright, here’s the conclusion to my mini-fic requested to me earlier in the week! I definitely got carried away with the prompt, but I really wanted to nail the emotions being presented here (because there are A LOT). Not sure if I accomplished that, or much else, tbh... Oh well! Give it a read anyway and hopefully it’s decent? Thank you!

It’s hard to really say that his work could possibly follow a routine. There were the basic things that always remained the same, of course; he’d wake up a seven in the morning every day, feed Dubwool before he started eating his bedsheets, do whatever morning chores his mother had waiting for him, head to the lab, basically become free slave labor for Sonia for the next eight or so hours, come home to a few more chores, then pass out on the couch while working on some papers before magically waking up the next morning in his bedroom. That was probably the closest thing to a routine he’s ever had, all things considered. But Hop never really minded the idea of a routine or the lack thereof; so long as he got to have some fun at some point, he didn’t mind. And it was safe to say that being the new professor’s assistant was far from what he would consider a boring life.

But he wasn’t sure how he felt about getting comfortable with someone constantly leaving lovely gifts for him every single week.

The first one came in, leaving the assistant incredibly puzzled. It wasn’t anybody’s birthday, here, so that idea was dashed. Maybe Leon brought it for Sonia? Hop shook his head; he wasn’t so quick to assume something like that, especially since Leon had never mentioned anything about giving Sonia presents beforehand. Nevertheless, the youth brought his findings to his boss, who was equally as perplexed as him. So the two opened up the box as well as the letter. A beautiful cake, and an eloquent letter apparently dedicated to Hop. Now that was a plot-twist.

“Someone’s got a secret admirer~,” Sonia nudged his shoulder, still giggling at the way he was completely frozen in a state of perpetual embarrassment. Maybe he should have investigated on his own before bringing it to Sonia.

“D-definitely not!” Hop finally found his words, wincing at his voice crack. He thought he had enough of that when his voice started changing. Apparently it wasn’t done with him.

“Oh yeah? What did that letter say? Something about the ‘brilliant radiance of determination reflecting like the sun in your eyes’?”

“Sonia, please,” Hop slapped his hands over his face.

She laughed some more, giving him a good pat on the back.

“Relax - there’s nothing wrong with having a secret admirer. It’s actually really sweet and adorable.” She picked up the letter, flipping it around a few times in her hands. “Though, they didn’t seem to leave a name. Any ideas on who it might be?”

“No clue. I honestly didn’t think that anybody’d actually think of me like that…”

“What? Of course they do! You’re a total catch, Hop - not for me though, ‘cause that’s gross.”

“Yeah, gross,” Hop finally laughed, lowering his hands to inspect the cake a bit. It really did look good. Chocolate cake was always delicious. “So, should we eat this now or…?”

“Who, me? No way - this is your secret admirer. You eat it.”

Before Hop could argue, Sonia sashayed out of the room, snatching up some of the documents she had brought into the room. Once she was gone, the boy simply sighed, glancing back down at the cake. Well, best not let it go to waste. He sat himself down, skimming over the letter a few more times. Who in the world could it be?

A week went by, and he had forgotten about the letter and cake. But they, apparently, did now forget about him.

“Another?” he blushed down at the box on the ground. He didn’t even need to look inside to know what it was. Hop looked around, hoping to find a sign of somebody around the entrance to the lab. Nothing but Rookidees. He sighed, kneeling down to pick up the gift. I don’t even know if Lee gets stuff like this, he thought to himself, pulling the simple envelope up to investigate. Maybe they left a clue this time…

But, just like before, there was no discernable way to figure out the identity of the mysterious benefactor. He opted to hide from Sonia’s teasing, hiding himself up in one of the numerous study rooms that the main laboratory had to offer. The letter was similar to before; beautifully crafted words of admiration, noting the many qualities of the assistant that he hardly noticed himself. He could note, though, a strange familiarity in the writing. ‘I had never known shame until I saw myself in your teary eyes.’ So obviously they knew each other - unless this was all metaphorical. Hop was never good at metaphorical writing. But Hop didn’t exactly interact with a lot of people, these days. He’d occasionally get to hang out with Gloria if she had time off; maybe it was her? He shook his head at that. The girl wouldn’t know bashful if it hit her in the face. A shy confession like this definitely wasn’t her style. Maybe Marnie. He hoped not. They never really spoke to each other, even during the gym challenge, but that was mainly because Hop wasn’t sure if he was more scared of her or her brother. But fancy homemade cakes didn’t really fit her style, either, so that was out. Who else did he know?

Not really anybody else. He sighed, skimming through the letter a few times more before resigning to just eat the cake and return to work. It was, unfortunately, amazingly delicious. Better than even the fancy cakes up in Wyndon. Whoever this person was, they really knew how to bake; Hop just wished he could finally figure it out so he could thank them or something. Do you even thank secret admirers? How does all this stuff work out? Definitely too much for him to figure out.

Four weeks later, and it became an unfortunate addition to his routine. Friday would roll around, and Hop would eagerly rush through his work without even noticing. Sometimes Sonia would comment, other times, she’d just wink and saunter off. Hop tried not to think about it too much - anticipation really did get annoying, even for him - so he sought to busy his mind with work until the time came upon him.

The clock ticked on, and so did the day. Before he knew it, the sun was setting, the whistle of the tea kettle from the kitchen signalling the end of his shift. Sonia called him over to join her for some tea, usually her way of saying thanks for all his hard work. He had barely walked into the room when Sonia leaned onto the kitchen table, curious eyes searching for some juicy gossip from his own golden irises.

“So, I noticed that we didn’t get any… special deliveries today.”

