#If anyone feels like sending something motivational so the brain gets off it’s high horse I’d gladly appreciate it 💖

[soft-serve-soymilk]

And for more rambles this evening: Why HAVEN’T I played Tokyo Mirage Sessions 🤔

[homenum-revelio-hq]

Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix, Caroline!

You have been accepted for the role of ALICE LONGBOTTOM! It was so much fun to read about your Alice! I loved the way you explored the parts of Alice that are conflicted within the Order and her role within her family, as well as the survival and biases sections. I am so excited to have you as part of this roleplay!

Please take a look at the new member checklist and send in your account within 24 hours! Thank you for joining the fight against Voldemort!

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME: Caroline

AGE: 21

TIMEZONE: EST

ACTIVITY LEVEL: Roleplay’s a hobby, and often times the commitments that take precedence do just that — they take their precedence, and it’s something I’m rather unyielding on. I am able to come on and post fairly regularly, at least two days out of the week on busier weeks, and if the need for a hiatus/semi-hiatus arises I am fairly good in getting everything squared away with the admin. My activity high points are at nights, on weekends and Wednesdays, and I’m typically always lurking on mobile for plotting purposes at the very, very minimum!

ANYTHING ELSE: I'm about to talk your head off, for which I apologize! I’m a rambler through and through; never been able to stop it and I don’t think I ever will. Also, I’m submitting another application (because I really could not decide on just one character, thank you for that), so if you notice any similarities within the OOC exploration section of the application, that’s why! I ask that you please consider Alice as my first choice character. Thank you so much!

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Alice Camille Longbottom (née Fortescue); Alice, a German-originating name, means “noble.” It is derived from the Greek word alethéia, which means “truth." Camille is derived from the Latin camilla, and its related meaning pertains to an unblemished character or pureness in order to serve at the altar.

AGE: Thirty-three; Alice was born on May 6, making her a Taurus. Taurus women are described as powerful forces to be reckoned with and the same could be said for Alice. Determined, uncompromising, and somewhat of a dark horse, Alice works hard and plays hard (when she bothers to play at all) and every action is infused with great intent and purpose. Her level of thoroughness and fixity will sometimes get her in trouble — once the blinders are firmly strapped into place, there is typically no doubling back.

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: Alice identifies as cis-female and uses she/her pronouns. Her sexual orientation is heterosexual.

BLOOD STATUS: Pure-blood; while Alice’s family does not hail from the "Sacred 28”, both of her parents are of magical descent and come laden with rather typical pure-blood ideals, even if they are watered down.

HOUSE ALUMNI: Slytherin; green and silver scarf knotted tight around her neck, Slytherin was more of a stepping stone than a home. Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, even some Ravenclaws and Slytherins alike, they all had the notion that House equated family, but for Alice, it was merely the place that she best fit and the place that helped foster growth towards being the best possible Alice she could be. Rather introverted, Alice didn’t necessarily feel as though she belonged within the folds of her House’s fabric, and she certainly never took a needle and thread to sew herself into it. The stereotypes in Slytherin that others embraced were ones she actively turned away from. She liked not being tied down exclusively to her House and having friends elsewhere, liked having some degree of detachment that others didn’t seem to have when it came to falling for the idea that your House was your home. Slytherin was where she slept, Slytherin’s colors were hers, Slytherin encouraged her to follow ambition and was a garden where she could grow success, but her House pride derived from much different motives than that of her fellow alumni.  

ANY CHANGES: N/A

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

PERSONALITY:

Listen, I gotta start by saying that I absolutely Alice. The reason I was drawn to her bio in the first place is that first and foremost, Alice is a strong character. She is a strong woman, yes, but she is a strong character, period. She is unsure and sometimes unsteady but she is a force to be reckoned with. She does not compromise herself for anyone. She knows who she is at heart, even if she doesn’t know who she is as a player in this world. She has a strong mind and a strong heart and a strong sense of independence — she doesn't need anyone else.  

As mentioned above, Alice is a bit of a dark horse, somewhat unconventional for a woman who has a pretty stiff ideal system. To some, that would translate as aloof, self-isolating, detached from emotion and unapproachable, but I find that the opposite. Alice doesn’t just encompass everyone at first meeting (if she did, she would have been a Hufflepuff) because she has recognized a pattern that people’s first impressions versus their real personalities has too wide a discrepancy for her to be comfortable with. Alice instinctively keeps up a set of walls because she is selective in who she trusts, but once over that hurdle, Alice is the person you’d want in your corner, the person you’d want by your side staring down death. She is the kind to deplete from her own cup to give more to others and she will not complain — she will not draw attention to it, either. She does it on her own volition, because she believes it’s the right thing to do, and she will ask for nothing in return. She doesn’t mind being alone (quiet moments with her cat snuggling in her lap are some of the best). She does not wait for sunlight to poke through a cloud on chance and find her; she works herself to the bone in order to create a hole in the dark sky. There aren’t very many people that she trusts enough to let see all the facets (work Alice, Order Alice, person Alice, etc.) but those who do can note the way light finds her and makes her shine in a subtly brilliant way, the same way low lights bring out sparkle. Her liveliness is rather subtle, only seen by those she wants to let see. She loves fiercely and when it comes to those she loves or those she feels needs protection, she doesn’t hesitate to stand in the way. She is ambitious not for the sake of ambition, but with a purpose and an end goal. She’s a visionary, striving for a world that is inclusive and fair. She’s smart and sophisticated, knowing exactly how to present herself and keep all her edges smooth with a polished exterior. She’s cool under pressure, level head on her shoulders that she lets rule her. It’s what makes her so good in duels; she knows how to stack priorities over reactions, how to get inside the head of her opponents and stay one step ahead. Her exterior is hard but it is only to protect the emotion that lies beneath. She feels every single chink and chip and blow and feels it completely, vibrations running through her. She knows that vulnerability is what powers endurance, but she doesn’t let others see what keeps the electricity on. It’s the private moments where she lets herself fall apart, and then she gracefully stitches herself back up to keep moving through another day.

She is her biggest critic and her worst enemy is the voice inside of her brain. She worries excessively, worries that she isn’t doing enough, that she isn’t enough. She sometimes feels like she’s torn between two different worlds and that there is no true place of belonging for her, that she’s merely drifting and playing a game of charades that will only result in her losing. She is perfectionistic and she likes for things to be done correctly. She likes structure, likes having a set of rules and doesn’t like to deviate from them (they exist for a reason, after all) and it puts her in compromising situations when she is around people who are deviating or asking her to do so. It’s this hesitance and inner debate before her decision that is a fatal flaw — it’s war. It’s nothing but hard decisions, and yes, they’re the type to get people killed. Alice will fight but she’s also the type to ask why. She wants to know that there’s an existing means to an end, that it’s not all for nothing, perhaps too much so at times. There’s also a purposeful ignorance about her, especially when it comes to the Ministry. She puts her entire backbone into her job and the institution that allows her the chance to do what she is passionate about, but that institution is as good as compromised and she’d still prefer to jump through all its hoops. She’d rather walk through every step and be thorough than take the short cut, because she believes it eliminates mistakes, but she doesn’t see that sometimes, not making the split decision and cutting out the excess is a mistake in and of itself. Her family is another weakness — they raised her, they are what she knows, but she also knows that some of the things they think aren’t what she’s learned are right. Brother against brother is not uncommon in war and that’s the kind of thing to make Alice hesitate. Slytherins will use any means to achieve their ends, after all, but if it means turning her back on her own family? She’s not sure she could. Her temper isn’t the best either (that goddamn Augusta is what really does it for her) and when someone finds her buttons and keeps pushing, she isn’t the type to take it lying down. She doesn’t forthright express what’s wrong but she does wear some of her emotions on her face, unable to control the split second reactions of disgust or irritation or otherwise. It’s hard for her when she believes she is in the right and no one else can see her point of view (or refuses to), and it’s something that makes her shut down on the spot — or resort to more drastic measures.

Wands, too, I think, speak volumes about their wizard’s personality. Wood: Rowan. Rowan wands are comfortable in the hands of those who are clear-headed and pure-hearted, which I think suits Alice quite nicely. Though the roads to hell are paved with them, she always has intentions for and of the best at the forefront of all she does and her mind is quite good at remaining one tracked and steady when placed under duress. According to Ollivander, rowan wands will perform equal to, if not better and out-perform other wands specifically in duels. Rowan wands do well with defensive magic, a particular strength Alice has per her own reputation as one half of an extraordinarily gifted (and perhaps lethal) dueling team to come through the Auror department. Core: Phoenix tail feather. Phoenix tail feathers can often be found in the cores of wands owned by witches and wizards who are considered noble, wise, willing, strong-willed, bright, loyal, and self-sacrificing, all of which are traits that align closely with Alice’s personality. While this core is not common among Slytherins due to its reputation to impede Dark spells, which further solidifies Alice’s personality veering from the stereotypes of Slytherin house. The qualities she holds near aligned with Slytherin but she knows there is a right way to obtain success and pursue ambitions. Flexibility: Hard. Owners of hard wands tend to view things in absolutes (black or white), which is a beyond fair summation of Alice. These are people who others may find intimidating or difficult to approach. Wands of this flexibility are great for complex and advanced levels of magic, which I envision Alice having wholeheartedly embraced. Learning was a piece in the equation to becoming the best she could possibly be and I see her brain being like that of a sponge, absorbing all it could and constantly wanting to take things to the next step, eager to move on to a higher level since the ceiling for her didn’t (and does not) exist.

