#aesthetic / black and red for his house. green for his mother. blue for himself.

[numiolaes]

td

answered / ic. starters / ic. open / ic. headcanons / ooc. meta / ooc. my edits / ooc.

musings / the gods' creatures who cried themselves to sleep stirred to cry again. ch. study / the world was a cruel place. he would bring it a cruel justice.

visage / the sparks in his eyes flew into his darkness like fireflies down a cave.

likes / he wasn't a monster. he still had his private joys.

desires / we begin to covet with tangibles. we begin with what we see every day.

aesthetic / black and red for his house. green for his mother. blue for himself.

ship inspo / he would be dutiful and true. if only he was given the chance.

wardrobe / fit for a prince.

[mushroom-jack]

Tompercy Character Reference

Having finished another tompercy WIP with no plans for another one in the works, here is another reference post for the tumblr girlies. These are the characterization bios that I made a while ago in order to get a grasp of their personalities, motives, and have something to reference for their physical appearance rather than always CTRL F-ing A Study of Resonance. This post will be linked in my pinned; I hope it gives interesting insight as to how I see these characters :)

Percival “Percy” Ignatius Weasley-Prewett

Born: August 22, 1976

Appearance: wavy red hair, brown eyes (to match Molly), tortoiseshell glasses. Has freckles, eyebags, and acne, but is practiced at glamoring his face. Otherwise, his features are fairly unremarkable. Blushes easily. Lanky, average height, not particularly athletic. Dresses to come across as respectable, high-class, and sophisticated – wears a variety of colors in order to conform to seasonal fashions. When not a wizard, he is partial to knit sweaters/sweater vests, slacks, dress shirts, and peacoats. Casually, you may find him in his usual slacks and a crew-neck university sweatshirt of some sort. 

Personality: earnest, determined, and prideful. Interested in proving himself and earning the respect of his family and peers, but not through hiding who he is (slight superiority complex + rampant self-esteem issues). Wishes he was brought up in a respectable pureblood family. Intensely autistic; doesn’t understand most casual social cues and prefers strict formal etiquette rules, wishes to stick to his routine and dislikes sudden change, fascinated and enamored by his academic fields of choice, prefers interacting with competent adults rather than peers, and is shockingly lonely despite generally preferring solitude. 

Has a continued guilty-complex about most things, including pursuing his personal ambitions rather than giving into his parents’ wishes, not being a perfect brother to his siblings, and his continued association with Tom (whatever form that might take). Feels everything very strongly, but especially shame. Ultimately a product of his childhood: his perception of his parents’ pride forcing their entire family to live in poverty and discouraging him and his siblings from seeking out opportunities, being the only person with his flavor of autism in his household and therefore never being understood or really respected by the people around him, and having insane middle child syndrome… affected him!

Generally takes after his mother in pride, stubbornness, self-righteousness, and the way he likes to run his household. Jealous and admiring of Tom in equal measure. 

Tom Marvolo Riddle

Born: December 31, 1926

Appearance: coiffed dark brown hair, dark gray eyes with silver flecks (though they are dark blue in ASOR), aristocratic features; high cheekbones, long eyelashes, straight nose, sharp jaw. His skin is smooth and fair. He’s tall and well-proportioned; overall he is exceedingly conventionally handsome and aesthetically pleasing. He carries himself very fluidly, like water, and has generally practiced all his movements to perfection, as if brought up in a very aristocratic pureblood house. He dresses well and classically, mostly in grays, greens, white/cream, and black. When not a wizard, he is partial to leather oxfords, blazers/waistcoats/suits, cashmere sweaters, and also slacks. Casually, you may find him in jeans and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. 

Personality: exceedingly prideful, intelligent, cunning, and ambitious; a textbook Slytherin in every universe. Believes in the value of a meritocracy – disparages nepotism and similar methods of gaining power, but values intelligence and competence in others… so long as they agree that he is still better than them and admire him accordingly. Such is his pride. Bookish and hungry for knowledge, and dislikes (but sucks up to) authority unless he determines that the figure is Worthy of His Respect. Perfectly willing to play a role in order to get what he wants – power – even if that means playing nice with purebloods he doesn’t give a shit about. Generally reaches a point, eventually, where he decides that he is now the most powerful wizard in the world and is therefore the ultimate authority, and may as well be God (usually around age 17). After this he will never respect anyone else as an authority ever again, unless they repeatedly beat him in duels (both physical and intellectual). 

Intensely autistic also; hates when things don’t make logical sense, dislikes the unexpected, fairly asocial, and has great difficulty relating to and empathizing with (and therefore having sympathy or compassion for) other people – most of whom he sees as unintelligent, weak, too ruled by emotions, and easy to manipulate. Ultimately a product of his childhood, where he was demonized by every adult figure in his life, shunned by all his peers, surrounded by death and suffering in his various forms (hunger, disease, cold, and war), and yet was smarter and more talented than everyone around him and also had literal magic. Even upon going to Hogwarts, he was called slurs and shunned purely for his background, and never seen for his true talent and skill until he started hurting people… which positively enforced for him that hurting people was effective for getting what he wants (power and respect). 

Thinks he likes Percy best when he is being subservient; actually prefers when Percy is being intelligent, ambitious, competent, and witty – which are the things that he likes Percy for and was fascinated by in the first place. Will never really view Percy as an equal, but likes him well enough, and finds him intelligent and interesting. 

[semi-imaginary-place]

red mage: so basically arya should be a thaumaturge or black mage. she's really really good at the destructive magic and terrible at the restorative magics. why find equilibrium when you can min max and be a nuke.

have you heard of ... blue? or perhaps... green?

I really like x'rhun, great character

given x'rhun's history in the ala mhigo im disappointed the 60-70 storyline isn't going there, ah well time to see what idyllshire has in store.

I was just thinking at the end of the level 60 quest if X'ruhn is in his 40s then lambert probably is too and arya looks to be a teenager, wouldn't it be be messed up is she was his daughter or something. the only reason i didn't quite believe it is because lambert said he's been in a magical coma for many years.

fake memories? artificial humans? many possibilities.

i think its pretty interesting that despite its reputation it is not black magic that is the successor to void magic, it is red magic. and this is despite both black and void magic originating from mhach.

irony that the swashbuckling aesthetic class ends up being the demon summoning dark magic storyline.

wait that coffin is why witchdrop is haunted??

hey i happen to know a certain kitty cat that is a mhach specialist. too bad the questlines can't be interdependent.

hmm even the red mage writers get conjury and white magic mixed up

sorry arya but the 50=60 stuff was far more interesting than the 60-70 stuff

dragoon! ... orn khai just ate like 300 times his body mass in flesh

ninja: ok so we got a bunch of hingashi pretending to be from doma to smuggle a scroll out of garlemarld? I'm just waiting for karasu to be involved somehow. wait wasn't the house of sticks dude murdered like at level 20? there's karasu!

2nd? 3rd? time the game has said the doman rebellion was 1 year ago. the other time I remember off the top my head was right after doma castle when you talk to the blacksmith.

I feel so sorry for Akagi. we sent him on a goose chase to the literal opposite side of the planet.

Why is Karasu so focused on Oboro. he cares more about messing with him than literally anything else.

hey if zakuro is a mercenary we could buy out her contract.

oh that's interesting. yomei and all the shinobi we have met implied that ninja are from yanxia. but hanzo is saying that its from hingashi. then again all the shinobi we talked to were domans talking about their specific ancestral villages.

I totally do not remember who master sasuke is. and i don't think karasu is dead (again). oh master sasuke is the founder of oboro's village

whm: castrum oriens is an odd name given how it means east but is situated in the WESTERN part of the garlean empire

huh you can tell who is a padjal at birth. i remember reading in encyclopaedia eorzea or something that children only find out they're a padjal when the horn start growing in at like 10-15.

uh sylphie aren't you like 14. letting at 14 year old run the show and keep secrets from the conjurers guild while void sent are running around sounds like a recipe for disaster.

why not relocate both gatty and sanche to gridania. sanche would get better medical treatment, gatty would remain with her mother, there would be more conjurers on hand to deal with voidsent incidents, and there would be padjal on hand to tutor gatty.

the writers did this to keep sylphie's importance to the plot but this is a massive plot hole that e-sumi is having sylphie be gatty's teacher. first because as e-sumi himself said sylphie is still learning as an acolyte herself, she might have powerful instinctual magic but her learned knowledge isn't that good. second she wouldn't know white magic or padjal specific stuff. this is such a bad decision. also sylphie is still a kid has shown to be overwhelmed by the scale of this problem and having to take care of and be responsible for another kid. i guess the excuse is that it's technically the wol who's suppose to be doing the teaching but we all know that the player isn't going to be doing anything.

uh she jsut summoned a voidsent you sure she doing need more training its been like a couple months at most

[postmodernbeing]

Shingeki no Kyojin Headcanons: 104th training corps (College AU - Outfits pt I)

Hello, Postmodernbeing here. I decided to continue writing about this College AU , only this time, I'm making some outfits HCs, since I'm working in a oneshot and this visuals could be helpful. Also, it seemed like a lot of fun so I've decided to give it a try. Hope y'all like this. Much love.

IMPORTANT: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin nor the trend of this outfits-displays, only this HCs belong to me. // Contains spoilers (for the icons that I used in some characters) // English is not my first language, so I ask for your patience and understanding.

Eren Yeager

Chains and rings of stainless-steel. Combat boots matching faux-leather jackets with studs and pins from bands.

Has a few flannel shirts (that he stole from Zeke, his brother doesn't mind, tho). But for the most part, Eren's shirts are from merch of bands with a few (handmade) changes.

Eren likes to sew badly on purpose some patterns or figures by following quick tutorials. All his clothes are modified or drawn over.

While his main looks are metal head alike, he also wears snickers, hoodies, sporty pants, and jackets to class. Pretty laid back, he looks as he just woke up from a nap all the time tbh.

Sometimes goes skating but he’s not that good, his skateboard is more of a fashion statement really.

Has both ears pierced around (lobe type) and tattoos on both arms.

It’s pretty obvious to this point, but I’ll say it anyways: Eren wears black religiously. Definitely he’s open to darker shades of any color, but must wear something black at least.

Mikasa Ackerman

Our girl wears black clothes mostly. She doesn’t have a preference between skirts/dresses or pants, but you’ll rarely see her wearing jeans.

Many skirts and ripped tights to match with platform boots or classic converse. Also owns a large wardrobe with different hoodie and shirt sizes and designs yet mostly in dark shades.

Lots of necklaces and rings with perforations to match, none in her face yet lots in her ears. Mikasa has only one tattoo: Azumabito’s clan logo.

Speaking about Azumabito’s, whenever she’s working with them, she wears faux leather jackets at most, and her classic red turtleneck. Nothing too exaggerated nor formal.

A total goth since middle school, and even though in college finds it a bit unpractical, she tries to keep it as loyal to her style as possible.

Books and notebooks are part of her attires. She’d be writing or reading at any time that’s possible. Not always about her classes, tho. She also likes novels and arts. An artsy goth, perhaps?

Armin Arlert

Sky blue is his color. Matching it with classy pants and blazers in clear colors.

His wardrobe looks like one that belongs to an aristocrats’ son. Some light-academia realness.

He can pull off some casual looks with sneakers but it’s more common for him to wear his oxfords, cap toes or moccasins to class, or anywhere really.

Cardigans, vests and blazers are his best friends as soon as autumn arrives. Always in colors such as beige, green, brown, and grey.

Armin is easily the best dressed from all his group of friends, and I’m not even open to discuss this. Let’s just remember his canon outfits throughout the four seasons. Even in a Modern AU he’ll keep being the king he is.

Not a big fan of accessories though. Except for his handkerchiefs that match his blazers. Since his grandfather used to choose his clothes, he taught Armin that a handkerchief was a gentleman’s must carry. Now he wears them only to pay his grandpa honor, as a lesson more so.

Jean Kirstein

King of brown jackets and turtlenecks. Really, his wardrobe is in such color harmony. It’s impressive.

Little to no accessories besides an occasional scarf or a single ring matching some bracelet.

Although he’s used to wear a consistent type of clothes and even colors, he wouldn’t dare to define a style for himself, is it boho? art hoe? dark academia? Maybe we’ll never know.

Zero perforations only because he’s scared of pain, but Jean is really drawn into them, so he uses fake ones for his ears sometimes. Has only one little hidden tattoo, made when he started college and lost a bet against Sasha and Connie.

Jean’s always stylish, clean, and smelling like cologne. He also has an extensive routine for shaving, combing his hair and trimming his beard.

Second best dressed of all his friends. Lowkey loves fashion but keeps it for himself (and Marco). Plus, in her mother’s house he keeps more clothes than his dorm' wardrobe can storage.

Marco Bodt

Colorful, youthful, and casual, that’s his style. Marco’s clothes reflect his joyful personality and every time he enters a room, he brightens the mood so easily.

A lot of denim and if he’s not wearing bright colors, you can be sure he’s caring something white with him (a bandana, a baseball cap, a scarf or his sneakers).

Shares with Jean a special appreciation for clothing, except Marco prefers more laidback and casual outfits.

Has no tattoos but recently got both ears pierced. He decided to since he really likes the earrings that k-pop idols wear.

If spring was a wardrobe, Marco would have it. I can’t stress this enough. Just so pretty and genuine.

Also, he definitely uses accessories (small jelly or colorful rings, bracelets of all kinds and simple necklaces) but there's more, he uses objects that are not meant to as accessories too. Such as band aids and small stickers around his face, skates in his backpack and flowers in his pockets.

Sasha Blouse

Unironically messy style. No matching patterns nor colors, different textures and sizes that made little to no coordination in her outfits. Unaesthetic is her aesthetic.

She likes baggy jackets and jeans with big pockets for snacks obviously, midi-skirts and graphic tees. Sasha is the definition of zero fucks given and still looking cute.

Of course, she knows how to pull off some cool outfits, it’s just that she doesn’t care that much unless is specifically required.

Not a big fan of accessories besides belts (maybe) and her backpack. Unless we’re talking about bucket hats that became a must wear thanks to Connie.

“Borrows” Nicolo’s hoodies/shirts that wears with her favorite threads. Then plays dumb when her bf asks her about his clothes. They both secretly love that dynamic.

Sasha plays it safe when it's about her hairstyle, also not a big fan of makeup -at least not the way Mikasa or Historia do-, but she’s open to try new things if her best friends dare her to.

Connie Springer

King of striped shirts and golden chains. His style is mainly urban and youthful. Conniegod remains unmatched in his awesomeness even in a Modern AU, if you ask me.

Owns a collection of sneakers that wears with his numerous printed socks. So creative and colorful.

Also, Connie has a small collection of unique shaped tinted glasses, also bucket hats and simple stainless steel chains.

Has small fun tattoos around his legs and arms, ears pieced but nothing too grunge. Speaking of which, he matches religiously his earrings with his chains that hang of his belt.

Usually wears dress pants or cargo pants. Anything but denim or really skinny fitted pants. Coincidentally, most of his shirts are loose too.

Definitely brings his skateboard with him all the time so it’s part of the outfit, really (Eren tried to copy that from Connie, let’s be honest). He’s so good at skating, and when he doesn’t feel like walking around campus, skating is always a good idea.

Part II here

[hunterartemis]

Vishakhatantra (Indian magical school) Headcanon #2: Saptakula (The Seven Noble Lineages)

Vishakhatantra was the name given by the Eldest Planet Jupiter, where Nine Astrological Planets contributed their principles to form seven houses: Each of them represent Seven Chakras of Human body, which is needed to activate the connection between the man and the Universe.

The Motto of Vishakhatantra is : “Dharma Artha Kama Moksha” (“Morals, Riches, Desires and Liberation”).

But in reality it means “a human exists by following the four steps: By finding the purpose of his life through morality, earning his livelihood by moral means, fulfilling his desires by moral means and by doing all liberates himself from the material life.” In this case, the motto symbolises that by using Magic or “Tantra” (also called High Philosophy) one can earn all those four objects.

Uttarashada (Undefeated)

Uttarashada (pronounced as utta-ra-sha-da) is the house of Sun. Together they signify Leadership, Order, Government. The First Head of the house was Sage Kashyap, also the Father of Sun.

The position of the House is : Ascendant (first house, representing freedom, vision,physical body, ideas, soul). The Cardinal Direction in Center, the Element is Light, the Standard colors are saffron and terracotta, Representing Chakra: Ajna (Third Eye) , Representing Weapon: Dhanurban (Bow and Arrow), Representing house animal is White Horse. Metal Copper, Gemstone Ruby. Representing flower: Kingshuk (Flame of the Forest) The students here tend to be Assertive, intuitive, visionary self-reliant, dominant, extroverted,.

The Power: To see through obstacles

This house specializes in Spirit Fire, Astronomy.

Anantasoumya (Eternal peacefulness)

Anantasoumya (pronounced as: Anan-ta-Soum-ya) is the house of Moon. This house signifies Mind, Emotions and the Nature. The First Head of the House was Anusuya, wife of Sage Atri and Mother of Moon.  

The Position of the House is : Second House (House of fixed wealth, values, community). The cardinal direction in the East, the Element is Water, the standard colours are light blue and lilac, Metal silver, Gemstone Pearl. Representing Chakra is : Svadhistana (Sacral), Representing Weapon: Gada (Mace), Representing animal is Stag. Representing Flower is Jasmine, The students of this Kula tends to nurturing, mild, community oriented, empathetic.

The Power: To Feel

This house specialises in Care of Magical Creatures, Occlumency and Legilimency

Rahavyasa (Conjuction of Rahu and Mercury)

Rahavyasa (pronounced as Ra-ha-vya-sa) is the House of Rahu and Mercury. Together they symbolise craftiness, swift intellect, speech and materialism. They tend to break social taboos about learning, skilled, innovative, curious, with many minds, manipulative, gifted with speech and argumentative. The First Head of this House was Sage Pulaha.

The position of the House is: Third House (House of skills, communications, younger siblings, connectivity). The Element is: Sound, Cardinal Direction South West. standard colour is emerald green and sage, Metal representing is Pewter, gemstone emerald. Representing chakra: Vishuddha (Throat) , Representing weapon: Shankh (Holy Conch), Representing animal is Garuda, Representing flower: Champa (Plumeria).

The Power: to create and imitate

The speciality of this house is: Flying, Sacred Mathematics and Seal drawing.

Punarvasu (The Return of the Good)

Punarvasu is the house of Jupiter and Ketu. Together they signify Philosophy, Liberation, Truth, Higher Learning, Memory and Medicine. The First Head of the House was Sage Markandeya, the Immortal Sage.

The Position of the House is: Fourth House (House of domestic peace, emotions, generosity, spirituality). The Cardinal direction is the North East, the element is Sky or Space, the Standard colors are Bright Yellow and Gray, Metal- Gold, Gemstone: Chrysoberyl Cat’s eye. Representing Chakra: Sahasrara (Crown), Representing weapon: Japamala (Rosary), Representing Animal: Ahirbudhanya: the great snake of the deep (Indian Runespoor). Symbolic Flower: Pundarik (white lotus). The students in this house tend to be detached, humble, prudent, austere, healing, instructing, imposing, wise and diligent.

The Power: To connect and understand

This house Specialises in Applied Divination, Ayurveda and History of Magic

Yajurmitra (Patron of the Yajurveda/ Rituals)

Yajurmitra (pronounced as Ya-jur-mit-ra) is the House of Venus. It signifies arts, music beauty and everything that stands for aesthetic beauty. The First Head of the House was Devjani, Daughter of Venus.

The Position of the House is: Fifth House (House of creativity, children, written text, performance) The Element is Air, Representing Chakra is : Anahata (Heart), Representing weapon: Kal (water vessel), Representing animal is Swan, Cardinal direction: North, standard color is pink and Magenta, gemstone: pink diamond, metal platinum, representing flower: Madhumalati (Pink honeysuckle), the students here tend to be perfectionist about aesthetics, bold, artist-like, pleasure loving, well versed in politics.

The Power: To harmonize and beautify

The house specialises in : Charms and enchantments, Seal Drawing, alchemy.

Kshatragam (Arrival of the Warrior)

Kshatragam (pronounced as: shatra-gam) is the house of Mars. It signifies courage to go forward for a cause, battle, aggression, competitiveness, sports and Defence. The First head of this house was a Krittika (Warrior Goddess, wielding axe) called Shambhuti, one of the six foster mothers of Lord Kartikeya (personification of Mars).

The Position of the House is: Sixth House (House of Diseases, enemies, debts and hard work). Element is Fire, Standard color is maroon and red, Cardinal Direction is West. Metal is Bronze, Representing Chakra : Manipura (Solar Plexus) , Representing weapon: Bhal (Spear), Representing animal is Mountain Ram. Representing flower: Red Silk Cotton, The pupils of this house tend to be aggressive, competitive, conquering, great at crisis, risk taker, protective.

The Power: To initiate and pursue

The house specialises in : Defence Against the Dark Arts and Battle Magic

Bhadrapada (Blessed Step)

Bhadrapada (pronounced as: Bha-dra-pa-da) is the house of Saturn. It signifies service, hard work, discipline, law, justice and punishment. The Students here tend to be serious, submissive to the right order, cool tempered, hard working, realistic, justice loving, impartial and unforgiving. The First Head of the house was sage Kratu.

The Position of the House is: Seventh House (House of balance, other people, society and spouse). The Cardinal Direction is South, The Element is Earth, The standard colours are Navy Blue and Black, Metal Iron, gemstone blue sapphire. Representing animal is Buffalo, Representing Chakra: Muladhara (Root), Representing weapon: Kharga (Executioner’s scythe), Representing flower: Blue butterfly pea.

