#Tabi was actually good father figure of them

[sec-heriablangel]

MORE TABI IS THE BEST DAD FIGURE EVER

[guynamedultimax]

Obligatory Friday Night Funkin’ fighting game AU post (part 2 of idk how many)

Even though I’m a lazy fuck I know there’s people out there who wanna read this so let’s just get it over with

-AGOTI: Trapped in the Void like in his own mod’s continuity, has tentacle-based powers that allow him to raise pillars from underneath the ground like he did in the Void. Usually freestyles and is pretty damn good at it. Chaotic neutral, hangs out with Tabi and Ayana when not busy.

-Aldryx: AGOTI’s older brother, they’re mostly the same but he is more composed and responsible...even if you can barely notice it. Has been scouting for AGOTI ever since he disappeared in the Void under the “orders” of Solazar. They have the same powers, but Aldryx prefers a more aggressive rock beat in comparison to his brother’s freestyling.

-Solazar: Solazar is a unique type of fighter, a Composer. They’re exceptionally well-versed in most types of music and have their own unique fighting style that can’t be easily imitated. Most of the times Composers are figures of great wisdom and/or power. DD is also secretly a Composer but rarely uses all of his powers. Sol is to this day one of the few other people who is actively fighting off DD’s rise to power and is trying to push his adopted screen demon sons to cooperate with GF and BF’s efforts to stop DD (despite the fact that one of them is friends with Tabi, who still has beef with GF).

-Nikusa: Not doing anything for her until her part of the FNF Entity mod drops but she exists in this universe.

-Tabi: Before Funkin Fightin’ was a thing, GF was in love with Tabi but nonetheless used him to try and conquer her father’s empire. When he turned music into a form of fighting, Tabi didn’t know how to hurt a fly, and so GF ditched him to DD, who turned him into what he is today. He is now out to personally get GF, DD and anyone who might get in his way for revenge. Uses a fight style similiar to BF’s but isn’t afraid to play dirty against someone who he feels has wronged him. After the restaurant incident he’s a tournament member who is wanted by the authority.

-Ayana: Before Pico, BF dated her, and while she still clearly loves him, it’s clear for her that he moved on. Still, she knows GF’s up to no good and is repeatedly trying to warn BF about it. She and Dalia have Tabi hidden in their house. Has a fighting style similiar to that of Mommy Mearest, although unlike her she actually fights fair and doesn’t try to seduce her opponents.

-Dalia: EDM has been less and less mainstream as time went on, but Dalia still isn’t afraid of spewing out good tracks. EDM artists are known for being glass cannons in the Funkin Fightin’ business, and she’s no exception, she’s the second strongest EDM artist on the block. Is in a relationship with Ayana. She is also prone to stopping her sets to help her friends back at Apollo against demons.

-Miku: In-universe she’s BF’s older sister, and due to her working specifically in the Vocaloid industry, GF’s parents can’t lay a single hand on her. More often than not she insists on protecting her brother as if he was still little. Has Camellia as musical backup during her Funkin Fightin’ fights due to her being mostly a martial pacifist.

-Sarvente: Nuns shouldn’t fight, am I right? Sarvente is one of the few people who is in DD’s tournament to promote her church. Still she knows in the moment she’s going to go full power she’s going to scare away literally everyone in the arenas. Has been costantly receiving funds by a mysterious sponsor alongside Ruv.

-Ruv: As a former hitman, he knows exactly how to fight. He just needs to learn to do it to the rhythm of the typical Russian ballads he listens to in his free time. Has refused to fight Sarvente even in her demon form. Is also in the tournament for the church, but also to avoid other hitmen sent to kill him for his retirement. Also has been receving funds by a sponsor.

-Selever: The mysterious sponsor. Has found a way to enter this universe (and is doing money with cryptocurrency), but if he interacts directly with Ruv or Sarv, or if he gets found and defeated by a being of higher power like Composers, Updike or Auditor, he’s sleeping with the fishes. Annoying as ever, half of the tournament opponents have beef with him due to him behaving like an annoying asshole. Also calls for Rasazy’s backup with some attacks and plays dirty like hell. His goal is to defeat DD so he can live with his parents in peace.

-Shaggy: In this continuity the entirety of Mystery Incorporated is alive and well and not dead of old age. Not even Shaggy knows how he has his powers, but he isn’t really complaining, as long as his friends are left in peace by the supernatural. Is fascinated by Funkin Fightin’ and is choosing a musical style on which to base his rhythm.

-Matt: Originally trained other people in various sports, but after his loss with BF he became obsessed with trying to defeat him in Funkin Fightin’. Trains under Shaggy to achieve this goal. Still, he has a code of honor and wants a fair fight by any opponent. Doesn’t have a specific musical style yet and is not willing to use Wii Sports music like one would expect from him.