And, because I really love personality tests… MBTI Type: ISTJ - The Logistician (x) Moral Alignment: Lawful Neutral - The Judge Enneagram: Type 1 - The Reformer (x) Element: Earth

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY:

The Fortescue family was, in terms of how pure-blood society operated, under the radar. No one looked to a Fortescue as an example (or a non-example); they were often after-thoughts. It was very much, oh! A Fortescue! They weren’t shunned out, they weren’t outcasts, but they certainly weren’t sitting in the thick of things. Dexter Fortescue was not the first Headmaster of Hogwarts to come to mind, after all, but not being first didn’t mean you were last. Alice and her brother (and potentially other siblings - I am very flexible to this and would truthfully love to see some other Fortescues running around in this group) were raised by Fennell and Adrianne to follow after their desires and dreams with a single exception: do not bring shame to the family. Do not push the Fortescue name into the light for all of the wrong reasons. There was never an explicit correlation to shame and bloodline, with the Fortescues always rather indifferent towards Muggleborns — they did not have qualms or prejudice towards Muggleborns being a part of the Wizarding World (if magic chose you, it chose you) but still being embedded in pure-blood society to some degree, marrying outside of pure-bloods would have caused under-the-radar tension within the family. Everything in the Fortescue family was done in subtleties. If there was disapproval, it was not outright shown, but alluded to in the choice of words or lack of action taken. Tempers, if they existed, were always below the surface. Alice could never truly recall a time when she saw her parents fight or get into arguments or display anger in a dazzling firework display. Fortescues knew how to keep up an appearance, how to be poised, and all grievances were usually dealt with behind doors or ignored to the point where they merely suffocated themselves on their own silence.

Alice didn’t have a bad childhood; she was much more reserved than most children. She would ride brooms and play a crude position of Chaser in Quidditch matches with cousins who actually let her join in the games (usually due to an uneven number of players) but she would also find just as much fun in reading through the books her father kept in his study, a miniature library of sorts. She was not the first person noticed sitting around the dinner table, but in her family, there was never anything wrong with being a chameleon and blending in. Her mother raised her with the understanding that the loudest person in the room wasn’t always the right one. Success didn’t depend on being flashy. Hard work and the drive and a pinch of patience would do the trick. Expecting things was a horrible way to look at the world: it wouldn’t just offer its hand and give away everything without some sort of price, whether it was immediate payment or came about later. Alice looked up to her mother perhaps more so than her father, finding a strength in the way her mother carried herself, fashioning her own confidence in the image of her mother’s. Confidence didn’t mean cockiness. Confidence was believing in oneself and their abilities, and it could be quiet. Strength could be quiet and show itself in a myriad of ways. Of course, her childhood days and beliefs have since shifted since her days at Hogwarts and in the Ministry. She hasn’t lost touch with following ambitions down their paths, not needing to be a firestorm to be a firebrand, but in adulthood she has grown away from their shadows and stepped into the light of thinking for herself, letting her own experiences shape her. Her family likes order and balance, which explains their position in the war. Her parents and grandparents see value in a pure bloodline and because they have never had to understand the struggle of Muggleborns, do not see the genuine harm Voldemort and his followers and their ideals bring to the Wizarding world. She has cousins far down the branches of the family tree who she knows side with Voldemort in more than just opinion, but in battle, too. It genuinely bothers Alice to hear her family talk like this, a veil being swept away of sorts. Alice, in her heart, knows what is right. The world is changing, why shouldn’t views? Tradition is valued and respected but sometimes tradition is a sword that runs right through people, good people. As she’s gotten older and lived a life beyond her parent’s four walls, a life that has brought her up to the face of just as much strife as success, she finds it harder and harder to operate under the radar. There are times when she doesn’t want to sit back in the lounge chair like her father and press a thin smile over her mouth, she wants to start an argument so that things will move themselves along. Despite their disheartening talk, Alice loves them still and there is the horrifying thought that the war will force her to either stand with her family or against when all is said and done. She has lost the golden view of her childhood and dismantled any heroification of her parents, but breaking away from them is a level of instability she cannot bear to think about. She doesn’t see the hypocrisy in that action, either.

OCCUPATION:

There were lots of different occupations Alice could have (and wanted) to delve into. Healer, working somewhere within the Ministry with law and regulation; Alice is very much driven and motivated by making things right. Florean had ambitions leading him towards entrepreneurship, a path that didn’t seem too terrible for Alice (though she didn’t know what her business would have looked like, and she wasn’t nearly as charming as her brother to draw in customers). In the end, Auror prevailed, and Alice hasn’t looked back. She was tough enough to handle the pressure (that or she knew how to absorb the shocks well while remaining on her feet), smart enough to think on her feet, and hunting down and imprisoning those who abuse magic, use magic for wrongdoing, it gives her a sense of purpose. It fulfills her. Alice is not the type who can consciously waste her life away when she knows there are things she can do to improve the world that she lives in, and being an Auror means she gets the most immediate course of action in improving the world — even if it is taking down one Dark wizard at a time.

ROLE WITHIN THE ORDER/THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ORDER

The Order was, in the beginning, an extension activity. The Ministry had its boundaries like any structure of government would, and Alice could justify expanding beyond them. She saw the benefit in going the extra mile even if it was frowned upon on paper and in the laws. She, after all, had up close experience with Dark wizards, how they thought and the damage they could do, the threats they posed and how imperative it was to snuff out their sparks. She joined the Order on the precipice that it was the right thing: killing innocent people for things out of their control didn’t seem fair. She joined the Order because there was more she could do and the Order eliminated the need to dance around the red tape the Ministry would have set out. Alice wanted to fight, so she’d dedicate herself to the fight. It was new and exciting when the Order was first formed and even if some decisions from up high were questionable, it was a step on the path to making things right.

She’s somewhat of a veteran in the Order at this point. She’s survived long enough to have experienced highs and lows (and the current sinking low they are in as the scales tip out of their favor) that she’s got a jaded viewpoint of the Order. Violence used to be combated with skill, knowledge, strategy, the sheer goodness in their hearts or whatever noble shit she used to justify, and now it seems like the Order is sinking to the same levels as the Death Eaters when it comes to fighting fire with fire. The stakes raise consistently, especially being on the losing side, and more and more is asked of members of the Order who, like Alice, have tenure. Even members who are fresh in the fold are being asked to submit blind faith without context and Alice has lost all sense of novelty in that ideal, abandoned the assumption that it would result in victory. She is black and white in an organization that has always been grey and there are too many shades now for her to feel like she’s got any sense of alignment. Every decision and action sits uneasy with her. What were once infractions in the laws that she could justify turning a blind eye to (even if it did sprout lots and lots of questions) are now full on blowing past any sense of legality and it bothers her. There are too many shifty allegiances in the Order now — there’s Dorcas and her gang, taking matters into their own hands, there are those more committed to helping Muggleborns escape and go into hiding than eliminating the threat that causes them to go into hiding in the first place, there are those who no longer know where their loyalties lie, and then there are just those that she doesn’t trust, point blank. It’s hard for Alice to commit any kind allegiance to an organization that is hardly organized. She feels as though there’s no accountability, no real plan on how they’re going to win this war, and that will be what ultimately sinks the ship. Though she is a part of the inner circle, she doesn’t view it as any kind of grand privilege or incentive that she might have when she herself was bright eyed and ready to fight Death Eaters, eager to work hard and work her way up the ranks so she could feel her purpose being actualized and brought to fruition. I think Alice has her reasons for staying in the Order (people like Caradoc, trying to make her marriage with Frank stay afloat, the whole “we’re trying to take down the bad guys” thread still there somewhere in the tapestry) but it’s not because she agrees with what they’re doing anymore. It is a sinking ship. She is very much chained to it and the more they lose, the more conscious she grows of how heavy the chains are.

SURVIVAL:

“How have they not died?” I just love this question. You can figure Alice Longbottom hasn’t died because one, she’s not the type to follow anyone blindly and thinks for herself (she’ll be the first to question something if it sparks a question inside her) and two, there’s still a fair slew of Death Eaters running around. You could bet that if she’s going, she’s taking as many as she can with her with a bloodstained smile. Her death is something she refuses to let occur in vain. Like her life, it’d have purpose.

On a much more serious, in-depth sort of note, part of the reason Alice has stayed alive as long as she has comes with the privilege of her pure-blood. Her family aren’t blood traitors, not so far on the outskirts that they don’t have good graces to get them by. She takes advantage of it more than she realizes. She tries not to rely on her own bloodline or the one she married into to save her skin, but it has certainly dragged her out by the skin of her teeth from hairy situations before. Her position in the Ministry has also somewhat kept her stable. The Order is as good as illegal these days, and while the Ministry is corrupt, keeping her position as an Auror keeps a blanket of cover over her not-so-legal pastimes. She shut down the possibility of being a part of the Order to people with their prying eyes and questions and she has never outwardly given them reason to double back and pry further. Hunting Dark wizards puts a target on her back, obviously, but her skill and the formidable duo she and Frank can be has kept her alive. Her survival is strategic. She is aware that no one is safe, that even with all bases covered there are still blind spots. She doesn’t have an invincibility complex. She knows and has made peace with the fact she could die at any point, long since been a truth she’s accepted (practically necessity in being an Auror). It doesn’t mean that she doesn’t pull out the stops, have her reasons and hoping they will see her through. She stays at the Ministry not just in the hopes there is something left to save, but because of the protection it provides. She stays in the Order because there is value to her position in the inner circle, protection against those who think she is playing for the other team and intel that has kept her one step ahead in her work. She can divide her loyalty and the time has yet to come where she is forced to pick only one to commit to.

RELATIONSHIPS:

Alice is not a people person, not really. She’s an ISTJ; their circles are small and the way they make friends is utterly methodical. Alice picks and chooses who she puts time, energy, and loyalty into, and she doesn’t do so lightly — once it’s given, very rarely will she retract it. That said, it’s a time of war, and Alice is rapidly losing her stability, which means loyalty isn’t necessarily spouting out of her in spades. Relationships at this point in time have to be of substance, conversations need a purpose and an end goal or result contrived from them.