Hop blinked.

“Huh, so that’s what felt off today,” he tried to say, hoping that he could save face just a little bit.

“So? Does that mean that you’ve figured out who they are?”

The teenage boy grimaced, running a hand across the nape of his neck. It was a little sore today; maybe he slept wrong?

“Uh, well, uh… not really.”

“Huh?” Sonia slapped the table. Oh no, it’s happening - she’s getting worked up over something that doesn’t involve her again. “You’re serious?! Your secret lover didn’t send you a gift today and you don’t know why?!”

“W-well, th-they’re, uh, not really, um - we’re not -”

“Hop this is serious!” she lunged for him, grabbing his shoulders. “This person has faithfully been leaving you sweet gifts every Friday for over a month, now, and just magically stops doing it out of nowhere?!”

“Maybe… they forgot?”

“TRUE LOVE DOESN’T FORGET, HOP!”

This lady really needs to lay off the chick-flicks. But Hop had learned the hard way never to point out stuff like that when Sonia was in one of her manic moods.

“S-sure it doesn’t…” he tried not to sound creeped out.

Sonia sighed, putting her hands on her hips as she sent him a sassy pout.

“I’ve seen this in a show once - the person with unrequited feelings reaches out in their own way to their crush, but then something bad happens to them, so the crush has to be the one to help them.”

“I don’t think that’s what happens in real life -” Sonia shot him another look and he promptly shut up.

“Yes, of course!” she smiled, ignoring Hop’s previous comment entirely. “You have to find out who your secret admirer is quickly or else something terrible might happen to them - if it already hasn’t! Maybe they’ve been hit by a car! Or were kidnapped! Or are terminally ill and only your love can save them!”

“How are you a nationally-acclaimed pokemon professor?” he muttered under his breath.

“It’s settled then - here’s your mission, Assistant Hop! Figure out who can bake a cake like that, and you’ll find your true love! Easy, right?”

Hop nodded, not really understanding what she was saying, but was desperate enough to just lie to escape her nonsense. She was probably just overexaggerating like always, but he also didn’t want this mysterious person to be hurt. Maybe something did happen to interrupt the once steady flow of kind words and delicious foods? And thus began his search.

As terrible as it felt, the first person Hop went to was Leon. His big brother no doubt had handled situations like this before, so Hop swallowed his pride and approached his brother on the subject. Once he finally got Leon to stop laughing, he explained the whole situation from start to finish.

“Well,” Leon stroked his chin, at least pretending to seem semi-serious, “I don’t think I personally know any high-caliber bakers. But if I’m remembering things correctly, I think Opal is said to have legendary baking skills that practically nobody can compare to.”

Hop grimaced, but Leon quickly waved his hands before his brother full-on threw up everywhere at the thought of Opal being his secret admirer.

“No, no, no! I’m not saying she’s the one sending them - I’m just wondering if she taught the person who’s sending them.”

Hop leaned back a bit, trying to think. He didn’t really know too much about Ms. Opal (other than that she was an eccentric rich lady at an unknown age who seems to enjoy dressing people in bright shades of pink). But if there was a chance that she knew the identity of his mysterious benefactor, then he was willing to investigate a bit further. He opened his mouth to thank his brother, but a dark scowl suddenly flashed over his features. Leon blinked.

“Uh… everything alright there?”

“I just remembered,” Hop growled, “that if I want to even get close to Opal, then I’ll have to see that jerk again.”

“Who, Bede? Like I’ve said a thousand times, don’t worry too much about him. I hear he’s really mellowed out these days. Maybe all that pink finally seeped into his brain.”

Hop scoffed, but otherwise kept all his venomous comments at bay. He thanked his brother for the help and hurried out the door, making his way towards Ballonlea.

Ballonlea was always a difficult place to get to. A big contributor to that issue was due to Glimtangle Forest, which was basically a mystical maze that had posed as a major threat to countless gym challengers as well as general travellers for years. This is why most people opt for a flying taxi whenever they need to get to the city, but even then, some mystical fairy nonsense occasionally will cause a detour for whatever poor soul happened to be flying over the forest. Thankfully for Hop, this wasn’t the case, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t nervously twiddling his thumbs at the apprehension of having to navigate that nonsensical forest when in such a hurry.

He jumped out of the taxi, offering a berry to the Corviknight before making his normal dash for one of the most ornate buildings in the quaint town. It wasn’t hard to find Ms. Opal’s house when it was so amazingly decorated - it was borderline gaudy with the amount of pinks and purples passionately strewn about the house’s complex design. He wasted no time, bounding up the fancy front steps, grabbing the old-fashioned door knocker, and knocked. A few breaths passed him by as he shoved his sweaty hands into his pockets. What was he even nervous for?

After a couple of moments, the door opened, revealing the ever intimidating Ms. Opal, the now retired fairy-type gym leader of Ballonlea.

“Well, if this isn’t a… pleasant surprise,” she smirked, seeming almost deviously pleased in the teen’s awkwardness. “Running errands for the professor today, hm?”

“A-actually, I, um….” Hop took a deep breath and gathered his resolve. “I’m actually here to ask you something.”

She nodded, tapping the ground a couple times with her cane.

“Of course you are. Come inside, then.”

Before the assistant could protest, the elderly woman was already shuffling away deeper into the depths of the house. Hop could only sigh as he followed behind her. It was painfully frustrating; she took tiny steps and dragged her feet along the somehow pristine wooden floors, so Hop had to take the world’s slowest pace at the constant protest of his long legs. But over the course of a year, he’d managed to attain some semblance of calm, deciding that it would be best if he didn’t complain too much around the person he was seeking assistance from. Once he got the information he wanted, he could run around to his little heart’s content.