-Zardy: Isn’t partecipating in the tournament and interacts with nobody. There is only one rule: don’t enter his maze for absolutely no reason. He’s going to wreck you with Halloween songs and by swinging around his farming tools. The only ones allowed in are Tricky, Monster and Starecrown for the Friday night poker game, where he is prone to winning at least against Tricky; Starecrown and Monster are just too 300 IQ for him to face head-on.

-Camellia: Remember when I said Dalia’s the second strongest EDM artist on the scene? Guess who’s first. His techniques as a Composer are known for breaking many body parts, so Masaya Oya only ever works as backup for BF’s sister Miku. But if you actually manage to bring him to a Funkin Fightin’ fight on his own you’ll regret it deeply. Dude is as strong as Shaggy and Matt COMBINED.

-Sky: BF’s number one fangirl and leader of his two-member fanclub, her beef is mainly with GF, but to beat her she has to go through BF first. Behaves a lot like Knives Chau from the Scott Pilgrim franchise. Writes fanfics. Has a very...weird fighting style, and does it to the beat of anime openings apparently.

-Starecrown: The, erm...OTHER member of BF’s fanclub. Is unironically best friends with Sky due to their shared interest in BF and usually carries her around as if he was her pet. Is very polite and tries not to come off as scary with his stares, but it’s beyond his power. Nobody ever even understands his fighting techniques, only the musical screeches he emits when he does it to the rhythm.

NEXT TIME: Hopefully everyone related to Bob, Undertale/Underverse characters, Eddsworld cast, CJ & Ruby, ENA, Nonsense, if possible even more

[bounty-tales]