The Power: To Persevere

This house specializes in Transfiguration, Potions and Illusion magic.

[wangisking]

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘  𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆  𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑  𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐘

BASICS. FULL    NAME  :  Augustus Alexander Wang  NICKNAME  :  August and Gus ( in general ), Auggie, Ice Prince, and Guggie ( by Aurora ). Aug and Lestat  ( by Jack ),  NAME    MEANINGS  : Augustus is  Latin for  the great / the magnificent.  Alexander is also Latin and means defender of mankind. From what I know, Wang in Chinese means king.  HISTORICAL    CONNECTION ?  : Though, his dad did think of the Roman Emperor Augustus when they named him, they liked the meaning. It seemed to fit him. They weren’t wrong, he was an emperor and he still has that energy.   AGE  :  22. Like Aurora, he can’t age past 22. He wouldn’t have minded either way.    BIRTHDAY  :  5th  April ETHNIC    GROUP  :   Augustus is half Korean and half Brazilian.  NATIONALITY  :   British LANGUAGES  :   fluent  in  English and French. Conversational Latin. Broken Korean. Learning Urdu. SEXUAL    ORIENTATION  :  demi-heterosexual ROMANTIC    ORIENTATION  :  demi-heterosexual RELATIONSHIP    STATUS  :   Single and doesn’t want to mingle. He had only one serious relationship in the past with Aurora Shams from 2017-2019.  CLASS  :  Upper  class,  Wealthy but not private-jet kind of wealthy.  HOME    TOWN  /  AREA  :  London till he was 10 and Vancouver till he was 17 CURRENT    HOME  :  Los  Angeles PROFESSION  :   Drummer, songwriter, model, and student.    PHYSICAL. HAIR  :  long  and  wavy.  Chestnut brown. Here is an example. It goes down his earlobes in length.    EYES  :  piercing, almond-shaped eyes. Naturally brown, but he wears blue or green contact lenses.  NOSE  :   a Greek nose, straight without bumps. FACE  :  Oblong shaped, sharp and chiseled cheekbones, strong jaw. Masculine features. Example.  LIPS  :  not  full  nor  thin, heart shaped.     COMPLEXION  :  pretty pale. Example is same as the face section.  SCARS  :  one on his chest. TATTOOS  :  a very small ‘10/17′ on his left rib.   PIERCINGS:  earlobes HEIGHT  :  6′5″  or  195cm.   BUILD  :  Inverted triangle. Broad, tapered shoulders. Muscular. Defined, sculpted abs. Long limbs. Broad chest. He was naturally towards the muscular side with broad shoulders and chest. He’s never been on the skinny side. Example one and two   USUAL  HAIR  STYLE  :  he lets his hair do their thing, he styles them a little, but he prefers a messier vibe.  USUAL  FACE  LOOK  :  He looks generally bored. His eyes have a piercing look that seem to be drilling into the person before him. Like he can see right through you. There is an insolent smirk tugging at his lips like he thinks you’re amusing. Almost proud, like he thinks he is above you. There is depth and intensity in his eyes that stare skywards in thought. There is also mischievous, radiant glimmer in his eyes.   USUAL    CLOTHING  :  prince charming meets rockstar. Lots of jackets, darker colors, boots, necklaces and rings. Here is his wardrobe.      PSYCHOLOGY. FEARS  :  claustrophobia and the fear of ending up alone. He always had this creeping feeling that he’d be alone in the end and that he was always meant to be alone.  ASPIRATIONS  :   he doesn’t have any set aspirations. They change every now and then. However, his goals are just to keep his found family happy.  POSITIVE    TRAITS  :  extremely charismatic, intelligent,  academic and studious, alluring and attractive, quick-witted, charming and captivating, articulate and eloquent, adventurous, desirable, analytical, brilliant, friendly, enthusiastic, adaptable, observant, kind, mellow, competent, extremely caring and protective over those closest to him, clever, loyal, clear-headed, confident, humorous, courageous, imaginative and creative, a visionary, refined tastes and manners, daring, dignified, ebullient, deep, remarkable, surprisingly he’s very forgiving, forthright, gallant, logical, gentlemanly and sophisticated, perfectionist, popular, self-reliant, shrewd, witty, suave, curious, and resourceful.    NEGATIVE    TRAITS  :  egocentric, self-obsessed, idle, indifferent, selfish, defiant, arrogant, argumentative, rebellious, kinda lazy, stubborn, distracted, doesn’t really care for morals, blunt, can appear insensitive a lot, is insensitive at times, no filters, can be cold for those he doesn’t care for, emotionally immature, deflects emotions, suppresses his feelings, sorta detached, kinda pessimistic, and unknowingly self-sacrificing because he thinks it’s fair and he deserves it.   MBTI  :  ENTP  (  Ne  dominant,  Ti  auxiliary,  Fe  tertiary,  and  Si  inferior  —  this  means  she  can’t  use  Ni,  Se,  Te,  and  especially  can’t  use  Fi). He  perceives  the  world  by  connecting  dots,  thinking  of  never-ending  possibilities,  looking  for  pieces  of  a  puzzle,  and  finding  meaning  in  abstract.  He  makes  judgments  on  if  what  he  perceives  fits  his  internal  logic.          ZODIAC  :  Aries sun, Gemini rising, Sagittarius moon.  TEMPERAMENT  :  sanguine choleric  ANIMALS  :  parrots and cats because they’re both intelligent but little pieces of shit who enjoy making your life hell.  VICE  :   it’s either his ego or how he ends up detaching himself FAITH  :  currently, he’s Mu.slim. He was born protestant, became an atheist when he was 13, agnostic at 14. Bud.dhist at 15. Taoist at 16. Confucianist at 17. Mu.slim at 19. Doesn't practice it though.     GHOSTS  ?  :  yep.. AFTERLIFE  ?  :   yep REINCARNATION  ?  :  he guesses so. Went  through  it, but doesn’t remember. ALIENS  ?  :  hell yeah. POLITICAL    ALIGNMENT  :  liberal. ECONOMIC    PREFERENCE  :   upper class or upper middle class is good with him.  EDUCATION    LEVEL  :   MSci in Physics from the University of Cambridge. Is opting to specialize in astrophysics soon. FAMILY. FATHER  :  Edward Wang, owner of a chain of fine dining restaurants  MOTHER  :  Elisa Violeta Wang, psychiatrist, deceased  STEP MOTHER :  Chaeyoung Wang, lawyer.  SIBLINGS  :  Cassandra Wang, athlete EXTENDED    FAMILY  :  he is not close with his external family and doesn’t know his birth mother’s family at all. They never wanted him.  FAVOURITES. BOOK  :   Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky, Galactic Dynamics by James Binney, Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Mukarami, Slaughter house Five by Kurt Vonnegut, War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy, and Lord of the Flies by William Golding. MOVIE  :  Scott Pilgrim vs The World 5    SONGS :  All You Want - Dashboard Prophets, Tokyo Smoke - Cage the Elephant, Where is My Mind? - The Pixies, Sparks - Coldplay, Lithium - Nirvana, and Mr. Blue Sky - Electric Light Orchestra     DEITY  :  none.  Let him argue with one and ask for proof of their deity-ness. HOLIDAY  :  Halloween. It’s dramatic and fun. MONTH  :   October, because he met Aurora and Jack this month in 2017. SEASON  :  spring  and  summer. PLACE  :  he doesn’t have a specific place, but he prefers European architecture.  WEATHER  :  cloudy and windy. Sunny if it isn’t too hot. SOUND  :  drums and percussions, the sound of aurora and jack’s laugh, guitars, violins, the sound of wind roaring, music boxes, and the clinking of bangles and jewelry.  SCENTS  :  sage, rosemary, and damascus roses. TASTES  :  chocolate, strawberries, chilies, and fried food.       FEELS  :   the feeling of hitting the drums, wind in his hair, the cold night air, warm morning sun, grass against his fingertips, silk, and touching long hair.   ANIMALS  :  cats and dogs. NUMBER  :   8 COLORS  :  white, cherry red, pink, maroon, wine red, black, and silver. EXTRA. TALENTS  :  he is an extremely talented drummer, good at guitar and the piano, he is talented at songwriting, composing music, he’s exceptionally good at mathematics and physics, analytical skills, storytelling, knows a lot of facts, near photographic memory because he remembers all important historical events with dates and details, academic writing, and brainstorming ideas.  BAD  AT  :   cooking, not very good at driving because he gets distracted, doing one task at a time, playing videogames, actually listening to what people say, being humble, and actually being a good leader.  TURN    ONS  :  this is a complicated question. He needs a very strong emotional connection to feel sexual attraction towards someone. And he only felt it for one person in his whole life. But, what sparked that attraction was a brilliant mind and the ability to connect with his mind on a very different level. It’s not going to repeat with anyone else.  TURN    OFFS  :  literally everyone else. He’s not sorry, but I am. HOBBIES  :  playing the drums, writing and composing songs, reading, solving problems, listening to music, watching shows, getting people to do weird shit, and annoying people.      AESTHETIC  :  crowns, drums, broken drumming sticks, abstract art, the vast space, chess boards, album cases, thrones, the echoing sound of pianos, Greek sculptures, galaxies and nebulas, early morning sunrise through curtains, libraries, equations scribbled on napkins, empty museums, unmade white sheets, polaroid cameras, conspiracy theories, VHS tapes, antique books, cobblestone alleyways, night skies, cluttered books, calloused fingers, crumpled composition pages, guitar picks, vinyl, telescopes, and planets.      Basically: abstract, chaotic academia, cryptid academia, dark academia, indie, kingcore, light academia, musical academia, science academia, spacecore,   QUOTES  :   it’s weird but i can’t decide which one fits him.  FC  INFO. MAIN    FC  :  victor han  ALT    FC  :  n/a. OLDER    FC  :  he can’t age past 22, so he doesn’t need one. YOUNGER    FC  :  none  yet. VOICE    CLAIM  :  both speaking and singing (his accent is posh British with a slight hint of Canadian) MUN  QUESTIONS. Q1  :    If you could write your character your way in their own movie , what    would  it  be  called ,  what  style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about ?    A1 :  The same answer as Aurora, The Tale of Solis et Lunae that stars him alongside Aurora, Lunae, Jack, and Tate, plus more. A cosmic adventure / fantasy / coming of age / superhero / the reluctant hero / the chosen one.  His role is of Aurora’s best friend and her greatest support in emotional and supernatural dangers. He is the time traveler who ascends time and space, so he often also gives her insight and information like the sage. It’ll  expand across dimensions, worlds, and different states of existence. The scenes would be cinematic with a strong soundtrack. I imagine him to have some scenes like Quick Silver in the X-Men movies.       Q2  :   What would their soundtrack / score sound like  ?     A2  :   He would have a 90s grunge or spacey dream rock sound. It ties in with the end of the last answer because i see him in one of those scenes with 90s grunge or maybe classical music ?    Q3  :      Why did you start writing this character  ? A3  :    I made Augustus just a bit before Aurora. They were a two part deal. I don’t know when it began, I just had this image of a tall, long haired boy with piercing, intelligent eyes who’s a smart-ass and likes being a know-it-all nuisance. This character has been the same since he began in 2019 and refused to change. He was always a drummer, he always had the same fashion sense, the look, Gus was always half-Korean, he always had long fingers he wore rings on, and he was always Aurora’s best friend/partner in crime. He remains unchanged and that's why I wanted to write him. This very vivid image of this boy was something I had to pen down. And just my luck, I found a fc who looks exactly how Gus looked in my head.   Q4  :    What  first  attracted  you  to  this  character  ? A4  :   Augustus is just extraordinary. It’s something I always felt about him and Aurora and I don’t see any of my other characters coming anywhere close to them regardless of how much I spent time on them. But with Augustus, his entire image and looks and personality — down to his wardrobe and jewelry was always so vivid in my head. Like I knew this very chaotically handsome boy who was going to turn the world upside down.  His story is interesting, but what interests me more is his perspective on his story. The way he looks at his life and how he is quiet and doesn’t show his pain. How confused he always is. How much he aches but never seems so. The way he loves but doesn’t say even a quarter of the intensity he feels. And how sometimes he believes he deserves suffering because it makes sense to him. I also love the connections he makes and the way he loves so deeply and profoundly but underneath the surface. His connection, love, fears, and hopes with Aurora and Jack for their respective reasons are extremely beautiful.   Q5  :      Describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse.  ? A5  :  Augustus is unknowingly self-sabotaging. He let go the only relationship / love in his life that made him feel like real love just because he thought he didn’t deserve it. And because when he was provoked, it made “sense” to him. He bottles his emotions and pain so much despite their intensity. He never shows how much he really cares and really hurts. And how sure he is that he’ll end up alone without friends and that it makes sense to him. Q6  :      What    do    you    have    in    common    with    your    muse  ?   A6  :    Here’s a fun answer, because I bottle my emotions like him. I also interact with the carefree way he does even if I don’t feel peachy. He’s smart and witty and really hot and I don’t even have that going on for me. So, yikes. Only of Gus’ bad things I share.  Q7  :      How  does your muse feel about you  ?   A7  :  Gus loves interacting with people so he’ll definitely show up to annoy me. Maybe, he might think I’m fun to annoy? Or maybe, we’ll have a similar sense of humor. I think he won’t dislike me. Not sure if he’ll like me. I think he’d think I’m funny in a strange sort of way.  Q8  :      What    characters    does    your    muse    have    interesting    interactions  with  ? A8  :    Aurora, first of all. They have this same brain wave-length thing going on where they’re partners in crime and bffs forever more. He knows how she is feeling and what she’s thinking even before she utters it. If she is about to sneeze, he’d get a tissue ready. He can tell if she is hungry or sleepy with one glance. She can do the same, so they sorta have this weird understanding of each other.  Jack is this older brother figure Augustus loves. He won’t admit it, but he kinda wants to make Jack proud of him. He also wants to provide love and care to Jack that he thinks he deserves but never got. They’re his family now and he’ll never be alone or sad again. He annoys Jack a lot but behind it all, he just wants Jack to think he is needed and he belongs. That if he thinks Augustus is reliant on him, then he has this family he has to protect and care for. He can’t stand the thought of Jack feeling unloved, forgotten, alone.  Tida is another one. There’s this great respect and adoration Gus has for him. Almost like he looks up to him in some ways  He also has a lot of hopes and expectations attached. He feels Tida is everything that Gus himself lacks. He is the ideal boyfriend, kindest person, shows his emotions vividly, and is like a warm and cozy blanket personified. He is probably Tida and Aurora’s biggest supporter and first one to know. He can’t be happier than he is that Aurora found someone as good and perfect as Tida.   Taewon is one really fun character. Their two-way frenemy jealousy spans over years and started in Cambridge when they were both in love with the same girl they claimed to be best friends with. Though, trying to be calm, Augustus was constantly provoked and hurt, made to feel inferior and constantly in fear of his relationship being broken by Taewon’s schemes that he couldn’t say out loud. This dark period ended with a fist fight and baggage of guilt they both carry to this day for hurting each other and the one they claimed to love. Today, they’re way past that and frenemies who have funny quips and arguments for each other. They say they dislike each other. But if the lighting is good, one would be the photographer of the other. Q9  :      What    gives    you    inspiration    to    write    your    muse  ? A9  :  Music  helps  me  imagine  scenes  with  perfect  visual  details.  Any  scenes  from  shows  that  remind  me  of  my  storylines. Q10  :      How    long    did    this    take    you    to    complete  ?   A10  :  I don’t remember. It was many days and I didn’t count because it was in bits and pieces.

[mythgirlimagines]

Come on down to the Animal Care Emporium, and meet this week’s talentswapped Myth! This is Myth, the Former Ultimate Breeder! ———-———————————————

BACKSTORY AND TALENT

Myth lived a lonely childhood with hardly any friends and a family that hardly gives her the time of day. However, Myth found solace in the stray animals that she regularly meets in her backyard and grew to love their loyalty and humbleness, something that many people in her life never even gave to her. Unfortunately, the lives of her pets were fleeting, and they regularly died, leaving the animal-loving girl heartbroken. This prompted Myth to find out all she can about animals, in order to help them. After school, she’d volunteer at animal shelters and veterinarian offices to learn all there is to know about animals, their behaviors, and their needs. Her growing expertise on animals reached its peak when Myth blew her employers out of the water with her care in handling and breeding animals to become stronger and longer-lived, and eventually opened a hybrid vet’s office and pet adoption center. This is what caused Myth to become the Ultimate Animal Breeder, although she’d much rather be called the Ultimate Animal Expert. Let’s just say that Myth encounters quite the odd number of customers during her workdays.

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RELATIONSHIPS

Wyre Anon, Graduated Reserve Course Student

Wyre was Myth’s first (and for a good portion of her life, only) human friend, also sharing an interest in animals (particularly dogs and lizards), much like the animal breeder. In fact, Wyre even kept the pet Blue Tounged Skink (which they named Blue, after the famous velociraptor) that Myth gave to them, as a sort of present for passing their Reserve Course exams. Unlike their talented friend, Wyre ended up going into Hope’s Peak as part of the Reserve Course, and ended up graduating in order to become a paleontologist. Even as young adults, the two girls’ friendship is still as strong as ever. In fact, Wyre loves to volunteer at Myth‘s animal center in her offtime, and Myth appreciates the extra pair of hands.

Outfit: Eyeglasses, a brown blazer over a messily-buttoned white dress shirt, brown pants, black shoes and socks, a paw-print necklace that Myth gave her.

Anon Scar, Ultimate Nurse

Scar is one of the most prolific nurses in the local hospital, despite her age, and for good reasons. Scar graduated from a prestigious medical school with honors, and made national headlines, because of her sheer intellect and sheer skill at all things medical. Her “Demon of Life” routine makes her a massive hit with sick and injured children. But that natural intellect came with a downside, for she was prone to stress attacks and sleep deprivation, during many parts of her career. After one too many, her employers suggested animal therapy, and this was how Scar ended up at the animal center and ended up adopting a black and wild-haired guinea pig that she named “Francois, Soldier of Life”.

Outfit: The mask, gloves, scarf and boots from her original design, hair cut to her shoulders, a long black overcoat over a purple sweater and matching pants, has a stethoscope around his neck.

Fusion Anon, Ultimate Gymnast

Unlike what his bony and gigantic frame would suggest, Fusion is famous for his skill in gymnastics and parkour, making him a several-gold-medal champion, that was even chosen to represent his country in the Olympics. Fusion always wanted a pet, but couldn’t get one for two reasons: because of the terrible financial situation of his family, and his intimidating and looming frame (and his unnatural stances he performs regularly) just scares off any potential pets. No matter how hard the breeder and gymnast tried, all of the animals just cower away at the sight of Fusion. That was until Fusion happened upon a fellow flexible outcast in a red-eyed albino ferret, that he eventually named Slinky.

Outfit: Bandages on his nose and arms, a blue and yellow sleeveless hoodie, red and black fingerless gloves, red and blue sweatpants, red, blue, and white sneakers, glasses from his original design.

Fusion Anon II, Ultimate Traditional Dancer

As the only child to a heavily-traditional family, Fusion II is very skilled in the art of traditional dance, and seems keen on reviving an otherwise dead mode of entertainment. Despite living in a very traditional family and her classy and feminine appearance, her snarky attitude and her love of modern internet culture, makes her far from your typical Yamato Nadeshiko. Just like the similarly named Fusion, Fusion II eventually adopted a younger albino ferret, that she named Kamaitachi (after the famous weasel from folklore), and she regularly slung Kamaitachi over her shoulders and strutted around with pride. But much to the dancer’s confusion and anger, the ferret seems to respond better to Slinky Jr..

Outfit: Hair in two small braids with a red flower accessory, a blue and silver kimono with a pink obi, white socks and tall geta sandals.

Just Anon, Ultimate Photographer

In spite of his sporadic and sparse uploading schedule, Janon is well-known for his scenic and downright photography that brings tears in the eyes to anyone gazing upon them. When he is not trekking the globe looking for places to photograph, you would mostly find him lying in bed or, if he’s not in bed and is far away from it, resting in whatever convenient spot he can find. Janon originally crashed at Myth’s animal center purely to sleep on a comfortable bench, but all of that changed, when a bunny scurried up to the lazy photographer and snuggled up next to him. And that was how Janon ended up with a new travel companion, named Lil’ Shizzdoodle.

Outfit: Same as the original, but with a Polaroid around his neck and the hair tied out of his eyes.

Sparkle Anon, Former Ultimate Swordswoman

With a bedazzled suit of armor she wears on the daily combined with a loud and boisterous tone of voice and a love for the histrionics, it’s very hard to not miss the presence of Sparkle Anon, who is revered amongst many circles for her expertise in only the most brutal of swordfighting tournaments. Needless to say, even Myth was a bit scared off by the suit of armor proclaiming in a loud and booming voice that she needs an animal companion that‘s as spectacular as she is. The only animals that were attracted by her suit of armor happened to be an animal the complete opposite of her aesthetic: a crow, that the swordfighter eventually adopted and named “Galahad”.

Outfit: A blue sparkly suit of armor with the cape from her original design, and a steel scabbard that houses her prized sword.