Eventually, Ms. Opal halted just before a beautiful white staircase, spiraling all the way up into the rather tall ceiling above.

“So, tell me,” she mused through sharp, invasive eyes, “what was it you were hoping to ask of me?”

“I… was curious to know if, um… Well, uh… if you happened to have any knowledge in baking. L-like, y’know, a cake, or something…”

Opal’s eyebrows twitched upwards just a centimeter. She brought a hand to her chin in dramatic thought.

“In my earlier days, I was quite proficient at it. But I don’t bake nearly as much as I used to.”

“Then… is there, um, a chance that you might have taught someone how to bake like you?”

She paused, staring intently at the boy with an amused expression. Hop was beginning to wonder if he really wanted the answer to this question. Before he could make up his mind to flee, she let out a small chuckle.

“Ah, but of course. My protege has been trained in everything I know how to teach. Head up these stairs and you’ll find your secret admirer.”

A stone of dread sank into the depths of his gut. Maybe Ms. Opal had more apprentices? It definitely couldn’t be the person he was thinking it was, right? No, that would be silly - impossible, even. But there seemed to be no turning back now. Hop swallowed his fears and slowly began his way up the stairs, trying to ignore the apprehensions racing through his fingertips.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Bede rolled onto his other side, desperate to find a position that made existence a little less agonizing. A dreadful fever had overtaken his body, unrelenting in its rage for the past four days, leaving the normally active youth bedridden the entire time. Hatterene was on nursing duty, constantly checking her trainer’s temperature and switching out his face towel in an attempt to ease the fever. Sylveon was stubbornly nestled under the covers, desperate to get as close to his body as physically possible. Not like Bede could really scold it even if he wanted to; he didn’t want to waste his energy on pointless yelling. So, he reluctantly stayed in bed, allowing his devoted pokemon to care for him while he waited for his body to recover. But a knock on the door earned a frustrated grown from him.

“What?” he hissed, trying to speak through a throat chalked full of phlegm. Hatterene nudged his shoulder, reminding him to watch his emotions. She was a sensitive thing, that Hatterene. Bede sat up, watching the door open and fully expecting to get an earful from that old woman again. So it’s safe to say that his heart entirely stopped when he saw Hop sheepishly shuffle in, wringing his hands nervously before his chest.

This… this couldn’t really be happening, right? No - he must be dreaming. Yes, that’s it. This was just a fever-induced nightmare. Bede would wake up in a moment’s notice and be in his bed once more, alone with only the company of his pokemon to rely on, just like always. Just like always. Just like always.

“Um…” Hop kept his eyes on the ground, brows knitted tightly together. Bede wasn’t sure if the boy was frustrated, sad, or confused. It all just looked like a blur of emotions constantly shifting across the assistant’s tan face. “... It’s… been a while.”

Bede opened his mouth with full intent to say words, but none dared to come to fruition. So he closed his mouth, pushing his aching body up to his elbows. How pathetic he felt right now, sick in bed with this person who confused him so annoying bad being unable to look at him. Maybe it would be best if Hop just left. At least then Bede would be familiar with the feelings in his chest. He didn’t know what he was feeling right now.

“So…” Hop cleared his throat, attempting to meet Bede’s eyes, but quickly looked off to the side. “I… I just wanted to ask if… if you’re… um…”

The light-haired boy felt a bead of sweat tumble down his brow. Surely it was from the heat of the fever, right? No way was he this nervous. No, no, Bede always kept his cool. Especially when beign confronted by the person he sort of kinda maybe almost possibly liked. Not that he did, anyway. Because that would be stupid. And Bede definitely wasn’t stupid. Right?

Hop sucked in a sharp breath of air, balling his hands into fists as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Are you the person who’s been sending me those gifts?” he threw the words out, trying to ignore his own flurry of conflicting emotions going through him at the moment. He didn’t know how to feel about either possible answer. Could he be happy with either one?

The intensity in the air rose a few degrees, making every breath laborious. Bede glanced towards Hatterene for some sort of support - he didn’t really know why he did. She smiled back at him, cooing a few unintelligible sounds.

Well, by the gym leader’s logic, if Hop was destined to abandon him like everybody else, then it really didn’t matter if he knew the truth, then, right? It didn’t matter of Hop found out this terribly dreadful secret Bede’s been carrying with him for over a year. According to the assistant, Bede was still Bede. Cold. Egotistical. Conniving. After everything that had happened, it was ridiculous to hope that Hop could ever forgive Bede, and nobody could blame him. And even if he could, it wouldn’t last. No, Bede would surely find some way to screw things up, or wouldn’t be enough to make Hop happy in any condition. Hop would leave, and eventually Ms. Opal will leave, just like the chairman and his foster parents and his parents that never came back and

“So what if I am?” the words hissed past his lips, far more venomous than he meant. Oh well. It didn’t matter. The outcome would be the same, anyways.

Hop flinched back a bit at the sharpness of the other boy’s words, but his conflicted expression remained stable. Once he collected himself, he took another deep breath. Slower, this time, as if to savor the taste of oxygen flowing through his lungs.

“Why?”

A painfully simple question. Remarkably, it was also one Bede hadn’t really expected. He really should have thought this through.

Why did he bake those cakes? Why did he write those letters? Why did he send them to Hop? Why did he feel this way? Why, why, why?

It eventually became obvious that Hop wasn’t going to hear a response. Bede had opted to glaring holes into his duvet, fingers tangling themselves within the fluffy pink fabric. Ah, pink, the color of so many things: sweetness, innocent attraction, adoration, and - evidently - embarrassment. There was no way to hide such a shade from the plush of his cheeks. How bothersome.