Cleansing Rains

The rain fell in thick, heavy drops. A slow, steady downpour that sounded like a slow applause as those drops of water fell upon the city. Rain… The lifeblood of civilizations across the face of Hydaelin. It washed away the suffocations of the world, the dust and grit, the stink and fetid grime that accumulates with time. It restored the dried out gullies and streams, bringing life to the barren, and prosperity to what was once destitute. On this day, the rain that fell was a steady, cleansing one. Morishito was a young man from a middling house that held nothing of importance. His father was a tax man’s counter and such was a good enough living to provide for a simple life. A young wife, and a single son could live happily in a small apartment in a bustling town of trade and commerce. But when that young boy became a man, living and support of such a lad was not possible so with a few inquiries and a letter of introduction, Morishito found himself where he presently was. Morishito stood at his post beside a gate that lead to his liege-lords estate. Jin Mishata, a local magistrate that found his sun on the rise within the governance of the province and was gaining influence and power with it’s ascent. So too, it was believed, as it was offered to Morishito, would those of his retinue. Stations of promise, positions of respect, as power arose and was amassed, needs demanded it get disseminated and even if young Mori was not given a state of prominence away from Mishata’s side, naturally he would slide into one of the spots vacated by his peers. As far as Morishito was concerned, the arrangement was a net gain, regardless of the means in which it occurred. Young Mori was not within the close confines of his lord’s confidence and knew nothing of the actual means and ways such ascent was being attained, but he was not deaf to the rumors and whispers on the street, in the markets, and in the cups of the older guards with which he spent after hours within the saki shacks and brothels when not working. Taxes and rents were on the rise. Groups of toughs and thugs had been prowling and roughing up merchants and traders in the dark hours of night. Shipments were coming up short or missing entirely. Such whisperings were shortly shut down when some of the more senior guards glared over their cups. Coincidences that Mori could not ignore, but at the same time, found easier to play along with as he was, technically, ignorant of anything official. As he stared into the rain, he found his mind ill-at-ease. He looked down at the ground. An itch found itself on the back of his neck and it made him uncomfortable. Anxious. A stirring of doubt? Guilt? Was it shame that set him on edge now? Certainly not. Whatever was happening with lord Mishata had nothing to do with a dogs-body guard like him. He watched the gate. He ran messages between politicians and magistrates. He wore a robe and carried a sword, true, but he never had to use it. His job was simple and he was content with it, so why the un-ease? Something made him look up from the ground to the pathway that led up to the estate. There, at the entrance to the simple alley that led to the Mishata house stood a single figure. From this distance, young Mori’s keen eye could tell that the person was not very tall, not taller than he, certainly. They wore a humble robe of sun-bleached white with fading red trim, a battered and frayed sandaga covered their head and with it’s wearers downcast gaze, Mori could not see the owners face. Simple linen breeches tucked into thick travelers tabi slid into worn shoes made clear the person was a traveler but it was the sheathed sword attached to the person’s black belt that told him what this person was. A ronin. Morishito sighed and straightened up. Ronin… Wandering samurai that were no longer part of a house either by intent or failure, often found themselves making a living by doing what they know and magistrates on the rise, such as Mishata, were eager to fill their retinue with ronin of note. A roster of capable, proven swordsmen and women were just as much a symbol of wealth and station as what address they called home, the clothing they wore, the fabric of their undergarments… Everything was a testament to their power and prestige and by default, those associated with a good lord would ALSO be worthy of such same considerations. Young Mori motioned for the ronin to come closer. “What’s your business, ronin?” Mori asked the wanderer, hoping he sounded as authoritative as he thought he did. “I seek employment.” Came her voice. Mori blinked, shocked. Yes, there were female samurai but he had never actually met one. Though, he had never actually met any male samurai either, just ronin. She was not the first nor would she likely be the last to seek an audience for employment but still, the notion that female masters of the sword were actually real? That they could be this far away from the capital? “Erm… That is YOUR sword, right?” Mori asked, simply to ease suspicion. It was not uncommon for young lads to take up a sword of a sire or elder and call themselves samurai, so too could women. There was a soft growl from her throat that seemed so realistic to the same threatening sounds he heard coming from caged tigers he could have sworn she could have been one had he not been looking at her, and reflexively, Mori held up his hands. “Gotta ask, madame. I’ll.. I’ll get the boss. Wait here.” The ronin moved to stand under the gate, out of the rain and did as bid. She stood there. With a curt nod, Mori turned to head into the estate and retrieve his boss, the head of the Mishata guard. It was not long when Mori returned with orders to escort the ronin into the main yard of the estate. It seemed the idea of a female ronin was as oddly peculiar to the older guard as it was to him as shortly, all the guard that was on duty stood in eagre audience, waiting around the courtyard. Wordlessly, she made her way to the middle of the yard and in the rain, the ronin stood with arms crossed across her chest and head down, but Mori caught sight of the slits within her sandaga’s visor, a common practice to keep the harsh rays of the sun out of the eyes. In that brief glimpse of her, he could tell that she was deeply tanned, a long life in the sun, and her hair was black, traits not uncommon to many, especially the more rural and coastal peoples. “So… You’re a ronin?” The senior guard growled out. A large, middle aged Roegadyn by the name of Chabai boomed out. There was a slow nod from the woman’s head. “Heh… We’ll see.” With a wave of his large hand, two of the guard responded. They brought out a crate with three long pegs extending upwards from it. On those pegs were tightly wrapped and bound mats of either straw or bamboo, woven into a thick roll about as thick as a man’s thigh. Tameshigiri, test cutting, would be what determined if the woman spoke true. To cut through the bound roll, not only need the weapon to be worthy of a swordsman, but the wielder knowing the basics of the art of wielding such a sword. He had seen a true samurai cleave through a roll with little effort once at a festival. Every person with a sword that came to the alley that said they were ronin, however, had not been able to cut more than an inch into one of the rolls here. None here were samurai, Mori knew. These were men hired on reference and strength and would often hire anyone that was of the same make. But if one came to their door proclaiming they were something more, well, it stood to reason to test that and so, such would be done here and now. The crate with the rolls of straw was set before the ronin and with a final look of curiosity, the bearers stepped back. “Alright, ronin… You know what to do. Cut through the mats and we’ll talk… Fail? Heh, well… we kick your lying ass and throw you back out the way you came.” Mori gulped at those words. Not that he had not heard them before, but rather, that he had never heard them levelled to a woman. He knew that some of the men could get carried away in their delivery of beatings, but those were done to lying men. He fretted what they would do to a woman. The ronin simply grunted and he could see her head slightly turn to the targets. A long pause hung in the air as the rain continued to fall. Finally, the woman slid into a wide stance, her hands falling to the sheathed sword at her hip. One gripped the scabbard while the other the hilt of her blade. “From the sheath? Either she’s the real thing or about to make a fool of herself.” He heard whispered from a guard beside him. Then suddenly, faster than Mori could blink, the sword hissed from its scabbard and with a whisk of steel and straw, the three mats severed as one! The wet straw and bamboo rolls exploded into fibrous frays and fell onto the wet ground. The ronin, sword held down and out to the side, had slashed through all the targets with no effort. A sharp, alarmed cry of shock and awe tore itself from every throat in the crowd. Gasps of marvel were soon replaced with shouts of cheers at the display. The ronin sheathed her blade and stood upright, folding her hands into the sleeves of her robe as the uproar began to die away, Chabai beckoning order and getting it. “Heh!” The older man barked out. “Guess we need to talk, eh?” He growled with a grin before leaning over and speaking softly to another guard. With a curt nod, the other man went into the estate proper and in a short time, the master of the estate, Jin Mishata, stood next to his headman. “I saw, Chabai.” Mishata said as he stood next to his man. Jin Mishata wore a simple white robe that fit his form snugly. He was tall and lithe, a man of politics and thought rather than strength of arm, though none in the town could deny that this man was a fine example of power. What he did not have, personally, he acquired through others. Since taking over his family’s accounts, his name quickly became one that found it’s way high in the ranks of government, as high as a minister’s position, if the cards were played right. “Ronin.” Mishata said, his tone as commanding as his headmans, full of strength and confidence that was station of birth and name. “Remove your cover so that I might see whom it is that wishes to join me.” Mishata commanded. There was a long pause of silence as the rain continued to fall, then a rumble of thunder and crack of lightning that startled many in the crowd. The rain truly began. As it fell down with greater intensity, a deluge of water that became a deafening roar. The ronin reached up and removed her covering, then. A sharp breath and gasp once more stole itself from those that observed, including Morishito. Ears, sharp and feline, perked up from a head as lovely and beautifully savage as her kind were known to be. Her skin was a dark, deep sun kissed tan. A smirk, coy and feral bore with it’s white teeth two elongated canines that peeked out from her slender lips. Her eyes of deep crimson bore a savage mirth that bespoke of mischief and cleverness, a mind of sharp intellect and cunning cruelty both. A Miqo’te! As the shock rippled through the guard in various throws of awe and wonder, Mori saw that Mishata had gone ghostly pale with fear. The words that screeched from his throat carried over the chorus of rain as a panicked hand pointed at the Miqo’te ronin. “KILL HER!” His words brought an instant halt to the whispers and marvel. “KILL HER NOW!” Jin Mishata screeched out once more. There was a pause of uncertainty in all save Chabai at the masters orders! The large Roegadyn roared as he leapt from his perch at his master’s side, pulling from his sheath his own steel. Shocked and pulled back to reality by the call to arms from their captain, the yard instantly began to glisten with reflection of light on steel as swords began to appear in the hands of the guards, but the ronin was quicker! Mori stood in place as the ronin became a blur of white and black. She moved with such speed, he could not even see her strike! In the blink of an eye, two of the guard that had made it close to her were falling away as sprays of crimson hissed from their open sides, the ronin, barely having moved, held her sword low and pointed at Chabai, narrowed her gaze with a feral, fanged grin. Chabai snarled and brought his sword up, committed to his charge as three more of the guard closed in from around her, completely dismissive of how easily she cut down two of them only a moment before, yet young Mori still could not move. The ronin shifted her stance, sliding the blade back into it’s sheath as she locked her gaze on Chabai. Her grin grew inhumanly large and wickedly malicious. Her eyes of crimson dilated to full blackness as she rolled her shoulders, from underneath the wet robes, Mori could see that her body was swelling, her muscular mass was growing! Mori swallowed hard. “Oni!” He forced himself to whisper as fear gripped his chest and choked his words short. The three guard stopped short, having also borne witness to the transformation. Shock and terror writ plain on their faces. A hiss that sent terror down Morishito’s spine filled the air. The sound like that of the stripped jungle cats that roamed the deep wilds, that feasted on the brave and foolish, erupted from the creature that was in their midst. Then suddenly, Mori felt a strong wind yanked his feet from under him! He fell on his back and began to slide closer to the feral demon that was once the ronin. He cried out in terror and tried to crawl away, but managed to instead grab a nearby post and just as quickly as it had happened, he was suddenly thrown back! As he sat upright, his vision went black as blood splattered across his face! More of it rained across the yard as severed limbs and pieces of the three guards cleaved cleanly through plopped and slapped in the mud and against the walls of the yard, and like Mori, splattering other guards that were on the outskirts and staring in wide eyed horror at the site before them. Mori scraped the blood from his eyes as a scream tore itself from his throat! The taste of blood not his own filling his mouth with it’s metallic heaviness, the warmth of it hot on his wet skin, the stickiness of it resistant against the rain. The swordswoman of earlier was gone and a monster wearing her clothes and drenched in the gore of it’s slaughter had taken her place. It was still close to her size, but the muscles were far more prominent. Her eyes were completely black, her hands practically claws. Her tan, sunkissed skin now bore paler stripes and her mouth, far too large, bore fangs and a wicked, evil grin. Chabai, the powerful Roegadyn, was on his knees, begging her with her blade resting against his neck, clutching an arm that was missing a hand. Mori watched as the demon slowly pulled her sword away and took the man’s head in a claw. He could not hear Chabai but he could see the man’s throat bob as he whimpered when the creatures head neared and took in a deep, huffing breath through it’s ever grinning fanged mouth and nose. He watched in horror as those fangs parted and a tongue slid out and lapped along the man’s muscular neck before the demon leaned in. Those painted lips of crimson, a remnant of the woman before, moved softly as the creature spoke softly. Mori stared in horror as Chabai’s eyes went wide. “No… Nooooo-AAAaaaaahhh!” He cried out as those fangs sank into his neck. The muscular man flailed in futility as blood spurted thick and dark from his carotid artery, his skin rapidly pailing, Mori and the other guards locked in fear at what they were witnessing, at what they had seen! Then, as the last of the man’s life began to wane, the demon slid her sword into his chest, ending him fully. A cold, sultry laugh rumbled from her chest as she straightened up and yanked her weapon free, setting her black gaze to the house. Then as that fanged smile returned, she began her approach.