Egg Anon, Former Ultimate Yakuza, and Wet Sock Anon, Former Ultimate Mechanic

Considering what family they come from, and their generally fearsome and cursed personalities, it would make sense not to cross them, for Egg has expertise in all kinds of weapons and torture methods, and Wet Sock can lift an entire car and has quite the attachment to and collection of knives. For some reason, Egg fashions themselves as a sort of “mother hen” to the tens of hundreds of birds in the animal center and they all just flock to them, while their twin is the opposite, in which the animals of the center simply detest the mechanic. Myth is really confused as to how the yakuza can have control over all the birds, but Myth simply views as a conversation starter with them.

Egg’s Outfit: Hair shaved on the right side, a green pinstripe suit over a white dress shirt and a yellow and red striped tie.

Wet Sock’s Outfit: Hair shaved on the left side and brown goggles on their head, a black t-shirt over blue overalls, boots and gloves that match their t-shirt.

Curious Anon, Jr. Ultimate Musician

Famous for playing rock music for individuals of only the highest of classes, Curious has a dignified yet punk air surrounding them, which makes sense considering both their personality and the type of music that they play: this odd mix of classical and punk rock. Although they specialize in the electric violin, they can also play the guitar and keyboard. Surprisingly, despite their rough appearance and music, animals simply flock to them, whenever they play, and Curious is simply all too happy to let the animals fall and land on top of them. They eventually ended up getting a Rose-Breasted Cockatoo imprinted on them, that they named Amadeus, based on group consensus.

Outfit: Long and wild mid-back length hair with strips of hair dyed random colors, a red and black overcoat with long coattails over a white dress shirt and a fluffy white cravat with an emerald in the center, white gloves, a black cummerbund, white pants and tall black boots.

Anon Nerd, Former Ultimate Team Manager

Because of his loud and harsh demeanor, coaching only the most professional of athletes is right down Nerd’s alley. Unfortunately, years of coaching defiant and lazy athletes would definitely wear thin on anyone’s patience,  and that is definitely the case with Nerd, who is now hot-tempered and foul-mouthed from spending so much time around said defiant and lazy athletes, often taking all his pent-up rage on anyone who even slightly inconveniences him. Because of these experiences, Nerd prefers loyal and obedient animals compared to humans, and got particularly close to a fast and loyal greyhound. But he’d die before admitting that, and especially to the irksome yet adorable animal breeder.

Outfit: A red and black tracksuit with grey stripes and matching shoes, scouter from the original design.

Eldritch Anon, Ultimate Lucky Student

Despite being given the title of “Ultimate Lucky Student”, Eldritch considers himself far from lucky. Ever since Eldritch was little, he’s been haunted by extreme luck on both the good and bad ends. Because of all the traumatic events that are a result from his bad luck, Eldritch adopted a skittish, paranoid, pessimistic and very superstitious nature, and collects and hoards luck-bringing items and wears them everywhere that he goes. Eldritch seems to have the opposite problem as Fusion, for animals love him, but he’s very afraid of them, and wants to avoid them at all costs. Well, every animal apart from a two-legged, one-eyed, fertile, male calico cat, that he named “Hopespot”.

Outfit: A green hoodie over a black sweater, ragged white leggings with black spots, brown boots with white fluff, has good-luck charms and bandages on every part of his body.

Dream Anon, Ultimate Animator

Famous for being the big name behind just about every big sports anime in recent memory, such as “Volleybros” and “Dance Journey” (which were inspired by two of her favorite physical activities, volleyball and dancing respectively), Dream is a master animator famous for her fast drawing and animating speed and her ability to draw gripping action scenes and write only the most lovable of athletic high schoolers. Dream’s energetic and cheery demeanor means that she needed a pet to match that, and she eventually settled on a fluffy and energetic little Syrian Hamster that she named Wilson. Some people noted the similarity in appearance and demeanor between the owner and pet.

Outfit: A grey ski cap, a blue and orange vest with several patches on it over a pink sweater, black artist gloves, orange shorts and red, blue and grey sneakers.

Iris Anon, Ultimate Chef

In spite of being merely a middle schooler (and a pretty clumsy one at that), Iris is the star and beacon of warmth and positivity of her parents’ family diner (known as the Shooting Star Family Diner) and is revered as a great chef by anyone lucky to try her signature dishes, particularly the “Star-Steak” and the “Galaxy-Curry”. Unlike the rest of the regulars at the animal center, who come to the adoption center, Iris frequently goes to Myth‘s veterinary clinic with her pet dog, Roxie, in case the dog gets hurt or sick. The two girl‘s bonded over their energetic and earnest demeanors and their shared love of dogs. In fact, Iris is currently trying to make pet food to give to the animals at the center. 

Outfit: A white chef’s outfit with a galaxy-patterned bandana around her neck, and a blue apron with the logo of her diner on the front.

Purple Anon, Ultimate Gamer

Despite what her polite demeanor and heavily formal and outdated vocabulary would suggest, Purple is actually an online gamer who tops the charts of any game that she happens upon, particularly fantasy-themed turn-based RPGs. The timid attitude and busy schedule of the gamer meant that she needed a quiet, low maintenance, and normally placid animal, and a purple betta fish managed to catch the gamer’s eye. She chose only the finest glass fish tank that her influential parents could afford, and named the brightly-colored fish “Iridescent”. Myth may have trouble understanding the gamer, but she’s happy that she satisfied both the animal and the customer.

Outfit: Hair that reaches her tailbone, a black ski cap, purple headphones, a black hoodie over a white dress shirt and a red and purple tie, a skirt that matches her tie, black stockings and purple and white Converses.

In this AU, as opposed to the Kibo-Con, the Anons all meet up at Myth’s animal center, and Myth helps them find the perfect animal companion for them!

————————————————-——

PERSONALITY

In order to compensate for her lonely childhood, Myth adopted the outgoing and cheery personality of the world travelers, animal experts and animal rescuers that she watches on TV all the time. These eccentricities of her’s don’t stop her from being a practical expert in all things animal, and she is a respected researcher in the world of zoology. Because of her isolated childhood, Breeder!Myth is rather naïve when it comes to subjects of conversation apart from animals. Breeder!Myth has an inhumanly high empathy, which makes it hard for her to eat meat without thinking of slaughterhouses and inhuman torture. This means Breeder!Myth is a vegetarian, an avid animal rights activist, and someone who has a real connection with animals and what ever they need, showing empathy for even the weakest and most hopeless little whelps in the shelter. Nicknames for Breeder!Myth include “Modern Dr. Doolittle”, “The Beast-tamer”, and “The Pet Whisperer”.

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APPEARANCE

Breeder!Myth wears her brown hair down and wears a cerulean hat with cat ears and yellow dots for eyes. Breeder!Myth wears a green jacket with brown pawprint designs over a brown dress shirt and a bi flag bandana around her neck. Her short overalls are a darker green compared to her jacket, her socks match her jacket and her shoes are white with pink cat paws on the bottom.

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I hope you like this talentswap! I’d love to hear your opinions on them! In the meantime, stay safe and stay tuned for more content!

-Fusion Anon

[fearfulkittenwrites]

Gala and “I’m allergic to bullshit.”

Word count: 2244

Link for it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26180371

Notes: Hey! This was beta'd by @3ambird​ , who is an amazing sweetheart and improves evertything they touch. Thank you for the help!

Galas were never fun. Bruce had hated them as a kid, and hated them as teen, and he hates them as an adult. Still, he has to maintain appearances, so he always attends. And as his family grew, his kids were forced to attend as well.

Dick Grayson was particularly good at socializing. After he moved past his teenage rage, of course. He used to get in passive aggressive arguments with the rich CEOs and company owners all the time. He still does, but at least now he was good at it to the point where it almost couldn’t be recognized as an argument, instead of jumping on the necks of greedy millionaires that bought land out of poor people.

That was an interesting headline.

Jason sucked at galas. Soon enough, he figured out that if he started enough awkward conversations, people wouldn’t want to talk to him anymore. Especially the creepy single older women, pinching his cheeks and squeezing his biceps.

“Say, Claire, what’s your opinion on the alarming rate at which the bees are disappearing? They say that’s because of all the chemicals we put in our food.” He’d smile, carefully holding his glass. Bruce would struggle to hide his gasp, because Jason, that’s the owner of the highest earning pesticides company in the country.

“Well, Roger, I’m certain that the legalization of abortions would be a great thing, considering that now your mistresses won’t have to be sent overseas to terminate the unwanted preganancies you give them, right?” He’d say, and Bruce would nearly have a heart attack, because Jason, that’s the president of Gotham’s conservative party.

“Oh, you see, Sandra, I think that gay marriage should not only be legalized, but encouraged. If straight couples were to cease existing, then no more children would be born, and honestly, no one needs any more of those snotty gremlins running around, ruining perfectly good tapestry.” And Bruce would faint, because Jason, for God’s sake, that is the leader of the Gotham’s Motherhood Association.

Tim wasn’t all that bad. He could be social with a little effort, and he was far more used to galas than any of the other family members, having grown up attending them. Of course, all of that was only valid when he wasn’t sleep deprived, which, considering all he had on his plate, was roughly 32% of the time. When he was running on three hours of sleep and seven cups of caffeine a day, trying to finish a project, run his share of the Wayne Enterprises, and manage school work, he became a bit more irritable and impatient. And extremely impulsive. Which is mainly why Bruce asked Dick to stand by his brother through most of the night.

“We both know you’re his impulse control, Dick.” He said, adjusting his oldest son’s tie “Remember what happened the last time he was left unattended for fifteen minutes?”

“He got into an argument with a young Creationist and dunked his own head in an ice bowl after screaming ‘Fuck God! I can hear colors and dinosaurs rule!’” Dick sighed, “Yeah, I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Cass despised them, but Bruce insisted she should attend anyway. More often than not, she’d just stay at the table, tasting as many appetizers as the waiters would bring her, and shooting murderous looks at anyone who sneered at her. Bruce was relieved that at least she wasn’t cracking any bones.

Damian was... Better than Jason and worse than Dick. He had an unamused expression through most of the event, and would unceremoniously swat away any hands that tried to pinch his cheeks. Other than that, he wasn’t much trouble. The real trouble were galas all Wayne kids attended. The five of them could cause enough trouble when they were apart, together they were the embodiment of chaos.

And this was supposed to be a calm, slightly boring family evening. It really was.

But Bruce just had to bring all five of them.

Everything had to go just right. As they walked in through the red carpet, the media was eating up the image of the six Waynes dressed formally; Each of them had a tie color matching their hero uniform (a cheeky thing they enjoyed doing to play with the theorists minds), Dick had a dark blue one, Tim and Jason slightly varying tones of red, Damian had a green one and Bruce had a black one. Cass wore a long black dress that sparkled when it was hit by the light in just the right way.

The first sign was the reporter, who, while aggressively pointing a microphone in their faces, asked pushy questions about relationships and the like, nothing out of the ordinary, until he shoved it in Cass’ face and asked her if she could even speak. Jason almost broke the man’s nose. Bruce silently thanked God for Dick, who stepped in front of the man before that happened.

“Try some shit like that again pal, you’ll hear from our lawyers.” He led his sister inside, a protective hand on her back.

They calmed down. And Bruce still had hopes that this would be a quiet evening.

Looking back at it, he doesn’t know why.

Because as Dick and Cass were at the bar, ordering drinks, a woman stood next to them, trying to make small talk. Neither of them seemed too interested in her; she is a hassle at every gala, making weird advances on all of the boys. Today, however, she was a little more tipsy, and Bruce couldn’t quite make out what exactly the conversation was about, but Dick was clearly uncomfortable and Cass was fuming. The woman kept grabbing at him, sliding her hands over his tie, squeezing his arms. And then she squeezed his ass, and it took Cass less than a second to break her nose.

If they were any other family, Cass would have been thrown out of the party, but they were the Waynes, and you do not throw a Wayne out of a party. If she punched a middle-aged woman, then she punched a middle-aged woman. Bring her a glass of water and some ice for her injured hand.

Of course, it didn’t end there.

Bruce was still surprised he didn’t have gray hairs yet.

Because Damian had discovered and made friends with a stray cat in the garden, and Jason had a laser pointer, because of course Jason had a laser pointer, and the cat ended up knocking down not one, not two, but three expensive pieces of pottery, shattering them on the gravel floor. And when the house owner saw the damage, he turned pale and had to hold back his tears. Jason laughed.

“-tt-.” Damian stated, adjusting his suit “You owe that cat a favour,those vases ruined the garden’s aesthetic. Regardless, I’m sure father will be more than happy to compensate you for the damages.”

He walked back to the party slowly, passing by the man who would need some time to make it back.

Once Jason broke him the news, Bruce thought (and hoped) that that would be it.

But no, the night was young, and there was so much time left and the batsibilings for sure wouldn’t waste it.

The previous statement about sleep deprived Tim?

Well.

Tonight, he had to pick a fight with an essential-oil-loving, antivax mother. Simply because he liked to torture himself. And because nobody realised he was alone until Bruce spotted him in the crowd, eye twitching as a woman rambled about all the heavy metals and chemicals that vaccines had in them. He thought about getting to him, but he knew it was too late. There was no going back now.

“Well, you see Karen,” He started.

“Uuum, my name’s Patricia.” She interrupted.

“I’m a billionaire’s heir, I don’t give a shit.” He said “Anyways. As I was saying, the thing is, I’d rather take the chance of being injecting myself with mercury than, oh, I don’t know, get meningitis and fucking die?”

The circle went quiet. Another woman, wanting to dissipate the tension, tried to restart the conversation.

“I-I mean, I don’t understand why can’t they make something safer, right? Like, when we used to throw those smallpox parties, why won’t they make something that works like that? So that we can build a natural immunity instead of all of those chemicals.” She laughed awkwardly.

Tim slapped his own face so hard that it attracted a lot of eyes.

“How. Do. You. Think. Vaccines. Work. Susan?”

“M-my name is Mary.”

“I don’t give a fuck.” He answered. And just in time, Dick swooped in.

“Hey, Timmy!” He greeted “Can I borrow this guy for a second?” He didn’t wait for an answer as he guided Tim out to the garden.

“Fucking idiots.” He muttered “I don’t know how they have so much money. They’re all fucking idiots, Dick. I’m surrounded by dumbasses.”

“There, there.” He said “Okay, we’re far enough.” He looked around “Go ahead.”

And Tim let out the most horrendous, rage filled scream any of those guests had ever heard. Because of course they heard it. Bruce sighed and shrunk on his chair.

“Better?” Dick asked as he finished, patting his back.

“So much.” Tim answered.

“You should’ve slept a little before this.”

“No way. I’m totally fine.” He answered “I had three cans of monster before we left, so I feel great.” Dick raised an eyebrow, worried.

“Whatever you say, buddy.” He led him back inside, tidying up his brother’s hair “Just... No more picking fights with moms tonight, okay?”

And Bruce thought that was enough. Bruce was certain that this would be the last incident.

But his kids just loved proving him wrong.

He thought that the best strategy would be to ask them to stick together, so that Dick’s responsibility and social skills would keep his feral siblings under control. He should’ve known it would backfire.

The last he checked, they were making small talk with some CEOs on the edge of the room, away from the dance floor. Jason, Cass and Damian seemed completely bored, Tim was clenching his jaw for some reason, and Dick tried his best to look polished and polite.

“So, I heard that Wayne Enterprises have a new project?” One of them asked, chest so projected forwards it looked like it was about to explode.

“Yes. Yes we do.” Dick said, smiling politely “We’re opening up a refugee housing program.”

“Oh, so that’s what those buildings are for?”

“Yes, exactly!” He exclaimed, opening his arms in a seemingly natural manner “We are building apartments to shelter them. It’s nothing fancy, but we can charge a cheaper rent than most, and not charge at all for the first six months, giving them a chance to properly establish themselves here.”

“Well, I must say,” Puffed up chest guy stated, “I can’t see why not to give them to good old Americans instead. There’s a lot of homeless people nowadays, you see.” He leaned forward as he talked.

Damian perked his head up, but didn’t say anything. Cass and Jason seemed to be listening. Tim’s left eye twitched.

“Actually,” Tim started “The company has very stable, successful projects to help the homeless.”

“I’m familiar with those, yes.” He arrogantly dismissed the teen “But, you see, I just can’t understand why not open the housing to tax paying Americans instead of some...”

“Potential terrorists?” Damian suggested, arms crossed, scowl on his face.

“...Foreigners.” He completed.

“Well, since you ask, we are currently planning on the possibility of eventually opening vague apartments to Americans too.” Dick answered, swirling the liquid in his glass around “But the priority now really are the refugees.”

“I don’t see why can’t we prioritize our own people.” He insisted “I’m simply concerned for the well being of our poorest patriots.”

Dick blinked.

And here’s why Bruce should have known it would backfire.

Because, yes, Dick was able to cool them down...

But they were able to fire him up.

And so, like the charismatic man he was, he covered his nose a little, rubbing at the end, and faked a loud sneeze.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” He started “You see, I have this strange condition.” Dick stared at the man in the eye, the guy who had bought an old building people were squatting at, just to demolish it and doom them to the streets with no care or compensation, and, knowing this and so much more, said “I’m allergic to bullshit.”

And his siblings went feral again.

Tim and Jason screamed an ‘Oooooooooh!’, Damian pointed at the man and laughed loudly, and Cass snorted, covering her mouth in surprise.

Dick didn’t break eye contact as he drank the last of his champagne.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” He said “I have to go look for better company.” Dick left the empty glass at the nearest table and adjusted his suit, smiling “Have a nice evening.”

As he walked away, the gang followed close behind, all of them very excited about how Dick, the composed, calm, cool, polite and polished Dick Grayson-Wayne, had just burned a millionaire in front of his economic allies. As the party reached Bruce, the man once again seemed to sink into his chair. Dick sat next to him, radiating confidence and charm.

“Do I wanna know?” The man asked.

“No,” Dick answered, grinning but not looking at the man “No you don’t.”

[talesofealdancynedom]

Uncle Cetus knitting; There is a matching picture, where Morgan is wearing that sweater by the way...

Tale 21: What The Wagon Was For (chapter 8 - On The Radio 8/8 ) part 6. Stories of wizards

no warings

           Wool and yarn; Soft threads tied together to keep warm. Self soothing, and expressing creativity. Natural fibers, twirled into textiles that are plush, yet strong. The smell of plastic from the store, that turns into a soft warm sent, as fingers pull it between needles and hooks; As it is transformed into a variety of adornments. Bright as red, or white with dots, thick as rope, or thin like thread; There is no limit to the yarn available to those who seek it. Each loaf, pulled from its inner loop, and wound into balls that seem to always escape, tangle, or go missing. There is always too little, or too much of it around. With a few years practice, a hat can be made in under an hour, with argyle of red and navy, against a confetti white base; Complete with ties and pom-poms. The secret ingredient is time and love; Weaved into something comforting, to be gifted and cherished by someone. A gift of warmth that shows you care.

There is an aesthetic, sensation, smell, and rhythm, in this ancient textile art. Not only calming, but also protective and embellishing. This is why when the couples’ knitting group was over, uncle Cetus kept knitting for the family, while Jupiter kept finding odd amounts of wool in the linen cupboard. While she groaned about the plethora of thread, each autumn, Morgan and the rest of the family, eagerly awaited what Cetus had spent the year crafting for them. Made with love, thought, dedication, and material that costs more then they should. these treasures were meaningful; Because they were made by hand, just for them.

           At the end of the semester, some important paperwork finally got processed and aproved. Magic politics can only function within the common laws of a land; And the law prioritizes children in need of homes, over opinionated wizards. Cetus, after struggling to organize finances after his mother died, finally got guardianship over his sister’s precious son. The problem was that Morgan was bonded to Tiberius Gate, living in an ominous tower. With Emilia. Aunt Jupiter was no quitter; She suggested they move into the tower as well. They already lived in town, and Reginia was going to be sent to magic school anyway. She was to be Morgan’s peer support. Though cousins, they were the same age and like siblings. As magical as Pepperidge was, Cetus and Jupiter were perfectly mundane; Born to magic houses, but unqualified to care for young mages. But they were qualified to provide a supportive and loving family, to two growing youths. Cetus was up to the challenge of helping Morgan overcome his trauma, grow, and be himself.  Mage or not, Morgan deserved to feel safe after everything he went through.

Thus, Cetus became a great aid in Morgan’s recovery. A male role model, as well as an incredible barrier to the corrupt wizard counsel. Morgan, as the mage of Tiberius Gate, was the way of getting to Pepperidge, and its mages. So, if anyone wanted to get rid of mages there, they needed to control Morgan. But now, they also had to threaten the wellbeing a commoner, who had common law on his side. Cetus knew it. No one was getting their fingers in any peanut butter jar, that would mess up his family’s happily ever afters. Every advance made to contain Morgan’s abilities, was being thwarted by an increasingly close pro mage community, in the tiny town of Pepperidge; From the bus driver, to every teacher and student. If he didn’t feel it, Morgan was completely safe.

           After school, mid week, Cetus dropped Morgan off at therapy, and Jupiter would come to pick him up after sessions.

“We have a family meeting, and child welfare check next week. As always, do your best, sport.” Cetus said, ruffling Morgan’s hair. It gave him joy; After almost a year of adoption, and counseling, Cetus could finally touch Morgan without him flinching. Cetus didn’t know what Leo was doing, or if it was even Leo and not life in general; But it was working. He saw Morgan off, before taking Reggie and Emilia home.

“Hey, want to get ice-cream on the boardwalk after dinner?” Emilia said, leaning out the back window. She pulled Morgan over to kiss his check. He nodded, and shyly returned the gesture. Cetus and Reggie tried not to giggle. Morgan slowly walked into the office, checked in, and sat in the depressing psychiatry waiting room.

