#I hope this works for you lmk if I need to change it!

[credinaa]

marina, october 17th, late afternoon, @rozwhitlock​

if you fish and catch nothing, you have still caught a lesson

growing up on venpalan, sasha had always challenged herself to do certain things. it didn’t matter if it was something simple like going for a run before work or something more extreme like sneaking out at 30 years to go watch some shooting stars at 4am when she was supposed to be up at 6 for something important. it wasn’t only her father that gave her the idea to join the collective starfleet academy, it was also her love for challenges. and the training definitely was a challenge - but she had loved every second of it (even the nasty failures, that had pushed her to work even harder). 

ever since she had started teaching students at academy how to fly, she had learned that the most important thing to teach then was that life was both full of challenges and they didn’t simply fly for fun, but that it was their job and not exactly as easy as most of them thought. most of the students had started to love challenges as much as she did back then and still did, so she started to try and make her lessons more fun - and more challenging.

this required some preparations, though, and these exact preparations made her go to marina right after she finished work on monday. taking a look at the harbor and maybe find someone she could ask all the questions she had was on her agenda for today - and the person standing on their boat with a net in their hands looked kind enough for her to clear her throat, get into a appropriate pose and to speak while getting down a few stairs down to the path their boat was currently bound to. 

“good evening.”, she started, her accent allowing them to foreshadow that she wasn’t a native leoran, but her expression was kind and curious, “if you couldn’t already tell by my uniform, i am a sergeant of the collective starfleet. my name is sasha soverall, i train young pilots. you seem experienced with working here, would you mind answering me a few questions? i am currently planning low-flight fighter jet training sessions above water and i really do not want to disturb nature or fishers.” 

[collidingxworlds]

Plotted starter for @governmentofficial - Abigail Hobbs & Mycroft Holmes

There are events that turn your life upside down in the matter of seconds. Everything you had thought, believed in, knows till that very moment crumbles into ashes before your eyes. The solid ground you’ve always had under your feet suddenly vanishes, leaving you plunged into a free fall. Your whole world collapses on itself in front of you and there’s nothing you can do about it.

That was exactly what Abigail Hobbs had experienced less than a month before, when the FBI had barged into her house, but not before her father had managed to put his hunting knife against her mother’s throat and slit it open. The same knife that had pressed in the skin of the girl’s own neck, as she was used as a human shield, one that should have lasted long enough for her to share Louise Hobbs’s fate.

She didn’t remember much after that. The feeling of the blade cutting through her flesh, the warmth of the blood wetting her rapidly cooling skin. The deafening sounds of gunshots and then a strong, steady pressure around her neck, keeping it from bleeding it as copiously as it had been.

Then just blackness.

She had woken up days later in the ICU of Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore, with a tube shove down her throat and machines beeping madly all around her. On the side of her neck, under a heavy bandage, a wound that would have scarred and marked her for the rest of her life.

The next week had been a blur too. She had learnt that both her parents were dead, that her father was a serial killer and that all the money and the properties of her family had been confiscated to pay the victims’ family. She had found herself at 13 years old, orphaned and penniless, with more debts to be settled. The world she had spent her childhood in was gone, just like that, and her future had looked like a dark, bottomless void.

At least until social services had tracked down some distant relatives on her mother’s side, who had accepted not just to pay for her medical expenses, but also to take her in.

A couple of days she had been put on a plane and shipped to England, with nothing but the slightly oversized, old clothes one of the nurses had generously provided her with and a passport.

And that was how Abigail had found herself standing in the hall of a mansion of the size of a small castle, surrounded by paintings that had to cost more than her old family house had. It made her feel intimidate and completely out of place, like a cheap trinket that had ended up in a refine jewelry shop by mistake.

That place was nothing like the home she had grown up in. Her house had used to be simple, decorated with the rugs and deer mounts her father had made out of the animals he hunted. The smooth wood surfaces, the many handmade pillows and pelts had always made it feel warm and welcoming, even despite the dark, disquieting shadows had been cast all over it when, several months before, she had discovered what sort of monster her father was and what other, less conventional materials were used to decorate the building and fill their plates.

The mansion was gave off a completely different vibe. It felt cold and distant with its high, finely chiselled ceilings, its large windows and pieces of furniture that looked like the belonged into a museum. The only bright side was that it was surrounded by a large garden. The thought of being able to immerse in nature even there brought her some comfort.