I think her relationship with Frank is possibly the most important relationship in her life at the moment, especially considering that it’s crumbling. Frank was the yin to her yang. She thought him a perfect complement to her; it was why they were so lethal in duels. He understood her, she (thought she) understood him, and Alice truly felt herself better just by Frank’s presence. Frank validated Alice in a lot of ways; he validated every feeling that didn’t quite align with what was in place for her, whether it was her exploring a freedom that many people around her didn’t or keeping to herself. She felt like she didn’t have to tick boxes or live up to certain expectations around him. Because of that, in a way, she would protect him with a dying breath, walk into fire with him and never look back. Now, of course, he feels off-kilter to her, and it is utterly nerve-grating. With everything going on she doesn’t necessarily have time to deal with working out the puzzle of what’s wrong with Frank and how do I make it right? and if it weren’t because of how much she loves him (or how long she’s loved him, per se, he’s remained a constant in a time when nothing is guaranteed and there’s somewhat of a reliance on Frank being the anchor in the storm) she’d shift her focus elsewhere. There’s never a good time for her to pick his brain and sift through the issues, which means it continues to get put off. There is a part of Alice that is afraid they’re no longer on the same page and she doesn’t know what she’ll do without him, so she simply doesn’t ask so she doesn’t have to hear the answer she doesn’t want to hear.

After Frank, I’d say that the next incredibly significant relationships Alice has are those with the inner circle. The inner circle is not the Ministry. There is no real structure, no hierarchy of responsibility. The inner circle is a group of people who are supposed to be trying to keep order within the Order all while win a losing-war, and where she may have been gung-ho in the beginning, she’s now internally straddling the fence. The only person she really trusts in the inner circle anymore (and is subsequently the tether keeping her intact with the organization as a whole) is Caradoc. Mary is a finger on the trigger and Alice knows that explosion is inevitable with her, she’s either going to lead Mary down a path that keeps her in a range of safety or wind up as collateral damage. James is just as much of a risk in her eyes. To her, all of the younger members of the Order have the right idea but they certainly don’t go about it in the right way. They’re all ready to kick up the gravel but they don’t see method to their madness, they see no benefit in taking a moment to process before they lurch into action, and to Alice, that’ll be the thing that gets everyone killed. Quite frankly, she doesn’t know how much more blood she can stand to have staining her hands.

Obviously, this is by no means the full extent of ‘relationships’ for Alice - I’m merely just writing what I personally picked up from the connections listed in her bio. As a member of the “inner circle” Alice has a position that puts her into contact with nearly every member of the Order in some way and I’d love to expand and explore other connections where she discovers and aligns to people who are in the same boat as her when it comes to the tone this war has taken and how to go about it (every girl needs a drinking buddy to bitch to) and bumps heads with those who differ or have their issues with her/how the inner circle operates.

OOC EXPLORATION:

SHIPS/ANTI-SHIPS: 

I rank chemistry higher than anything, truthfully. The way I look at things is that at the present moment, Alice is married to her work and her alignment on the right-wrong spectrum much more than she really is with Frank, whether she can swallow her pride long enough to choke that out or not. There’s a lot of waist-high angst that Frank and Alice have to explore and work their way through that I’m fully ready to fling myself into, but when it comes to any kind of definitive thing or endgame, I’m leaving myself open for any and all possibilities that come through. The rift between them could close, the rift between them could deepen and drive Alice into isolation (or into the arms of someone else) — it’s something I personally want to save for discussing and developing over time with Frank’s writer. I never join groups or apply for certain characters on the sole precipice for a guaranteed ship, I’m drawn to characters based on the vision and what avenues I can take with them, how I’ll be able to write them into the fold. With Alice, romance is certainly an undeniable element to her character but I don’t think it’s a very prominent shade in her palette considering everything else she’s got going on. I always leave windows open! I’m just more interested in diving in, exploring her, and seeing what colors and shades I can pull out of her when writing against other incredibly talented people.  

WHAT PRIVILEGES AND BIASES DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE? 

To put it rather plainly, Alice doesn’t have much room (if any) to complain when it comes to how she has it. Her family may not be what the Wizarding World would hail next to royalty, but aside from being a woman, she’s got just about every box ticked when it comes to possession of privilege. Pure-blood? Check. Caucasian? Check. Heterosexual? Check. Alice doesn’t expect the world to hand her things on a silver platter but she’s used to drinking out of a silver cup. I like to think that she’s intelligent enough to recognize her privilege and an existence of bias but very rarely does she check it at the door. Alice’s morality and sense of wrong and right is one that I think, given the direction of this group, will be something wildly fun to explore! She’s always consumed with doing “the right thing”, her world is very much black and white, but Alice’s interpretation of “the right thing” may not be what underprivileged people in the magical community consider to be right. When she is called out on behaviors or exhibiting her bias, I want to see to what extent she will recognize her wrongdoing and legitimately grow from it. She knows discriminating against Muggleborns is wrong, but her actions don’t always reflect that (usually an unintentional thing, but nonetheless still indicative). In a way it goes hand-in-hand with her association with her family (they aren’t radicalized like the Death Eaters and they wouldn’t say that Voldemort is right, but the principle of the thing is enough to align them) — Alice may educate herself and think differently, but will she choose to put it into practice instead of just turning a blind eye and grinding down her teeth to keep quiet? She’s the kind who likes to make things right, but is she too selective in what she makes right? What holds her back from speaking up against her family, what will be the straw that breaks the camel’s back (if it comes at all)? It’s something I definitely want to explore as time goes on, and I really would love to perhaps put Alice in a situation where other characters really push her in a corner and make her analyze what she’s doing about her privilege. Acknowledgment is an important step, but action (especially out of the mouth of someone who is impassioned when it comes to aligning things back to a rightful state) is just as important, and not just when it is convenient. That latter component is something Alice does need work on but I think with time, she could find herself steadily improving upon. Let her fuck up be it in a subtle manner or of epic proportion, let her be educated and let her have the opportunity to (maybe) grow from it! After all, if we as human beings are stagnate and refuse growth, are we living at all?

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO? 

I’ll be honest, I’m very selective when it comes to Harry Potter groups. I like having some kind of structure within them but also having the liberation to run with my muses, but above all else, I look for the groups who go the extra mile. Whether that’s with plot, originality, or just the sheer dedication admins and members alike pour into their group, I like to think I have an eye for finding the diamonds in the basket. To me, this group is it. I’m a sucker for an AU on anything. The creative freedom, the doors it opens, it entices me and it gives me as a writer to take a chance that I probably wouldn’t otherwise. I also really like groups that walk the balance between external and internal strife, while also allowing their writers the chance to flesh out characters in a different light than canon did. That can be hard for groups to find and walk, but I think you’ve done such a magnificent job in doing such that it’s crazy to not at least try my hand at a muse or two. For Alice in particular, I was drawn to her bio because of the completely different light you’ve angled on her and the garden of opportunity sown. As writers, we sometimes ask things of the characters we breathe our life into and what I love most about Alice is she’s the one who always steps up to the plate, an equal participant in the process. She makes you question your own motives with her character and why you write her in the way you do, she doesn’t conform to one style or one story line, and she demands all of your attention and affection with the glaring reminder you will not tame her or conform her to the basis of another muse or a past portrayal. It is imperative to her character and the development she has the possibility of undergoing — she relies on you as much as you rely on her. At the same time, she is almost an entirely separate being and writes herself (this application for her did anyways) and Alice is an incredible opportunity to deviate from myself, the canon of Harry Potter — or at the very least, the preconceived notions of fandom as to what canon in the Marauders era entails — and just write. I’m looking forward to writing a character far different from anything I could have envisioned for her (as a Slytherin myself, I’m pumped to be writing a fellow Slytherin!) or that I would have predicted taking on and I like a challenge. I’m looking forward to getting to walk in your Potterverse, I’m looking forward to how the future isn’t set and what incredible things can come from it. And of course, I love the things that can be born from war-based settings, whether it’s a plot drop or character tension, and to be on the inside of it as well as watch it unfold is an exciting prospect!

PLOT DROP IDEAS: 

Look, I love angst. So much. As if you couldn’t tell. One group-wide plot I think that could be a lot of fun, especially since this is a smaller bunch, is to see what would happen if outside forces wedged their way into the group in an attempt to divide and essentially conquer the Order? I’m not sure where Peter’s storyline will take him, of course, but I think it’d be fun to play out something where there’s a strong cause for suspicion after a mission that one of them has betrayed the group and is working as a double agent, and of course, everyone thinks it’s someone different and results in everyone pointing the blame at everyone and just, a lot of angst, testing these friendships and bonds, seeing who’s ready to sell out who and so forth. This would obviously create a big vulnerability within the group since they don’t trust one another, throw in perhaps the Death Eaters or other Dark forces attacking them out of nowhere…I think it has some potential, it’s just a little idea right now that definitely needs some fleshing out, obviously, but it’s an idea that could be really fun. Another small little plot idea I have is someone in the Order going missing (could be a NPC close to one of the players, or could actually be one of our players) and it’s revealed they’ve been captured, they’ll be exchanged harm-free if our little group hands back over something of importance to the Death Eaters. There’s a time limit involved as well, and if the group doesn’t comply, this person is killed. Of course, segue into conflict, angst, and all the good emotions. Ultimately though, I like waiting and seeing the dynamic of the game and all the other players to really develop group plot ideas? As far as Alice-specific, I am currently planning to play her devoid of child, but dependent upon future discussion with other players (and of course seeing where the course of things take her), I think it’d be fun to see Alice fall pregnant and watch her struggle with that whole Pandora’s box? Would she tell Frank or keep him on the outside? Would it bring her joy or terror? Would she keep the baby or would she choose another route considering the bleak state of things? Just an idea.

ANYTHING ELSE? N/A

[scramblingminds]

Okay anon, you asked for this AGES ago but I was a bit stuck with it. But after the last few days anon drama in this fandom, I got the motivation to finish this one! I hope this is what you were hoping for. 

Warnings: ABO. Smut. Some angst and of course fluff because this is me after all. Rated E. 