The fluorescent lights flickered, but at a rate that wasn’t noticeable until there was a migraine. There was the smell of bleach, and old drywall. The receptionist was taking a line of calls, as other families came in, and everyone tried not to look at each other; Because every chair was awkwardly placed facing inward. The walls were mustard, and the chairs plastic. The water cooler bubbled, and the thermostat was set low. Morgan was wearing a forest green, salmon, and black argyle knit sweater, Cetus had made it. Fall had come around, and it was almost his birthday. Morgan reflected on how it had been nine months since his uncle took him in. He loved his uncle. But it wasn’t the same as his mother and father. He hadn’t seen his parent in almost three years.

           Leo came to the front, and h led Morgan to his quiet office, while holding Dolly. The light blue walls, smelled of ambiguous air freshener. There was a stack of papers, bulletin of inspirational posters, bowl of fidget toys, and a Yuka in the back. It had started to become comforting and familiar. Morgan relaxed into the chair, holding Icarus on his lap.

“Never seen you so relaxed,” Leo smiled. He took his seat, causing the office chair to squeak. “What would you like to talk about today?” He started. Morgan sat there, looking around the room. He wasn’t feeling anything in particular at the moment. Nothing was really bothering him. Well, maybe the embarrassment and excitement of getting his girlfriend with child WAY too early, or the stress of balancing the world of fey with homework. Also, the upcoming equinox dance at school, and his birthday. Actually, there was too many things to talk about.

“How about you and Emilia, or Cetus? Your aunt and uncle are getting a review from what I hear.” Leo prompted. He had an agenda. Morgan being relaxed was good, but there is always more work to do. Morgan shrugged, like usual.

“How about what you’re feeling right now? I can bring out the chart if you like.”

“I think I’m sad? Out of all things, today I miss mom and dad a lot. They send me paint, books, and clothes, to help my uncle. Mom still knows exactly what I like. Cetus is super nice, and he’s always there for me; He worked really hard to take me in, even with all the magic politics. I appreciate it. Oh, he actually got pulled into some quests, even though he’s common folk! Now I get to graduate early under professor Hara, researching Griminthropes. Aunt Jupiter wants to do a good job too, so she’s-” Morgan mumbled on.

“Stop there. This isn’t about Cetus’s life; This is about built-up trauma, and missing your parents, in spite of your recent happily ever after,” Leo interrupted. “I’m glad you’re confident enough to talk to me, but every conversation is about a fairy tale, not a feeling. You might need to break your habit of relying on magic, legends, and individuals, to avoid problems. I just want you to have a quality of life, feel loved, and care for your yourself. Without relying only on mystical outings or old books. You have the opportunity to do so, and I encourage you to focus on yourself.” Leo suggested. Morgan was leaning inn, looking mildly confused while he listened. At least he had Morgan’s attention.

“I get so frustrated with your avoidance problem. You walk around with so much pain and suffering; And it keeps you up at night. Yet, instead of processing it, and using your support system, you go to the shadow veil, stay silent, act reckless, and harm yourself. Your gratitude is wonderful, but happily ever afters are meaningless if you desert them. Avoidance is not a log term solution, and I don’t expect immediate change. But you need to start embracing things around you in the moment.” Leo said, fizzling out into a whimper, as he tried to stay professional. Morgan looked at him, unblinking.

“Yes, Leo. That’s what the wagon was for.” Morgan said, nodding his head. Leo gave a look of complete defeat. He already knew that.

“So you’re telling me, it’s more then a scheduled avoidance quest? That now it’s something meaningful; A source of fulfillment as a seer. Thus, Honestly Morgan, do you actually still need the wagon to find friends and joy? I don’t think you need to runaway anymore; Everything you need is right here, if you’ll sit with it.” Leo continued. Morgan liked that perspective; It sounded like enjoying life, without sacrificing his dreams. Morgan smiled a bit. The meaningful stories of each object in that wagon, were tales of is growth. That wagon had helped him. But his new life was doing that too. A simple, worn, faded, treasured wagon. In primary colours, the offend the senses. Something that was purchased at a toy store, to carry children on family outings. It is easy to say what the wagon was for, and what that means now. The wagon helped Morgan runaway, and become an accomplished mage. Now the wagon reminds him of good things he experienced, and is for visiting friends.

“Thanks Leo.” Morgan said. “I’m sorry I accidentally mislead you with the wagon. It’s very distracting.”

“Your most welcome, and forgiven. Oh look! We still have thirty minutes left.” Leo laughed. Morgan groaned. He still had to unpack his relationship with his parents with feeling words, now that the wagon was gone.

TABLE OF CONTENTS--->

<---PREVIOUS

[miracvlovs]

✗✗✗   you see [ kaleb yıldırım ] around lately? yeah i heard that the [ cis male ] is up to no good. [ he / him ] has been here for [ five years ] now but they’re still pretty [ abrasive ] which is fine because they’re also [ debonair ] so it balances out. the [ twenty-eight ] year old [ hitman for hire ] actually looks like a lot like [ alperen duymaz ], don’t you think? it’s best to watch out, though, because it’s been said that they’re really into [ strong cigarettes & even stronger whiskey ].

hey, hello, hi, bonjour! s’up buttercups? ‘tis i, your friendly neighbourhood loser chrissie ( a.k.a an irish doofus who is utter plot trash and the actual WORST at keeping track with discord messages, oops ) and i’m super duper excited to be here among you fab human beings! anywho, this is my first kiddo kaleb and he is … how do you say … morally grey. basically his morals are very questionable in every aspect. but! on the plus side, he’s very talented and good at his job even if he is ruthless and callous, oop. he is … the worst and also lowkey messed up inside tbh so pls excuse his blunt and sarcastic nature. plot-wise i’m open to literally anything and everything so come at me with any ideas ya got! i’m always diggity down to spit ball ideas and form some dope connections so pls feel free to invade my ims or hmu on le cord ( chrissie.#9606 ) and we can brainstorm until our heart’s content! if ya wanna, go ahead and light that lil grey heart up red and i’ll shimmy my butt your way for all of the good stuff. anywho, let’s get down to the nitty-gritty, shall we?

fundamentals.

KALEB EMER YILDIRIM     —     twenty-eight, hitman for hire,   +   one snarky son of a gun   /   troubled dude with daddy issues   /   all issues tbh ! 

aesthetics   ➤   dried blood caked into the grooves of cut knuckles, the lingering scent of smoke and gasoline, silver slivers of past scarring, five o’clock shadow peppering a blunt jawline, discolourations of blue and purple decorating battered hands, a subtle smirk etched upon a devious countenance, calloused fingertips riddled with small paper cuts, dark circles under almost-black eyes, the noise of screeching tires in the middle of the night, a tall stature adorned in all-black attire, ghosts of bruises staining calloused skin green, a scuffed zippo lighter in a pack of marlboros containing only one cigarette, white shirts with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, a sly grin under stormy dark eyes, a sniper on the roof of a deserted building, the roar of a car engine, & clenched, white-knuckled fists.

nicknames. kal.

date of birth. november third.

gender. cis male.

pronouns. he + him.

birthplace. manhattan, nyc.

orientation. bisexual + aromantic.

education. bachelor of music degree obtained from manhattan school of music.

spoken languages. can speak fluent english, turkish, spanish, & french.

negative traits. haughty, abrasive, enigmatic, cynical, temperamental, calculating, hedonistic, distant, sarcastic, & volatile.

positive traits. adept, diligent, charming, resilient, candid, adept, charming, audacious, determined, & resourceful.

strengths. efficient, energetic, self-confident, strong-willed, strategic thinker, charismatic, & inspiring.

weaknesses. stubborn, dominant, intolerant, impatient, arrogant, poor handling of emotions, cold, & ruthless.

talents. piano, retaining information, memory recall, lock-picking, carjacking, hand-to-hand combat, automobile knowledge, tracking people down, & excellent problem-solving abilities. 

physiology. dark brown eyes. dark brown hair. six feet, one inch tall. of a lean, broad stature with a straight posture and evident height. has a few silvery scars littered across his skin. has a few tattoos in a few less visible places. is ambidextrous.

psychology. scorpio zodiac. water element. slytherin house. entj-a. chaotic neutral. type eight enneagram. choleric temperament. interpersonal intelligence type. addicted to alcohol, tobacco, prescription drugs, cocaine, and cannabis. suffers from addiction and insomnia. his vices are lust, wrath and pride. his virtues are ... honestly, probably just diligence tbh.

background.

possible triggers   :   infidelity, divorce, alcoholism, drug abuse, cancer, death, car crash, funeral, blood, murder, suicide mention, gun mention, & various references to death and murder. 

a synopsis.   ah, here he is—my tol, troubled, grouchy son : ' ) don't u just adore ur resident trashy, snarky, but precious and sad fuckboi muse? bc i know I DO! anyways, before i digress, i'll cut to the chase. so, waaay before he blessed the universe with his presence, his mother ( who was originally from turkey ) moved to the states where she met one alexander hale. you can probably guess the rest: the pair married, they had children, everything seemed to be going swimmingly, yada yada. here’s a lil background: the hale family—a line of manhattan-born businessmen / lawyers / diplomats etc. they're dripping in wealth, not always as squeaky clean as they portray themselves as to be. kaleb’s dad was a douche, expected both of his sons to follow in his shadow and become lawyers, ran around behind his wife's back: the whole shoot and shebang of a classic a-hole. he always kind of ignored kaleb in favour of his eldest son joshua so kaleb kinda became hard-hearted and resentful due to the lack of his father's attention. skip a few years and he spied his dad cheating on his mother with his secretary though he refused to tell another soul for fear of any potential backlash. soon enough, his mother found this out for herself, their argument ruined his thirteenth birthday party then they divorced soon after. his mother fell off the wagon, became terminally ill—all while his father was remarrying and expecting a daughter with his secretary. it was a hella rough two years for kaleb. it got even worse. eventually, his mother passed away and his step-mother divorced his father to breeze off into the sunset with her new lover; leaving her daughter with her piss-poor excuse of a dad. at this point, kaleb was lonely and angry but adopted the role of his step-sister's protector, shielding her from their father's increasing substance abuse induced violence. just before his seventeenth birthday, his father died in a car crash. of course, he didn't entirely mourn the loss. almost immediately, he and his younger sister moved in with their elder brother who helped kaleb get into university. with dear ole dad out of the picture, he could finally pursue his interest and flair for music. after he graduated, he moved to santa ysabel with his brother and brother's family. in the beginning, things were going fine. yeah, sure, he was struggling for work and felt bad that his brother had to keep him afloat. normal stuff. then, one day, things quickly turned sour in his world. [ TRIGGER FOR GORE, BLOOD, SUICIDE MENTION, GUN MENTION, MURDER, DEATH ] he’d came home to find the locks on the doors busted, advancing into the house carefully only to find his brother’s lifeless corpse crumbled on the kitchen tiles: his throat and wrists slashed, posed as a suicide. of course, kaleb knew better. he knew his brother; knew he would never leave him or his family. upon further inspection of the house, he’d discovered the body of his wife upstairs: a bullet hole between her eyes. [ TRIGGER OVER ] the whole ordeal was enough to turn his stomach but once the sickness had subsided, all kaleb felt was a strong thirst for blood. sure, it was pretty damn stupid to try and seek revenge or whatnot ... but kaleb had always been one to let his heart guide his brain. anyways, time skip now to the moment he’d uncovered his brother’s entanglement with some dodgy loan shark, drug dealing criminals who were responsible for his murder. in the end, he’d hunted them down and eradicated them one by one, over a span of weeks. at first, he hated himself and what his desire for vengeance had turned him into but he kept going until he’d got them all: until he’d grown numb. truthfully, how he wound up taking lives for a living is beyond him. he woke up one day, found himself hired by some big-wig businessman who wanted rid of his business partner and et voilà, he was tangled up in the dark side of existence. i mean, was he blackmailed into doing his first paid hit? yes. but who can blame him? especially when they claimed to have intel regarding the sudden demise of a prominent figure in the criminal underbelly of the city, a.k.a his brother’s killer. it was a risk kaleb simply couldn’t take. he prefers to keep himself anonymous, hidden behind shadows, unsuspecting. death has become a job. nothing more. nothing less. it’s simply the algorithm of his existence: receive a dossier, take care of the target, get paid a hefty lump sum. and all just for enacting a stranger’s revenge in the blood of another. he moves like a deadly phantom, his footsteps light as a feather, whipping through the night like a bullet through a target’s skull. sartre claims that hell is other people. and if you were to stare into kaleb’s eyes—eyes eerily similar to having been cut from coal—you might just see hell and everyone in it staring right back at you. as nietzsche wrote: “ he who fights with monsters should be careful lest he thereby become a monster. and if thou gaze long into an abyss, the abyss will also gaze into thee. ”

random extras.

he has a lot of small scars over his body, most of which he can’t account for or has forgotten about.

owns and drives a black 1969 boss 429 mustang which he loves arguably more than he loves himself.

speaking of, he actually is full of self-hatred so don’t let the haughtiness fool you.

trusts nobody but himself and is loyal to nobody but himself.

has a lot of anger issues so often ends up taking part in underground fights.

he rates around a solid three on the kinsey scale.

is a distant person; closed-off emotionally and prefers to keep himself to himself.

when it comes to whether or not he is morally decent or an extremely bad person, he is somewhere in the middle of that spectrum.

he isn’t heartless but he isn’t exactly compassionate either.

kind of shady but knows how to pass himself as charming. 

has been thru sum shit n seen sum shit so he’s v messed up inside.

though he does have a soft spot for animals and children.

his marksmanship is impeccable.

he’s naturally gifted with firearms and his shot is always on point.

dark eyes and bruised knuckles are his ultimate aesthetic tbh.

actually really appreciates classical music, though he’ll never tell. blame it on his piano lessons from childhood.

speaking of piano, he’s low key gifted at playing although he rarely does these days.

has a very short fuse and can lose his temper quite easily.

he has a good heart and good intentions when it comes to those he actually cares about although he’ll never let this show.

favourite coping mechanism? isolation.

a bit of a lone wolf. he keeps people at arm’s length but acts in a way where people are under the illusion he’s their friend.

basically the tall, dark and handsome trope: ( most of the tall, dark and handsome men display aloof, cold and distant personality but they do have a gentle and caring side. )

is a little snarky and grumpy but if you manage to break this exterior, you’ll find he’s quite witty and easy going.

he got into fighting at a young age. it was the only way to try and learn how to defend himself against his father.

sleep?? he doesn’t know her.

tends to repress his emotions until he explodes.

healthy coping mechanisms?? he doesn’t know them either.

is prone to pushing the self destruct button.

you can find a pinterest board for him by clicking anywhere here.

[angst-king]

my bnha love children bios pt 1

(I’m a multi-shipper with bnha..I have my main canon ships and then my side ships that I could live for..also these are my main kid ships. Also trigger warning has mention of rape, murder, and abuse) 

(Bakushima)

Azori Kirishima is a young male who's 5'11, with lightly tanned skin, blood red eyes, his hair is straight shoulder length with red high lights that look a little more hot pink. He has sharp teeth like Eijirou, he's got big hands like Katsuki as well as a temper and attitude. Azori is still a pretty sweet guy, though he cusses like Katsu, he's a lot like Katsuki but has more patience and does smile a lot more. He loves spicy food, music, hanging out with friends, singing, sparring, playing basket ball, and video games. He also likes to cook, Katsu didn't want two crappy cooks in the house. His quirk is basically called pop rocks, Azori has both of their quirks but its more combined. Azori can harden any part of his body like a rock, he can use it defensively or offensively. He can cause explosions if he's hit or hits someone else. Still he's able to use the quirks separately.  He's pansexual cis male but is a little more into boys, but still doesn't mind anything else. (Iidaraka) Jasuma Iida is a young male around 5'6, medium tanned skin, light blue eyes. His hair lands to his lower jaw kinda a pixy cut that's brown cascade to blue. He has soft pink cheeks, his face is a little rounded out, he's not chubby but has a similar structure to Uraraka. He's very sweet and smart, he does his best to keep his straight A's in school and is commonly called 'Dork' by Azori who uses it as an affectionate nickname. Jasuma is a femboy, but also likes sports and plays lacrosse. He loves to eat sweets but has a weak stomach like Uraraka's quirk draw back, he also can't handle spice at all  and dies a bit inside when he watches Azori eat. Jasuma's quirk is called earthquake, he's got some pretty powerful legs and stomping the ground can make the it shake or collapse out from under you. Kicks to any body parts can be lethal for said victim of Jasu's quirk. He's very fast as well but its not really his quirk just from the training. His legs don't look that strong but like his father, he's the opitemy of 'never skipped leg day' His quirk is stamina based. Jasuma is a gay Femboy, he doesn't cuss much but if you get him in the mood he wont hesitate. (tododeku) Tomiko Midoriya is a young male around 5'8, some what pale in complexion and has light blue eyes. A mix of light green, dark green, and black ear length hair. He does have freckles scattered more around his face and not just his cheeks. He can be a bit shy but wont hesitate to freeze someone an ice capsule. Tomiko loves to read, listen to music, play with his bunny 'shibun', loves the dark academia aesthetic and his dorm is decked out in it. His quirk is ice, like Todoroki's ice side he can use ice how ever he pleases. Tomiko is still questioning himself. He feels asexual but is developing feelings for Ruki. (tododeku) Amilia Midoriya is a young female around 5'7 is Tomiko's twin, sharing the same complexion with freckles, but she has emerald eyes. Long shoulder length slightly wavy green ombred down to white hair. She's very out spoken and protective of her younger twin brother who she nicknamed 'Tomo'. Amilia is into both fem and butch like clothing choices. Her quirk is fire and fire manipulation, she can breath fire, heat up her hands to warm things up and and can burn things. Its basically a mix of Mido's bio dad and Todoroki's quirk. Amilia is bisexual (Dabi’s boy..I lowkey ship twice and dabi, but for now its platonic) Kenji Todoroki is a young male around 5'6.5, has a not dark but still tanned skin. He has turquoise eyes. He has an emo-ish style red and turquoise hair, that reaches the base of his neck. He's kind and caring, he's pretty chill and liked to hang out with his friends as well as his dad (Dabi). This kid is based off of an AU where the villains who are able to be captured are given the choice to 'restart' or take the death penalty. Dabi chose restart, as did twice..Twice is like the fun uncle who humors Kenji with his clones. Kenji's quirk is the same as Dabi's creamation/blue fire. Kenji is a transgender male who's bisexual. his dead name is Hana (shinkami) Makuyama Shinsou, a young male around 5'8, not pale but in the middle. He has golden yellow eyes, and yellow and purple hair that's messy and kinda curly, he does have the lightening strike in his hair. He puts some of his hair back when he skate boards. Maku also has a plus and minus symbol on both sides of his neck. Maku's very joking and sweet (think lance from voltron), still he can get serious when he needs to. Maku's quirk has a dark past to it. Maku was a rape baby, Denki was raped by a creep who had a quirk that allowed him to  break locks, make someone's body paralyze on them or have them pass out. With Denki's electrical quirk and creep's quirk combined. His quirk is called Scrambled, the plus and minus symbols are actually charging points like a battery and he can use it to charge up his quirk to make electricity. When electrocutes someone hard, the victim will end up with hickey like burn marks. He has orange pads on his finger tips and palms to hold the electricity. The draw back to his quirk is that he coughs up blood since the electricity stems in his throat which can irritate the lining and cause him to cough up blood. It's alarming but by now he acts casual about it. Makuyama is pansexual (adoptive shinkami) Akuma Shinsou, is a young male 5'8, he's a bit pale but not unhealthily pale. He has grey-ish silver eyes, and medium length black and purple hair, some sticks up Dabi's hair style. Akuma is shy and introverted due to his past. akuma used to be homeless after the death of his parents. His father was a side kick hero who died of suicide while his mother tricked Aku into using his quirk to kill her. He was on the streets when he was six until he was eight or nine. Aku is quiet and prefers to be alone but can be around people. He likes spooky things, halloween, horror movies, pumpkins, and other things. Akuma's real name is Gaara Yamashita but earned the name 'Akuma' due to his quirk which is called soul control. Aku is able to control a person by using their soul to control any part of them even their shadow. Akuma's name was given to him by parents of his old school and the name started to stick and erase his old one. Akuma is Demisexual (erasermic) Ruki Aizawa is a young person, 5'6.5, they've got the same complexion as Aizawa. With dark green eyes, they have shoulder length black to blond hair, they had a bit of an under shave design that allows them to style it depending if they want to look a lil more masculine, feminine or neither. Ruki is a bit introverted like Shota but will get a bit loud and excited over small things like books. Ruki is a book worm and is also into dark academia like things. Ruki's quirk is called 'Audio erase' they can erase sound just by glaring, he has a pretty chilling glare and he likes to use his quirk on Hizashi when the blond gets way too loud in the morning. Ruki likes naps, reading, cats even though he's mildly allergic to them. Ruki's dead name was Ezra, they're genderfluid, mainly going by he/him and they/them still Tomo uses they them and refers to Ruki as his 'book baby' than boyfriend or girlfriend. Ruki prefers a little mor masc, neither, or both but will wear skirts and dresses.