Blue eyes touched one of the armours before moving on the man who had come to greet her at the door after a limousine had picked her up at the airport. Mycroft Holmes. Her new adoptive father, even if, looking at him, Abigail wondered if he could have truly become a parental figure.

He too, like the mansion, was nothing like what she had known till now. However, in this sense, it was perhaps for the best.

“Do you really live here all by yourself?” She found herself asking, the hint of a frown on her face. “What do you...do with all this space?”

It made her wonder what her new room would have looked like.

“And...what should I call you?” She couldn’t see herself calling him ‘Dad’ nor using his first name. Perhaps ‘father’? Or maybe... “Mister Holmes?”

[sweetlesson]

✿ Starter for @gummywyrmtrainer ✿

✿*❀*✿

A screech of protest rang out throughout the school and suddenly a small pachirisu was sprinting through the halls and out the nearest window. Following close on its heels was Saguaro with a bottle in hand and Goodra just ahead calling out entreaties to the fleeing pokemon. Normally he would never be seen in such a state by anyone, and normally he had himself well together, but today was a special case, and he paid no one any mind besides the pachirisu that had just disappeared out the window.

Pachirisu was... Very sick. It wasn't a serious illness, however. Simple enough to heal with rest and medicine, and Saguaro knew for a fact there wasn't even much need to bother the nurse for something like this. But the problem here was that Pachirisu hated medicine of almost any kind. Potions, proteins, medicinal herbs, you name it. Bitter concoctions were to Pachirisu what spicy food was to Saguaro, and getting her to take her medicine was always a challenge.

Today Goodra had been helping by trying to soothe and constrain Pachirisu, but she had slipped with surprising ease from her grasp and shot like a bolt out of the classroom. And this was how they had ended up sprinting breathless after the little thing right out of the academy and down the steps into the streets of Mesagoza.

"Please, Pachirisu, stop!" Saguaro called out between hard-earned breaths. "You are in no condition to be running like this!"

The rodent ignored him entirely, and it bounced its way up a streetlamp to hang out of reach. Saguaro stopped at the base of it call her down, reaching his hand up as far as he could stretch it to grab ahold of her.

"Sweetheart, you are making this so much harder than it has to be," he called up to her. "You feel awful right now, I can see it in your face. Please come down so that I ca--gaadh...!"

He was cut short as the pokemon attacked, sending an electric current down to her trainer. She hadn't meant for it to be so strong, to the point where he froze for several seconds jittering from the impact, but feeling as under the weather as she was she'd lost perspective of how much she was putting into it. Now feeling guilty on top of her petulance, Pachirisu jumped down again from the other side and found a dark-haired stranger to slip behind the leg of and hide.

Even if Saguaro hadn't quite recovered, Goodra had continued to chase her and was now standing in front of the stranger as well, cooing to Pachirisu and holding her hands out in front of her to try to coax her back out.

[shecharm]

“MY, oh, my~” forefinger taps along the side of closed, handheld fan  -  seemingly to a rhythm only she could hear. distant sound of bells jingling; stirred by midnight wind. it provides a symphony, albeit soft, for the surrounding wildlife of the shrine. “how rare, someone like you visiting someone like me.” her head tilts; curious. “i can’t imagine you’re lost~” free hand extends, spreading slender fingers apart as she leans forward ever so slight from ‘pon her perch; expectant palm to the night sky. “state your business, little wolf.”    (  ||   @wolfvirago​  ♥  )

[xhatake]

There was something appealing about teetering on the edge of reality & fantasy. Moments like this were hard to come by, when he could slip into another life & forget about the weight of the world. What surprised him, however, was when he made a familiar connection in this alternative identity. Sukea was an evasive alter-ego, a person who lurked on the edges of many lives... rarely to be known. Which was a given, as he wasn't even real. But he had managed to connect with Obito on a strange level, as this silly 'photographer' of a man. When Sukea's laughter mixed with Obito's, it felt strangely light. Satisfyingly so. There was no expectation for either of them to be anything but themselves, ironically.