@vbabe14  @syrabylene @greyhoundsgirl

Not Here

Daryl knew it would never get easier to ride through the gates of the Sanctuary, the sight of the place putting a foul taste in his mouth. Daryl knocked his kick stand down, the arms that had held on around his waist during the ride giving a firm squeeze before slipping free.

“Let’s make this quick.” Daryl muttered as Paul hopped off the back of his bike.

“I know, love.” Paul grinned at the alpha as he headed inside the building.

Daryl tried to not go in further than the exterior, rarely even to the gardens where only asphalt use to be. They just needed an update on all the community's food stores, Hilltop would be starting to harvest their crops over the next weeks and needed to know who needed what.  

Daryl was still straddling his bike, boot bouncing as he waited for Paul. As much as he hated the place, he hated the idea of Paul being inside of it alone even more. Daryl was no fool, Paul was the strongest person he had ever met and no one would honestly be dumb enough to bother him. After all, Rosita spent most of her time at Sanctuary and Daryl had seen her greet Paul as he went in. Paul could send anyone in that place to their ass and she was just as tough.  

There was just that hindbrain part of him that didn’t want his omega anywhere near the place that he hated so much. Paul being an omega wasn’t something that meant much to Daryl, it just made his instinct rear their head a bit more than if his boyfriend was a beta. Daryl had been a bit more protective of the man over the last few days, much to Paul annoyance.  

Daryl had even nearly knocked Rick off his feet when the other alpha had jokingly wrapped his arm around Paul when they had been at Alexandria earlier that day. Before Paul, Daryl had never gone into rut with anyone. Now it was something he was very familiar with.

Over the last year they had learned it started settling into Daryl in the week leading up to Paul’s heat. Daryl would get edgy about anyone being around Paul but he only started getting physical right before Paul’s heat. Luckily Paul only went into heat every other month, not every month like a lot of omegas did.  

So, Daryl twitchiness meant they needed to get back home as soon as possible. Daryl felt like he was going to crack the concrete under his boot as Rosita walked up with a grin. He glared at her until she pulled a silver case out of her back pocket and pulled two beautifully handmade cigarettes out. Daryl had fished his lighter out of his vest pocket in a flash making her laugh as she handed over the smoke to him, he clearly needed something for his nerves.  

-------------------------------

“Things getting a little tight around here?” Paul asked as he looked over the shelves in the admittedly massive pantry. Though the shelves were shocking bare.  

Frankie chuckled with a grimace, “A bit. Our gardens were doing alright but still aren’t quite keeping up with demand. But we still have a couple weeks before we need to get too worried.”

Paul nodded at the former wife as he wrote out their list, “Well, soon there should be more than enough to go around.”  

Hilltop had the best agricultural system, their crops thrived long before Negan and they had since. Oceanside did well but their fish and other game from the forest around their home was much more needed by the other communities.  

Paul didn’t mind the Sanctuary, he had no real issues with the people or place but he still had a dislike for it. He knew it came from his love for Daryl, the pain the alpha had gone through while there. He knew Daryl was ready to leave and not just because of where they were. Paul was honestly just as on edge, perhaps more so since he knew he was the cause for Daryl’s behavior.

Paul knew that a lot of people thought less of him because he was an omega. He had fought that stereotype all his life. Being an omega just made Paul stronger however. That didn’t mean he did feel things all others felt, he could feel the hollow feeling blooming in his gut. The sweat that broke out on his neck at random as his heat approached. Daryl getting physical with Rick that morning only served to prove just how close it was getting.  

It didn’t take long to get the list together, with Laura pitching in to help them along. Paul had just stepped out of the pantry, the two ladies following when he gasped. A sharp pain hitting him right in the abdomen, starting under his belly button and burning deep into his gut. He stumbled, having to grip the wall for support as another bolt hit, this time it shocked down into his pelvis making his knees week.  

“Jesus?!” Frankie rushed to his side, “What’s wrong?”

Paul swallowed a sound that would have been far too close to moan as he pressed his hand to his stomach. He shook his head, this couldn’t be happening now but he could feel the fever spreading up his chest.  

“Oh god, is he...” Laura whispered as she took a deep breath and Paul knew before long he would be stinking with it.

“I need...” Paul hated how high his voice sounded as tremors started in his thighs, “I need Daryl.”  

Frankie turned to Laura and snapped at the beta, “Go get him! I’m going to take Paul to my room.”

Laura spun without a word and took off down the hall. Laura looped her arm around Paul’s back, if he wasn’t so busy trying not to double over with a whine he would have been impressed by how easily she hauled him with her. Her face was set in a hard expression, “We have to get you out of here. It isn’t safe to be like this out here.”

Paul felt like she might be speaking from experience but he wasn’t in a state to question the other omega. All he could think about was the ache settling inside of him and how much he needed Daryl.  

-----------------------------

“Don’t tell Carol ‘bout this.” Daryl mumbled as he lit the cigarette now dangling from his lip.  

“Or Jesus?” Rosita smirked as she snatched his lighter for her own use.  

Daryl nodded, almost groaning with the long drag he took. He had been trying to quit but old habits do die hard after all.  His nerves were always on edge whenever he had to be around the Saviors home but it was made worse by his current state of mind because of a certain omega.  

They took a few puffs in silence, Rosita moving to lean against the bike with Daryl when he twisted around on the seat. Neither of them really saw much of each other anymore, usually just in passing because their lives had led them in different directions. She was still family though and he was comfortable with just being quiet with her.  

“So,” Rosita knocked the ash off the end of her smoke, “You guys still, you know, trying?”

Daryl figured she had smelled Paul when he passed her, the fainted scent of approaching heat clear even to her beta nose. Daryl took another deep inhale, glancing at her curious face through his bangs before giving the smallest nod.  

The first few heats they went through together had been protected. Paul had been taking, still affective but expired, birth control but it ran out after not too long. Daryl had never seen Paul nervous before, the man had been a ball of tense energy as he made the suggestion that they not try to prevent anything.  

Daryl could have been knocked over with a damn feather. They hadn’t been together that long at that point, around six months but honestly, they had been dancing around each other since that first day back on the road with the truck. Daryl couldn’t fathom that someone could love him like Paul insisted he did but the idea that anyone would be willing to have a child with him was seemingly impossible.

The term mate was outdated and many partners never used it. That was what it felt like Paul had been asking though, if Daryl might want to be his mate. Paul had been so patient as Daryl’s gears ground in his brain, just picking at his shirt sleeve between reaching up to tuck his hair behind his right ear. Daryl always found the little habit so enduring, Paul was all calm collected ninja but the little quirk only ever got seen by Daryl.  

Daryl had chewed his lip and thumb nail raw by the time he finally nodded. Paul looked like a feather would take him out too as his jaw dropped before it spread into a crooked smile. Daryl didn’t know why someone as amazing as Paul had chosen him but he wasn’t a stupid man. He knew not to look a gift horse in the mouth.  

“I think it would be good,” Rosita snapped Daryl back to the present and he cocked an eyebrow at her, “Good for there to be more kids. Good for Judith and Hershel to have someone to play with and grow up with.”

“Ya think so?” Daryl flicked his own ash away. He had thought the same thing more than a time or two.  

“Yeah,” Rosita smile was soft as she nudged his elbow, “It’ll be good for you too, Daryl. You’d be a really great dad.”

Daryl blinked at her, a flush pooling into his face as he cleared his throat, “Yeah?”

She nodded before smirking, “Plus we’d get to see Jesus trying to ninja around with a big baby belly.”

Daryl nearly choked on the laugh that image brought to mind before he jumped at a loud screech, “DARYL!!”

Laura hollered as she sprinted out of the building, stopping halfway to him before turning and franticly gesturing for him to follow, “It’s Jesus! C’mon!”  

Daryl threw his cigarette down, his feet moving faster than his brain. He never thought he would ever be in a hurry to get back inside of the Sanctuary but he was kicking up gravel as he took off behind the beta.

---------------------------------------

Paul’s skin was on fire by the time Frankie got him inside her room. She got him sitting on the bed, he crumpled into himself instantly. Paul didn’t mind the fact that he got heats, it was a part of his life as an omega. He didn’t particularly like where this one decided to rear its head though. If it had waited just another hour, they would have been home and he wouldn’t be throbbing in his pants at the Sanctuary.  

“Okay, Daryl will be here soon,” Frankie made him sit up so she could peel his leather jacket off him and toss it in a chair by the bed, “I’m not worried about any mess or even give a shit about these sheets.”

She nudged him with a joking smile and he tried to return it but all he could manage was a groan. She tucked his sweaty hair off his face as she pulled his gloves off and tossed them with his coat. She worked on his boots next, putting them next to the door and tucking his socks inside them so they wouldn’t get lost. She struggled a bit to get his holstered off but managed and set them on top of his boots.  

She knew every inch of his skin was burning, the heat not just setting flame to his inside but it was everywhere. Paul was grateful she had been with him when this cluster fuck had happened. If he had been around a beta they wouldn’t have been as prepared to help him. It had been a shit show if an alpha had been helping him or had run across them in the hall.  

“There is water in the fridge,” Her room was laid out a lot like a hotel, like most of the living quarters in the building, “Even some food.”

“Not going be here that long.” Paul managed to mumble. He planned that once the first wave of heat subsided for them to jump on Daryl bike and get the hell home. There was no way he was spending the next three days there.  

Frankie nodded in understanding then cleared her throat as she opened the top drawer of her bed side table. She left it open as she muttered, “There are condoms in there, the kind made for alphas.”

Paul almost shook his head, almost told her how they didn’t use protection but he stopped himself and settled on a husked, “Thanks.”  

Before she could speak again the door swung open, Laura stumbling in with the force of Daryl charging in behind her with Rosita on his tail. The alpha looked frantic, both from worry and Paul’s scent that was even filling the hallway. Paul whined at the sight of him and the rough sound that came from deep in Daryl’s chest had the women scrambling out of the room, locking the door behind them.

