#fishermcn

[yellowfingcr]

"What tits?"

"I'm presuming this is a jab at the remarkably reduced size of my chest. However, though my finest asset resides behind as I think we can all agree, I am of the just idea my front is very good and very lovely."

"But, hey, one could say I have as much tits as you have ass, friend Crow. Which is to say next to nothing."

[through-fire-and-flame]

[ Jesus CHRIST Bree-eye!! Holy SHIT Sam!! ]

[prismaiden]

🔥 assuming you're amiable to it of course!

“Oh, but he is ethereal, isn’t he?” Anri’s words slipped past her lips, instinctive and unguarded.  As they hung in the air, she hesitated, second-guessing herself.  

“What I mean to say is… he has a lovely face,” she corrected quickly, a blush creeping across her cheeks, blooming there like bindweed.  It was an intrusive question, and any answer she gave felt unbearably intimate.  “His cheekbones are magnificent, and his eyes – they’re unforgettable.  They remind me of storm clouds.”  

Dark and restless, melancholic and enduring, moody and dramatic.  If eyes were windows to the soul, his seemed to be half-swallowed by the white-capped churn of a grey sea.

“There is something steady beneath all that turmoil.  Something sharp, strong.”  Anri tilted her head, her cornflower gaze growing distant as she studied the memory of him.  “Actually, his eyes rather remind me of flint.”

[schattenmagier]

"I want to see you wear" a pirate outfit?

[ I'm having fun with these! :D // Accepting! ]

// A pirate but not a pirate captain surely! She is not the leader type. And a relatively simple outfit ofc! An outfit like this is perfect to move quickly on a ship as well.

[izar-tarazed]

@fishermcn suggested:

"Milk o'them Trina lilies. Puts ya out, though. Cost ya too."

​..."Honestly, at this point I don't mind either of that if it just works. How much of that stuff will a Hero's Rune get me?"

[zcrayas]

@fishermcn said: "Fuckin' hurts when they bite ya."

"Oh, but they only bite when they feel threatened! Or scared - you would too, r-right?"

[miserycorde]

@fishermcn "Some o'them bastards like it. Live to fight'n die, fight'n die… bloody madmen."

"I don't doubt that for a second... one would hope that people like this are few and far between?"

[sxnguinesxnctum]

f for old yharnam im sorry you guys had to burn next time dont get the furry plague

thoughts and prayers 🙏😔💔

[hearthtales]

🚢 ((i know it's quite early, but color me curious i suppose! for maude))

༄ shipping meme

do i ship our characters together?: yes | no | not yet but maybe soon

would i like to ship with you?: yes | maybe, i'm willing to try | no

type of relationship i could see: childhood or high school sweethearts | exes | engaged | married | long-term relationship | crushes | unrequited love | fling | long distance | online relationship | just dating | new relationship | toxic lovers | friends with benefits

tropes i'd enjoy writing for them: whatever they currently have going on to friends to lovers | hesitant trust turning into something more | enemies to lovers | exes to lovers | fake relationship / dating | forbidden love | grumpy and sunshine | grumpy and grumpy | star-crossed lovers | surprise pregnancy | second chance | soulmates | amnesia / mistaken identity | forced proximity | secret relationship | slow burn relationship

would i rather plot first or jump right in and see where it goes?: develop their relationship first | jump right in | something in between ( what specifically? )

what now?: let's plot something | send me shippy memes | i'll send you shippy memes | write me a random starter | i'll write you a random starter

anything else i want you to know about me / my character / my shipping habits: !! okay so!!! you mentioned how they both have Not Very Neighborly Things tied to each other, and i do think they might bond over this fact if they ever open up about it to each other. they both dislike being indebted to people, so maybe maude takes care of sam when he wears himself too thin, and maybe he does the same for her when she overworks herself (or repays her some other way), and they catch feelings somewhere along the line. also thinking about how sam has a fear of fire and maude’s hearth is a sign of safety rather than danger,,,,,,,,, also still thinking about maude’s magic being his first positive experience with magic??? yelling????? anyway i have many scattered thoughts about them and i do love the potential a whole bunch, and her dog likes him so that’s the most important first step <3 <3

[hawksblooded]

Rain's coming down far harder than it has any right to this time of year, nearing the dead of winter as they are in these parts. Storm clouds that gathered nearly a tenday ago haven't yet broken, and the downpour drenching the town reeks of a fetid sea. Where frost typically crept across the cobblestones and icicles grew long under awnings now run shallow rivers of salt water and unassailable curtains of rain, and the fog that's risen from the streets seems to wrap tightly around those still willing to brave the deluge. Discontentment and unease keeps even those deep in their cups from truly enjoying themselves, and it's to this grim atomosphere and the endless drumbeat of rain upon the roof of the tavern that Soot makes his move. "Gotta job." A chair protests, creaking mildly at being pulled out and away so suddenly, and without so much as a by your leave he's sitting across from her. Stained fingers tap-tap-tap an uncertain beat upon the table as his flinty eyes regard her warily. Carefully. "Heard ya know 'bout reburying th'dead. That true?"