The rest of the guards instantly broke out of fear and began to flee! All loyalty and pretense instantly abandoned. Morishito, however, watched. It was not bravery that kept him frozen in place. It was not loyalty or honor. It was fear. Pure fear. He wanted to run. He wanted to scream and flee with the others but his legs and arms simply would not move! He could only watch! He watched as the demon made her way up the steps to the estate, each of her steps slow and intentional, blood dripping from her blade and from her person. He listened as Mishata tried to flee further into the estate only to have the sounds drowned out by roars and maniacal laughter lush and sultry, followed by the crash of furniture then the screams and cries and pleas of a woman who is cut short in a bloody slash... Hiso, Mishata’s young wife. The crying wails of a child, who is also then cut short in equal swiftness, Tome, their young son. Then finally, the scream of Mishata, a roar of anger just before the slashing of steel and the thud of a body, ending it suddenly. In mere moments, an entire legacy, future, and past is cut down. Mori stared as from the same steps came the woman of earlier. The demonic form gone, the Miqo’te returned. She was still covered in gore, more of it, now, but it was her. In one hand, she carried her sword, dripping blood. In the other, three heads. The Mishata house, all that remained of it. Proof of her kill. Mori went pale as his gaze locked onto hers. Her crimson hued eyes stared cold and empty at the young man, as if they could steal his very soul if she wished, just as easily as she stole the lives of those she killed this day. Then with the casual disregard any dominant predator would show for weak prey after being sated from a kill, she turned her gaze away. Silently, she made her way down the steps and across the yard, stepping uncaring over the bodies and viscera she had left in the mud of the yard. Three heads flopping against her leg as if they were a trifling bag one had merely to deal with after a day of shopping. She walked past Mori, still sitting in shock and horror as he stared at her, covered in blood and sitting in mud and soil, unable to move after what he had borne witness to. Then with no more of a word, she passed through the gate and back out into the alley, disappearing into the rain from which she came, slaughter in her wake.