“... Did you really mean what you said in those letters?”

Bede looked back over at Hop for the briefest of moments, and immediately wished that he hadn’t. Much confliction remained, but there was something else there, now, amid the tempest of clashing feelings depicted on the teen’s face. Perhaps Bede really was having a fever dream. No way there was actually a bit of hopefulness in Hop’s eyes.

Maybe that’s what pulled out a strange sentence from Bede’s mouth.

“Every word.”

Hop shied his gaze away, seeming a bit more bashful as he rubbed the nape of his neck. Now Bede was really confident that he was the color of embarrassment. Maybe a bit too red though. The assistant stuttered an awkward laugh, trying to ease the thickness of the air while Bede shifted a bit more upright. Sylveon didn’t appreciate that motion, evidently, and crawled onto it’s trainer’s lap. Instinctively, Bede ran his fingers through the creature’s fur, desperate to distract himself from his non-fever related warmth. He looked back over to Hop, who seemed to still be processing the gravity of those words, and another sentence slipped out without Bede’s permission.

“Are you going to leave?”

Hop met his gaze, surprised.

“What?”

Bede took a small breath, losing just the smallest smidge of confidence in his words as he took the initiative to repeat them.

“... I said, are you going to leave?”

“Do you want me to?”

Here it was. The moment he had been unknowingly dreading. If he says yes, then Hop will no doubt walk away forever, and Bede would be back in his element of loneliness. Or, he says no, and takes a risk he never expected to take willingly. He would be clueless, a Magicarp out of water, left with nothing to keep himself steady but the hope that Hop would guide him through the confusion. Could he really take that chance?

“... No.”

Bede couldn’t keep his eyes on Hop. This was it, the deepest layer of his person; everything he was had been revealed in only a handful of words, leaving nothing but a fearful child afraid of being left behind by the people he loved. And now Hop could see the truth behind Bede’s every action and every word. This was blind faith in its simplest form, the gym leader unsure of what exactly he was hoping for.

“Okay.”

His eyes shot back up, genuine surprise (and a tinge of fear) written all over his flustered face. Hop stared back at him, hands shoved deep in his pockets with a curious expression on his face. What could that guy be thinking when he stared at Bede so intently?

“O-okay? Okay… what?” Bede’s voice died down syllable by syllable, reduced to nothing but a faint whisper by the end of it. Hop gave a timid smile. Perhaps a bit afraid, but a little hopeful, still. Such a strange expression on such a tender face.

“I’ll stay.”

[shame-cubed]

the fantassy au pile

I started this forever ago but haven’t made any progress in a long time. I’m trying to focus on Invitations, so, I’m projectile vomiting all my other ideas up here in an attempt to get them out of my head. I don’t know if it’s working. 

---

It's blacker than midnight in the thickness of forests, and comfortably silent, like footsteps on moss—until it's not.

"Once upon a time," Speaks a warbling voice, airy but grizzled with age, it boldly echoes from a loft unseen; then halts abruptly. 

"Oh, you know how it goes... Let's just cut to chase, now, shall we? I’m not getting any younger." The words seem to ring, punctuated with a croaking laugh that fades with the dark, all but banished by the flick of a switch just as invisible. 

Beaming spotlights glare from above and behind, settling upon weighty velvet curtains charmingly spring-like in colour. A cascading pair of blossoming pink and eggshell blue, upheld by tassels that shine, so similar, to the sparks of dust floating within the bright tracks dutifully illuminating those deep-seated wrinkles of fabric. They part like the seas of another tired tale, then ascend in a deliberately slow, undulating wave. This scalloping formation led by embroidered edges of taught, silver ropes; rises in a swell to unveil a stunning diorama of marbled brick, embellished with a labyrinth of vines, adorning a castle far too colossal to be merely a prop.

The mirage-like structure wavers and gleams, its pearly stonework reflecting the lights at a blinding intensity. Catching its sheen, the drifting filaments glitter akin to a powder snow; multiply, accumulate, and replace the fleeing shadows with a blizzard that stings the eyes. An avalanche of white soon packs every corner, amounting in heaps so infinitely immense and so overwhelmingly bleached, that it hurts. 

---

“Get back here yah dirty lil’ miscreant!” An ireful yell bellows overhead, followed by the hurried thudding of mud-caked boots barely held together by faded strips of leather. Their unkempt owner dips beneath the cloth-draped counter of a flimsy marketplace stall, slides along the dusty cobblestones, rolls into a crawl, then breaks into a long-legged sprint as he shoves through the clamorous mob of meandering bourgeois claiming their daily bread. 

“Someone stop that wretched lad!! The gangly imp! That swindling bastard!!” The fiery roar of expletives launched by his pursuer is gradually extinguished by the sheer distance between them. Keeping his pace as he rounds a corner, the boy glances over his shoulder for signs of the shopkeep, then, like whiplash, instantly jerks forward when his body makes sudden impact with a smaller one that he failed to notice ahead. Both parties fly backwards and hit the ground flat on their asses.

This obstacle of a girl, about his age, pushes her thick hair out of her eyes; a coal-black cut of jagged bangs, half-parted to the side, half-pinned back. Icy blue irises thin beneath their lids, not unlike the slight pout of her lips, revealing no emotion other than mild irritation. 

“Watch where yer goin.” Her voice is monotonous, flat as her expression, and rough with a linguistic bite he'd never heard before. Adorned with ink-dyed leathers and angular iconography only recognizable from a tapestry he once saw—evidently, she wasn't of local blood. 