---------------------------

Daryl’s blood felt like it was boiling as he took in the sight of Paul hunched on the bed. His face was flushed, pupils dilated and sweat had his hair sticking to his neck. He was stripped down to just his pants and shirt, to aid in easing his pain and because Frankie knew Daryl would need the easiest access possible.  

Paul wasn’t in the worst of his heat, the first and last few were always the calmest. It wouldn’t be until the next day that Paul would be little more than a begging soaked mess and Daryl’s rut would be so strong he wouldn't be able to do anything but please him. He knew once this wave was over they were getting the hell out of there.  

“Daryl...” Paul gasped, reaching up to try and push his hair off his damp face.  

Daryl was across the room in three strides, ripping his knife holsters off and letting them thud to the floor. Then he was hauling Paul up from the bed and kissing him hard. Paul moaning into his mouth, gripping his vest to shove it off his shoulders. Daryl grabbing the hem of his shirt, parting from his bruising lips long enough to yank the garment off and toss it to the floor.  

Paul’s hands trembled as he got Daryl’s shirt open but left it on, moving next to work on his belt. Daryl wasn’t going to argue with Paul’s hurry, he was ready to get his omega home as quickly as possible. Daryl pushed Paul’s pants off his hip, the cargoes not stained with any slick yet.  

Daryl’s hands slid over Paul’s ass as he shoved his briefs off. They were a bit damp but thankfully not soaked. Paul gripped Daryl’s waist as he kicked his underwear aside. Daryl groaned softly as Paul got his zipper shoved down and pushed his pants down enough that his dick snapped free.  

Paul let out a small squeak as Daryl tossed him back on the bed. Paul arched his back as he drew his legs up to lull open. Not bothering to move around to lay his head on the pillow, content where he was as Daryl stepped between his thighs.  

Daryl had to catch his breath as he looked over Paul. Thighs trembling slightly, cock swollen against his belly and already dripping but it wasn’t the part of him that needed the most attention. Daryl ran his hand down Paul’s aching belly, feeling it twitch from his touch.  

Paul gasping as his fingertips grazed over his dick down his balls, slick already starting to drip down his ass onto the bed as Daryl finally reached his hole. Paul’s back bowed up even further, heading thrown back as he nearly screamed from the touch, it was so good but not enough.  

“So wet already, need me that bad, darlin’?” Daryl leaned over him, rest with his hand next to Paul’s head as he kissed over his sweaty temple. Paul could barely nod before Daryl’s finger slipped inside him.

Paul’s hands grabbed Daryl’s shoulders, thighs falling even wider around Dary as he panted, “More, need you, Daryl. Please, hurry.”  

Daryl kissed his quivering lips; his eyes having gone glassy with both pleasure and pain. Paul whining as he sucked Daryl’s tongue into his mouth, Daryl easing a second finger in. Paul was so wet, slick thick and body so relaxed under him Daryl knew he could possibly thrust right in. It would hurt though, just a little from the first stretch and Daryl didn’t like to do that.  

When Daryl added a third finger Paul groaned but it was more in frustration as he sat up and nearly knocked Daryl off him. He gripped the back of Daryl’s head as his other hand slapped around the bed side table. When he leaned back Daryl almost moaned at the way Paul glared at him.

“Stop teasing and fuck me,” Paul held up a condom between them, gripping the corner with his teeth and ripping it open, “Before I flip us over and take matters into my own hands.”

Daryl almost liked that idea but he stared at the condom, they hadn’t used them in so long now. Daryl raised his brow at it, hoping Paul couldn’t see what was going on in his head. He didn’t know if he could handle the thought that Paul had changed his mind about wanting to have a child with him.  

Paul, of course, did see that, even with his mind in a haze of heat he could read Daryl like a book. Paul kissed his cheek, reaching down to stroke Daryl’s aching dick and slipping the condom on. He nuzzled his beard against Daryl’s jaw as he husked, “When I get pregnant, I don’t want it to happen here, babe. I want you to breed me, when we get home. Not here.”  

Daryl actually sighed as he nodded, kissing Paul deep before shoving him back on the bed. Paul falling back with a smile as Daryl ran the tip of his cock over his drenched hole. Paul reached up, gripping the sheets above his head as Daryl pushed inside.

Paul moaned, so loud in the small room but Daryl wanted him to do it more. He watched Paul’s face as he eased inside. Saw how his mouth fell open with each breath, it was like he was in pain but the way his cocked dripped over his stomach proved it was pleasure.  

Paul felt so full when Daryl was fulling inside him, not just the stretch of his hole but the hollow ache in his gut eased just a bit. He knew it would fade once he had Daryl’s knot, for a little bit at least and more than enough time to get the hell away from the Sanctuary.  

Daryl leaned down, nipping at Paul’s throat that he bared on instinct. His hips taking up a hard, deep pace, one that always got both of them off in no time. It hit Paul’s prostate perfectly, making him go so deliciously tight around Daryl.  

“Oh, god, Daryl, that’s so good,” Paul whined as he arched into Daryl’s thrusts, thighs gripping him tight and one hand coming up to hold into the back of his neck, “You’re so good, babe.”  

Daryl moaned at the praise as he slammed into Paul, leaving dark marks on his throat. Daryl leaned back, shaking his sweaty bangs out of his eyes, “Yer so gorgeous, so damn perfect, Paul.”  

Paul whimpered making Daryl move even harder. Paul could feel his orgasm bubbling just under the surface, like it was waiting, waiting for that last little push. Paul almost sobbed when Daryl’s hand ran over his stomach, pressing down where the ache to be filled was the worst. Paul’s own hand slapped down over his as he cried out, “Please, please, please knot me.”  

It was like on Paul’s command that Daryl felt the first jolt, almost like pain but it was so good as his knot grew. Just another few thrusts before Daryl couldn’t pull out, his knot keeping him inside as his orgasm hit him like a punch.  

Paul’s mouth opening in a silent scream as he came between them. The stretch not hurting but the aching emptiness inside fading for now as Daryl filled the condom. Paul’s come splattering up over their hands, that stayed just a moment more now rubbing at Paul’s belly.  

Daryl collapsed, his orgasm still running through him and Paul wrapped his arms around him tightly. Daryl’s bulk not too much for him to take as he kissed his cheek and jaw. Daryl nuzzled at Paul’s throat, just catching his breath, “Can’t wait to get ya home and come in ya fer real.”

Paul hummed at the words, “I think I want that a lot more than you do, you have no idea.”  

Daryl managed to get his elbows under him, his knot would still take a bit more time to deflate but they were happy to stay like this. He brushed Paul’s hair off his face, rubbing his thumb over his bearded cheek, “Do ya know how bad I want ya pregnant?”  

Paul’s face had cooled some as his heat settled back for the time being but his cheek bones colored just a bit pink. Sex always made Daryl’s tongue loosen up, made it easier for him to be open and honest, “How bad, babe?”  

Daryl’s thumb kept up its soothing motion as he rest his forehead on Paul’s, “So fucking bad. Want to see ya all big and round, yer going to be so beautiful but it’s more than that.”  

Paul’s hands buried in Daryl’s hair so he wouldn’t move, his eyes clear of the haze of heat but desperation still in them, “Tell me. Don’t stop, keep talking.”  

Daryl’s face was flushed but he was smiling, “Want a baby with yer eyes and all that hair. Gonna be a lil badass just like its daddy. Can’t wait to see it.”

Paul kissed Daryl gently, nuzzling his nose as he whispered, “It needs your smile and sweet personality, then it will be perfect, just like its papa.”  

Daryl could feel that his knot was gone but he stayed inside just a moment more as he breathed the same air as Paul, “Love ya, Paul.”

“I love you,” Paul kissed up his jaw, “Now take me home and let’s make this baby.”  

Daryl nodded before carefully pulling out and dragging them both off the bed. Paul grimacing as Daryl removed the condom and dropped it on the floor. He didn’t bother to pick it up, though he would apologize to Frankie for that and the wreck they left her bed next time he saw her outside of his heat.  

They haphazardly pulled their clothes back on, the room still stinking with sex and heat as they left. Rosita had been in the hall, face impassive for the noises she had to have heard. She just gave them a salute as they hurried down the hall and out of the building. They didn’t have long before the next wave of Paul’s heat would hit.

Daryl saw Frankie by his bike, giving her a nod of thanks as Paul waved sheepishly as her as they climbed on. She just smiled at them as Daryl started his bike and tore out of the gate. Leaving the Sanctuary behind him where it belonged and speeding to Hilltop, where they belonged.

-----------------------------

Paul couldn’t believe he was doing this. It was stupid as his foot bounced on the linoleum floor as he sat on the edge of the tub.  

Daryl hadn’t noticed that Paul’s heat was late, not that two days was that late. Paul wasn’t always perfectly regular, but when Daryl hadn’t started to show signed of rut the week before Paul had noticed. Daryl still wasn’t showing any signs and Paul’s heat would have usually started by now.  

Paul jumped as the small, chicken shaped kitchen timer in his hand went off. Paul sighed as it twisted it to stop the ringing. He steeled his nerves, he was a grown man and stood up. He picked up the plastic stick off the sink counter and looked at it.

Paul felt his fingers trembled as he pressed them to his mouth. A huge ever crooked smile behind it as he stared at two clear pink lines, “Holy shit.”  

[temptation-narnia-chronicles]

Temptation

Chapter Fourteen

      "Ellie, dear, are you sure you want to do this?" Mrs. Beaver asked, utmost concern painting her face. She wrung her paws together uneasily as she squinted up at her adoptive daughter. The sun sat high in the sky above her, it's rays casting an angelic glow about Eilonwy's hair.