IT'S TOO LOUD IN the tavern, too full of noise and smoke. She wishes she slept outside, as she always does, under the black sky and a hundred thousand stars. But this place hasn't seen stars in a long while, not with this accursed change in the season. The inn is filled to the brim with the scent of fire, watered down soup, and the wet clothes that stick to travelers. Chatter is unending in this place without rest. Business and pleasure alike are heard on quiet voices, although the latter is rare and so thoroughly drowned by the weather. Yes, it smells like wet dog, and it sounds like misery. Ah well. Beats the rain.

She's three cups deep when a stranger seats himself right in front of her. It's all she can do not to tell him to fuck right off - she's halfway through the fourth mug of ale, as watered down as the streets outside and piss-warm. Though the place is packed to the brim, most give the hunter a respectable berth. Well, not all men are born smart, she thinks. She's about to slam her cup down in a clear display of impatience when he speaks just the right words. Alizebeth's amber eyes dart immediately to his', coal-black, thin gashes of light on her dark face. She doesn't bother with his question.

"What makes you think I want to get involved with whatever trouble you're in?"

[dragonskxn]

💬+ "Heard somethin' strange. Bandits, brigands all tore up by some wild woman wearin' a cloak o'dragon scales." For his part Crow doesn't look terribly bothered with being so near the rumored woman in question, more curious and even amused than concerned as he smothers a cough into a ragged sleeve. "No name though. Shame. Ought t'thank her some way, ever I find out who she were."

Send 💬 + a rumor and my muse will react to it.

"Mm, an interesting little rumor," She replied with a small but knowing smile.

"I'm not fond of combat, but I daresay I know how to defend myself if I'm threatened. The roads need to be safer, anyhow."

[yellowfingcr]

@fishermcn liked for Something!

"Here's your gift, Sam. You have been drawn by my very own hand. And if you're asking, what are those squiggles? They mean an explosion happening behind you. You aren't looking at it. You are cooler than that."

"You also caused it."

[through-fire-and-flame]

"Godsdamned ingrates..." Mornings after the hunt in Yharnam rarely arrive with fanfare or celebration, the overcast sky scarcely giving ground to the sun as the doors being creaking open. Even when the streets are scrubbed clean of befouled blood and the corpses piled onto wheelbarrows and carriages for their fiery fates, there's little words to be said by the citizens to their supposed saviors... little good, that is. Soot takes a nasty sort of pleasure in returning an older man's sneer with the menacing rattle-clank of his riflespear shifting, flinging a rude gesture at the swiftly retreating figure before pulling out his pipe. "Mother Kosm take'm. Got some nerve puffin' about like that..." Once, twice, thrice flicks his match against the tinderbox before the pipe is set alight, and Soot takes a long drag before puffing out a perfect ring of smoke. "Don't know how ya do it." His grey eyes slide over to Laurentius, and without so much as a warning tosses him a wrapped bundle of fresh biscuits. "Not sure why ya do it, neither. Why bother?"

"Wot, the hunt?" comes the coughing reply, as a soot-stained hand emerges from his coat to catch the bundle. Careful inspection of the shadow underneath his hood would reveal, in fact, a mouth somewhere in there, though it would have to be a careful inspection indeed, given all the ash.

"'s wot we do, mate," Laurentius says, eyeing a biscuit plucked from the bundle. It's an odd sensation, watching gray daylight bleed back into the skies overhead - it's the way the adrenaline recedes from his blood, the way his shoulders sag and all the eager violence from the night before catches up with him.

"'s all I know how to do, at any rate," he mutters, a moment later. "There's beasts where there shouldn't be beasts, and if it ain't us wot gets 'em, it'll be them wot gets us."

[prismaiden]

Aldrich's faithful have been cut down to the very last, that emptied tomb at the heart of his cathedral an all too fitting place for the dessicated clergy of the Deep to likewise rot away within. Amidst the still twitching corpses and the cooling pools of blood flits and steps a ragged figure, a carrion bird looming over those clerics still clinging to their fascimiles of life. He lingers only long enough to ruin them, his culling blade piercing and flaying them apart as any scavenger's beak or talons ought to, and when at last those that befouled this place are themselves debased... Crow offers Anri a warning with a breath that rattles his worn lungs. "Being stalked, ya are." With a moment's hesitation, stained fingers lingering and gaze flitting about uncertainly, he tugs down the ragged mask to reveal his gaunt face and tired eyes properly. Least that she deserves. "Londor. Hollows. Want ya. Dunno why. Least not th'whole of it." Crow hesitates with a cough smothered into his cloak, lingering a moment longer than maybe he ought to. He gnaws his cheek. He sighs. "Ya would've done it. Slain him, I mean. Still can. They... They'd have thought so too." I did, he can't quite say. I still do.

It was a ghastly homecoming.  Horror still lived in these halls, festering in its murky corners, dripping from the altars.  Childhood remained a blade lodged in her throat, and monsters continued to roam.  Far from being banished to the dry, dusty dark beneath dormitory beds, here they were given dominion, anointed in incense, proclaimed holy.