Perhaps Kakashi liked this a little too much. Kakashi knew Obito's love for him was as a friend, a brother, an ally. There was a past between them they couldn't ignore, a familiarity that would follow them for the rest of their lives. But Kakashi had admitted to feeling a different sort of draw towards him. Not that it changed anything, of course. He couldn't force Obito to feel any way he didn't on his own. But there was something different that danced on Obito's face when he looked at Sukea. There was a gleam in his eye that reminded Kakashi of a distant memory, a fluttering crush. It was unfair to Obito, but Kakashi had yet to find the courage to tell him the reality of it all.

He knew there was an impending reality that was destined crash down around both of them, but perhaps they can enjoy this moment. This moment when they didn't have any baggage, any past. Just some very hot tea. Gaze drifts with the steam that wafts off of his tea, eventually meeting Obito's dark eyes. It had been longer than he would have liked since he had checked in on him, as either identity. There was a strange guilt that came with coming to him as Sukea, but a terrible sort of safety as well.

" It's been too long, Obito. " It hasn't been all that long. He had spun a story about leaving the village for work, having been tasked with taking photos he had already turned in. In reality, Kakashi had been busy with his duties as Hokage & this was his first free night all week. Maybe this is why he casts his gaze to the side, focusing his intention on a crack in the wall. Maybe he shouldn't have lied. It's time to tell a truth, " I've missed our little talks. "

@abyssaldespair || plotted!

[lonehearts-a]

starter call. / @darklapse ; from jasper.

"soooooo," jasper starts, voice soft and just shy of casual indifference. he pulls his bag into his lap, flipping open the top and sorting through the various sketchbooks, fabric swatches, and his extremely decorated laptop to fish out a neatly folded plastic bag, which he immediately slides over without making eye contact. "i was thrifting the other day and found something you might like."

he almost feels embarrassed giving something akin to a gift, but, really it's just a shirt so it's harmless, right ?? after all, he's a fashion student. at some point it must be expected to get clothes from him, so it isn't weird. "it's that band you like, yeah ?? the only chemical romance i have is with my hair but i didn't want to pass it up. in case you wanted it."

[ormenace]

with   :   @whiteqveendarling​ location   :  treehouse, mutopia

privacy  is  difficult  to  achieve  on  latverion.  krakoa  looks  mostly  the  same.  the  land  looks  the  same.  xavier’s  looks  similar,  if  not  exactly  how  he  remembers  it.  sometimes  it’s  difficult  to  parse  the  truth  from  memory.  none  of  it  offers  quite  the  comfort  he  would’ve  had  back  on  his  world.  he’s  just  grasping  for  the  closest  possible  thing,  shreds  of  comfort.  inviting  emma  into  this  other  version  of  the  treehouse,  the  one  he’s  made  into  something  of  a  home,  is  the  closest  thing  to  normal  he’s  felt  in  his  time  here.  ❛   there’s  vampires  lurking  around  my  school,  miss  frost.  now  may  be  a  good  time  to  tell  me  more  about  your  newfound  fondness  for  doctor  doom.   ❜  tone  cool,  impassive.  he  ruins  it  by  a  brush  of  his  hand  to  hers,  quietly  drawing  attention.  ❛   did  you  get  one  of  those  letters  ?   ❜

[a-earthssprout]

🍂🥧 answered asks ! // children’s memes ( no longer accepting ! )

@spiinsparks​​ sent: “It really scares you, huh? Here, how about I do it first so you can see it’s not so bad.” (I've only followed ur blog for like a day and a half but i already love her, so have a hedgehog who's always lookin' out for lil' sibs)

FOR A LITTLE GIRL WHO SOUGHT OUT ADVENTURES in the strangest places, but who also bore the burden of an anxious heart, it was no surprise that she would become hesitant when DANGER lurked about; thus, climbing up the tall old oak and resting on one of its thick, strong branches was where bravery would both begin and end. 

The view was simply amazing; little Ari, who was often made to push through thick shrubbery, as it tended to envelop her body whole, was able to see above most fluffy heads of the forest. Birdsong was clearer; wildlife much nearer; and she was even able to solve many mysteries around the homes of her critter friends, such as the Mr. Squirrel, who lived comfortably in the hollow of this great old oak, and Ms. Birdie, who had a proper nest built at the end of this branch, which cradled her little ones that have yet to hatch. This was a moment of delight for Ari, and she absorbed every happy feeling that came from it, for orphans longed for happy feelings and tended to savor them for as long as they could. 