He narrows his eyes back at her, frowns, but says nothing; choosing instead to break the stare-down by searching for the loot he'd dropped in their collision. Someone could still be after him, so he hasn't the time to waste on petty interactions with outsiders. The girl rights herself and peers into her pockets, then joins him in scanning the ground, appearing to have lost something of her own, too. 

A small satchel of coin lies near, and as he picks it up, he palms the weight to be sure none of the meager sum within has left its confines. He stashes it back into his fraying trousers, clambering to his knees as he plucks two bruised apples from the cobblestone that were to be his lunch and dinner. His grimace deepens, as his prime acquisition eludes his vision.

“Ah, there ya are, Morpeko.” 

Wary, the disheveled thief turns his head at the sound of an unfamiliar name spoken by this unfamiliar girl, and his violet eyes blow wide at the sight of a tri-coloured mouse clinging to the pilfered pastry he’d been searching for. 

"This fancy goodie yers?" She says with a hint of disbelief, gingerly lifting both the snack and its vermin passenger from the ground.

“It is, now get your disgusting rat away from my breakfast.”

---

One after the other, the group of squires pass row upon row of marble pillars as they follow Oleana into their King’s immense throne room. 

Bronze statues of elephants tower from each corner, splendidly engraved in a paisley motif, each gripping a gilded rose at the tip of their raised trunks. The metal behemoths point towards a convex roof, its dome intricately painted with the climax of an age-old fairy tale. Swirls of vibrant colour span the ceiling—red and blue brushstrokes establish the fluttering forms of twin princes in flamboyant outfits, sinking their swords deep into the hide of a dual-winged dragon. The villainous creature dwarfs the heroes in comparison; swathed in scales of white-gold, its prismatic eyes set with sizable gemstones that flicker in the candlelight, seeming to scrutinize the soon-to-be knights as they gather below.

---

His head hits stone as her full weight slams into him, eyes screwed shut in a pained wince. Slotted between his gorget and his chin, the cold metal of her blade grazes his throat with every shaky gasp and tentative swallow. She’s so close. There’s nothing between them but shells of armour; pulses racing beneath plates pressed together. Heaving against each other, breath short from their battle, he can feel her warmth bleeding into him. 

Held tight against the wall, steel kissing his neck; Bede decides he’s perfectly fine with dying if it’s by her hand. He resolves to gaze into her eyes like it’s his last chance, his best attempt at a smoldering stare—like in the novels he’s read—completely thrown out the window when her leg wedges itself between his thighs.

Gloria still manages to crack a grin at him despite the situation. ”Giving yourself up to me so easily, now?” Her smile is confident, or it was until a blush takes over her face, seeming to only realize the sort of words she’s speaking several moments after they’ve left her lips. It’s almost charming. 

“Just kill me, already.” Bede groans. Why did she have to resort to psychological torture? Was it not enough to defeat him? He’s pinned in place by her sword, subject to her whim... There's not much he can muster other than to let his eyes wander. He notes the sheen of sweat on her skin and knows quite factually that he isn’t in any better condition.

“You know I don’t want to do that.”

---

it ain’t much but it’s honest werk... maybe one of these days i’ll get my shit together aaaaa

[flyswhumpcenter]

Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me requests according to this marvelous card! (Red cross is the completed prompt, character headshots are prompts I’ve already filled. Green deltas are for requested prompts, which is none rn, as my inbox is empty.)

Sleep deprivation, written by someone who doesn't like being sleep-deprived.

This was a request I didn't expect to get, considering it's been literal months since I've gotten one (and longer since I've actually delivered on one... Sorry again, Hubert anon). Thanks for it, Nonnie! I hope you like what I'm delivering haha. We're in the last 5th of the card, which is insane considering it took me a year to complete my first. I've recently gone back to it because wowie kazoowie it's fandom frenzy season again and SwSh has hit full-force with "I want to see more whump of these characters and I'm sure as hell gonna provide it". Nonie's alternatives made me wanna write stuff about Milo now, ah.

As to the story itself, I decided to make it kinda angsty because what's the point of writing Bede if it ain't to write angst about this guy being abandoned twice and a half? It's a slight canon divergence on what actually happened, but y'know, fanfiction has this cool thing that is "ignoring canon if it starts being inconvenient to me". Also there's Opal because I love this fairy grandma with an obsession for pink and not wanting to be told she's 88-year-old. Hell yeah.

-----------

Journey Without a Destination

Summary: Keep going, keep going, for there is nothing to see when you are on a journey with no end. Without a point to his life and without a place to stay, Bede journeys day and night, finding some sort of refuge from himself in a forced spell of insomnia.

Fandom: Pokémon Sword & Shield (spoilers for up to the 6th Gym, slight canon divergence)

Wordcount: 1.6K words

Event hosted by @badthingshappenbingo​

AO3 version available here.

-------

Keep going, keep going, for there’s nothing to see here.

 Pointlessly wandering around the Wild Area, he has nowhere to go and nothing better to do than train and train until something happens or the sweet release of death arrives. There’s nobody for him to get back to, nothing for him to do, and no objective left for him to fulfil. Simply put, he’s stranded, alone with himself, with no Wishing Stars to collect and no Gym Challenge to complete now that he’s been stripped down from his endorsement and thrown away like mere garbage.

Nothing tastes the same, now. There is no pleasure in training when he knows he won’t be able to enter a stadium ever again, no spice to finding new creatures and see if they possibly match his team’s theme. There’s absolutely nothing but bitterness on his mind and salt to be spilled over the wounds he can’t be bothered to patch up, since there’s also no point in railing himself back up again.