Anri stood at the heart of a massacre.  Her helm hid the trauma etched into her face, though affliction spoke through her trembling.  Her cream complexion had soured, turning ashen, the star-blue of her eyes unfocused.  Blood pooled around her boots, sealing her in place with a viscous, accusing grip.  Old wounds wept anew, unspoken horrors surging, sealing a scream in the tomb of her throat.  She shivered violently, a tremor so fierce it was a wonder her armour did not betray her with its clattering.

The cathedral’s stagnant air pressed against her like a shroud.  The stench of rot and ordure clung, as thick and unrelenting as the blood smearing the cracked tiles beneath her.  Each corpse seemed to reach toward her in mute accusation, their hollowed faces fixed in expressions of fury and frozen despair.  The lamb they should have slaughtered, the one they should have offered as sacrifice, was left standing among the dead.

And then there was him – a shadow moving between the fallen.  Crow.  Aptly named, given that he glided like a carrion creature, his blade rising and falling with measured finality, ensuring no heretic remained to draw breath.  It was unholy work, this grim ritual.  Hers, as much as his.  It left Anri spellbound and sickened in equal measure.

When he turned to her, his voice split the silence, carrying a warning that cut through her like a chill wind. 

Stalked?

The word sent a shiver racing south along her spine.  Her fingers twitched toward her blade, her body instinctively aligning with the threat, though no new shadows stirred in the gloom.  Instead, she studied him – the harbinger of unsettling truths – as his stained hands hesitated, fumbling at the mask that hid his face.  And then, as though granting her a solemn offering, he lowered it to reveal gaunt cheeks carved inward, eyes rimmed with exhaustion, lips pressed thin against unspoken words.

“I don’t – ” Anri began, but his coughing silenced her.  It was a raw and violent sound, leaving her own chest tight with concern, her heart betraying her with a treacherous lurch. 

This man saw her as more than the sum of her frailty.  He who had braved the dark alongside her.  He who had stayed, when others might have fled.  He who had fought.  He who believed in her even now, with a scream burning in her throat.

“I will do it yet.”  Her voice was scarcely above a whisper, her words carrying a weight that steadied her trembling hands.  Anri reached for Crow’s arm, her touch light but resolute.  “I will see to it that Aldrich pays for his sins, even if it kills me.”

It had to be done.  There was no one else left to do it.

A flicker of curiosity lit in her amidst the resolve, her thoughts briefly shifting.

“The Londor hollows – are they a grave danger?”

[schattenmagier]

turn on, sounds, and marks?

[ N - S - F - W Headcanons! // Accepting! ]

turn on — what turns them on?

// There are a few actions that do turn the thief on. Actions she wouldn't openly admit that she likes.

Lilli gets turned on when her tighs, especially her inner tighs, get squeezed, bitten, or if a knee is pushed between them. Bonus points if, when a knee is shoved there, she is also getting pinned. Either down or against a wall doesn't matter.

And on the subject of biting. Yes, she likes that not only on her tighs. The thief especially likes this on her neck, but also any other body part is fine. (there are exceptions though, like her crotch)

Also being fucked roughly is also a big turn on.

sounds — what sounds do they make during sex? do they laugh a lot during sex? are they chatty during sex?

// Good luck getting her to laugh. While the thief isn't super inexperienced, she is still very awkward during sex. But she can be chatty! But her being chatty mostly includes complaining, and maybe insulting her partner, when she is being teased in any kind of way. Any kind of complainig and insults are not serious though.

And if she isn't chatting like this, expect moaning. A lot of it. First they will be barely audible, but the longer it goes on, the louder she gets. Or if it's going to be a rough session.

marks — do they like being marked? do they like marking their partners?

// While we were at biting... Yes. She does like being marked, while getting bitten. That's also a big turn on for her. Lilli does also sometimes mark her partner back, but only if it has been done to her before. It's less her marking someone as her's, but rather as some kind of 'revenge'.

... She of course also might complain to the one marking her with a bite later, if it's in a very obvious place, and she has to cover it up. (Again, not serious complaining because she obviously finds it hot)

[svngraced]

@fishermcn asked: "That's a lot of blood." No real surprise there. With the house of recusants tucked away on these very slopes and the proof of their blasphemy plain as day in the corpses they've strung up, blood flows more freely than water up here. Bit more surprising to see a tarnished not sworn to Rykard scaling the rugged peak of Gelmir, though. From a rocky outcropping a few feet above her, Soot doesn't seem terribly fazed at her being covered in blood up to her elbows. "Woulda been quicker t'just push him over the edge."

it had taken a long time for the Sun-Graced explorer to climb the mountain, most of that may have been spent sneaking around a Magma wyrm and a Fallingstar beast, that was a terrifying experience.

she almost slips when she hears a voice, that would have been quite a tumble. her gaze travels up a few feet to the one who had announced themselves so abruptly. " it would have been, but he would not leave me be. " she does, however, push the body off the cliff with her foot once her crystal dagger is pulled free from the torso.

" i wish 'i do not wish to fight.' was understood by all. "