Unfortunately, there were benefits of the shade when one traveled on the ground, for very little sunlight was able to peek through the spaces of the forest canopies, and therefore Ari rarely ever realized when her adventures for the day were coming to an end—when the sun was tucked in for the night to make room for the moon, it was time to head home. But, up here, it was much more noticeable how quickly daylight faded—how the happiness she found up here must be abandoned for responsibility—and knew that she must promptly begin her journey back before there was no more light to help her find her way. 

In order to do that, however, she must descend, which was a task FAR more frightening than scaling up was; one could see what was above them—where to reach and future steps, both sure to keep her steady—but one could not easily see what was beneath them. Furthermore, little Ari severely lacked both the proper skill and coordination to complete such a task without a significantly increased risk of injury.  Though that fact is rather complex, somehow little Ari was aware of it, and it only fed the strength of her reluctance. 

This fright caused nature's little soul to scoot towards the thick trunk of the tree, pressing her body against it while her eyes were fixed on the ground—she tried and tried to muster it, but the courage never came; only more uncomfortable feelings and upsetting thoughts. What would happen now? Could she stay up in the tree for the night? Surely, if Mr. Squirrel and Ms. Birdie could do so safely, then Ari could as well … oh, but what kind of trouble would she find herself in on the next day? 

Staying up was not an option and climbing down was still too frightening of one to consider—but before little Ari could be convinced that the situation was utterly hopeless, an unfamiliar, though kind, voice—as clear and as sweet as the birdsong—reached Ari's ears. The sudden noise was startling enough, causing Ari to jump, but the sight of the source brought the most surprise. When Ari turned her head, her eyes met with a creature; he wore a strange blue color on both fur and quills, shoes so large and red that they were almost comical, but he was not without the sweetest smile and gentlest set of eyes that little Ari had ever seen.

Even when one is so terribly panicked ( for more reasons than just one ) eyes would always naturally attempt to make out what one was seeing to help settle the mind. So little Ari took note of all of the creature's remarkable things, and—with a heart soft for nature and a mind full of knowledge about it—was able to make sense of what he might be. Quills … an upturned nose … why, this kind creature was a HEDGEHOG! 

Now, there was nothing to explain why the hedgehog could talk, how he sat upright, why he was blue, and all the other mysteries about him—perhaps the magic of the forest was responsible for this extraordinary occurrence, and thankfully, children accepted magic far more quickly and comfortably than adults. After all, if it was not for the unfortunate circumstance, the Hedgehog would have experienced a child most delighted by his company, and his would have been filled with never – ending compliments and curiosities. So little Ari asked no questions about his eccentricities, for they worried her not, and believed all that she was seeing. She adjusted herself on the branch, and though the Hedgehog’s company caused a curious twinkle to appear in her large green eyes, the light could not return to them just yet—not when the situation remained just as dire as it was before.

“ ye … yes, please … ” Ari admitted softly. “ I … I’m scared to go down … vvv … very, very scared … ”

“ I … I don’t knnn … know if I’m gonna fall … ”

Though confidence was audible in his tone and bravery just as clear in his eye, the caring part of Ari’s heart would not allow her to agree to such things—she could not let an animal endanger itself. She was supposed to PROTECT them! That was her job! The little girl panicked and rapidly shook her head, scooting closer to the Hedgehog so that her hand could easily take a desperate hold of his. 

“ nnn … no, thank you!” Ari cried. “ I … I don’t www … wa … wa— I don’t want mr. Hedgy - hog to fall, please! ”

Tears began to well in her eyes, and her whole body trembled. Oh, it was all so worrisome—all so overwhelming. 

“ wha … what if mr. Hedgy - hog gets hurt, please? ” She shook her head again, as if to rid the thought from her mind. “ nnn … no thank you, no thank you! ” 

“ I … I’ll stay up here with mmm … mr. Hedgy - hog … I … I will! sss … so mr. Hedgy - hog won’t get hurt … ”

[indomitableblackdragon]

@cursedbylove | liked for a starter

The new year was for enjoying one's self. Someone that wasn't herself once said "new year new you" and while NJ didn't have much in terms of what she wanted to improve on there was a whole new world to deal with.

For better or for worse she was stuck here. So she might as well make the most of not having to deal with Sirens attempting to blow the world wide open.