And he supposes that’s his fault, in the end.

 It’d be easier to blame Gloria and all of her little friends; but as much as he’d like to believe that, it’s not the case and he knows it. She happened to be there, her and that redhaired pigtail woman that’s apparently making research on… whatever she’s making a research on. Thing is, Gloria wasn’t the one who went to get the Chairman, wasn’t the one who called on him: she was merely standing there, contemplating whatever ugly doodle some kid had left on that crumbling wall. That somehow upsets him even more.

There’s also very much no point to mentally ramble about that now. What’s done is done: he’s been disowned, left to rot, with nowhere to go and nothing to accomplish. He’s, by all means, useless and nothing more than a waste of oxygen and resources; and yet he can’t bring himself to just vanish. It’s like he wants to suffer just because disappearing now would make the people who betrayed him right and his only wish, right now, is to either get back at them or regain their trust. He’s not sure whether or not he’d even get affection back (or if he even got “affection” in the first place back there. Not like he’s had much of a model to base himself off).

 So, he’s been walking around, avoiding human interaction, with his sole source of social anything being his party. At least, as long as they’re his Pokemon, they won’t abandon him, right? Yeah. They’re always going to be together, between a rock and a hard place. Too bad they don’t seem to be able to tell him about their opinion on the matters at hand, because their telepathic abilities haven’t developed enough yet for that as far as he knows. Man, he wishes he’d be able to talk to them and get an answer instead of just throwing move names at them when he has to fight against the wild population and the couple Trainers dumb enough to fight him.

He still wrecks through their teams, but it has none of the flavour it used to have, and it ultimately only buys him some more money to spend on whatever he needs to continue fighting. Fighting for what other than futureless survival, he doesn’t know, and he doesn’t want to know.

 As such he’s been walking for days and days, seeing the same stones and weeds all the time, unaware of how long has actually gone buy. He has no ingredients to make curry for his team or himself, resorting to eating whatever he can manage to get his hands on, never settling camps because staying immobile means possibly dying out without having been able to avenge himself. If he stops, he may never resume his journey without a destination; so he never stops, always tries to keep himself busy, even if it means having as sole distractions his own breathing, the faraway cries from the creatures inhabiting the land and whatever the weather decides to throw at him while his team rests. Can’t fight for your life if you have nobody to fight alongside with.

(Pokemon are the only living beings that haven’t left him anyway).

 He’s tired. His feet hurt as soon as he takes a step forward or backward, tired of being pushed around when they have nowhere to go and nowhere to rest at. His hands hurt from the cold and almost-frostbite he develops when he crosses across the snowy areas, when he has to gather the balls of his fainted partners whenever he gets assaulted by something bigger than any of them are, tired of having to move and hold things when none of them have meaning or weight to bring to the table. His head hurts from the lack of rest and the tears he can’t always keep to himself, upsetting the Pokemon who haven’t fainted just yet.

Yet, even if he piles on fatigue like he’d put on clothes during the harsh winters, he refuses to sleep. It’d be letting his guard down from dangers coming from both the outside and the inside. It’d be being vulnerable during the downtimes in his tent to vandals and thieves, and during his sleep to nightmares about what’s to come and what could have been, what should have been. He doesn’t want to cry himself back to sleep when he could just ignore it all and simply walk.

 Life is simpler when you just walk, walk, walk all day and all night long so he tells himself the same song over and over again.

Keep going, keep going, for there is nothing to see when you are on a journey with no end.

 But, like everything, even he ends up abandoning himself and his feeble principles: before he realizes it, he’s heading to Hammerlocke yet again, feet heavy and eyelids heavier. His eyes have stung for the past day and night with sand, snow and exhaustion, his legs barely move anymore, his balance has been destroyed and buried. The voices in his head most likely don’t exist outside of it, plaguing his thoughts with things he didn’t need to hear.

His thoughts are too cloudy for him to even function properly anymore. He can’t remember how he got there, or why, even less what’s the point of it all. He doesn’t know which day of the week it is, or even which month. Climbing the stairs is painful and drains too much out of his energy, but he then remembers his party is almost fainted and he’s out of items to nurse them back to health, so he has to get up there and do something about it…

 He wants to fall asleep right here and there, on the steps, but he can’t.

Keep going, keep going, for there is nothing to see in the depths of a desperate soul in search for something it cannot find again.

He has to continue. For what, for who, how and why, all of that doesn’t matter anymore; he just needs to keep going. To keep going and never stop to think ever again.

 He supposes the lack of sleep starts getting to him when he can’t focus his eyes on anything in front of him, vision swimming and eyes bleary from the endeavour they’ve gone through until now. There may not be any torrential rain, sandstorms nor snowfalls in Hammerlocke, but there is the blinding sun that gives him a lethal headache and blinds him enough for him not to be able to tell where he’s setting foot anymore.

It’s no wonder he doesn’t manage to rise back up when he eventually tumbles, loses what’s left of his sense of balance and falls to the ground, scrapping his palms and knees, hitting his chin on the pavement, before everything turns fuzzy and dark. Maybe his destination-less journey has finally hit a stop, a halt, or perhaps its actual end. Maybe he doesn’t have to keep walking, keep moving, with no energy and no determination aside from basic survival and vague plans of revenge he doesn’t quite know who to target at.

Maybe that, now that he’s tired enough, he won’t see how much of a failure he’s been in his sleep.