      Wiping the sweat from her brow, the huntress gave a definitive nod as she slid her winter boots on over her pants. Peter's camp clothes hung loosely on her skeletal frame but it was nothing a little cinching couldn't fix. After all, she needed the ease of motion. "I have to. I've a duty not only to myself, but to my country" she replied, sheathing her sword at her hip. She launched a wad of spit onto the surface of her helmet and polished it with her shirt hem until it gleamed in the morning light. Somehow, she found herself much more at ease decked out in armor, the feeling providing snippets of much-needed confidence. This was where she belonged, what she was meant to do. Her limbs tingled at the prospect of war. "I don't want you to worry. I'll be fine. Promise" she added in reassurance. A gentle hand skated down to lovingly cup Mrs. Beaver's cheek.       The she-beaver whimpered at her endearing touch, nuzzling the palm of Eilonwy's hand and holding it there a little while longer. "I know you will be, love. You always have had a taste for adrenaline" she jested in soft, bittersweet tones. The pair sat in silence for a moment more before Mrs. Beaver sucked in a deep breath and composed herself. "Well, on with you now. The troops have already left and you mustn't lag too far behind" she said, patting Eilonwy on the knee. The huntress nodded, rising from her seat and sliding her helmet onto her head. With her face completely covered, she was scarcely recognizable. The initial anonymity flooded her with a reassuring sense of security. No one could tell her to return to camp if they didn't know she was fighting in the first place.       Eilonwy bid Mrs. Beaver one last heartfelt goodbye, planting a quick kiss on her forehead, before racing off to the stables. At first glance, Everlast whinnied and stamped her hooves in hesitancy. It wasn't until Eilonwy edged closer, cooing, and rested a hand upon the horse's muzzle that she recognized her faithful rider. Moments later, the pair disappeared toward Beruna.       On the bank of the valley, a sea of Narnian soldiers prepared themselves for combat. Perched upon Everlast's back, Eilonwy waded through the crowd of centaurs and fauns, all of which were male, in search of the perfect place to squeeze in. The presence of so many soldiers was comforting, and not just as a statement of patriotism. Among so many, Eilonwy was just another face in the crowd, another body on the battlefield. No one needed to know who she was or what her intentions were. It was bad enough she was disobeying Peter's orders but now she was to do something even worse: disobey his battle commands.       At the front of the crowd, Peter sat stiffly upon Besnik, overlooking the opposing team. Their snarls and roars echoed across Beruna in a cacophony of horrifying music, sending a shiver down his spine.       "They come, your highness, in numbers and weapons far greater than our own" a gryphon accounted as he landed beside the knight.       "Numbers do not win a battle" Oreius reassured. He paid a minute glance to Peter, eyes stony and willful, as if his gaze alone could instill some confidence in the boy.       "No, but I bet they help..." he replied quietly. His heart pounded against the chain mail pressed to his chest, almost constricting him. His skin crawled as a small voice inside his head contemplated the repercussions of backing out, of simply surrendering and letting Jadis win without a fight. But then he remembered Aslan and the conversation they had upon the cliff. I, too, want my family safe, he spoke, voice deep and magnificent. Narnia's fate rested in Peter's inexperienced hands. Even if he failed, he had to make an attempt. He had grown rather fond of this magical land in the short time he had spent there and additionally, was bestowed with the great responsibility to protect it as his mother assigned him to protect his siblings. The land and all who inhabited it were indebted to Peter as their protector and that truth both terrified and motivated him.       The crowd erupted in a hearty cheer as Jadis's army roared and raced forward across the battlefield. Eilonwy's heart instantly rose into her throat and she locked her eyes on the vision of Peter at the helm of the crowd, fully armored upon his steed. He was a completely different person and as he signaled the aerial attacks, she began to wonder if maybe she had misjudged him. Perhaps he truly was prepared for this. Perhaps he truly was strong enough for this.       "You seem nervous" a voice suddenly spoke, snapping the huntress from her thoughts.       "W-what?" she asked, whipping around to face it's source. A faun stood beside her, no taller than herself on foot, radiating innocence in his cherubic face.       "You're nervous. I can tell" he repeated. "I can see it in your stance, and now in your eyes. You're scared." Shifting upon Everlast, Eilonwy huffed and stammered a rebuttal. She didn't take kindly to being accused of such weak traits, even if she knew deep down he was right.       The huntress paused, furrowing her brows a moment. She had spent so much time being cocky about her skills, yet she never stopped to consider her own inexperience. She may have been a master huntress but she was blind to the true perils of war. Everything she had ever learned could vanish from her brain in an instant due to none other than her own anxiety, than too much adrenaline. Those godforsaken barriers she had cursed and spat at for so long had finally been destroyed but perhaps their erection was for the better. Now there was nothing protecting her form the danger racing towards her. She was utterly, completely on her own. Her only saving grace now was the oversized breast plate strapped to her chest and the sword at her side. In the coming hours, she could very well die and no one would bat an eyelash or make any effort to retrieve her corpse. She was just another face in the crowd, another body on the battlefield.       Peter clenched his palm around the hilt of his sword as he watched the battle commence before him. Rocks, like bombs, catapulted toward the ground, destroying anyone and anything in their path. Great, hulking giants and steadfast dwarves and ugly creatures Peter could scarcely describe raced toward him as if bursting from the frame of a terrible dream. It was in that moment that he thought to himself, This must be what dad feels like.       His time was running short and his opponents were coming ever nearer. There was no time left to retreat, to hide behind his own cowardice like a shy little boy. After all, Peter was no longer a little boy. Paying one last glance to the war before him, he turned to the broad-shouldered centaur adjacent. "Are you with me?"       "To the death" Oreius replied nobly. The faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of Peter's lips for a nanosecond before returning his attention to the task at hand. At least if he had to die, he wouldn't die alone.       Sucking in a deep breath, he raised his sword high above his head and shouted as loud as humanly possible, "For Narnia! And for Aslan!" His battle cry sent a wave of shivers down Eilonwy's spine, clammy hands tightening their grip on Everlast's mane. Besnik brayed and whinnied as he then galloped alongside Oreius into the battlefield, taking Peter with him. The other centaurs and all the fauns raised their spears and swords and hurrahed viciously, following their leader into the jaws of death. Whether she was ready or not, Eilonwy was swept along at the mercy of their current.       As both forces grew dangerously closer, both Peter and Eilonwy became deaf to all other worldly noises. The only sound penetrating their anxious concentration now was that of their pounding heartbeats, a privilege neither were sure they'd have the pleasure of for much longer. And then came the collision, a disgusting symphony of roars and whines and clanging metal effectively snapping everyone out of their trance. Now this was the real beginning of war, the real end of emotion and contemplation. This was the time of act and react, of fight and defend. This was the time life's warranty expired. This was Beruna.       Automatically, Eilonwy was seized by an animalistic instinct she had only truly felt once before. All her doubts and fears vanished almost instantly. Whipping out her sword, she slashed at every opponent who crossed her path, blood splattering onto her sleeves and pants, her face, her armor. Her only focus now was the kill. The prime suspect: the witch herself.      Peter sped through the crowd on horseback, biting his lip to try and quell the endless array of thoughts strumming through his mind. He couldn't shake the knowledge that he was killing living things, creatures with lives and feelings and families. But he had a duty to uphold. He had revenge to seek. He had a job to do and he could not under any circumstances let his emotions get the best of him.       Perched upon her chariot, Jadis surveyed the scene before her with scrutiny and hunger. Her eyes shifted from the weak Narnians to the leader of their army, her grip tightening on her wand as she craved all the hurt she could burden upon him. Ginarrbrik, her henchman, stood beside her, peering over the edge for he was too short to see over the top. Jadis elbowed him harshly to capture his attention, murmuring in vile tones, "I have no interest in prisoners. Kill them all. Except the boy. The little king, I'll take care of myself." Ginarrbrik nodded once before hopping from the platform and into the crowd, bow and arrow at his side, prepared to fulfill his master's wishes.       Wing of phoenix swooped low to scrape the earth, igniting a band of flame through the grass. Jadis's wand sliced through the barrier with one swift wave. Peter cursed under his breath as he glanced at his men struggling. "Fall back! Draw them to the rocks!" he finally commanded. A horn's blare echoed from the cliffs, sending a flurry of arrows raining down into the valley. As Peter rode along with the swarm, his steed's hindquarters suddenly jolted and launched the young knight from his perch. His entire body slammed into the dirt with a harsh thud, soil smearing across his cheek, as he spluttered and fought to refocus his vision. Besnik brayed and whinnied, back legs faltering, as blood oozed from a pierce in his flank.       Eilonwy halted at the sight, a pang of pain striking her heart at the thought of Peter injured. Following the trajectory of the arrow, she squinted ferociously at a nasty little dwarf waddling from the cliff's edge in maniacal laughter. Before she could seek revenge on the miscreant, however, the sound of an approaching chariot stole her attention and she immediately bolted out of the way.       As soon as Peter regained his footing, he whipped around to find Oreius, dual blades drawn as he galloped toward the White Witch. Peter could only remember the ensuing moments as hazy visions tearing at his heart. Jadis narrowed her eyes as the centaur grew nearer, hungry for his demise. Shouts of protest tangled in Peter's throat as he watched helplessly from the sidelines, paralyzed. Just as Oreius swung his blade with a hearty battle cry, the thin blade of the witch's wand impaled his chest and petrified him.       All around him, Narnians faced endless obliteration. Peter glanced frantically to what was left of his men, their decreased morale triggering an executive decision. "Edmund, there's too many!" he called to his brother nearby. "Get out of here! Get the girls and get them home! All three of them!"       