What wouldn't change however was the battleship rolling up to individuals who looked out of it, minding their own business and try to strike up a conversation. Everyone needed a friend...right?

"Damn you look tired. Getting enough sleep?" The woman broke off whatever was in her hand and offered it to them in her other.

"Chocolate? Its pretty daaaamn tasty~~"

[mythvoiced]

@theimpalpable​ | “ don’t leave, please. ” (Wilder to Kaeden UwU) two word starters

---

Kaeden is used to being the strong one because he doesn’t allow weakness to slip into even the smallest of spaces between the sentiments he regurgitates over and over again into his body language.

This tends to imply they’re stronger than their given counterpart, but for as long as they’ve known Wilder, they’ve always assumed him to be as strong as Kaeden, if not stronger, considering he walks this earth with genuine strength and kindness, while most of what Kaeden offers to the table are desperate attempts on her part to not be forced to face what they work so hard to suppress.

Wilder can look to the world and recognise its natural beauty in a way gentle enough to be worthy of the sights offer. He forgives people when they’re rude to him at the bookstore, he has infinite patience for Kaeden and their antics and seems genuinely fond of whatever it is that Kaeden offers at any given moment, even if that’s usually... nonsensical at best and downright stupid at worst.

Wilder emits light, kind and warm and all-encompassing, he’s what angels fight for in humanity, he’s what parents call their pride and joy, he’s someone you worry befriending because how can you even come close to being half as good, all while he, unwittingly or less so, makes sure you never contrast or compare, because he’s humble to the point where it’s Kaeden wonder more than once if she should just come up with a magnitude of strategies on how to convince him of his genuine superiority over some folks the reaper has met.

But he wouldn’t. Wouldn’t accept that, wouldn’t welcome it, would perhaps dislike it enough for it to create a wedge between them.

He wouldn’t because that’s not who Wilder is.

And all of this had made the reaper wrongly assume that Wilder simply accepted the world for what it was, trudged on with a sense of self-respect sturdy enough to not have him crumble beneath impatient commentary or the vast unpredictability of the universe.

He’d assumed that Wilder could handle it all.

And he’d forgotten how rarely strong people choose to be strong. He’d forgotten that being strong is bravery in the force, in the face of one’s weaknesses.

He’s forgotten the best lessons he’s ever learned, and the fact that Wilder taught them plenty of them during their first meeting.

They’re halfway through the door of Wilder’s bedroom - that had been a first, but the circumstances had kind of made it difficult to focus too much on all the aggressively supportive commentaries Kaeden had at the ready, statements about the boy’s space, the thrill of moving within it - when Wilder calls them back.

Kaeden stands with their hand on the handle for the seconds it takes for those thoughts to swim through his head, mere seconds before her back connects with the space in Wilder’s bed not occupied, far enough to not accidentally touch, but close enough to state their permanency.

Hands on their chest, joined, relaxed, Kaeden turns their head and stares straight into Wilder’s eyes.

“What’s wrong, tell me everything and don’t hold back.”

[cruelsfate]

WISHING STAR.

It’s peaceful here, even if she knows it will not last long.

Hands clasp together—but not in prayer, no, not yet; she needs to think still—mage silhouetted in the night as she abandons her silent watch from the shadows to finally drift forward, stepping out into the moonlight. The legend of the Goddess Tower that a wish made on the night of the ball between man and woman would almost certainly come true attracts believers and non-believers alike to its peak. If she is to count herself among them tonight, she is not yet sure.

At any rate, one is likely not meant to find loopholes in the legends, but Marianne cautiously approaches the little bird she finds waiting for her upon the railing regardless. “Hello,” she says gently, “can I borrow you for a moment?” If the goddess would accept a bird in place of a man is another matter entirely—and one that she doubts, in all honesty. Maybe, she thinks, she doesn’t want it to work. Maybe it is a sign.

Do not change your prayer, Marianne, is perhaps what the goddess is trying to say. Be patient. Your wish will be granted soon.

Yet she finds instead that fear grips her chest at the thought, crawling up her throat as it has every time recently that she’s acknowledged this prayer. The same plea she has offered time and time again since that night four years ago, when everything she had known to be constant was torn away from her reach. Take me to you, take me to your side.