[blackkudos]

Carl Hancock Rux

Carl Hancock Rux (born March 24, 1975) is an American poet, playwright, novelist, essayist, actor, director, singer/ songwriter. He is the author of several books including the Village Voice Literary Prize-winning "Pagan Operetta," the novel, Asphalt, and the Obie Award-winning play, Talk. Rux is also a singer/songwriter with four CDs to his credit, as well as a frequent collaborator in the fields of dance, theater, film, and contemporary art . Notable collaborators include Nona Hendryx, Toshi Reagon, Bill T. Jones, Ronald K. Brown, Nick Cave, Anne Bogart, Robert Wilson, Kenny Leon, Ruben Santiago-Hudson, Jonathan Demme, Stanley Nelson Jr., Carrie Mae Weems, Glenn Ligon and others. He is the recipient of numerous awards including the Doris Duke Award for New Works, the Doris Duke Charitable Fund, the New York Foundation for the Arts (NYFA) Prize, the Bessie Award and the Alpert Award in the Arts, and a 2019 Global Change Maker award by WeMakeChange.Org. . His archives are housed at the Billy Rose Theater Division of the New York Public Library, the Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution as well as the Film and Video/Theater and Dance Library of the California Institute of the Arts.

Early life

Rux was born Carl Stephen Hancock in Harlem, New York. His biological mother, Carol Jean Hancock, suffered from chronic mental illness, was diagnosed paranoid schizophrenic, and was institutionalized shortly after the birth of his older brother. Rux was born the result of an illegitimate pregnancy (while his mother was under the care of a New York City psychiatric institution) and the identity of Rux's biological father is unknown. Rux was placed under the guardianship of his maternal grandmother, Geneva Hancock (née Rux), until her death of cirrhosis of the liver due to alcoholism. At four years of age he entered the New York City foster care system where he remained until he was eventually placed under the legal guardianship of his great uncle (grandmother's brother) James Henry Rux and his wife Arsula (née Cottrell) and raised on a step street in the Highbridge section of the Bronx, later used as the filming location for the stairway dance scene in the 2019 film Joker.

Rux attended PS 73, Roberto Clemente Junior High School and received a scholarship to the Horace Mann School, an independent Ivy college preparatory school in the Riverdale section of the Bronx before transferring to the Fiorello H. LaGuardia High School of Music & Art and Performing Arts where he studied visual art. Exposed to jazz music by his legal guardians, including the work of Oscar Brown Jr., John Coltrane, Billie Holiday, Miles Davis, Max Roach and Abbey Lincoln, Rux eventually double-majored in music/voice, and sang with the Boys Choir of Harlem. He also became a member of the Harlem Writers Workshop, a summer journalism training program for inner-city youth founded by African-American journalists, sponsored by Columbia University and The Xerox Corporation. At the age of 15, Rux was legally adopted by his guardians and his surname changed to Rux. Upon graduation from high school he entered Columbia College where he studied in the Creative Writing Program; took private acting classes at both HB studios; and trained with Gertrude Jeanette's Hadley Players as well as actor Robert Earl Jones (father of actor James Earl Jones). Rux continued his studies at Columbia University, American University of Paris, as well as the University of Ghana at Legon.

Career

Working as a Social Work Trainer while moonlighting as a freelance art and music critic, Rux became a founding member of Hezekiah Walker's Love Fellowship gospel choir and later found himself influenced by the Lower East Side poetry and experimental theater scene, collaborating with poets Miguel Algarin, Bob Holman, Jayne Cortez, Sekou Sundiata, Ntozake Shange; experimental musicians David Murray, Mal Waldron, Butch Morris, Craig Harris, Jeanne Lee, Leroy Jenkins as well as experimental theater artists Laurie Carlos, Robbie McCauley, Ruth Maleczech, Lee Breuer, Reza Abdoh and others.

He is one of several poets (including Paul Beatty, Tracie Morris, Dael Orlandersmith, Willie Perdomo, Kevin Powell, Maggie Estep, Reg E. Gaines, Edwin Torres and Saul Williams) to emerge from the Nuyorican Poets Cafe, most of whom were included in the poetry anthology Aloud, Voices From the Nuyorican Poets Cafe, winner of the 1994 American Book Award. His first book of poetry, Pagan Operetta, received the Village Voice Literary prize and was featured on the weekly's cover story: "Eight Writers on the Verge of (Impacting) the Literary Landscape". Rux is the author of the novel Asphalt and the author of several plays. His first play, Song of Sad Young Men (written in response to his older brother's death from AIDS), was directed by Trazana Beverly and starred actor Isaiah Washington. The play received eleven AUDELCO nominations. His most notable play is the OBIE Award-winning Talk, first produced at the Joseph Papp Public Theater in 2002. Directed by Marion McClinton and starring actor Anthony Mackie, the play won seven OBIE awards.

Rux is also a recording artist, first featured on Reg E. Gaines CD Sweeper Don't Clean My Streets (Polygram). As a musician, his work is known to encompass an eclectic mixture of blues, rock, vintage R&B, classical music, futuristic pop, soul, poetry, folk, psychedelic music and jazz. His debut CD, Cornbread, Cognac & Collard Green Revolution (unreleased) was produced by Nona Hendryx and Mark Batson, featuring musicians Craig Harris, Ronnie Drayton and Lonnie Plaxico. His CD Rux Revue was recorded and produced in Los Angeles by the Dust Brothers, Tom Rothrock and Rob Schnapf. Rux recorded a follow up album, Apothecary Rx, (selected by French writer Phillippe Robert for his 2008 publication "Great Black Music": an exhaustive tribute of 110 albums including 1954's "Lady Sings The Blues" by Billie Holiday, the work of Jazz artists Oliver Nelson, Max Roach, John Coltrane, rhythm and blues artists Otis Redding, Ike & Tina Turner, Curtis Mayfield, George Clinton; as well as individual impressions of Fela Kuti, Jimi Hendrix, and Mos Def.) His fourth studio CD, Good Bread Alley, was released by Thirsty Ear Records, and his fifth "Homeostasis" (CD Baby) was released in May 2013. Rux has written and performed (or contributed music) to a proportionate number of dance companies including the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater; Bill T. Jones/Arnie Zane Dance Company; Jane Comfort & Co. and Ronald K. Brown's "Evidence" among others.

Literature

Books by author

Elmina Blues (poetry)

Pagan Operetta (poetry/Short Fiction/SemioText)

Asphalt (novel/Simon & Schuster)

Talk (drama/TCG Press)

Literary fiction

Asphalt (novel) (Atria, Simon & Schuster)

The Exalted (novel) forthcoming

Selected plays

Song of Sad Young Men

Talk

Geneva Cottrell, Waiting for the Dog to Die

Smoke, Lilies and Jade

Song of Sad Young Men

Chapter & Verse

Pipe

Pork Dream in the American House of Image

Not the Flesh of Others

Singing In the Womb of Angels

Better Dayz Jones (Harlem Stage)

"Stranger On Earth" (Harlem Stage)

The (No) Black Male Show

Mycenaean

Asphalt (directed by Talvin Wilkes)

Etudes for the Sleep of Other Sleepers (directed by Laurie Carlos)

Steel Hammer (co-written by Will Power, Kia Cothran and Regina Taylor for the SITI company, directed by Anne Bogart).

The Exalted (directed by Anne Bogart)

NPR Presents WATER ± (co-written by Arthur Yorinks, directed by Kenny Leon)

Selected essays

"Eminem: The New White Negro

"Dream Work and the Mimesis of Carrie Mae Weems"

"Belief and the Invisible Playwright"

"In Memoriam: Ruby Dee (1922–2014)"

"Up From The Mississippi Delta"

"Democratic Vistas of Space and Light"

"A Rage In Harlem"

Selected anthologies

Experiments in a Jazz Aesthetic: Art, Activism, Academia, and the Austin Project University of Texas Press

Soul: Black Power, Politics, and Pleasure NYU Press

Heights of the Marvelous NYU Press

Juncture: 25 Very Good Stories and 12 Excellent Drawings Soft Skull Press

Da Capo Best Music Writing 2004: The Year's Finest Writing on Rock, Hip-hop, Jazz, Pop, Country, and More, DeCapo Press

Words in Your Face: A Guided Tour Through Twenty Years of the New York City Poetry Slam, Counterpoint Press

Humana Festival 2014: The Complete Plays, Playscripts, Incorporated

Action: The Nuyorican Poets Cafe Theatre, Simon & Schuster

Bum Rush the Page: A Def Poetry Jam, Three Rivers Press

The African American Male, Writing, and Difference: A Polycentric Approach to African American Literature, Criticism, and History, State University of New York Press

Meditations and Ascensions: Black Writers on Writing, Third World Press

Plays from the Boom Box Galaxy: Theater from the Hip-hop Generation, Theatre Communications Group

Bad Behavior, Random House

Verse: An Introduction to Prosody, John Wiley & Sons Press

Significations of Blackness: American Cinema and the Idea of a Black Film, UMI Press

So Much Things to Say: 100 Poets from the First Ten Years of the Calabash International Literary Festival, Akashic Books

Black Men In Their Own Words, Crown Publishers

Bulletproof Diva, Knopf Doubleday

Race Manners: Navigating the Minefield Between Black and White Americans, Skyhorse Publishing

In Their Company: Portraits of American Playwrights, Umbrage Press

Listen Again: a Momentary History of Pop Music, Duke University Press

Journalism

Rux has been published as a contributing writer in numerous journals, catalogs, anthologies, and magazines including Interview magazine, Essence magazine, The New York Times, the Los Angeles Times, aRude Magazine, Nka Journal of Contemporary African Art (founded by fellow art critics Okwui Enwezor, Chika Okeke-Agulu and Salah Hassan) and American Theater Magazine.

Libretti

Makandal (music by Yosvaney Terry, stage design and costumes by Edouard Duval Carrie, directed by Lars Jan) Harlem Stage

Blackamoor Angel (music by Deidre Murray; directed by Karin Coonrod) Bard Spiegeltent/Joseph Papp Public Theater

Kingmaker (music by Toshi Reagon) BRIC Arts Media

Perfect Beauty" (music by Tamar Muskal)

Music

Solo albums

Cornbread, Cognac, Collard Green Revolution

Rux Revue Sony/550 Music

Apothecary Rx Giant Step

Good Bread Alley Thirsty Ear

Homeostasis CD Baby

Singles

"Miguel" (Sony) 1999

"Wasted Seed" (Sony) 1999

"Fall Down" (Sony) 1999

"No Black Male Show" (Sony) 1999

"Good Bread Alley" (Thirsty Ear) 2006

"Thadius Star" (Thirsty Ear) 2006

"Living Room" (Thirsty Ear) 2006

"Disrupted Dreams" (Giant Step) 2010

"Eleven More Days" (Giant Step) 2010

"I Got A Name" (Giant Step) 2010

"Living Room" (Kevin Shields Remix) (Mercury) 2013

12-inch singles

"Lamentations (You, Son)" Giant Step Records

EP

Carl Hancock Rux Live at Joe's Pub (forthcoming)

Collaborations

Sweeper Don't Clean My Streets Reg E. Gaines Polygram

Eargasms Vol. 1

70 Years Coming R. L. Burnside Bongload/Acid Blues Records

Our Souls Have Grown Deep Like the Rivers: Black Poets Read Their Works, Rhino

Bow Down to the Exit Sign David Holmes Go! Beat

Love Each Other Yukihiro Fukutomi Sony/ Japan

Optometry DJ Spooky Thirsty Ear Recordings

The Temptation of Saint Anthony (Studio Cast Recording)

Inradio 5 Morningwatch 2004

Thirsty Ear Presents: Blue Series Sampler (Thirsty Ear)

Poetry on Record: 98 Poets Read Their Work, 1888-2006 Box Set Shout! Factory (2006)

More Than Posthuman-Rise of the Mojosexual Cotillion Burnt Sugar The Arkestra Chamber, TruGROID

The Dogs Are Parading David Holmes Universal

Life Forum Gerald Clayton Concord Jazz

Tributary Tales Gerald Clayton

Tomorrow Comes The Harvest Jeff Mills Tony Allen Decca Records

Humanist Rob Marshall Ignition Records

Songwriter

Mckay Stephanie McKay Universal Music

Contemporary Dance (text & music)

Movin' Spirits Dance Co.

Kick The Boot, Raise the Dust An' Fly; A Recipe for Buckin (chor: Marlies Yearby, co-authors: Sekou Sundiata, Laurie Carlos, music: Craig Harris ) Performance Space 122, Maison des arts de Créteil (France)

Totin' Business & Carryin' Bones (chor. Marlies Yearby), Performance Space 122, Maison des arts de Créteil (France)

The Beautiful (chor: Marlies Yearby, co-author:Laurie Carlos), Judson Church, Tribeca Performing Arts Center

Of Urban Intimacies (chor: Marlies Yearby), Lincoln Center Serious Fun!, Central Park Summerstage, National Tour

That Was Like This/ This Was Like That(chor: Marlies Yearby, music: Grisha Coleman), Tribeca Performing Arts Center, Central Park Summerstage, National Tour

Anita Gonzalez

Yanga, (chor: Anita Gonzalez, music: Cooper-Moore, composer), Tribeca Performing Arts Center, Montclair State College

Jane Comfort & Co.

Asphalt (dir/chor: Jane Comfort; vocal score: Toshi Reagon, music: DJ Spooky, David Pleasant, Foosh, dramaturgy: Morgan Jenness, costumes: Liz Prince, lighting design: David Ferri ), Joyce Theater, National Tour

Urban Bush Women

Soul Deep (chor: Jawole Willa Jo Zollar, composer: David Murray), Walker Arts Center, National Tour

Shelter (chor: Jawole Willo Jo Zollar, music: Junior Gabbu Wedderburn) International Tour

Hair Stories (chor: Jawole Willa jo Zollar) BAM Theater/Esplanade Theater (Singapore) Hong Kong Arts Festival

Jubilation! Dance Co.

Sweet In The Morning (chor: Kevin Iega Jeff)

Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater

Shelter (chor: Jawole Willo Jo Zollar, music: Junior Gabbu Wedderburn) City Center, International Tour

Uptown (chor: Matthew Rushing) Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater

Four Corners (chor: Ronald K. Brown) Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater 2014

Alvin Ailey Repertory Ensemble (Ailey II)

Seeds (chor: Kevin Iega Jeff) Aaron Davis Hall, Apollo Theater, National Tour

Bill T. Jones/Arnie Zane Dance Theater

The Artificial Nigger (chor: Bill T. Jones) Arnie Zane Bill T. Jones Dance Co; music: Daniel Bernard Roumain National Tour

Roberta Garrison Co.

Certo! (chor: Roberta Garrison, music: Mathew Garrison) Scuola di Danza Mimma Testa in Trastevere (Rome, Italy) Teatro de natal infantil Raffaelly Beligni (Naples, Italy)

M'Zawa Dance Co.

Seeking Pyramidic Balance/Flipmode (chor: Maia Claire Garrison) 651 Arts

Robert Moses Kin

Helen (chor: Robert Moses) Yerba Buena Performing Arts Center

Nevabawarldapece (chor: Robert Moses) Yerba Buena Performing Arts Center

Topaz Arts Dance

Dreamfield (chor: Paz Tanjuaquio) Hudson River Park NY

Actor

Theater

Rux studied acting at the Hagen Institute (under Uta Hagen); the Luleå National Theatre School (Luleå, Sweden) and at the National Theater of Ghana (Accra). Rux has appeared in several theater projects, most notably originating the title role in the folk opera production of The Temptation of St. Anthony, based on the Gustave Flaubert novel, directed by Robert Wilson with book, libretto and music by Bernice Johnson Reagon and costumes by Geoffrey Holder. The production debuted as part of the Ruhr Triennale festival in Duisburg Germany with subsequent performances at the Greek Theater in Siracusa, Italy; the Festival di Peralada in Peralada, Spain; the Palacio de Festivales de Cantabria in Santander, Spain; Sadler's Wells in London, Great Britain; the Teatro Piccinni in Bari, Italy; the Het Muziektheater in Amsterdam, Netherlands; the Teatro Arriaga in Bilbao and the Teatro Espanol in Madrid, Spain. The opera made its American premiere at the Brooklyn Academy of Music / BAM Next Wave Festival in October 2004 and official "world premiere" at the Paris Opera, becoming the first all-African-American opera to perform on its stage since the inauguration of the Académie Nationale de Musique - Théâtre de l'Opéra. Combining both his dramatic training and dance movement into his performance, Rux's performance was described by the American press as having "phenomenal charisma and supreme physical expressiveness...(achieving) a near-iconic power, equally evoking El Greco's saints in extremis and images of civil rights protesters besieged by fire hoses." Rux has also appeared in several plays and performance works for theater, as well as in his own work.

Film/Television

Radio

Carl Hancock Rux was the host and artistic programming director of the WBAI radio show, Live from The Nuyorican Poets Cafe; contributing correspondent for XM radio's The Bob Edwards Show and frequent guest host on WNYC as well as NPR and co-wrote and performed in the national touring production of NPR Presents Water±, directed by Kenny Leon.

Performance Art Exhibitions/Curator

The Whitney Museum "Beat Culture and the New America, 1950-1965"

Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum "Carrie Mae Weems: Live"

Thread Waxing Space "Sacred Music"

The Foundry Theater "Roundtable on Hope"

The Kitchen "Sapphire: Black Wings & Blind Angels"

Harlem Stage "We Da People Cabaret"

The New School "Comrades and Lovers" Glenn Ligon

Mass MoCA "Until" Nick Cave

Kennedy Center/Spoleto Festival "Grace Notes"; Carrie Mae Weems

Grace Farms "Past Tense"; Carrie Mae Weems

Selected Directorial Credits

"Chapter & Verse" by Carl Hancock Rux /Dixon Place; Nuyorican Poets Cafe

"Mycenaean" by Carl Hancock Rux CalArts/BAM Next Wave Festival

"Third Ward" by Tish Benson/Nuyorican Poets Cafe

"Girl Group" by Tish Benson, Latasha Nevada Diggs, Sarah Jones/Aaron Davis Hall

"Stranger On Earth" by Carl Hancock Rux/ Live Arts; Harlem Stage

"Poesia Negra" by Carl Hancock Rux /RedCat; Lincoln Center; Aaron Davis Hall; BAM Next Wave. *"Who 'Dat Who Killed Better Days Jones?" by (Various Artists)/ Aaron Davis Hall

"blu" by Virginia Grise/ New York Theatre Workshop

"Welcome to Wandaland" by Ifa Bayeza/ Rights & Reasons Theater/Brown University

"String Theory" by Ifa Bayeza/ Rights & Reasons Theater, Brown University

"Bunky Johnson Out of The Shadows" by Ifa Bayeza/Shadows on the Teche

Academia

Rux is formally the Head of the MFA Writing for Performance Program at the California Institute of Arts and has taught and or been an artist in residence at Brown University, Hollins University, UMass at Amhurst, Duke University, Stanford University, University of Iowa, University of Wisconsin at Madison, and Eugene Lang New School for Drama, among others.

He has mentored award-winning writers including recipients of the Yale Drama Prize, Whiting Writers Award, Princess Grace Award, and BBC African Performance Playwriting Award.

Personal life

Rux's great uncle, Rev. Marcellus Carlyle Rux (January 8, 1882 - January 5, 1948) was a graduate of Virginia Union University, and principal of The Keysville Mission Industrial School (later changed to The Bluestone Harmony Academic and Industrial School), a private school founded in 1898 by several African-American Baptist churches in Keysville Virginia at a time when education for African-Americans was scarce to non-existent. For about 50 years the school had the largest enrollment of any black boarding school in the east and sent a large number of graduates on to college. For the first five years, Marcellus Carlyle Rux was a teacher in the institution. Such was the record he made that he was promoted to the principalship in 1917. Under his administration, the school reached its highest enrollment and had its greatest period of prosperity. The post-Civil war school was one of the first of its kind in the nation and was permanently closed in 1950. The school's still existent structure once featured a girl's and boy's dormitory and President's dwelling and is eligible for listing on the National Register of Historic Places. Marcellus Carlyle Rux is listed in History of the American Negro and his Institutions.

Rux's younger brother is a New York City Public School Teacher and his cousin a New York City middle school principal. Rux's older brother died of AIDS-related complications.

Rux's home, a Victorian Brownstone in the Fort Greene Brooklyn section of New York City, has been photographed by Stefani Georgani and frequently featured in home decor magazines and coffee table books internationally, including Elle Decor UK.

Activism

Rux joined New Yorkers Against Fracking, organized by singer Natalie Merchant, calling for a fracking ban on natural gas drilling using hydraulic fracturing. A concert featuring Rux, Merchant, actors Mark Ruffalo and Melissa Leo and musicians Joan Osborne, Tracy Bonham, Toshi Reagon, Citizen Cope, Meshell Ndegeocello and numerous others was held in Albany, N.Y., and resulted in public protests.

Rux was a co-producer (through a partnership between MAPP International and Harlem Stage) and curator of WeDaPeoples Cabaret, an annual event regarding citizens without borders in a globally interdependent world. A longtime resident and homeowner in Fort Greene Brooklyn, Carl Rux worked with the Fort Greene association and New York philanthropist Barbaralee Diamonstein-Spielvogel to erect a cultural medallion at the Carlton Avenue home where novelist Richard Wright lived and penned his seminal work, Native Son. Rux is a member of Take Back the Night, a foundation seeking to end sexual assault, domestic violence, dating violence, sexual abuse and all other forms of sexual violence.

Honors, awards, and grants

Rux was featured in Interview Magazine's "One To Watch" and New York Times Magazine's "Thirty Under Thirty". His essay Eminem: The New White Negro was selected for Da Capo's Best Music Writing 2004. Rux's radio documentary "Walt Whitman: Songs of Myself" was awarded the New York Press Club Journalism award for Entertainment News.