[irkimatsu]

I got to talking to someone about the Matsus as parents. Headcanon dump time

Oso: Could probably take or leave having kids - definitely WANTS them in his urge to play "big brother", but that feeling may fade once he realizes that it takes work. If he does, he tries to be the fun dad - maybe a little too lenient, so hopefully his spouse is willing to pick up his slack. The kids love him, though. They can come to him about ANYTHING and know they won't be in trouble if they've gotten themselves into a bad situation, he'll just help them get out of it. He also teases, but it's all in good fun, and learns to pull back when he's gone too far - he won't be one of those emotionally abusive parents who turns it around on the kids for being "too sensitive". He's not the type to push the kids to leave the nest - hell, he's probably going to sob like a baby the instant the last one leaves. Massive case of Empty Nest Syndrome for this guy. Even if he doesn't have his own kids, he'll be like this to his brothers' kids, to the point where his brothers almost wonder if he's trying to take their place. Shows off baby pictures, both of his and his brothers' kids, to strangers when drunk. Isn't his family just the cutest family ever

Kara: Definitely wants an heir to carry on his PERFECT STYLE, and isn't starting a family the most romantic way to truly seal the bond with one's soulmate? So of course he's having kids. They're going to have self-esteem through the roof if his encouragement sticks with them. Considers creative pursuits to be very important, so will never be one of those "why can't you have a talent that will make you money" parents - each of his children will be directed to find their perfect, SHINING talent! He'll have to be careful that he doesn't turn into a stage dad, though if he realizes that his kids are genuinely not interested in pushing their talents as far as they can go, he'll lay off. Might take an argument to get that through his head, though... kids could come home with crazy fashion, dyed hair, piercings, whatever, and he'll always accept it, because self-expression is important. (I'd also say tattoos, but given how frowned upon they are in Japan, I don't even know where a teenager would go to get one. But if he moved to a country that accepted them more and started his family there, tattoos would also be accepted.) Probably one of those parents who is totally convinced they have the Greatest Children In The World - like Oso, but where Oso is "they're the best because I made 'em", Kara's are the best because look at this macaroni portrait she made of my face, clearly she's on her way to becoming a superstar sculptor!

Choro: Well, of course he's having kids. That's what people do, right? He's supposed to find work as a salaryman, get married, then work to feed his family while his new wife keeps house. (I imagine that his wife in this scenario disagrees heavily with this notion, given his taste for strong-willed women. =P) Family life isn't nearly as smooth as he expects, it's not some picture-perfect movie, but in the end, he wouldn't trade them in for the world. ...though he does still try to be the model father to model children. So many lectures and fears that if his children act out, others will look at him as a failed parent... hopefully he stops stressing soon. He reads a lot of parenting books and freaks out when they contradict each other. When he's not so worried about doing this "right", though, he's a great dad - he's honestly proud of their accomplishments and talents, and makes sure they know that. And maybe they'll appreciate his pushes in the end, when the skills he taught them help them get into their university or trade of choice. Sure, he's strict, but he's good at teaching responsibility. And once he stops worrying so much, good at teaching how to make time for hobbies, too - he remembers how much he loved being an otaku, so maybe it really is okay to let his kids have a hobby like that, too. It doesn't mean he's spoiling them. (...he's probably also the sort who can try to be strict and scold a child, but then they pull the sweet puppy eyes and he melts. =P)