 Keep going, keep going, for there is nothing left else to do for a soul whose purpose has been robbed from it…

 ----------------------------

 Opal immediately gets surprised when, while in Hammerlocke for absolutely unrelated reasons, she finds an unconscious boy lying not far away from the stairs to the Wild Area. Aside from his pinks and purples, and his unlikely enchanted-looking hair, he looks less than stellar, weakened by the weather and the exhaustion that must be eating away at his bones, judging from the deep rings under his eyes and the feverish hue plastered over the bridge of his nose. She’s seen him somewhere before, she’s certain of it; but all she can remember from that is a sense of betrayal and a feeling of cold-hearted abandonment, so she walks up to him.

“Oh, such a fairy-like young man…”

How is an old lady like her supposed to let such a poor boy, moreover one who could become her successor, in such a dire situation? He seems to have gotten himself in quite a lot of troubles, even more than those she has heard about from the other Leaders and information broadcast in her theatre. It’d be too cruel to let him in the open like that. She has to at least get to know him, to discover if he is her true successor.

For now, thinking of the near future has little to no point, she’s better off calling for help before the boy suffers from hypothermia in the harsh winter sunny winds of Galar. Perhaps she can give him what he doesn’t seem to have anymore…

 Keep going, keep going; for there is a purpose to everyone in this world, a purpose you have yet to find for yourself, waiting for you at the end of the seemingly endless journey.

[digitizedsouls]

@wasscared​ asked: What makes them feel safe? for jeremy. but NOW, no cheating and saying mum & dad, although sidenote: would mum and/or dad make him feel safe again at this point? BUT ANSWER BOTH _______________________________________

I’ll address the second question first. No. Even if they showed up, acting as though they’d missed him the entire time, and they were so sorry they made him wait, he wouldn’t feel safe with them anymore. He’d go with them, mainly because he feels like he is supposed to, but Jeremy would always wonder whether or not they were ever coming back any time one of them left the room, and I don’t think that fear, that insecurity, would ever go away for him regarding Duncan and Gloria. I think its very likely he would end up running away. I’m not sure exactly why, that’s just a thing I feel.

As to what does make him feel safe, I’m going to narrow it down a smidge to the threads we have with him, and how he’d interact with your Connor and my muses. 

To nobody’s surprise, he feels safest around Connor. Don’t worry, he isn’t under any wild delusion that Connor is his new dad, but he definitely feels the same sort of security he should feel towards a father figure. He trusts that Connor will not lie to him, even if it hurts sometimes, and that Connor will protect him if the need arises. And even though he doesn’t entirely know what’s going on, he can tell that Connor is trying to help him. He’s sure enough of that fact that he doesn’t feel the need to know all of the details. He doesn’t think Connor would try to trick him by withholding information. 

He also feels exceptionally safe around Sumo. YK models simulate nightmares, which, in deviated models, are actually nightmares. The first time he had one while staying with them, he hadn’t wanted to wake Connor or Hank, so Jeremy stayed in the bed. After hearing his crying, Sumo climbed into the bed and put his chin on Jeremy’s stomach til he quieted, the same as he does with Hank. Hank wasn’t kidding when he said that sleeping by Sumo was probably the safest place in the house. 

And yes, since I mentioned him, Jeremy feels Hank is safe. He thinks Hank is very sad, and that he tries a little too hard to be happy, but he is never afraid Hank will be cruel to him, or abandon him. 

In Jericho, Jeremy feels safest around the Jericrew. Notably Simon, which makes sense because PL600 models are designed to work well with children, and Josh, because no matter the situation, Josh keeps a level head, and is very good at keeping Jeremy calm in return. Markus intimidates him a bit, unintentionally, of course, but I think Jeremy could feel safe around him, too. I’m not sure how North would interact with a child, but I’m always down for him to meet her! 👀

Outside of specific people, Jeremy finds comfort in small spaces. He feels more secure in them. A pile of blankets and pillows at the back of a closet, for example, would feel very comforting rather than restricting, as long as it was Jeremy’s choice to be there. He enjoys the quiet, but prefers sounds that say someone else is nearby. Music, voices talking, someone writing or typing, things like that. He does not like to be alone. 

[destinychose-a]

👫 for red and green or leon and hop!

SEND A 👫FOR FOUR HEADCANONS I HAVE ABOUT OUR MUSE’S RELATIONSHIP  /  SELECTIVELY ACCEPTING!

RED + GREEN

1.     After returning from Mt. Silver, Red makes a conscious effort to maintain some form of contact with Green on a daily basis. Whether via text, notes left in places Green will see them or dropping by to visit him in person, Red makes sure to make his presence known in some shape or form in order to reassure Green  (  and himself  )  that he’s not going to leave his best friend the way he did once before ever again.

2.     Red has struggled with social anxiety from childhood, but after spending years in isolation atop Mt. Silver, he soon discovers it has worsened since his return. He becomes anxious to the point of panic attacks over the thought of having all eyes on him once again, consumed with the fear that his every action is being judged by those around him. Despite his best intentions, he finds himself slipping into old habits over the months following his return — withdrawing from social interactions and isolating himself. 

At first, he battles with these feelings alone until Green ultimately picks up on things, issuing the stern reminder that Red can rely on him no matter what, as a rival and best friend. While it does little to lessen his anxiety, Green becomes a grounding force in his life during his toughest moments. For any reason, if the two of them are in a crowded area, Red will often tug on Green’s sleeve in silent request to hold his hand, or if he feels overwhelmed in a social situation, he often looks to Green to deflect any prying eyes or uncomfortable questions. With Green at his side, Red slowly begins to find ways to cope and it’s with his support that Red eventually seeks out professional help.