[astrozones]

Sanders Behavioral Health, Chapter 4: Mother Logan

three hours bouta be gone

discord for only the truest Lads. gender dont matter- Astro’s Zone

Three hours.

Fifteen minutes.

Another hour.

Another break.

And so on and so forth, until it was exactly 8:45 p.m. and Logan would get ready for bed, and when 9:00 came around he would ideally be sleeping, no electronic devices in sight.

It was the perfect schedule for a weekend of study. And Logan sure did need it, he was only a couple months ahead in the curriculum, which was a month less than where he should be right now.

But just as Logan sat down to start, his phone chimed. Logan was 100% prepared to ignore it, but the voice told him he had to pick it up. The metaphorical voice, of course. Now that he knew how to identify it, he knew it was either his OCD or anxiety, and oftentimes both.

Logan stared at the book in front of him, not moving in the slightest. He knew it was stupid, he didn’t have to check anything. But, he could still anxiety rushing through his body.

He picked up the phone and went through his texts, feeling relief almost instantaneously.

FamILY!

{ We should all hang out today!!! }

[ Wait whend the chat name change ]

| like last night roman where were you |

[ Sleeping??? ]

| sleep? who’s she never heard of her |

[ And going back to Patton i am free today ]

{ Yay!!!! }

| my parents are gonna force me to do homework if I don’t, so sure |

{ !!!! }

{ Logan? }

{ We can see you’re online!! }

( I’m afraid I am busy today. I’m studying. )

{ I thought you were ahead in the class?? }

( Yes, I am. But I am not where I want to be. )

{ Aw, Logan!! You should take time to not overwork yourself!!! }

( I do. And I was under the impression that you were busy this weekend. )

[ And i oop- ]

| i can’t believe roman’s a vsco girl |

[ sksksksk ]

| that wasn’t an invitation. |

{ I am for most of the day!! I was thinking we could have a sleepover!!!! ^-^ }

| wait so i do have to do my homework? |

| i’m willing to do it if it means i get to punch roman when he acts like a vsco girl again |

[ Id like to see you try ]

{ I would very much prefer there to be no punching, but it’s great to see you’re both in!!! }

{ And Logan? }

( ... )

( I suppose I can think about it. )

{ OMG YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! }

{ We have the whole famILY :3!!! }

| huh I thought roman would’ve had something to say about that. |

{ I do have some bad news though ;-; }

{ My parents are repainting our living room and don’t wanna risk anyone messing it up :( }

{ So I was wondering if either of you were willing to host? Not Logan because he’s still considering it }

| ugh i should’ve been more picky about it and I wouldn't have to go through this |

| well my room’s too messy and it’d take more than the day to clean |

{ Well, Roman??? }

{ Roman?????????? }

[ Wait what ]

[ Sorry one of my posters fell down and i had to fix it ]

[ Lemme read through the chat ]

| lmao |

[ … ]

[ asdkfldsaihateyouvirgildksfl i suppose i can do it ]

| hey i see that |

[ My parents are out for the weekend so yea ]

{ !!!! YAY!!!!!! I CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU ALL AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! }

-- --

Logan’s anxiety was yelling at him once more, telling him he needed to put the phone down. Ever compliant to the voice, he put it in a drawer under the desk. A little unnecessary, sure, but it made him feel better.

Logan shook his head, the voice driving into him once more. He was off-schedule! That’s 10 minutes of studying, wasted . He was certainly going to fail, all it would take was one set off his system and he’d get addicted to the freedom it promised.

He took out his pencil, and arranged the books around him to be exactly how he wanted. If it wasn’t, it would be unbalanced, and that certainly wouldn’t do.

Because everyone knows you can’t study unless you have a perfect workspace.

Right?

--

Logan was outside his house, door in front of his face. He huffed.

His parents had kicked him out for a couple hours, telling him he had to go outside for once instead of staying holed up in his study room.

They didn’t get it.

They didn’t get why it was wrong .

According to them, Ramona Steers, a staff from Sanders, had told them all the ins and outs of what they needed to help Logan get better, and that making him go outside was one of them.

Originally, they said he’d have to be out for 5 hours, but once he told them about the sleepover situation, they had agreed to take an hour off.

So, he was going to a sleepover, he had 4 hours outside, $100 to spend as he wished, and nowhere to go.

--

Logan walked into the popular local café, The Lolapad, known for it’s fantastic drinks, welcoming aesthetic, and it’s kind owner, Lola Adams.

Lilo was at the counter today, alongside her coworker… Patton?! Logan narrowed his eyes, Patton had never talked about a job, and Logan was a frequent visitor to The Lolapad. Logan knew he had to question him about it.

Well, once he got through this excruciatingly long line, anyway.

The only downside to The Lolapad was its popularity. With it being this early in the morning, it was full of daytime workers preparing for the long day ahead of them. Logan sighed.

He admired the decorations. The floor was a deep blue, to mimic water. The tables were designed like lilypads, and the chairs had a flower pattern. The walls were purple, with painted vines crawling up in some corners of the room.

The ceiling decor was the most impressive, though. Soft, blue lights and glass hung on wires from the ceiling, almost like bubbles flying towards the sky. There was no competition that would ever pass The Lolapad, at least not anywhere nearby.

He recognized a few students lounging in chairs, mostly consisting of the upbeat, extroverted club members.

And, if he was right, one Vanessa Cordill, with her boyfriend, Jace Lendell.

God, he despised Vanessa. She had been a huge bully in the past, only stopping after he stopped reacting to it. Logan hardly had anything to do in class, having learned all of this in his own time, and his teachers would yell at him the moment he picked up a book to study ahead of the curriculum. So, seeing what his classmates were doing was the only interesting option.

And oh, Logan saw .

He was never one for gossip, but he remembered so many things.

And most of it had to do with Vanessa.

Like that time she had snuck a gun into the bag of the boy beside her- Victor Jackson. Victor was taller, and larger, and had a mean-looking face. For anyone who got to know him, though, he was very sweet, and hated hurting people.

Victor was expelled the next day.

Logan had, of course, defended Victor. But Vanessa was convincing, lying her way through her nice girl act until the principal was convinced.

So, Logan did what he did best. He collected evidence. And, once he felt as though he had enough, he would report her.

But until then, he was forced to stand by and watch as Vanessa got to do whatever she wanted.

She was like a villain out of a bad movie, or a crappy fanfiction.

“Oh, Logan!” Patton’s voice dragged him out of his thoughts. Logan was at the front of the line, apparently. “I didn’t expect to see you here!”

“Neither did I,” he responded. “When did you start working here?”

“Oh, no, I don’t usually work here! Jessalyn asked me to replace her today, well, she asked last week- so I’m working here for a couple hours! Lola was okay with it, she’s really nice y’know? And-”

“Are you getting paid?” Logan asked. It would be rather selfish of Jessalyn to keep all of the money, at least in his opinion.

Patton shook his head. “Nuh-uh. But I’m okay with it though! I like helping people. Now, what can I get ya?”

--

Logan found himself on a swing at an empty park. He had finished his drink, and was now letting himself go back, and forth, back, and forth. He wasn’t the biggest fan of attempting to do anything… potentially dangerous, but he found softly letting himself go back and forth was a good way to collect his thoughts.

The birds chirped in the background as the sun shone above him. Everything was as it should be, but he couldn’t stay too long at the risk of getting a sunburn.

He heard a text come in, and he pulled out his phone.

FamILY!

{ If your son gets burnt by the sun, is it a sonburn? }

-- --

Logan smiled slightly as the replies came in from his friends, all exclamations of distaste as Patton sent a plethora of emojis, that mostly being-

Oh.

Wait.

His friends .

…

Hm.

Not that he was against that, of course, but the immediate reaction of calling them his friends was, well, a little unnerving. He had always been the quiet one, and had a few friends in the past, though they had all moved away to other towns or cities or whatever . He didn’t care.

And if his new friends did the same, he would be okay with that. Yes, he would definitely be okay with that. If they cared, they would contact him, and if they didn’t, he was okay with that. There was no use fighting it, after all that would only give him more time to study.

As it should be.

He put his phone away, no use replying, as he had already agreed to go to their sleepover.

He heard giggling from behind him. He was brought back to the real world, only to find that he had slowed to a stop. Logan turned his head around.

There stood a small being, maybe 6-7 years old, and definitely a child. He had a light brown mop of hair on his head, and donned a red-black-green coat and tiara. He stood to face… it.

“Hi! I’m Adrian!” the kid said, stuttering over the ‘r’. “What’s- did you just get done from a- a-

‘businesses’ meeting or somethin?”

Logan looked down at himself. He wasn’t even wearing a tie today… he had a simple black button-up shirt, and jeans. What about this screamed ‘professional’?

“No,” was all he said in response.

“Are you- are you gonna go to a businesses meeting?”

“No. I’m still in high school.” At this, the miniature human named Adrian grinned, and he could practically see the metaphorical sparkles.

“That’s so cool! I’m only in firs’ grade, but Mommy says I’m gonna be 7 in-” Adrian started counting on his fingers. “15 months!”

“What… do you mean 15 days?” he asked, it was either that or 15 weeks. Adrian nodded excitedly. What he was excited for, Logan couldn’t tell.

“YEAH! I’m gonna be so smart!” Adrian boasted, causing Logan to smile slightly. “Do you wanna come play wif me?”

“I- er-” he was cut off as the 6-year-old grabbed his hand and tugged him along towards a large willow tree.

“I’m gonna show you my friend- her name is Joy! She has two dads, isn’t that so cool! Some people make funs of her for it- but I find it cool! She’s really funny, there she is!” He pointed towards a girl, presumably 6 as well, in a princess costume, and very red hair.

“JOY! I FOUNDS US A FRIEND FOR OUR TEA PARTY!” hold on, tea party ?!

“It’s Princess Joy now,” the girl stated, surprisingly strict for someone so small. “Who is he?”

“Dis is Logan!” Adrian said, adding in a whispered, “he’s a buisnesses man”

“Hold on-” Logan tried. He suddenly found the purple princess in front of him, eyebrow raised. Was he about to get judged by a child?

“Hmm,” Joy said, looking him up and down before nodding. “He may stay.”

She turned around and strutted back to where she was sitting before. She dusted off her skirt before plopping down on the ground, gesturing for them to sit near her.

“We don’t have an actual table, so we gotta pretend.” Adrian whispered to him before skipping over and sitting near Joy. Logan reluctantly joined them.

“Princess Adrian, may you please pour the tea?” Joy instructed. Adrian nodded, miming the actions of pouring.

“Princess?”

“Yes, Peasant Logan,” Logan jerked his head back, this kid - “Princess is longer than prince so’s it’s better than a prince. Princess Adrian and me are both princesses.”

“Prince and princess are equal titles.” Logan said. Joy actually looked offended .

“Impossible.”

“Yeah!” Adrian chimed in, sitting himself down in his spot. “Everyone knows that.”

“But-”

“Princess Adrian! That’s rude, Logan’s a peasant so he didn’t know.” Joy said, taking a ‘sip’ of imaginary tea.

“Oh! Sorrys Logan.” Adrian’s voice lowered, and if Logan was right he was on the verge of tears?

“Er… It’s okay Adri- Princess Adrian.”

Adrian brightened. “YAAAY!” he cheered, getting up and bouncing around him. Logan didn’t know what to do-

“That is not princess behavior, Princess Adrian.” Joy said, turning up her nose. Adrian looked confused.

“It isn’t?”

“Princesses are more quiet. I’m 7, so I know better.”

“I’m 17,” Logan cut in. Joy turned to him.

“And? You’re still a peasant, Logan. I don’t makes the rules,” Joy put her cup of tea down. “I only knows them.”

Logan was about to respond, when-

“Woah, hey what’s going on here?” another voice said. Turning around, Logan saw Roman enter their little… area behind the leaves. He sighed.

Adrian gasped from beside him, nearly tripping over his feet in order to get to Roman. He peered up at him.

“Are yous a prince?” He asked, practically vibrating where he stood. Roman scoffed.

“Of course I am, I’m Prince Roman! I just lost my crown.” Roman announced. Adrian glanced at Joy, who nodded, causing Adrian to smile.

“I’m Princess Adrian! That’s,” he turned back around to point at Joy and Logan. “Princess Joy and Peasant Logan.” Roman, the bastard, hid his giggles behind his hand. Logan glared.

“Peasant Logan didn’t knows that princesses are higher than princes cause princess is longer. That’s true, right?” He asked, dragging Roman along to sit with them. Roman looked at Logan, smug.

“Of course! It’s common knowledge! For shame, Logan!” Roman exclaimed as he sat.

“For shame!” Adrian repeated. Logan groaned, shoving his face into his hands. This is not how he thought his day would go.

He felt a small hand pat his knee, and he looked up to see Joy looking at him with a sympathetic frown.

“It’s okay, Logan. Not all of us can be royalty.” She said, before returning to her princess persona and commanding, “Princess Adrian, would you may please pour Prince Roman some tea?”

Adrian nodded, standing up and dashing around the ‘table’ to give Roman his… ‘tea’.

“Thank you, Princess Adrian, I am forever in your debt.” Roman mock bowed from his sitting position. Adrian giggled before returning to Joy.

“Once we are done with our tea, we shall help you find your crown, Prince Roman.” Joy said before taking another sip.

“Of course. Thank you, Your Highness,” Roman faked taking a sip of his tea. “I must say, this tea is quite delicious! I commend your skills, Princess Joy.”

Joy preened at the praise, resituating the tiara on her head. “Thank you, Prince Roman. It is greatly appra- appre- appreciated.”

Minutes of his free time went by as they all mimed sipping tea and making small talk. Well, all except Logan. That quickly changed once Joy prompted him to start drinking, with Adrian and Roman piping up in agreement. Begrudgingly, Logan followed through.

Eventually, Joy stood up and announced that they had all finished their tea, and had to search for Roman’s crown. Logan argued that Roman’s crown didn’t exist. Joy said he was just a peasant and didn’t know what he was talking about. That shut Logan up pretty quick.

So, he was dragged around on the search for a crown he was certain didn’t exist. Joy separated them into teams, Roman and Joy on one, Logan and Adrian on the other. She said her reasoning was ‘one to search and one to protect’, with both her and Adrian on the search side.

Logan silently followed Adrian around as he set out to find it, looking in the places it couldn’t even be at times.

“Logan!” Adrian whispered, tugging on his sleeve. “Logan look! Issa bunny.”

And it was. A cream colored rabbit was frozen staring at them, ready to move at any sudden movement. Hm, that reminded him of Virgil… or was that rude?

He watched as Adrian slowly crept up on the rabbit. Logan looked around to find Joy and Roman. He saw Joy’s bright purple dress… in a tree? Roman was right next to her, carefully following to catch her if she fell while she was searching the tree.

He turned once more to Adrian, only to find him cuddling the bunny. Odd… if it were wild, it would have bolted the moment he came too close, so this one must be socialized. He walked towards Adrian and the rabbit.

Adrian smiled at him as he approached.

“I named him Jerry!” Adrian whispered, extending the rabbit towards Logan. “Wanna pet ‘im?”

Logan reached out to Jerry, only to jump back when it tried to bite him.

“Bad Jerry! Don’t bite people!” Adrian reprimanded the animal, as if it were a dog and not a clearly aggressive rabbit.

Well, at least when they brought it over to the other two it attempted to bite them, so at least it wasn’t exclusively Logan. It seemed to only like Adrian, to Adrian’s delight and Joy’s distaste. They were quickly corralled into a game of House by Joy, the quest for Roman’s crown forgotten.

Joy claimed herself as the father, saying, “I have two dads so I have to be the dad!”. Both Roman and Adrian nodded in agreement at her claim. She pointed to Logan.

“You shall be the mom!”

“ What- ”

“You act like a mom so you are a mom.” She cut him off, turning to Adrian and Roman for confirmation. They both agreed, Roman looking amused at Logan’s sneer.

“I’ll be the kid!” Adrian announced. Joy nodded and pointed to Roman.

“You can be the dog! Because you remind me of the golden dogs.” She said. Logan would’ve laughed if he hadn’t been put in a worse situation. Roman nodded, looking determined.

“Woof,” was all he said. Joy nodded once more.

“Perfect.”

—

So Logan found himself playing a game of House, something he hadn’t done in years . He interacted as little as they would let him, dear god if another student came and saw him like this, he wouldn’t survive.

He ended up there for far longer than he had wanted, a total of 6 hours since he was kicked out. Yet he was reluctant to leave, he knew it would break the kids hearts if he did.

He was finally freed from his metaphorical prison when a voice called,

“Adrian! Come on, we gotta drop off Joy at her dads’ house!” A woman called. Logan glanced at Adrian.

“Is that your mom?” he asked. Adrian nodded, turning to the two older men. He gave them both hugs, first Logan, then Roman. He even gave Roman his tiara, saying he was sorry they couldn’t find his crown, and he had more tiaras at home. He turned as Joy stood up and they both sprinted towards Adrian’s mom, well, only after Adrian had picked up Jerry.

Both of the remaining boys watched, amused, as Adrian seemed to argue with his mother before she gave up and let Jerry in the car. Before Adrian got in the car, though, he turned to the boys.

“Bye-bye Logan! Bye-bye Prince Roman!” he shouted, before disappearing into the car.

“So,” Roman started, and Logan mentally prepared to be poked fun at.

“See you at my house in a couple hours?” Logan blinked, once, twice, before he realized that he wasn’t being made fun of for playing with children for several hours. Well, he supposed that made sense, as Roman had done the same.

“Uh… sure.” Was all he said before making his way back home.

—

Logan was stressed, to say the least, when he got home. His parents were happy that he stayed out for longer than they had offered, but all Logan’s mind would acknowledge was that he went off schedule. He was going to be so behind, this is why you don’t go off schedule, Logan! You get looped into it, and you’ll never get out of it.

He dedicated the rest of his free time to studying.

As it should be.

[tawnyyeyed]

a very belated birthday gift ! 02.06.1988 —— @lyricalrose​ . ♡

     shopping for him is always a difficult task, and a hurdle in which almost every woman faces — whether it be a birthday gift, a christmas gift, a valentine’s gift, or even just a gift for him in general. men are seemingly hard to please and it’s never easy, but for her favourite red-haired rocker from the sunshine state, elouise is adamant on pulling together one of the most perfect and elaborate birthday gifts she has EVER generated with her own two hands. after all, his birthday seems to be the most fitting occasion for her to express her unconditional appreciation for him — the thought of the singer having occupied her mind a lot more often than not over the past six or so months. with the amount of laughter and joy he has brought her through some of the simplest of conversations, he is well deserving of all the gifts he is about to receive as they sit at his apartment door.

     the process all began weeks in advance, back in early january in fact. elouise was attending a house party, sitting with her artist friend richard when quite randomly he pulled a blade from his jean pocket — one of his latest works. it was a pocket knife, ornate in just about every way. silvery and glimmering in the dull light, the metallic grip was engraved with the finest of details. a pile of fanged and beastly looking skulls, thorny and wilting roses amongst them whilst a thick chain coils and tangles around them. the very first thought that popped into her mind was; axl would love this ! the whole design reminiscent of his entire aesthetic, or at least she thought so. immediately she offered to buy the thing off him right then and there, and within minutes the blade was sold and stuffed into her purse at the discounted cost of a mere twenty. 

     however, the bargain didn’t end there. with elouise’s confession that the blade would be given as a gift to someone, a certain someone that richard was familiar with, the artist was more than happy to design a custom tee for the singer he had met once before. a halloween ago, now. it doesn’t take very long for the two to come up with a concept, and it’s only two and a half weeks later that richard is arriving at her apartment door with a black tee in hand. adorned in airbrushed imagery, the design is a caricature of axl — he’s a menacing skeleton in a leather jacket and matching leather pants, his features exaggerated in the way that his shoulders are broadened and the rest of his body tall and skinny, hunched over almost as a cigarette smoulders between bony fingers and a razor sharp grin resides upon the skull’s face. his exaggerated hair resembles actual flames, and beautifully compliments the burning leaves that fall from autumn trees in the background as well as the signature brooklyn brownstone building that towers over him from behind. the imagery is frightening, but insanely cool — and elouise can’t help but let out a shriek of sheer amazement and excitement and AWE when she sees that at the top of the design, ‘mr. brownstone’ is written in big grey letters in a graffiti sort of style. richard never fails to wow her, and he continues to prove that as he turns the tee around show that on the back he has painted a brownstone brick wall littered with graffiti and tagging, though most importantly, it writes; ‘ w. axl rose was here ’. it’s perfect, and it also happens to be the perfect reminder that axl’s birthday is just around the corner and is quickly creeping up on her.

     one late night after a long and tiring shift at the deli, elouise sits down on the floor of her studio apartment with a box and begins decorating it. using various different types and patterns of birthday gift wrap to line the inside of the box, she lays down some multi-coloured tissue paper and sprinkles the bottom of the box with metallic cut-outs of stars and zig-zags that come in green and purple — all purchased from the party store just around the block. carefully, she folds the shirt and wraps it in dainty blue tissue paper. the pocket knife, too — only for both bundles to be prettily tied with multi-coloured ribbons. she can’t help but smile at the job she’s done. loving the decorations and more so the thought of him seeing them for the first time, and then taking the time to open each gift individually. she honestly wishes that she could be there just to witness the opening of the gift, see the hopeful joy that it will bring him and see that darned smile of his. the thought brings about butterflies fluttering in the pit her stomach and she can’t pinpoint exactly why. it even has her blushing as she sits there, alone on cold and wooden floors as she thinks about a boy two and a half thousand miles away. rush’s closer to the heart playing softly on a nearby stereo. 