Ichi: Least likely to have kids; I may think he'd make a great dad, but he's terrified of screwing a child up for life. Is it worth it? ...n-not like he wanted a kid anyway, so... it's fine if he doesn't have them... and admittedly, of the six, he probably could cope best with never starting a family, as long as he gets to foster animals instead. But if he does have a child, the instant he lays eyes on his new baby, he's instantly in love. He's really good at the newborn stage - feeding, cuddling, playing, he loves all of it. ...then things get tricky when the child becomes mobile. It's really hard for him to keep up with a destructive toddler. But as the child gets older and needs emotional support, Ichi's great for that - he's a good listener, even if he doesn't always have advice; he certainly won't judge if his child has a mental illness, because he's been there. He'll be his child's biggest advocate in that case. He's the laid-back sort of father who may not take the family on tons of exciting vacations, but the little memories his kids have of him reading to them, teaching them how to play nicely with animals (even the ones that aren't "cute" - seriously, there's a Tabi with him protecting a snail and it is the Sweetest Thing, bugs will not be squished in Ichi's home), hugging them when they're upset... all those memories are still precious. He's still not the most emotionally open, but his kids can tell that he loves them, he just shows it in his own way. He's also fiercely protective; any dumbasses who disrespect his children will be hunted down. (Ichi, no, you can't punch teenagers)

Jyushi: Lots of kids! So many kids! Lots of kids to love! Sunshine boy has at least one small child crawling on him at any given time. He loves it! He's very active with his kids, and very good at cheering them up when they cry. Admittedly, he wouldn't be sure what to do if he had a kid who isn't athletic... but he'll figure out his own way of bonding with them. He focuses a lot on outdoor activities; maybe the non-athletic ones like picnics? Flower picking? You can swim without being athletic, just enjoy the water! ...he's AWFUL at discipline, it just doesn't cross his mind to because he's always been the type who just does what he likes, so again, his spouse will have to cover that. But he's happy to show his kids just how wonderful the world is, and while there may be sad times, they can always muscle muscle through! He really wouldn't want his kids to grow jaded with the world, not when there's so much beauty in everything.

Totty: Admittedly did not think this through. How cute, he has a baby he can dress up in cute outfits and show off to people to prove that he started a family, what have they been doing with THEIR lives? But it's quickly knocked into his head that a baby is an actual PERSON and he should be an actual PARENT. He'll settle in eventually, though not before freaking out at least once after his new daughter barfs all over the new dress he paid so much money to get her. But once he stops freaking out about the uncute realities of babies, he does make for a good father. Like Kara, he'll want to instill a sense of confidence in his kids, though with an added dash of "and if someone tells you that you're not great, step on them." The sort of dad who takes a million photos of his kids and puts them all over social media. Every conversation will turn into how great his kid is. LOOK AT HIS CUTE KID. He got way more attached than he expected. Please chill, Totty. =P His kids will be absolutely SPOILED with physical gifts - anything they want, as long as he has the money, they can have it. He's awful at saying "no". Hopefully he doesn't end up raising entitled brats... well, he can also teach them social skills better than any of his brothers can, so maybe it'll even out in the end. As long as he eventually learns to stop bailing them out of financial trouble and let them figure things out on their own every once in a while. He does genuinely love and support those kids - he just needs to learn how to say "no". At least his kids will grow up with great social skills; they’ll always know how to make themselves seem appealing to strangers. It’s just a matter of not using that ability for evil. (It fails on their uncles anyway. They’re all used to Totty’s shit, they’re not gonna be fooled just because it’s in a smaller package now.)

[twelvesignsrp]

congratulations tabi, cancer is now samuel wade with the faceclaim neels visser

APPLICATION

   Character Sign: Cancer

   Character name: Samuel Wade

   Birthday: 7/7/1997

   Sexuality: bisexual                                                                                        

   Gender: male

   Moon Sign: Pisces Moon – he’s someone who needs fantasy, compassion, escape, and creative outlets more than anything else in the world. he can go a little stir-crazy at times, which is why it’s important for him to have security as well, but he can be extremely hard to pin down and read when he gets into one of his darker moods. sometimes he feels he is best left on his own, even though he wishes he could connect better, but he knows he needs to figure out how to navigate his own soul before he can really reach out to others around him. he is and will always be drawn to artistic, sensual and spiritual pursuits.

   Faceclaim: Neels Visser

   Power: future illustration – it’s not so much any sort of clear image that splashes itself across his mind and forces him to recreate it on any surface available, it’s more like some sort of gut feeling, almost unnoticeable sometimes until he’s practically finished with it. the urge to draw or paint something is as familiar and ingrained in him as the need to breath or his body’s need for blood from his heart—it’s something stuck just beneath the layers of his skin, and he doesn’t even think about it until he looks down and realizes he’s drawn something that ends up coming true a little while later. he does it without thinking most of the time, but then there are a few dark midnights, sleepless nights when the kaleidoscope mess tries to seep out through his fingertips, the drive to create something much stronger than his need to sleep. the talent for art has always been there inside of him, the magic just decided to adhere itself to that.