3.     Despite his stoic exterior, Red is an extremely casually affectionate boyfriend. Once the two of them are settled into their relationship, Red will be all over Green at any given moment: holding his hand, hugging him from behind, leaning against his side, resting his chin on his shoulder, touching his back as he squeezes past, kissing his cheek/forehead/hands/lips in greeting, lying with his head in Green’s lap… Anything that involves making sure Green knows he’s loved? You can bet Red will deliver.

4.     Red is undoubtedly Green’s fiercest supporter. From day one, back when they were kids, Red has always believed that Green would one day become someone great in his own right, no matter what path he chooses to take. That support has increased tenfold since Red’s return from Mt. Silver, especially after he witnessed for himself how much Green had grown in their time apart. His belief in Green is as unshakeable as Green’s belief in him is.

HOP + LEON

1.     Hop has admired Leon for as long as he can remember and holds him to high-esteem, to the point of worshipping him as his own personal hero. While his relationship with his brother is very strong, healthy and open, Leon’s mighty achievements have unconsciously had an adverse effect on Hop’s wavering self-esteem. During the events of the game, he constantly compared himself to Leon at every turn, weighing his shortcomings against Leon’s strengths, to the point of becoming obsessed with the thought that he needs to follow in Leon’s footsteps or else he’s worthless. 

After officially starting his journey as a Pokémon trainer, these feelings worsened, and while Hop tried not to let it show around Leon, it started to put a slight strain on their once open and honest relationship. He wanted nothing more than to be acknowledged by him and seen as his rival, but as his attempts to excel as a trainer were thwarted at every turn, Hop became consumed with doubt. As he came closer to realising that he’ll never reach the same achievements as his brother, Hop found it harder to be around Leon one-on-one, writing himself off as worthless when compared to his older brother and worrying that his weaknesses would reflect badly upon his brother’s glowing reputation.

These feelings are further affirmed when he fails to beat his rival and finally face Leon in battle, as he’d dreamed of doing all the way through his journey. He begins to self-reflect, wondering if being a Pokémon trainer is something he’s cut out to be — for all he loves to battle, having his self-worth tied so heavily to victory was proving to take a toll on his mental health and relationships with those around him, including his Pokémon partners. Though tentative and still struggling with low self-esteem, Hop begins to reevaluate what he wants to do with his future.

After stopping Sordward and Shielbert’s plans, soothing Zacian/Zamazenta and ultimately adding the Legendary Pokémon to his team  (  also read: getting himself adopted by it  ), Hop finally begins to accept that it’s okay if he doesn’t follow in Leon’s footsteps. He decides to chase after a new dream: to become a Pokémon Professor, under Sonia’s tutelage, a move his brother supports. After hearing Leon acknowledge him as his rival, it turns out to be the final push Hop needs to embrace himself for who he is and where he stands. While aware he still has much to learn and a lot of emotional hurdles to overcome, it’s the first time he finally starts to see himself on the same level as his brother rather than as a distant, untouchable goal.

2.     Hop has many embarrassing stories about Leon from while they were growing up together and has years of perfect blackmail stored away for a rainy day. However, as with all siblings, this is something that goes both ways. As such, one of the few things preventing Hop from airing his older brother’s embarrassing secrets is the fact that Leon has twice as much ammunition against him that he’d rather not let anyone  (  especially Gloria/Victor/Bede  )  know about.

3.     Leon helped Hop catch his Wooloo shortly after his 8th birthday. After desperately insisting he wanted a Pokémon partner of his own and declaring his intentions to become a Pokémon trainer, just like his big brother, Leon agreed to help him. In addition to being Hop’s best friend and partner, Wooloo signifies the bond between Leon and Hop, their shared love of Pokémon and of battling.

4.     Where Leon’s sense of direction is terrible, Hop’s is fairly decent by comparison. Many times has he received a sheepish call from his brother asking for directions after he managed to get himself lost, and even at a younger age, he’s set out in search of Leon after he failed to return home for dinner. At this point, Hop has grown used to it and even come to expect it, though not to the point of exasperation.

[gildedcrown]

[ chocolate strawberries ] and [ smooches ] for gloria!

Gloria honestly hadn’t been expecting anything in return for Valentine’s Day. She’s always been more than happy to just give out gifts, especially when they were very dear to her. Getting something from Bede was certainly a surprise, one that actually caught her off guard (it seems he just has a knack for dong that nowadays). Though regardless, Gloria did enjoy chocolate, especially chocolate covered strawberries!

“Ya didn’t have to get me anythin’, Bede.” She stated, getting ready to look up from the sweets to thank him. Though it would seem that the rest of his gift wasn’t over yet. A hand tilted her chin up and before she knew it, a kiss was placed on her lips. It didn’t last very long, but it was certainly sweeter than any chocolate covered strawberries.

“U-Um…d’ya want to share these?”

valtines interactions | @faeriefound

[birthdaylobotomy]

1, 11 and 13?

thank you!

1. Your first OC ever?Ok…. so this is gonna be a bit of a trip. When I was younger than five, I had an ‘oc’ ((imaginary friend but i didnt interact with him?)) named Dusty. He wore Timmy Turner clothes, had GIANT chin, and was kinda… toned down in color? he was based on the voice of the guy who sang hey soul sister and free falling. i had a giant crush on him but then one day, i had a dream where he just. beat the shit out me. and that was that. 

11. Is there any OC of yours you could describe as a “sunshine”?                       Gloria in my current WIP- but not in the usual way. She has done very bad things and has had a really difficult life, but at the same time she is helpful and an optimist and probably the nicest character in that WIP. 

13. Do you have any troublemaker OCs? All of them                um RYDER KING from my current WIP. likes to beat people up and cry.