Edmund cocked his head as he tried to deduce what Peter meant by all three of them, counting in his head before realizing he meant Eilonwy as the extra. The knight knew what exactly what he was doing and suffered no remorse. Eilonwy belonged in Narnia but he didn't care. No matter what, he was taking her back to England even if he didn't live to see it through.       From across the way, Eilonwy struggled against a minotaur whose size alone expended much of her energy. Her endless swipes and jabs were miscalculated and ineffective, leaving her opponent to snatch her tiny wrist up in one of his massive claws. She squirmed in his grip through grunts and shouts but the monster was far too strong and she ceased to break free. With a flick of his wrist, he twisted her arm behind her back and kicked her to the ground. Blood dribbled down her chin as her teeth sank into her lower lip, wheezing from the impact of the slam against her breast. Her helmet tumbled into a dip in the dirt, mangled braid swinging down from the nape of her neck, as she turned glaring toward the minotaur to reveal her face. He paused a moment, taken aback by his opponent's surprise identity, before smirking and swinging at her once again. Eilonwy frantically regrouped, rolling onto her back to kick the minotaur in the chest. Her leverage sent him stumbling backwards, aghast, as she forced herself to her feet and slashed at him til his dark fur was sticky with blood.       Amidst her approach toward Peter, Jadis caught sight of the young soldier in her periphery and identified Eilonwy at once. A disgusting satisfaction coursed through her veins as she redirected her wrath. It would be the perfect bookend to a hundred year punishment. She didn't dare give up the chance.       Blood smeared across Eilonwy's brow as she wiped the sweat and tendrils of hair from her face. Her chest rose and fell tumultuously, basking in a rare morsel of respite. There was no time to breathe, however. As she pressed her back against a boulder, her eyes focused in on the devil herself barrelling toward her, eyes ablaze with the hunger for death.       As Edmund scaled the rock formations in retreat, he caught sight of the scene below and something inside him twitched.       "Peter said 'get out of here'!" Mr. Beaver shouted, motioning toward camp. However, the youngest Pevensie brother wasn't listening.       "Yeah, well Peter's not king yet!" he retorted, drawing his sword. Without wasting another second, he darted back into the valley with desperate purpose.       Genuine terror engulfed the huntress as Jadis's gaze paralyzed her. It was as if in that instant, she was a child again, cold and confused in Cair Paravel's parlor. The repressed emotions of the past century washed over her in a fit of tremors and stolen breath. This was the end.       "What a pleasant surprise it is running into you again!" Jadis cooed. "I'm rather shocked to find you on the battlefield considering you've always been all talk and no action." Eilonwy's fingers itched at her sides, desperate to rip this woman to shreds, but her hands refused to move. Her throat tightened, trapping any verbal rebuttals deep within her chest. The witch smirked and as she raised her wand, Eilonwy swore she was staring into the very depths of her soul. She had never felt more vulnerable and stripped down and afraid. Her breathing grew faster and deeper, eyes squeezed shut as she prepared to meet the cold hand of death but before Jadis could end her, the cry of another posed as distraction.       Everything happened so quickly. A menacing grunt rose from deep within Jadis's throat, disappearing behind the clatter of clashing swords. By the time Eilonwy realized she was not yet dead and creaked open her eyes, she was immediately blinded by the most brilliant blue light. A searing sound, like shards of glass on tile, pierced everyone's ears and captivated their attention. Jadis stood shellshocked for only a moment before her numbness transformed into pure rage. Edmund's sword flung from his grip and before he could counteract, the sharp point of the severed wand stabbed the boy in the stomach and Edmund fell to the ground in defeat.       Eilonwy choked back tears as she watched this boy she barely even knew gasp and grapple for life before her eyes. Satisfied with her kill, Jadis whipped around to face her next target but was then distracted by yet another intruder.       "Edmund!"       The pained shout rang throughout the entire valley as an indomitable rage swelled from deep within Peter's chest. He could barely contain his angst as he raced toward the witch, slaughtering anyone who dare cross his path. The moment he grew close enough, he slashed at Jadis's neck and began the most violent altercation he could ever imagine. All concerns of what came of killing completely vanished. Now things were personal.       Clashing swords rung in Eilonwy's ears, forcing her to smother her head in her arms as her knees faltered and she sank to the ground. Perhaps her father was right. Perhaps she wasn't prepared for the heat of battle. She should've listened to him while she still had the chance. Yet if she had, things would be different. Things would be bleaker and less promising. If she had listened to what everyone told her to do her entire life, she never would've fulfilled what she was now sure was her destiny. Her heart pounded in her chest as she watched Peter duel Jadis, every swing of the blade further fueling her adrenaline until all fear began to slowly transform into something haunting and electric.  Just as she shifted on all fours to pounce, however, the most glorious sound captured her attention and for a moment, all of time stood still.       An irrefutable roar echoed across the valley, drawing everyone to the highest cliff of Beruna. There, fur glimmering in the sunlight, stood the great lion himself. Eilonwy was dumbfounded, yet a strange sort of happiness flooded every vein in her body and she couldn't help but grin. Somehow, Aslan had been revived. The magnificent beast had returned and behind followed a welcome refreshment. Familiar faces infiltrated the crowd and pounded back against the opposing current, knocking dwarves off their feet and pummeling cyclops with a sheer force fueled by faith.       Jadis was not stupid and though starstruck for but a moment, she took advantage of Peter's distraction and swung her blade when he wasn't looking. A gasp escaped his lips as he turned to find her sword mere inches from his face, certain of his death, yet Jadis's plans were suddenly intercepted by that of another.       "Stay your blade" Eilonwy spat, staring back at the witch with utmost conviction. Peter could hardly speak at the sight of her, both enraged at her disobedience and relieved by her heroism.       "You know, Eilonwy, you really oughtn't inject yourself into matters tht don't concern you!" Jadis shouted over the clanging of their metal. This time, however, Eilonwy didn't retreat.       "This has always concerned me!" she shouted back, taking another swing.       "No, it doesn't!" Peter interrupted. Regrouping, he tightened his grip on his hilt and shoved Eilonwy out of the way. "I thought I told you to stay back at the camp!"       "Yeah, well, people tell me to do lots of things!" Eilonwy screamed back, shoving Peter back out of the way in turn.       "You deliberately disobeyed me!" Peter shouted. Jadis glared at the pair, all their of their blades intersecting with a horrendous clang.       "I don't care!" Eilonwy screamed but before she could finish, was interrupted by the taunting shouts of the witch herself.       "Oh, this is adorable! The little princess is in love with the little king! Excuse me, please, while I vomit!" Jadis shrieked. The pair retorted with a unanimous "Shut up!" before returning to the matters at hand.       "You had no right to keep me from participating when you knew I was fully capable!" Eilonwy countered.       "I'm afraid Peter was right, dear! The battlefield is no place for little princesses!" Jadis interrupted yet again. Before Eilonwy could rebuke, the witch lunged forward and seized Eilonwy's arm, twisting her into a contorted hold. The young girl gasped as the cold steel of her blade pressed against her neck, Jadis’s spindly hand tugging her hair.  Peter stared dumbfounded for a split second before raising his sword to fight back, but Jadis yanked Eilonwy’s head back and hissed, "One step closer and I'll end it all!"       Peter paused, sapphire eyes locked on the steel nearly slicing into Eilonwy's neck. A flash of the possible paralyzed him, the vision of blood streaming from her neck as his dear friend fell to the ground convulsing. He knew what would come of fighting back, but he had no idea what would happen if he didn't. Before he could make a decision, Eilonwy chose for him.       Something was building inside her in those moments held hostage. In a snap, she sucked in a deep breath and elbowed Jadis in the stomach, knocking the breath from her and loosening her grip just enough to break free. Stealing Rhindon from Peter's hand, Eilonwy shoved the knight out of the way and swung the blade bravely toward the witch's throat. However, Jadis was quick, fluidly ducking out of the way and slashing Eilonwy's waist in turn. Blood poured from the wound, a despicable wail breaking from Eilonwy's lips as her hand flew to her side and she fell to her knees.       Now Peter was doubly pissed. The moment he regained his footing, he swooped down to retrieve Rhindon and channeled all his strength. He refused to lose both his brother and his beloved in the same day on the same field.       Eilonwy's vision blurred as she scooted away from the prime danger, hand pressed to her waist in hopes of halting the bleeding. Her insides shredded apart, a throaty moan echoing from her lips as her face drained of color and her lungs gasped for air. As she knelt there in the grass watching Peter fight for her, however, she felt something else, as well. Something new and strange yet comforting. She wanted Peter's touch. She yearned for him to come nearer, for all the danger to fade, to be cradled in his arms and given the affection she had for so long resisted. Maybe it was the promise of death weighing heavily on her senses, she never could be quite sure, but in those hazy moments she was positive she had truly fallen in love with him.       With steadfast motions, Peter struggled against the witch's stamina and strategy. She moved with quick purpose, motions sharp and calculated. Her blade collided with his with a horrendous clang, knocking Rhindon from the young knight's grip and seizing the hilt in her free hand. Unarmed, Peter was much less of a threat and as she pummeled him to the ground, he became even less. A pained shout rang from his lips as she stabbed his shoulder, pinning him to the earth. His shield could only do so much to protect him but as he gazed up into the witch's unforgiving eyes, he found his limbs grow heavy and his heart rate quicken. A hoarse scream erupted from Eilonwy and for a moment, she didn't even recognize her own voice. She stumbled closer in desperation despite immeasurable weakness, slamming into the ground and wheezing, "No! St-stop! Please...don't...!"       Jadis stood over the knight with his own blade in hand, prepared to strike, but before doing so, turned her gaze to Eilonwy with a sickening grin. "Say farewell to your precious prince" she cooed. Her villainous gaze remained locked on the huntress as she swung Rhindon over her head and the blade plummeted towards Peter's chest. A wail rose up in Eilonwy's throat as she watched the blade slam downward, tip grazing the velvet of Peter's tunic. It was in that nanosecond that the huntress simultaneously realized the pounding in her ears was not quite her heartbeat and in an instant, everything was teeth and claws. With a magnificent growl and one fatal lunge, everything ended.