   What do they study? Art Appreciation

   Biography:

rule 1: schizophrenia is hereditary.

you wouldn’t think that to look at Marie Mason though, as she smiles and walks slowly down the aisle to marry the man who has stolen her heart and all her inhibitions and reservations about love. they’ve thrown themselves into this wedding, adored each other endlessly, despite the family secret she keeps from him, hoping on every star in the sky and any god in heaven that somehow, maybe the curse will pass her by unaffected. maybe their love is stronger than her genetics, maybe his kiss will break the evil spell, the ticking time-bomb on her mind. and after all, doesn’t everyone deserve a happy, fairytale ending? the Beatles sang “all you need is love” and they both agree wholeheartedly, because this feels absolute between the two of them. there is nothing that can get in the way of their union.

rule 2: love is not stronger than madness.

no one bears the brunt of her mental decay as much as her first-born son Samuel, especially in the first seven years of his life. he learns to run quickly, hide perfectly, play games that make no sense and have no rules. he has to think on his feet, tell stories without endings, anything he can do to please her, to help her, to make her love him—or at least remind her that she once did love him. it comes and goes sometimes, and he suffers in school for it, despite how much money his father pours into his education.

what father doesn’t seem to understand is that, yes, she does have many good, long stretches of sanity, weeks when she is fine, she is stable, she is operational, and Samuel enjoys these times because that’s when their family love dynamic actually feels real. but those times never really last long enough, they are just the minute gasps for breaths the universe takes before exploding again. his mother and his little brother, younger by three years, and him can all go to the park and have picnics, and he doesn’t have to think about how Jacob is already a better reader than he is. Jacob is better at a lot of things, but Samuel’s sheer amount of personality ensures his place as older brother. he can also draw better than anyone else in his class, but no one is as much a fan of his work as Jacob is, and Samuel is sure that nothing in the world can break the two of them apart.

that’s why when the doctors finally come and take their mother away while she is screaming and thrashing around, like a demon straight out of hell, Samuel holds onto Jacob’s hand tight enough that neither of them have to notice that their father can’t even look at them. Samuel is terrified that one day he’ll grow up to be as cold and distant as that man, but he’s even more scared about his mother’s genetic lotto win taking root in him.

rule 3: nothing in this world is in your control.

caution: contents are hot. he lets himself ride the waves of adolescence, boiling over with too much freezer-burn chemicals. like a sunflower, he is all brightness on the outer rim, the edges of him oozing glamour and laughter and just enough coyness to keep others interested, but in the center is dark, dark inflorescence, drying and dying out in the sun. he can feel himself changing as puberty takes over, shifting him into the kind of boy who stares at other people too long and lets himself fall into chaos too quickly. he falls in love too hard and lets it drive him to the edge of his mental cliff time and time again, because maybe if he gets used to it out here, it won’t be so bad when he finally tumbles down off it. he lives his life in fear of madness, which gives him a bit of wild freedom, but mostly just makes him want to cave in on himself.

his turmoil breathes life into the only part of him left that’s still beating; drawing and painting. he spends hours on it, creates everything from abstract memories of dreams to landscapes and fruits. it’s an incredibly forgiving art, but nothing about that sentiment lets him sleep a full night through, unburdened by nightmares.

his father comes to him one day after he’s turned eighteen and tells him he expects good grading scores from his high school so that he can enroll in a well-accredited university next fall—a university that has already been picked out for him. Samuel hadn’t intended to go to college, actually, because he wanted to start selling his art as soon as possible, but he doesn’t have the means or support system around him to venture off on his own, the way he wishes he did. he’s too easily persuaded to attend, but he manages to hold his own when it comes to which classes to choose. his father wants him to become a doctor, and follow in his footsteps of becoming a surgeon. for that entire summer, he starts bringing his oldest son to his hospital with him, making him watch the surgeries sometimes, hoping that the drive to cut people open and fix them will somehow seep into Samuel via osmosis. it’s total hell to the eighteen-year-old, and it doesn’t convince him to change his college schedule at all.

rule 4: with great power comes great responsibility.

not very far into his experience at durham, things begin to change. at first, he thinks “this is it, i’m finally losing it,” when he sees the exact same car-wreck scene on the news as what he had drawn earlier that morning. he thinks maybe it’s a coincidence, maybe a fluke, maybe some kind of déjà vu. he sets the picture on fire and smokes a cigarette as he watches it burn, his heart pounding in his chest, the fear like freezing fingers wrapping around his lungs, suffocating him. it’s not long though before it happens again, and again, and again—the things he draws becoming real somehow, and he begins to worry whether he’s drawing the future or creating it through his drawings.

it takes about a month or two, after he really starts taking action based on the paintings and drawings, that he realizes he is shaping only one version of the future, and that by simply knowing about it and doing something with that knowledge, it can be changed; which is a huge relief. so he starts acting on his abilities, working to fix whatever seems wrong, warn whoever he needs to, avoid the pitfalls he can see coming. he very rarely anymore draws the things he wants to, but it’s okay because this is more important anyway, and his skills at detail and coloring are getting better, sharper, clearer.

but with each new picture he puts his whole soul into, he feels it leave him just a little bit more. it’s a well-known fact that talent and survival cannot exist harmoniously inside one body; eventually something has to give. nothing is stronger than madness, he controls nothing in this world.

and schizophrenia is hereditary.