Marianne swallows. It is not a prayer she has made recently. “What am I doing?” she murmurs to her avian friend. The laugh that slips from her lips is shaky, a sad sort of smile curving at her mouth. “You don’t know either, right? ...ah, never mind me. You look hungry. Here, I have something for you.” Except a hand reaches for a pocket that is not there, hand only curling into cloth. There is the excuse she has been searching for herself, one to let her leave without making a wish after all. Another justification for her to run from confronting the small seed of doubt buried in her chest. “Hm...maybe I can find something in my room. Do you want to come with—?”

She turns, and her eyes widen just a fraction, face flushing at the realization that she is no longer alone. “Er, Dimitri!” she all but squeaks in her surprise. Maybe you should change your wish after all, a traitorous voice whispers in her ear, except it seems to sound like her own. Maybe this is a sign. “Were you here for...” she starts, but quickly falters. He’s alone as far as she can see—perhaps he is not here for the legend then? Marianne cannot imagine that he would have any difficulty finding someone to accompany him if he were. “Sorry,” she says instead. “I’m not in your way, am I? I wasn’t planning to stay for long...”

STARTER FOR !  @elegiac-boar​

[sereina-archive]

@invictarre​ liked for a hisui verse starter!

Rain was coming down in torrential buckets across the Obsidian Fieldlands. Serena had been unlucky enough to get caught up in it, totally soaked to the bone. This level of rain was unusual; she’d never seen anything like it. Harsh winds whipped through the fields every now and then, sending sheets of rain askew.

There really wasn’t any good place to find shelter at the moment. She didn’t want to stand beneath a tree, lest the wind may blow it over atop her. It didn’t matter anyways regardless. As she walked, and the wet grass squished beneath her boots, she saw a bright burst of flame from the corner of her eye. The hiss of steam caught her ears soon after, rain evaporating from the high, intense heat.

Immediately, Serena turned towards the scene, spotting someone with their pokemon, fighting back against... were those four Alphas? Oh, this was not good. One Alpha on its own spelled trouble, but how were there four? And they were Snorlax no less - bulky, and extremely powerful. She took Joyeuse’s Luxury ball from her belt, running towards the commotion. Her heart pounded in her chest as she sent the Aegislash free, the imposing steel-type moving to intercept one of the Snorlax’s attempts to attack from behind.

“King’s Shield, Joyeuse!” There wasn’t even a second between the command, and the action. The shield of the Aegislash lit up, taking the Snorlax’s heavy attack and protecting the Charizard from harm. Crap, this was bad. If it was a single Alpha, Serena would be more comfortable with those odds, but it was still four versus two. “Are you okay?” Serena soon asks, having to partially shout over the raging winds. "I’ve- I’ve never seen anything like this before.” The fight continued on between the group, and soon Joyeuse would switch stances. Her pommel glinted, before it was slammed right into one of the Snorlax’s foreheads, dazing it momentarily.

[lunarbrambles]

@vilestblood

Adrian could feel it in their bones, that this was the last few relatively peaceful nights before the onset of a Hunt. For the Forbidden Woods, it had been a relatively quiet night, nary one of the odd and mutated beasts that haunted the land rearing its head along their bit of lonely land along the lake. A sparse and ambling fog arose from the lake towards the looming house that despite all its improvements from its former dilapidated state, still looked out upon the water and forest ravenous and baleful, as if to reflect the corrupted contents of its belly. The garden out back also betrayed that it no longer lay vacant and instead found itself sprouting to abhorrent yet splendid life. The fragrant smell of the roses in the back wafted around the area, as did the pungent stench of various chemicals from the experiments done in the cellar.

They had left a lit lantern in the window, a sign understood by the nearby villager the doctor turned Paleblood Hunter stood awake and would accept visitors if they needed medical help. Even with the League nearby to keep the beast population down, it was still a dangerous area; many dangerous traps laid around the area, completely forgotten, and when only a small band of Hunters rejected by the Healing Church watched the area, it meant anyone hapless enough to be around at night faced the distinct possibility of running into signs of the scourge. And even then, they often treated the wounds of the hunters of the area who didn't have the same access to blood those of Yharnam did. Plus, while blood vials certainly healed wounds, they did nothing to retrieve bullets lodged in muscle, nor fangs, hooks, and talons embedded deep in flesh. Not having the same institutional access they had as a doctor working in Central Yharnam under Iosefka meant they had to improvise and adapt.