𝒚𝒐𝒖   𝒄𝒂𝒏   𝒃𝒆   𝒕𝒉𝒆   𝒄𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅   𝒊   𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍   𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒘   𝒕𝒉𝒆   𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒔𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈   𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐   𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒚 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒓   𝒕𝒐   𝒕𝒉𝒆   𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕

     that is when she has a lightbulb moment. a mixtape. what if she makes him a mixtape ? or two. pondering on it, it’s only a matter of seconds before bare hands and knees go crawling across hard floors to the cabinet on the wall. a storage place holding every record and every cassette tape she holds dear. her entire life story is tucked away on these shelves, written on various tracks and played through many differing instruments and riffs. suddenly, she feels the need to compact it all down onto one singular tape. a 60 minute run of her all time favourites. some songs that make her smile, some songs that move her to tears, and some songs that remind her of him. it’s a grand idea, but it’s one that she executes and executes well. after all, they are both virtuosos. they both live and breathe music, and she’s sure that axl will appreciate something such as this. especially given how dorky the end result is. a 60 minute tape of elouise, sitting on her apartment floor at nearly 5 in the morning, playing her all time favourites all whilst talking sappy in between songs. comments on how much she loves them, why she loves them, and how some of the said songs remind her of him. it’s a strange concoction of david bowie, the rolling stones, rush, led zeppelin, bob dylan, and last but most certainly not least — guns n’ roses. who happen to be the bearers of her number one, all time favourite song: DON’T CRY . 

     the final song begins to play and unlike the rest of the tracks, the quality of this one is by far the poorest. after all, it is a mere demo that he gave to her. a tape of a tape of a tape, and so on. but still — regardless of the quality — she believes it to be the greatest song that she has ever heard in her entire life, and makes sure to say so. a song that has miraculously got her through some of her darkest hours. moments of reflection, remembering those who let her down and those whom she let down. her mother, past lovers, friends that she no longer talks to anymore. and during the recording of this final song, elouise finds herself laying in the middle of the floor in her satin nightgown, her eyes gently shut — the tape recorder only inches from her head now as she slowly drives her fingers through her wild mane of auburn hair and hot tears form along the lines of her lashes. that guitar solo sending her to another planet, as it always does. her heart rate picks up entirely and by the end the solo, the singer is breaking out into a sweat upon axl’s sweet voice filling her ears again. it’s sonic therapy in it’s purest form, and it’s something she wants to thank him for — but now isn’t the time. she has to focus on finishing this tape, and ending it the way that she had planned to. so as the song comes to an end, the brunette is silent as she tries to pull herself together again. a deep breath audible in the recording before a whole lot of rustling and crackling can be heard, elouise rolling onto her stomach and leaning on her elbows, the tape recorder now in her shaky hands as she wishes the redhead a happy birthday, and then again through song. her voice sweet, soft — with lingering remnants of former sorrow albeit happiness as the gentle smile that sits upon her pretty lips can be FELT in the mere way that she delivers the hushed tune. 

❝ 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚   𝒃𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒅𝒂𝒚   𝒕𝒐   𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚   𝒃𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒅𝒂𝒚   𝒕𝒐   𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚   𝒃𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒅𝒂𝒚   𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒓   𝒂𝒙𝒍, 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚   𝒃𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒅𝒂𝒚   𝒕𝒐   𝒚—— .  ❞

     suddenly, the tape cuts and that is all. an entire sixty minutes of jovial conversation and song. an entire hour of elouise pouring out her heart and soul through music and laughter. it’s unlike anything she’s ever done for anyone before, and for a few days she even reconsiders whether she should be sending the tape to him. is it too personal ? is it too dorky ? is it just outright WEIRD of her ? these thoughts bubble about in her head like water boiling in a pot, tormenting her until one night she receives a phone call — less than a week now until the big day. it’s axl himself. to hear his voice is like music to her ears, her face aches from grinning so much, and any reluctance is suddenly pelted from her third-storey window. she can’t wait for him to receive the shirt, pocket knife, the goofy ten-to-one tape she stayed up all night recording for him, and now all the new york related knick knacks she has purchased for him in the meantime. new york candies, new york koozies — even a silver statue of liberty fridge magnet that doubles as a bottle opener and a keyring that bears the image of her beloved brooklyn bridge. atop all the bric-a-brac wrapped in pretty tissue paper is a ornate envelope, signed beautifully in his name with a card sitting inside. once opened, the card transcripts: 

to axl,

wishing you the happiest of birthdays, my dear friend. i hope that it is filled with laughter and joy, and that the guys are treating you like the king you are —— because you deserve it !!! anyway, i’d love nothing more than to be there with you to celebrate your special day but this whole living on polar opposite sides of the country thing really sucks ! sucks ass major ass ! it’s fine though, have a drink on me tonight and i’ll make sure we celebrate your born-day the next time we happen to cross paths ! 

p.s. —— call me whenever you find the time, i’ll probably to be dying to know whether this made it to you or otherwise is currently being held in the hands of some stranger ! haha !

whole lotta love,

elle with the z from nyc ! ♡

     it isn’t much, and it isn’t anything too extravagant — she’s a small-time singer working on minimum wage, after all. she just hopes that this is enough, and that he doesn’t see it as being too tacky. especially when she’s just forked out sixty percent of last week’s earnings to pay for a courier to drop the gift off to him on his birthday exactly. a big spend for her that she sees worth it, and a cross-country expedition that has the brunette stressing the entire four days it takes for it to arrive at his doorstep. afraid that it might get lost or even worse, stolen, as was expressed in the card. 

     the courier arrives at his apartment door with the box in hand, a notepad and pen atop the mysterious parcel as he raises a hand to knock upon the door — each tap against the wood filled with reluctance as he wonders if he has the wrong place, the wrong apartment. though before he can fret too much, the door is opening and he is being met with a redheaded figure. “ are you w. axl rose, by any chance ?  this parcel has just come all the way from new york. ” the young courier asks with a scratch of his head, though his question is answered immediately as the stranger nods his head in affirmation. “ sweet. i’ll get you to sign here and then it’s all yours, buddy. ” 

[writing-radionoises]

seaweed

ship: kamukoma, little bit of nanamind genre: fluffy, alt universe ; mermaids prompt: mermaid! izuru and human nagito  notes: idk where i was going with this this is all over the place and i don’t really like it that much

Nagito leads a strange life, a balance between good luck and bad luck, good things followed by very, very bad things. He was sent to live with his aunt and uncle when he was ten or eleven to get proper medical care for his developing muscular dystrophy. His birth parents had lived out in a tiny town by a shore, living on the beach side in a little house. His father was a fisherman, his mother a trophy wife. Nagito's family was wealthy, the fishing business was big in the tiny town and the town's neighboring. Nagito barely ever saw his father, though. His mother did not raise him, either. Their maid was really the one who parented and raised Nagito. She was a kind woman who Nagito wished had moved with him into the big city for his treatment. It has been seven or so years since Komaeda was forced to leave his family, and he was informed that his father, mother, and the maid had been missing for years, assumed dead. He got everything his parents owned. Including the house, his father's boat, their wealth. Everything. And so, here Komaeda stands in front of his childhood home, a suitcase in hand. And his childhood friend by his side and new caretaker, Chiaki Nanami. "Is it bigger than you remember?" She asked, her arm half mindedly wrapped around Komaeda's. He can feel the ds in her jacket pocket against his waist, her prized possession. "No, smaller actually," Nagito answered, using his free arm to fish for the house key. Eventually, he found the ring of keys given to him and unlocked the house. Chiaki snatched Nagito's suitcase and entered first, and Komaeda followed soon after. It was a tiny little shack, his mother lived for the aesthetic, his father could care less. Chiaki returned empty handed, having set Nagito's suitcase in his former room as she then inspected the kitchen. Komaeda closed the door to the house, stumbling and eventually setting himself down carefully on the sofa as his legs gave out from underneath him. The strength in his legs only grew weaker, and eventually it'd get to his arms and the rest of his body. At least, that's what the doctor said. Chiaki sighed, closing the refrigerator, "It looks like I'll have to go grocery shopping later. You need your medication refilled anyway, right?" Nagito nodded, "You need yours too, don't you?" He said, teasingly, to which Chiaki snickered. He was, of course, referring to marijuana. Chiaki was someone you could call a stoner, she had a friend who would deal it to her. Chiaki returned to the living room, sitting beside Nagito, "Nurse Tsumiki will be here next week, from the big city. She'll be coming down to do a check up every month. In the meantime, if you start having medical trouble, you'll have to go see Maki and Kirumi Harukawa, I left their address on the fridge. They both have some medical training and will be of use, I think. I'll be back later, going grocery shopping," Chiaki informs, standing up and grabbing her bag, then leaving the house and leaving. Leaving Komaeda alone with thoughts and memories. Had Komaeda not have been sick, horribly sick, stumbling and falling, scraping his knees on every surface, perhaps he would know where his family was. Perhaps if he had never left in the first place and just waited to die in this house, they never would've disappeared. Somehow, this must be his fault. Nagito rubbed away the tears threatening to spill from his seafoam green eyes, pushing himself up off the white sofa, knees buckling underneath the little weight he had. His braces could take the unsteadiness, though. They were built for that Nagito left the house, walking out towards the shoreline as he stood still, trying to take it all in. Grounding. The wind flowing through his white locks, the smell of salt and fish peppered in the wind. The feeling of warm sand from underneath his sandals, and the cawing of seagulls, searching for food. A familiar environment. … A lovely place to die. Nagito moved once again, out more towards the sea as he climbed on top of a large rock, pulling his scarred knees towards his chest. The sea is blue green, the water moving back and forth like a pattern. The sound of the waves swishing is comforting. Nagito wonders if his father is out at sea again. Maybe he just hasn't come home yet, and tomorrow Nagito will get the light morse code signals telling Nagito he's okay. Or maybe his father has drown. Never to be seen again. Maybe the sea he loved so much had claimed him. Something caught Nagito's eyes, a large looking fish stranded on land, looking to be covered in seaweed. Nagito slides off the rock, the back of his thighs protesting against that decision as he made his way over to the creature. Nagito got to his knees beside the creature, the cold water brushes against them as he hesitantly starts to move what he think is seaweed away from the creature. It is not seaweed, it isn't slimy and thin as Nagito thought. It's a deep brown color, feeling a lot more like hair than anything. Komaeda's pale hands hesitantly move it to the side, coming face to face with something unexpected. A human torso and head on top of a fish tail. Mermaid, that's what they would call this. The mermaid was dark in color, considerable tan and much darker than Komaeda could ever be. His nose, shoulders, cheeks, and hands were covered in darker freckles, the mermaid was considerably smaller than Nagito. His tail was black, few dark red scales littered across the black surface, the red sparkled in the sunlight. Komaeda couldn't believe his eyes as he gently began to shake the man. "Hey, hey, are you okay?" Nagito asked, as if the thing could possibly answer before it's eyes fluttered open. A bright red, big and wide like a doll's. Upon taking in his surroundings, the mermaid sat up and jumped back from Nagito in fear. "Wait! No, no, I'm not gonna hurt you!" Nagito tried to reassure, worry clouding his already dull green eyes, "Wh, what's your name?" The other relaxed slightly, taking a breath as he tried to speak. "I… I…" He started, struggling to get the words out of his mouth, "Izuru Kamu-" Before finishing his last name, he began to cough up water, ducking away to hide such a motion. “Are you ok-” “Kamukura. Izuru Kamukura,” Izuru finished. Nagito nodded along, “I’m, I’m Nagito Komaeda. Sorry if I startled you… Do you need help?” Izuru fell silent, looking down at himself. His chest was covered with a torn up black fabric, resembling a shirt, and a vial tied around his neck. He snatched the vial from off of his neck, the liquid a neon red as he looked up at Nagito. “Clothes. And a towel.” Izuru deadpanned. Nagito flushed but nodded, standing up and stumbling back into his house.

After trouble between Nagito struggling to help his new apparent mermaid friend with legs get into clothes without looking, and then struggling to get him into the house, Nagito found himself collapsing on the sofa, soaking the pretty white fabric with sea water. Not that it hasn’t had the same thing done to it multiple times. Izuru was leaned against the wall by the doorway, still struggling to get a hand of his newly found legs. His red eyes looked over to Nagito as he spoke. “Sorry,” he said, “For making you do… So much work. You are sick?” His english wasn’t amazing, sentences short and sweet. Sometimes he seemingly forgot words. “I… Have a sickness that makes my legs and such not work as well as they should,” He explained, sitting up with a smile, “My muscles are trying to eat themselves in some sort of sense, so I can’t walk very well.” Izuru nodded, “I cannot walk well either…” “To be expected,” Nagito replied, “Why are you here?” “Deliver… Message. But that can wait.” “Okay…” Nagito said, “Do you need a place to stay?” “Not necessary.” The two fell silent as Izuru made him way around the house, hands on the wall as he stumbled. Nagito wondered if that’s what he looked like whenever he walked. He had originally given Izuru one of his tee shirts, which ended up being like a dress on the other. So, he had nabbed some of Chiaki’s clothes. They seemed to be around the same size, so Izuru was now struggling to walk in a white button up and black skirt. He didn’t seem to mind the skirt, said it was cute, only confusing Nagito further. Chiaki eventually returned, opening the door with her arms full of two of three bags on each arm. She wasn’t alarmed when she saw Izuru, giving him a half wave as she set the bags down on the table. “Found friends already, Nagito?” She asked. “Something like that…” Chiaki smiled knowingly, though Komaeda dared not ask what she knew. “I bought more snack type foods, I’m sure you won’t mind. I’m not the best at cooking, and you sure can’t cook…” Chiaki added on, “Microwave meals, but… No microwave. For fuck’s sake, no microwave?” Komaeda shrugged as Izuru managed to climb up onto one of the chairs, sitting criss cross on the chair. Chiaki sat down in the chair next to Izuru, and Nagito watched intently, nervousness eating him alive. “What’s your name?” She asked. “Izuru Kamukura.” “Wearing my clothes?” “Didn’t have any.” “Mermaid?” Izuru paused, looking aside as he bit his lower lip. “... I thought so,” Chiaki answered, “I’m a local, we have heard plenty of legends and stuff about mermaids and things like that… Didn’t think they were real, but you’re not a very convincing human.” “Oh, sorry,” Izuru replied. “No, don’t apologize, let me help you, though,” replied the pink eyed girl, sliding off the chair and going towards her room. She returned with two hair combs and two hair ties, snatching the towel from off the counter as she began to dry Izuru’s long hair, then comb it out and braid it. It was not quick or easy work. If Nagito had to guess, the whole process took about an hour. She had also placed a black tie over the button up, declaring the look finished. Chiaki then proceeded to go back into her room, passed out in her own clothes, and leaving Nagito and Izuru to their own thoughts. Izuru left the house once again, Nagito watched him from the window, watched him sit in the sand and watch the waves, watch the moon. Eventually, Komaeda gave in, getting up and throwing on his own dusty green jacket and going outside, sitting beside Izuru to watch with him. Izuru’s head fell on Nagito’s shoulder, and a slight smile came to Nagito’s face. “You said you had a message, right?” Nagito asked, and Izuru nodded, “Who is it for?” “You,” Izuru replied, “Your family is missing, correct?” “... Yes,” Nagito replied, “They have been for awhile, I wasn’t informed until recently… What about it?” “I met them.” “What?” “I met them,” Izuru replied, “Not recently. But I did. It was an accident. My friend had lured them into a forbidden place, she is a siren, and i had accompanied her that night.” “Are… They alive?” Nagito asked, he felt goosebumps along his arms, a shakiness coming to his body.” “No,” Izuru answered simply, “I had caught them too late, drown. I felt bad, I knew them once, when I was young. I thought you would have wanted to know, but you did not return for a long time.” “You… You waited?” Komaeda asked, looking back down at the other. “I figured you’d come back at some point,” Izuru answered, “I was right.” “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Nagito asked, moving away from Izuru to look him in the eyes. “You were happy,” Izuru explained, “Having fun… Didn’t want to ruin it.” The two fell silent, Komaeda trying to take it in, and Izuru awaiting a response. The moon rose higher and glowed brighter, and eventually Izuru spoke. “I must take my leave,” he said. “You can’t stay a little longer?” Nagito asked, a slight whine in his voice. “No, I apologize,” Izuru replied, standing up as he looked back at Komaeda, “You will know where to find me if you need me. Tell miss Nanami I’ll return her stuff shortly.” Nagito watched Izuru make his way back towards the sea, he looked back at Komaeda and waved, and the white haired boy waved back. He was gone before Nagito could even blink.

“You just let him leave?” Chiaki asked as she began to make toaster waffles in the oven. Nagito nodded, sitting at the dining room table with a glass of water, “I didn’t know what else to say. He came, explored the house, talked to me, told me my parents are dead, and then left.” “Nothing else?” Chiaki asked, looking back at Komaeda. “He told me I would know where to find him if I needed him…” "Do you need him?" Nagito paused for a moment, glancing down at his hands, and then back out the window, eyes catching sight of his father's row boat. "You know, my father always wanted me to take after him." "Oh?"

Rowing a boat is harder than Nagito thought, and even harder because Chiaki wasn't helping, instead playing Fortnite on her DS. "Really? You can't help me out at all?" Nagito asked. "Your boyfriend," Chiaki replied, "Fortnite is my wife, Izuru can be yours." "What does that even mean?" "Means I am too high to care." Komaeda sighed, stopping for a second as he cupped his own face in his hands as he looked back at Chiaki, peacefully playing her game. "I'm gonna do something stupid," he said. "Do it," Chiaki replied. "You're horrible impulse control." "Yeah." Having gotten a confirmation, Nagito looked over the side of the boat. He had no idea where they were, but it felt right, and by god is that a good enough reason. He looked back at Chiaki, then standing up and taking a leap of faith. Literally. The water was cold and dark. Like falling, but slower. Komaeda was not the best swimmer, nor the sharpest tool in the shed, but something about this felt comforting, peaceful. Is this what it feels like to die? With your best friend above, playing fucking Fortnite while you may have just sentenced yourself to death? … Is this such a bad way to go? It wasn't Komaeda's objective, to die here, but somehow, it felt comforting. Knowing he may die the same way his family had. A pair of warm arms wrap around Komaeda's waist, stopping his falling and forcing Komaeda to open his eyes, his green eyes meeting with Izuru's glowing ruby eyes. He pushed a green vial towards Nagito, Nagito taking it into his hands as the other swam upwards. They reached the surface, Nagito gasping for air as Izuru seemed unphased, his eyes now returning to the dark red Nagito had known them as. "Impulsive, are we? It's barely been a day," he said, and Nagito laughed. "Perhaps, but I can't get you off my mind." "Well, don't drown yourself next time." Komaeda snickered as Chiaki looked back over to Nagito and Izuru, waving. "Hey! You lived, congrats!"

"So, what happens now?" Chiaki asked, her high finally wearing off as they say at the dining room table, eating shitty toaster waffles once again. "Well, he's gonna visit frequently, I guess, and I asked if he wanted to go on a date next time we saw each other," Komaeda explained, "He… didn't know what that was, so I tried to explain, but I guess that's happening." Izuru had guided them back to the shoreline, they had talked along the way, what Izuru's life was like, what Komaeda's life was like. Things like that. Nagito had practically begged to see him again, and the other eventually gave in. No one is immune to Nagito's puppy eyes. "So you guys are dating? Nice, maybe you should meet my girlfriend," Chiaki replied. "Girlfriend?" Nagito asked. "She's a foreigner, Izuru knows her." "What?" "Dude, I pulled the whole mermaid legends thing out of my ass," Chiaki explained, "Did you really think I'm stupid enough to just fall for it and assume it's true?" Komaeda flushed, "Well… I don't know." "You'll meet her next time Izuru's here. She's a princess of the ocean, you know?" "Oh, don't flex on me, Chiaki." Chiaki giggled, "Sure, sure, whatever you wanna say."

[eirianerisdar]

For the Sun will Shine

Or: Avengers Endgame fic because Brodinson feels.

A continuation of Five Choices, an Infinity War AU fic where Loki lives on as a formless fire spirit jumping between flames after his death at Thanos’s hands. Even in death, Loki is ever with his brother.

Under the cut to avoid spoiling it for those who haven’t seen it yet.

This is cross-posted to FFN, and I’ll put a bunch of links in the replies since tumblr still doesn’t like links.

>Loki sat in Thanos’s cook-fire and watched with a sense of hollow victory as Thor severed Thanos’s head from his shoulders.

It was a good thing, Loki supposed, that he didn’t have a body to turn away or a face to grimace with. The death of the mad titan was an instantaneous thing that was far more painless than many would have wanted. There wasn’t even any blood – Thor made a single, devastatingly precise swing with all the pain and grief and rage arcing in white lighting through Stormbreaker’s blade, and burnt all the places that blood could have run.

There was simply Thanos, alive – and then two pieces of him, dead.

A bloodless death – rather like Loki’s own, but with far less agony. He could feel no pain here, a fire-spirit housed in the flames of the last meal Thanos was not permitted to eat – but Loki recalled, still, the fat, purple fingers crushing his neck and pushing the blood to his eyes, so that even Thor’s grief-struck face blurred in his vision.

That was then. This was now.

The purple-skinned head fell to the floor with a muted thud, like a fat ram’s head gone rancid – followed shortly by the bulk of Thanos’s half-wasted body.