   Five interesting facts about your character:

I. he has grown up with a mild form of dyslexia, making him very uncomfortable reading things. he struggled through it all throughout high school, oftentimes bullshitting his way through tests and literature classes. whenever he was called upon to read something from the books, he would always play it off as something silly, like making up the words and story as he went, often getting in minor bits of trouble for it. whenever it was really important that he learn the material, he just looked up youtube videos for it. he still needs to do that sometimes. II. he calls his little brother Jacob every week, just to check up on him. he hates being so far away from his brother, really the only member of his family that he ever connected with. his brother looks up to him a lot, even though Sam has no idea why anyone would. III. he lives off of a steady diet of ramen and code-red mountain dew. he knows he should eat better, but he’s too young to care about health food and he’s been blessed with a fantastic metabolism. plus, he doesn’t know how to cook and he can’t be bothered to learn. IV. he does work out though, whenever he can, and even though his choice of exorcise is boxing mostly, he wishes he could get more into martial arts, like taekwondo or jujitsu. V. secretly loves super nerdy stuff, like anime and comic books, but he tries his best to keep all that under wraps, stuffed into the bottom of one of his pants drawers, because he is scared of what people will think of him if they knew. he wants to be chill, not looked at like he’s crazy.

   Character Quote:

“lie with me under

the sweeping sky that

forgets us

there is no other kind of death

destroy me if you must.”

–inkskinned.tumblr.com

   If your character had a patronus what would it be? and why? his patronus is a dapple-grey stallion. it means his passion for the things he loves is hard to beat, he becomes very involved in his friends, family, hobbies and studies. he can be very sensitive and emotional, getting hurt easily and often feeling melancholy for very little reason. however, this emotional enlightenment allows him to understand others and empathize extremely well, while also being very creative and intelligent.

WRITING SAMPLE

Samuel stared at the lines on the wooden door in front of him, his eyes wide but unmoving– stagnant just like the rest of his entire body. he was supposed to be moving, supposed to be a man of action by now, like he had told himself countless times to be. he’d spent the better part of the morning looking into a mirror, practicing the lines he was about to say, going over what sounds best, the exact type of words to formulate, anything that didn’t sound creepy or desperate. he wanted to be one of those guys who were able to just go after whatever they want, no hesitation, no overthinking.

but he wasn’t. he wasn’t a man of action, he wasn’t a man of anything– he was just standing here in front of his classmate’s door like an idiot, completely immobile because his nervousness had rooted him to her welcome mat. he was supposed to knock on the door ten minutes ago. he should have already gotten this done and over with by now but instead he couldn’t stop staring at the lines in the door and thinking about how heartbroken he was going to be as soon as she rejected him.

she had no idea how hard he’d been working up the courage to do this. how long he’d spent practicing his tone of voice or his smile. he wanted everything to be perfect and if he messed this up…. he might never have forgiven himself. he had already messed up so many other relationships and lost so many opportunities with her already this semester. he wanted to move forward. he wanted to show her how much he liked her.

he slowly inhaled a breath, lifting his fist up to knock on the door, but he couldn’t make contact. maybe he could do this next week. there would still be a next week, right? there was always next week– next month– next year. except what if she moved away or dropped out of school? what if she got a boyfriend? and then he’d have to see them together in the hallways, think about how she liked to be kissed, think about whether she was being treated well enough. he was not keen on this idea.

but knocking on this door was about as easy as fitting his whole arm into his mouth. how did other people seem to do this so damn easily? he always saw it in movies and things, guys being assertive and girls being spunky but accepting. things always worked out in movies though, whereas real life was often messier, especially in those first few steps of a relationship.

relationship? maybe he shouldn’t have been thinking about that word just yet—it was still pretty early. he hadn’t even managed to ask her out yet. hadn’t even knocked on the goddamn door. he huffed again, the nervous fluttering and pounding in his chest only getting worse.

he lifted his fist up again, an inch or two away, when the door suddenly opened and there she was, a bag of trash in her hand, and there he was, his arm raised like an idiot. “i…! oh..! hi..” his palms immediately started sweating as panic set in and his fight-or-flight instinct started telling him to turn and run. his feet however, were still painfully glued to this spot. “i, uh… i was just about to knock… on your door….” he slowly lowered his hand, feeling like a deer in the headlights. “obviously.”