The Good Doctor themselves, dressed in a near-comical amount of layers due to the chill of the night and their body refusing to acclimate to the far chillier, moodier climate of Yharnam, sat at their desk, carefully transcribing notes from no less than three different books in English, one about the local flora, one about traditional folk medicine, and their old book of medicine back from when they attended university at Yharnam to become a doctor. They had their sleeves rolled up just a bit past their elbows, with some of their hair fallen out of their loose ponytail, and at this point their eyes appeared heavy and tired. Despite their intent focus on their notes, they still listened for the door, always expecting at least one stray visitor to come knocking late at night. Indeed, Adrian learned to always expect to see patients with the gnarliest wounds and infections at night because of the sheer hostility of the forest, from its very layout, to the traps littering the area, to the venomous denizens preying on the people.

At least here, no one seemed to care the blood coursing through their veins, according to the Healing Church, marked them as hideous, corrupted, vicious, vile, even. They were just the eccentric, lanky doctor with the heavy accent.

[stcrlght]

there’s   a   soft   look   in   her   eyes   as   she   looks   over   to   her   LAST   customer  ,   finding   the   way   she   was   pored   over   her   books   so   endearing  .    she’s   already   closed   up   most   of   the   place  ,   but   there’s   no   URGENCY   in   her   movements   whatsoever   as   she   gently   strolls   across  ,   small   smile   finding   its   way   upon   her   lips  .    “  i   would   ask   if   you’d   like   another   coffee  ...  ”    she   says   quietly  ,   not   wanting   to   startle   her  .    “  but   it’s   far   too   late   for   that   now  .    you’d   never   get   any   sleep  !  ”

☆ :   @spidergal​  ,     STARTER   CALL  .

[aithreachas]

— @decaeys​ ↳ for sylvanas

             Perhaps the Gods were laughing at him. Every time Atreus left the safety of his so called home something bad befell him. Be it the destruction of the Silver Hand, to the sacking of Lordaeron he simply was born with tragedy in his blood.

But his king had asked something of him—something precious—and Atreus would have never forgiven himself had he refused Varian's request to watch over the recovering Anduin during Garrosh's trial. Even now with the shackles around his wrists from his Forsaken captors Atreus had only the regret that the small party of soldiers he was travelling with lay slaughtered while he still lived. It always seemed to be his path—to be the one that lived on when his people died around him.

He should've waited to travel back with bulk of the Alliance Forces and not take the word that a ceasefire would last even after the trial's conclusion but Atreus had missed Stormwind and did not like being so far out—so exposed—and thus had bowed out as soon as his duties were fulfilled. Being attacked on the road had not been something Atreus had been anticipating. He would not make that mistake again, should he get out of this...

“Are ye really going to deny an old man his walking stick? I should be flattered yer so afraid of the likes of me.” he grumbled to one of his captors, one he did not recognize other than the fact they were Forsaken. “ I'm sure you're going to drag me even if I fall over but certainly it would go a lot smoother if ye just let me walk with some support.”

You know, it might have just worked had Atreus not laid eyes upon one Sylvanas Windrunner ahead on the road and his captors suddenly snapped to attention, cane and the sword hidden within it pulled away just before he could grab it.

[kamipyre]

@jeoseungsaja​​ hi it me again :D

She’s never been to SEOUL before.

But then again, Suki’s never been anywhere that isn’t the States or Japan. Her job never let her travel much before so it’s only fitting that now, she gets the opportunity to, well, travel. Although seeing the state of the justice system gives her little reason actually want to explore the world. Taking the flight makes her feel a little guilty like she’s running away from the current issue at hand.

But then again, this isn’t a trip for leisure. This is a business trip, a favor for an OLD FRIEND, a role model of sorts, whom she also has many questions for...starting with ‘what-the-fuck-is-this-case-you-just-sent-me’.

But Suki digresses, that question can come after she actually gets to his workplace. Which strangely enough, isn’t the Gangnam Police Station like she was expecting.  Getting to the address he sent her via email is a struggle in and of itself, considering her grasp of the language is still at a beginner’s level, but somehow she manages. And upon reaching her destination, she knocks on the door with the frosted glass window. 

“Detective? It’s Nakamura. My flight got in early- I looked over the CASE you sent me. Do you mind telling me, uh, what the hell that was supposed to be?”