[stuckonreblogs]

directly copied to reply to- original post here: http://paula-deens-fuckboy.tumblr.com/post/156424800265/ok-but-how-are-you-going-to-go-around-saying-that ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Source: paula-deens-fuckboy Every decent human being in our race is against pedophilia, there’s no ‘high horse’ or entitlement here, it’s a basic moral line that most of our society possesses. The fact that you and your little pedo-patrol defense system don’t understand that doesn’t make the rest of society stuck up, it makes you all lower than the rest of us morally and intellectually. You’re the odd ones out, and you really don’t seem to understand that judging by how you think me shutting down pedophile culture is some statement of self supremacy. I have no RIGHT to criticize pedophilia culture? Actually, shockingly I know, I do. Everyone has the right of criticism, everyone has the right of reviewing product that is being sold, and most importantly- it isn’t just a right, EVERY adult is RESPONSIBLE for shutting down pedophilia culture in other adults. Not only do I have a legal right to criticize your useless friend but I have a damn good reason to do it. The fact that you think random magic AU’s or whatever are comparable to pedophile culture is another indication that you have absolutely no solid grasp of reality and common sense, as if we needed another. I don’t even know how to address your personal opinion, because you’re.. You’re too self-righteous and morally bankrupt to even argue with. This ‘youre bitter because “Sig” wouldn’t draw you art’ idea is so akin to that junior high ‘You’re just jealous’ argument, both are inaccurate silencing techniques. You’re all so damn entitled and pretentious that you dare think that nobody would speak out against “sig” if it weren’t for jealousy, that is batshit fucked up, this level of narcissism is so high for an average-to-mediocre tumblr artist who doesn’t draw anything interesting. To be honest, I didn’t know who “Sig” was until yesterday, when someone on my dash spontaneously reblogged their pedo shit, so this notion that I’ve got ulterior motives (because how could someone JUST be against pedophilia? That’s so whack) is absolutely narcissistic bullshit that you’re all using in an unsuccessful attempt to discredit my person. But it greatly interests me that you see “sig’s” client base/people who wish to purchase their porn, as inherently small minded and dense, and incapable of average debate. But hey, it’s easier to think someone is ‘just bitter’ than to admit and evaluate that you’re standing up for a pedophilic dipshit who isn’t a special enough artist to deserve this amount of your effort, right? Don’t project, it doesn’t hold up in debate. Not that Anyone Asked for your personal opinion, which is uneducated and unimportant anyways, but absolutely everything to do with it is evidence that you don’t have a single clue what you’re arguing against, your response is literally nothing, none of it makes sense. 1) You use the word hypocritical when it’s not applicable, 2) you pull a junior high argument which you have no evidence or back up for, 3) you try to bring my URL into it when it’s very obviously a blatant joke and isn’t applicable to the argument at hand. (But who could ever know that? How were you to know that someone isn’t actually identifying as a ‘fuckboy’ for a senior citizen from Texas? It’s too believable) 4) There’s nothing redeemable to read, to make those other 3 mistakes look less silly. You haven’t said a single thing that has lead me to believe that you have a merit-able argument to offer me, you haven’t made a single bound in convincing me that your side of the argument makes a lick of sense. All you can do is spout insults without fact because you don’t have any fact that you can actually back up. You have no sense of grammar, no sense of structure, you can’t make a point that could stand in any reasonable debate, and then you have the audacity to tell me I have a small mind. Now that, and please take this in as it is an important lesson for you to learn, that is hypocrisy. Do you understand what hypocrisy means now? Probably not but I digress. Absolutely everything you have said to me is hypothetical trash, you are a laughing stock, you’re an embarrassment to yourself and your friend and you’re making you both look like bigger jokes than ever, maybe you should hand the reigns over to someone with an IQ higher than that of a fetus. From.. Well, everything about you, I’m expecting your next reply to be something nonsensical… again. I know that you don’t have an argument beyond blabbering and whining and cheap cop-outs, or you would have included it in your first reply. I don’t argue with people who don’t have the basic skill to debate, I’m not willing to go in circles with someone who has absolutely nothing valuable to say, so don’t bother replying because I’m blocking you, as well. Maybe next time “Sig” will send someone who isn’t a complete embarrassment. Boy bye ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Okay, prefacing this with the understanding that some people are offended even by fictional/potential pedophilia, and I am not at all addressing everyone's beliefs here- my response to that is click unfollow, blacklist, and know it doesn't offend everyone. These comments are ment solely for this individual since they think a half ass rant at their callousness is the best I can do. As for your bloated ego, let me address the over stated drivel of your reply point by point since apparently the snap response of a pissed off rant struck enough of a nerve that you had to attempt to justify your forcing idiocy on other people. "every decent human being" clearly "decent" and "capable of separating fiction" are not on the same level in your brain here. an *intelligent* human being would be capable of understanding that this character was a work of fiction to begin with and therefore any depiction of them in any other age rage/gender/otherwise alternative form is as valid as the original. If we were discussing a *REAL* personage, your "decent" descriptor might have merit, but as we are not, its an invalid outlook. As that is the case, my original comment of "high horse" is indeed correct. Your attempts at forcing one "valid" view of a fictional peice of work are nothing short of you assuming your view is the only one that has the right to exist and that fiction has no right to do anything except mirror reality. You're not an activist shutting down pedo-culture, you're hiding in the kiddy sandbox of tumblr cutting people you think are safe because they aren't part of the real problem; you twist fiction into unacceptablity because you think you can hide your own emotional and intellectual failings behind big SJW wanna be movements. You have every right to criticize, but criticism and destructive behavior are two totally separate entities. You have a right to criticize ACTUAL pedo-culture, not what you as a individual take offense to and try to smother in a disagreeable outlook for your own justification at destruction. If your the buyer, you have a right to critique, you weren't buying it, so keep your nosy overbearing self the fuck out of it. Adults have a responsibility to protect children, not slink around and project their own destructive judgments on what they find offensive. Your only "legal" right here is to your freedom of speech, you have no legal bearing to decide what is moral or valid on a piece of art that is based on FICTION. If the art was titled after a real kid, and the image was clearly a sexual representative of wanting to have sex with a kid and with the disclaimer "oh they are 18 so its fine" slapped on, you'd have moral ground. It's not, you don't, so how about you reevaluate your grasp on reality vs fiction before you even try to find the gaps in mine. (also just a side note, fuck you for your pathetic attempt at demoralizing a wonderful person by calling them useless just because you take offense at me, come at me of you think that kind of behavior is warrented.) You have no place to address my personal opinion actually, thats the point. It's my opinion. You can dislike it, you can say I'm wrong, but its my right to say it and yours to disagree. I'm hardly self righteous, I'm a bitch and I know it. But you obviously think opposite of what you say if you think I can't be argued with and then go on for 5 more paragraphs. It's definitely junior high, l'll give you that, but considering your the one going "I don't like it so it shouldn't exist wah wah" I feel we have a shared stage there. And it was hardly meant to silence, it was meant to point out that your attacking a very talented person on the basis of "your likes" and the fact that "your an artist too" so there is some comparison of purpose there, sorry you didn't appreciate that. Who is this "all"? this is just me. So clearly I'm not the only who is getting the jealously vibe from your so called "arguments". And you continue to encourage this when you attack someone's skill set and choice of project in direct response to critism of your own failings and jackass opinionated ranting. Whether or not you knew who they were, I'd believe your actually against pedophilia, reasonable and moral people tend to be. You don't really fit either category to a T, but I'll take your candor in trying as a pass there. I, however, never implied their clientele was anything. I said the clients they REJECTED were small minded and dense, specifically YOU are small minded and dense. Other rejections seem to have taken it well enough that I would have to apologize for the vagueness of that statement. Oh, I am certainly not one for taking the easy road, I didn't choose to point out the other failings and things as I am doing now because it wasn't worth the effort. I am standing up against you specifically being destructive to one of the artists who make sure their art and adult content is not easily accessible to minors. And if you continue to make slandering remarks against them, I will point out that your making my point in that your jealous. *I* am the one here calling your bullshit, they have done nothing but create and image you have an issue with. Instead of coming for me, you have to keep tossing in that "they" are useless, "they" are a dipshit, "they" aren't special. Fuck you. You have nothing but disreputable and disgusting things to say, your opinion screams of jealousy. So either you can debate on provable points that tie to your opinion, and keep the badmouthing to myself since I am the one arguing here, or you can keep screaming jealous crybaby and whine more when I continue to call you out on it. No one asked, but it's my response so I can say what I like. Unlike you, I specifically noted it as a personal opinion with no reasonable baring on the argument. Your assumptions are scattered throughout your writing as if they are fact. Camouflage away, I ain't afraid to take responsibility for what I think, don't need to hide it in bullshit. 1) hypocritical, behaving in a way that suggests one has higher standards or more noble beliefs than is the case.- your claims that you have a moral standing of making art without pedophilia makes you better then an artist doing the same thing. Hmm. seems applicable. 2)junior high argument, clearly labeled as personal opinion therefore evidence not required, as just stated. 3) also labeled personal opinion, but its okay to be gross when its a joke in your opinion. Noted and disagreed with. It's juvenile and disgusting so fuck off with trying to justify it. 4) how is this a point of fact? again, separate opinion. I don't have to convince you of jack shit. I made that rant because I was expressing that you have gods awful intention as far as I was concerned and exercising my right to free speech. It was a rant and the fact you responded so aggressively means I hit a nerve, so *now* I am making legitimate claims and points. The fact that you'd choose to believe that was anything more then a venting of disgust with your behavior and assuming that it was all I was capable of is your own failing. These last few paragraphs are repetitive aggressions meant to extend your reply and make it look intelligent. Your making no points except to attack my person, again presented as fact. But to address the one valid comment- no one "sent" me, fucker. I typed this because anon is ridiculous and you can fucking come at me all you like cause I don't give a fuck. You, and anyone who thinks its right to attack over fiction, are WRONG. You are wrong to attack them, you are wrong to be destructive to a fictional community, and you are a jealous piece of shit that needs to stop trying to tear other people down because you can't get the same recognition without being a jackass.