The edge of Thor’s cloak skirted around the flames of the fire pit as he moved past, his stride heavy and defeated on the floorboards. Loki leapt as far as he could on a tongue of flame, spirit straining, but try as he might, he could not reach his brother. Sparks singed the edge of Thor’s crimson cloak – burned a few stray fibres of red into the burnt brown of old blood.

Brother, Loki would have said, if he had lips and lungs and a throat to voice his words. Brother, I am yet here.

The silence made mockery of him.

And Thor did not look back.

>Loki stayed with his brother for the next five years.

New Asgard was a place of hard labour with little fruit, and Loki’s brother, King of Asgard’s remnant, did not labour at all.

Really, one could argue he did not live, either.

And neither, of course, did Loki.

“Oh, please don’t,” Loki said – or tried to say, when Thor first turned to cheap beer to water down his pain. Of course, the air remained silent. One needed a body to speak, and Loki was soul-flame.

“You were never one for doing things by halves, brother,” Loki continued, wincing mentally as his brother downed the next bottle in two careless gulps. “But this is the equivalent of a slow death by your own hand.”

He realised later, of course, that Thor wasn’t drinking himself a slow death at all. Aesir blood did away with that. It was just suffering.

Just as Loki suffered, thought-speaking words his brother could not hear, year after endless year.

“Now, was that last tub of – what was it, ice cream – worth it?” Loki chided silently from the bathroom lightbulb as Thor heaved into the toilet bowl below. “I always said you fought like a dragon and ate like an abilisk, brother. I didn’t ever really mean it literally.”

“–Brother, you’ve had plenty. Perhaps not another–”

“–Thor, sleep on your side, please, you’ve had enough drink to water a dozen of Father’s best horses. Don’t come to as inglorious an end as to choke on your own sick. If I wind up in Valhalla after all, gods forbid, I’d hardly be able to look you in the face then.”

“–Bor’s name, Thor. You never listened to me when I was alive. It makes sense that you shouldn’t listen to me when I’m dead, either. So drink away. See if I care.”

That particular instance was particularly horrible: Bitter and seething and helpless, Loki eventually soul-flitted away to a forest-fire on another planet, just to see the different stars; but on his return he found his brother deep into his third round of drinks that night, and cradled in the flickering flame of the tabletop candle, Loki looked into Thor’s haggard face and wished for eyes to weep with.

“–Please, Thor. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Stop. Please.”

Thor, oblivious, had leaned over his current bottle and blew out the candle – not knowing he sent Loki careening through Yggdrasil’s branches by doing so.

But.

Loki was in the meagre hearthfire when Thor raised his sixth mug of spirits to his lips in the same number of minutes; Loki was in the flame of the porch lamp when the eighteenth slipped out of Thor’s fingers and smashed into the wood floorboards, staining them the colour of urine and cheap liquor; Loki was strung across the dim, burning wire of the lightbulb that had needed changing for six months when Thor, huddled in his filthy bathroom surrounded by empty bottles, pressed his war-scarred hands into his eyes and wept.

The lightbulb flickered, a flare of fire stronger than possible for old wire stretched so thin and half-rusted; but Thor did not raise his grime-haired head to see.

And, bereft of a body with which to hold his brother, Loki wished.

He wished for their mother, who had fallen to the dark elf’s blade, brilliant and quick-witted and shining like Asgard’s sun.

He even wished for their father, whom Loki had tried so hard to hate and instead only found himself wanting their father to stay for a moment longer, just so Loki could touch him, on a windblown cliffside in Norway.

In a way, this present situation disgusted him.

No, not Thor, wallowing in misplaced guilt.

Loki was disgusted at the fact that he was doomed for eternity, as it seemed, to watch the brother he loved best (and only semi-recently figured out that he did, by the way, which only served to peeve him further at the wasted opportunities) grieve and suffer and drink himself to a grave he could not reach because the blood of the Aesir was in Thor’s veins.

And Loki could do nothing to stop it.

On the dusty tiles below, Thor buried his unshaven face a little deeper into the knees of his unwashed jeans. His bare shoulders trembled.

Brother, Loki thought – he soul spread thin and faint across the wire, like his non-existent heart had twisted in place to be there. Brother, I am here. Yggdrasil is open to me – every flame a doorway and a window – but I am here. I chose to be here. With you. Even if you cannot hear me.

Once, Loki had danced through the realms like a spark in the shadow of Yggdrasil, clever-tongued and fleet-footed, and even when inconvenienced with true death had soul-flitted across worlds to see the battle against Thanos. He had hoped for a future, even, when he discovered continued existence of all six original Avengers who had defeated him in New York so long ago.

He hoped rather less, now.

And then the doctor with the anger management issues and the talking raccoon showed up.

And Loki, for the first time in five years, decided to give hope another chance.

>He would have liked to travel with Thor to the day when their mother died, just to see her face again – she would recognize him, he was sure, even in the form of flame – but Loki had not spent five years solely watching his brother drink without planning.

Thanos and the soul stones and time itself was a problem, yes. But Thor and his band of incredibly hard-headed friends had the hands and feet with which to attend to the matter. And now with the Man of Iron’s arrival, it seemed, the technology with which to practically do so.

No, the problem that presented itself to Loki was first and foremost his lack of a physical body.

Loki spent a few minutes seething quietly in one of Stark’s decorative fireplaces in the Avengers compound to get to the crux of the issue.

Five years was ample time to fully comprehend I think, therefore I am; that didn’t quite change the fact that he needed a new body to drink and eat and breathe and hug with. And for that to happen, someone had to a) recognize Loki in his flame-soul form, b) make a body Loki would find aesthetically pleasing and durable enough for his preferred brand of adventuring, and c) aid in helping Loki put himself in said new body.

All the thinking in the realms had come to one person, really. A little self-flattery, perhaps, but it was truth.

And so, when what remained of the Avengers keyed into the gleaming structure of glass and steel that would send them into younger versions of Yggdrasil, Loki leapt into the flicker of quantum flame that enveloped Stark’s form and piggybacked along into the battle of New York.

Finding flame inside Stark’s tower to watch the impending chaos from was entirely thanks to the man’s penchant for stylized fireplaces and decorative flame; but when things went south in the lobby and Loki’s younger self stared down at the open case of the Tesseract, Loki looked around desperately for a source of flame on his younger person, and finding none, cursed silently and flitted directly onto the Tesseract’s flickering blue surface.

It quickly became apparent that of all the ideas he ever had, this was one of the worst ones.

It was like his soul was made of paper, and the power of the Tesseract careening in a torrent through and around him until he was sure he would be blasted into smithereens of energy.

If Loki had lips, he would be screaming, but his younger self’s hands latched eagerly around the Tesseract and twisted–

His younger self obviously had a different destination in mind, but with Loki’s soul running over the surface of the space stone, screaming in soul-speak, the Tesseract spat them out elsewhere.

The moment reality coalesced around them Loki soul-lunged for the nearest flame – a burst of new fire in a fireplace edged in green marble, familiar and solid and–

On the green-black carpets, his younger self had paused in the act of scrambling after the Tesseract, wide-eyed as he stared agog at his surroundings: the four-poster bed with emerald bedspread, the bookcases stuffed with books and relics from a hundred worlds, the desk carefully dusted with the remnants of a last magical experiment before Thor’s coronation–

Loki slowly became aware that he had settled into the flame of the fireplace he had so often sat by while reading – his favourite spot in his own rooms in the Asgardian palace. The fact the fireplace was aflame at all was due to an enchantment of his own making, eons ago – to recognize his presence and welcome him home.

Loki did not pause to wonder why his family had not cleared his rooms after his supposed death.

Apparently done with staring at their old rooms, his younger self scrabbled at his gag and flung it to the floor. It missed the carpet and clattered across bare stone to the fireplace grate. Those glittering green eyes followed its course.

Loki flared the fire a little.

His younger self paused in the act of listening at the door and snapped his gaze towards the fireplace.

Loki flared the fire a little more.

Soft Asgardian boot-soles against carpet – an expression on that bruised face of curiosity, and careful steps closer.

If Loki had eyes, he would have rolled them by now. Mother always said that one realised one’s former inadequacy as one matured – but to see this in himself after a gap of only a little more than a decade was highly embarrassing. Must he make his soul dance the boogaloo in his own fireplace before his younger self understood?

Younger Loki was so close now that Loki could see the flame reflected in his emerald eyes.

Loki decided that subtlety could go dust itself and momentarily turned the fireplace into a little live-flame rave show.

Loki’s younger self sat down abruptly. His rear end made a bony thud against the stone – he’d just come off an eon of torture, after all. “Trickery,” he murmured, incredulity in his voice. “You? Me?”

It was rather a pity, Loki thought, that he hadn’t yet discovered how to form flame into shapes. If he could he would form just the letters needed to express how much he did not care about his younger self’s surprise. Quickly followed by MAKE ME A BODY, of course.

His younger self licked his torn lips. “What are you doing here? How are–”

Loki flared the fire meaningfully. Stars, this was his only way of communicating. And his past self seemed very much like a dolt. He was sure he hadn’t ever been this stupid.

“You’re me. Dead.”

Flare.

“You need something.”

Flare.

“That only I can give you?”

FLARE.

“All right, all right, keep your cinders on. You want a…body?”

Loki flared the fire so brightly that his younger self winced at the heat.

Younger Loki mirrored Loki’s mental eye-roll with a very pronounced physical one. “Obviously, is what you’re saying – ow!”

Loki settled in the flames smugly, while his younger self glared at the fire over the minor burn on the back of his right hand.

“Fine, if only for the fact that this might serve me later,” his younger person hissed. “And I thought Thor was the petty one. If any Einherjar come I’m leaving you to the flames.”

Loki waited, patiently, as his younger self divested himself of the shackles and mucked around in the workshop in the next room. His younger self may have been rather less enlightened, but it seemed that Loki’s recollection of his magical abilities was not insofar inaccurate; in no time at all his younger self slinked back into the room, and stretched a hand towards the fireplace expectantly.

Loki stared at the hand and didn’t move.

His younger self rolled his eyes and beckoned once. “Don’t tell me I’ve become cowardly in my old age.

"Very, very carefully, Loki judged the distance and leapt on a tongue of flame. Familiar magic – his own – wrapped around him, and he soon found himself undergoing the extremely disconcerting experience of being held in his own hand.

And then there was a doorway, and a workbench, and a black-haired, pale-skinned body on top of it, a mirror of his younger self save for the bruises and the cuts and the shadows under his younger self’s eyes.

A fistful of flame was nothing to his younger self, of course, and Loki barely had any time for mental preparation before he was slammed into the sternum of the body on the table in a surge of green-tinged magic.

And then he was on fire.

Less literally, this time – he was on fire from pain, the first time he felt anything at all in five long years – nerve endings flaring anew and flashing his vision white-hot and searing.

He screamed. One long, wailing howl that he only realised he could hear when he ran out of breath and had to gulp in another to scream again.

His younger self cursed and slapped a hand over Loki’s lips, but Loki did not care; he was alive, bodied and physically present, and every throb of his heart and breath in his lungs and movement of his limbs was a blessing he could not begin to comprehend.

And his magic.

It coiled around him and within him and at his fingertips, ready and waiting and housed at last, an eager fire waiting for his command.

His eyes snapped open, and he gulped in a breath so sweet in his raw throat he could weep for it.

"Well, that was bracing,” he whispered, and laughed out loud at the sound of his own voice.

“Shhhh!” His younger self had retreated to the door. After a moment, he returned, eyes flashing. “Any more of that and you’ll have the guards on us.”

“Oh, pish,” Loki scoffed. “As if that’d matter. The space stone’s right there.”

“You’re naked,” his younger self said pointedly.

Loki checked.

His younger self was right.

Ah, well. Loki knew it had been a good idea all those centuries ago to put freshening enchantments on his closet. He’d make do with magic, but then again one never knew when one could be magically bound – and then he’d revert to whatever he was wearing before.

A pause, in which his younger self plainly struggled between turning away or watching curiously as Loki pushed himself off the workbench and moved to the find garments for himself.

Once he was suitably clothed Loki rummaged through the cupboards – blithely ignoring his younger self – and found the next most important item on his list – a bottle of aged wine.

The first sip was divine. Really, if Thor was here – wait. No. Loki would most definitely not share this drink with him.

“Ahhh,” he sighed appreciatively, closing his eyes stretching luxuriantly in his favourite squishy armchair, wriggling his bare feet – he hadn’t bothered with shoes – into the carpet. There were things one forgot to appreciate unless one was stuck as a formless flame for an extended period.

“Um,” his younger self said.

Eyes still closed, Loki gestured in the rough direction of the Tesseract. “It’s there. Go.”

“But you–"Loki cracked an eye open. "You know me. You know yourself. There are other ways to walk Yggdrasil.”

His younger self’s voice rings closer, sharper. “But you’re from a possible future? How would you return to your time if–”

“I’ll think of something,” Loki murmured. The fire was warm, comforting. “I have literally all the time I could want.”

New intensity in that younger voice. “But you would leave such a powerful object–”

“Believe it or not,” Loki snapped, straightening abruptly, “I’ve come to find that there are more important things in life than infinity stones. And there are greater sacrifices.”

His younger self froze in place, an arm’s length from him. There was a wild sort of youth to his face that Loki remembered in the mirror from times long ago – the second son, the spare, who had once wished to kill the monster within himself to win their father’s love. Who had almost conquered Midgard for a master he did not want to serve, to avoid another eon of pain.

Loki sighed. When he stood, his younger self edged backwards – like a startled animal.

“Our brother is a sentimental sap,” Loki began. “He wears wings on his helmet, doesn’t shave nearly as much as he should, has an over-fondness for drink, has the subtlety of a brick, and yet, despite all our repeated attempts to end his life, is determined to save us. Save you.”

His younger self was carefully avoiding meeting his gaze.

The glass of wine met the table. Loki’s fingers lingered on the stem for a minute, if only to marvel at the coolness of the crystal. “I come from a time where I realised too late that what Thor and I shared was beyond our different blood. He is my brother. When I died, he blamed himself for it.”

“What do you want from me,” his younger self hissed suddenly, eyes narrowed – and suddenly he was the monster that snarled back at Loki so many times in the mirror – bitter and bruised, a capricious thing that only laughed as though in pain.

Loki paused, and considered his next words carefully. “When Thor looks like he needs – and I cannot believe these words are leaving my mouth – when Thor looks like he needs a hug, give one to him.”

“…You’re joking,” younger Loki said flatly.

“Most assuredly not,” Loki returned, grinding his eyes with the heels of his hands. It was most unfair that the return of a physical body meant the return of exhaustion. He suddenly felt drained, like a towel wrung dry and left out to the sun.

“I tried to kill him two hours ago.”

Was it Loki’s imagination, or did his younger self sound ever-so-slightly regretful?

“He’ll forgive you. He always forgives you, the stupid oaf.” Loki moved to the window, and glanced out into the Asgardian sunset. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve just figured out a solution to my dilemma. You’d better make yourself scarce before the guards notice anything off. We’ve been here a while.”

“Wait.”

One magically-booted foot already on the windowsill, Loki turned.

The Tesseract flickered in his younger self’s hands. In the blue light his face looked thin, hollow-cheeked, and younger than his years, but his voice was clear, and knife-sharp. “How do I die?”

Loki watched him steadily.There was no use telling him the truth – that he had given up an infinity stone and pulled as pathetic a weapon as a single dagger on the mad titan Thanos in the vain hope that it would save his brother? That by then they would be bereft of mother and father, and most of Asgard?

“Treasure your family,” he said instead, and slipped over the balcony and into the shadows before his younger self could even call him back.

>The answer to the problem of returning to his timestream was simple, in the end – he took the long path to Midgard, treading pathways hidden in pocket dimensions, bridges spanning Yggdrasil’s branches – and found himself after a few days’ journey standing on the doorstep of 177A Bleecker Street.

He was shown in to The Ancient One, who took one glance at his slick black hair and his sharp-cut coat and smiled secretively.

Loki got to the point rather directly, and with impeccable politeness. “Good afternoon, madam. I require the use of the time stone to return to my time stream, several years in the future. This is, of course, provided that our mutual acquaintances have succeeded in their final task and returned the time stone to you, which I dearly hope is the case – it would be terribly embarrassing to speak to you of mutual acquaintances that aren’t mutual, so to speak.”

It was only after he finished speaking that he realised that might not have been quite as direct as he had hoped. Perhaps his silvertongue was a trifle…unpracticed, after five years of disuse. Hiding a wince, he settled for grinning charmingly instead – charm had always worked for him.

The Ancient One’s smile widened a little further, her blue eyes seeming to pierce right through him, and even as he opened his mouth to speak again the pendant hanging before her shirt opened to reveal an eye with an emerald iris…

And then a grassy field flew up and smashed Loki in the face.

“Ow,” he mumbled into the dirt. The grass was lush and green and poked his face in all the wrong places.

Voices.

The magic surged up within him, and a moment later a common green garden snake slithered where a grown man had been before.

Tongue hissing between his teeth, Loki slithered towards the voices and the tremble of feet on the ground and emerged to find an expanse of water, with a wood lakehouse beside it; and there, gathered at the water’s side, dozens of people in mourning black – both those who had vanished into dust five years ago and those who had survived.

Loki glimpsed Thor’s wild head of blond hair towards the shore itself and his heart leapt into his throat – a strange feeling in the body of a snake – but something about the words spoken and the terrible stillness of the air spoke of grief.

A moment of searching later, he understood.

It would seem that this final war was won with a sacrifice, as well.

Stark was not there – nor the Widow, the crimson-haired woman who had bested him at his own word games.

Every part of Loki’s soul ached to find his brother, and perhaps five years ago he might have barged in without a care for these Midgardians – but these were his brother’s friends.

And Loki, though some part of him still cringed childishly to admit it, loved his brother.

So, he waited.

He had waited and watched for five years, now; he could wait a little longer.

An opportunity presented itself in the early hours of the morning, when the sky had lightened to a deep blue that shone against the fading stars.

Thor stepped out on the porch and down to the lakeside, swinging Stormbreaker casually in his hand as he pulled a sloppy hoodie over jogging sweats. Loki winced internally, because by Bor’s name would they have to work on fashion after this – but he slithered after his brother, in the short grasses by the sand proper.

Loki knew he had been spotted when Thor paused in his lumbering step, and laid aside Stormbreaker.

“Hello, friend snake,” he said, voice soft. “Come to share in the morning air?”

By all rights, Loki should change back right there and then.

He didn’t.

A spark of mischief bloomed in his soul.

Loki edged forward a little, nudged Thor’s boot with his head.

Down came Thor’s battle-calloused hand. Loki slithered onto the warm palm eagerly, glad for the warmth.

“I used to love snakes,” Thor murmured, cradling him gently. “So did my brother. He used to take on the shape of one in a shade exactly like yours, and then stab me when I was caught unawares.” One thumb stroked Loki’s diamond-shaped head as his voice dropped into a rasp. “Can’t say I haven’t longed for that in recent years, dagger and all.”

Well, now, that was just heart-rendingly unfair of Thor.

Loki inhaled once, and released his form.

And suddenly he was standing in his brother’s embrace – his own arms wound around Thor’s (admittedly ample) waist, sable head pillowed on Thor’s shoulder. Not that he minded Thor’s bulk. Hugging Thor like this admittedly felt much better than the brick wall of muscle he was before.

Thor’s intake of breath was a palpable and audible thing, reverberating through Loki’s new form like the shudder of a storm gale.

“Hello, brother,” Loki murmured into Thor’s shoulder. Well, more like mumbled, but he’d be the last to admit that. Having a body was well and all but this was something he’d been longing to do for years. And now suddenly it was actually happening and his new body seemed to decide that it was falling apart.

Thor was shaking, even as his arms suddenly wound tighter in understanding.

“Loki?”

The name was a susurration of broken syllables – hardly daring to hope.

Loki couldn’t help it. He leant back so Thor could see his face and rolled his eyes. “Honestly, Thor, who else would call you brother? I’d have thought you had stone for ears, you stupid oawwwaaargh–”

That last part was courtesy of Thor pulling him in even tighter than before, a hand around him and another at the back of his neck in a warrior’s hold as they used to back when life on Asgard was simple, and unfettered, when they were simply two young princes who would die for one another as they would have their father.

“Don’t ever do that again,” Thor sobbed into Loki’s shoulder, like the big baby he always was. It was honestly rather endearing. “I’d threaten to kill you otherwise but I can’t bear to lose you again.”

“Alright,” Loki whispered. “I promise.”

Thor sniffed, loudly. “Your promises usually don’t mean anything.”

“Probably not,” Loki conceded, and their shared bark of laughter shook through them in unison, folded together as they were. “But I’ll try all the same.”

In the quiet, he had a confession to make.

“Brother, I was always there,” Loki said. “These past five years – every open flame was a vessel for my soul.”

Thor shuddered, at that – a shudder of shame.

“Shh,” Loki murmured. “We’ll work through it together.”

In the east the sun was rising – a glow that spread across the water, the wood of the cabin, painting colour in the soft grey light of morning. Purples and greens, blues and reds; the sable and gold of two heads on each other’s shoulders. Golden warmth that climbed up the shore and illuminated the two figures in brilliance.

At the sudden warmth, Loki raised his head to glance at the horizon. He smiled.

“Look, brother,” he said. “The sun is shining on us again.”

And in the moment before Thor lifted his head, Loki felt him smile.

END

Thanks for reading, everyone! Endgame ended me - Tony especially. Thor’s arc was one of the most beautiful things about this movie, though - how he dealt with grief differently as compared to so many others.

A bunch of links to my masterlist and other things in the replies as tumblr doesn’t like links!