#the black haired nb is named mouse

[corvusasteris]

character profiles

intro post

Jasper

While in the imperial capital of Melera, you counted him among your closest companions. He is the child of merchants from Thalasseon, the empire to the south, however he has spent most of his life in the Illyosian Empire. For as long as you've known him, he's been obsessed with discovering more about the spirit realm, frequently neglecting work and/or personal relationships while on the trail of some obscure myth.

He's quietly sarcastic and a persistent over-thinker, but fiercely loyal to those he counts among his friends. Your relationship is somewhat complicated by the fact that he believes you to be dead following the incident that prompted your escape from the capital, and vice versa.

appearance - beige skin, shoulder length wavy medium brown hair often tied back from his face, hazel-brown eyes. tall.

notes - his background (either as a spy or scholar) is set depending on whether the MC is a spy or a scholar. precise circumstances around the swift exit from the capital are in the prologue. demiromantic & bi. transmasc.

Leonora

Your first introduction to her was her saving you from certain death at the hands of the Illyosian Empire. She helps you to reconstruct your life in Kemorlen, setting up an alchemists shop next-door as you became the resident mage. You know surprisingly little about her past, besides the fact she was once a mercenary, as evidenced by her skill with a sword.

She's blunt, impulsive and always on the move, creating potions, warding from spirits or starting a fight somewhere, and lives by the policy of acting first and apologising later.

appearance - golden-brown skin, straight black hair often plaited or in a low bun, light brown eyes. tall.

notes - precise circumstances of meeting set by the prologue. bisexual. cis woman.

Augustine

They arrived in town one night, shortly after you did, reportedly from the north east of the empire. Good humoured and quiet, you still can't shake the feeling that they're hiding something. Their skill as a healer is unrivalled, and they quickly become a key part of the team dealing with all the magical oddities of Kemorlen, alongside you and Leonora.

They have a tendency to freeze in a crisis and are slightly squeamish, with a dry sense of humour. They don't trust easily, always seem to be looking over their shoulder, and they don't seem to sleep a great deal.

appearance - light brown skin, dark brown neck-length loosely curly hair, dark brown eyes and freckles. short.

notes - bisexual. non-binary.

Mira

She wanders into town one day, lyre in hand, and entrances the townsfolk with melodic tales of heroes, gods and strange creatures. She has been wandering the roads of Aiolos as a bard after being exiled from her home kingdom of Luria, gathering stories (and gold) from wherever she goes. She also seems to collect small animals, including a tiny mouse she imaginatively calls mouse.

You expect her to move on quickly, but she stays for reasons she doesn't disclose. She's pessimistic and absent-minded, always getting half-way through composing songs before forgetting about them and starting a new one.

appearance - deep brown skin, long curly dark brown hair, dark brown eyes. medium height.

notes - bi and asexual. cis woman.

Theo

They are a spirit that technically speaking you are responsible for bringing back from the underworld. Their memories are faded and patchy from being dead, but a sense that they have been wronged remains, as does a deep-rooted want for revenge. They tell you that they were a ruler, once, of a northern kingdom that they can't recall the name of.

They're awkward, contemplative and restless, unsure of who or what they are in a world that thinks them to be dead, and desperately wanting closure on their old life.

appearance - fair skin, messy short light brown slightly reddish hair, grey eyes. short.

notes - gender selectable either cis male or nb. bisexual.

[zenpai-senpai]

Trender vs real trans but make it ( not transphobic but also) gay!

Gram: its crazy that people think all fem trans men dont know what we look like.

Matt: yeah, the transmeds love to demonize and invaildate trans men who are bigger or cant bind!

Mouse: they also think we care what they think about us! Lol

[cultgambles]

Dabi headcanons in my head that i’m sharing

not nearly as many as keigo’s but its okay

also how tf y’all post using tumblr mobile ig sucks ass

Masterlist | Requests? open

LETS START IT OFF WITH: I FUCKING HATE LITTLE MOUSE. YAGAMI I LOVE U AND UR COOL BUT I JUST CANT W/THAT NAME

i think he would call u as follows,, doll, doll face, baby, princess if he’s feeling cute

something weird would be like “the fire in my loins”

he has 6’1 energy how did horikoshi make him 5’9...

saw someone’s tik tok about league of villains 2017 house party songs and his would be rockstar by posty and whenever i hear it it’s totally him

i feel like he’s an emo/rock music kinda guy

love that for us

unemotionally unavailable !!!! but i think he does crave love underneath it all it would take a long time tho (to get to that point i mean)

he’s an ass still tho

everyone says he’s a sex GOD but tbh probably not

or maybe one of those dick in the wall kinda things 😂 i could see that

he doesn’t want ppl knowing him bc 1) he’s a villain

he likes being in control. he’s tired from his dad making him train 25/8..he’s tired from being shiggy’s lacky

if u did manage to get into a relationship with him, it would def take a long time to get to that. it probably starts off with no labels/friends w bennies but down the line he would call you his girl/boy/etc (im sorry i dont know the nb equivalent..what is it ?) cuz he’s POSSESSIVE!! sorry fandom dabi seeping into my brain lol

in the beginning he was real self conscious of his scars but now he’s just meh about them

he probably does smell like burnt flesh/campfire/ashes at the end of the day

but he wears cologne to try and mask it

dont ask me what kind (maybe i’ll get to it another time and make an edit...)

sponge baths or moist towelettes to stay semi-clean

i’m not really sure how intense scars feel but wouldn’t it be like kind of numb?? i mean i can see him having to deal with chronic pain daily but idk

also i find it weird how his palms are where his fire comes out but his burns dont match up!!! 

i think his body is designed for an ice quirk, but he got cremation instead

blue is like cold 

so hot its cold type beat

i cant decide whether he has a hot body temp or cold but either is acceptable

like i want him to be snuggable

but also he can snuggle me if hes cold T^T

observant, would rather watch then act, i think he’s pretty lazy besides trying to achieve his goal. will fall asleep almost anywhere, but can also wake up fairly easily

HOWEVER, dabi knows how to play basically every instrument bc his dad’s an overachiever 

ik people are like oh its just ash in his hair..i feel like he would just dye it black UNTIL the weeks leading up to exposing endeavor/hawks

when he did his lil dancy dance 

head scritches!! 

he loves his mom i dont make the rules

[deadly-cipher]

Dear Alternative Community Gatekeepers, Stop

Alternative is not a label which you can give to one 'group' of people. alternatives are non conformists who have no social group. you cant recognise an alternative person by what they wear or look like, so dont try to. they dont all wear the same clothes (like moshers, chavs, goths, indies or any other group of people who try to be individual but all seem to like the same stuff, wear the same clothes and only listen to music which their friends like). alternative people enjoy listening to whatever the hell they like, because they dont just like one type of music, they may just enjoy music on a whole, or it may just depend what kind of a mood they are in to what kind of music they listen too at that time. although this term is based around mysic it also applys to clothes as i said above many groups try to all wear the same stuff in order to fit in, alternatives wear whatever they like, if its designer, and they like it, they will wear it. if its got the name of a band on, and they like it, they will wear it. if there is a song which is by slipnot, and they like it, they will listen to it. if there is a song, which is by eminem, they will listen too it. Punk is not about a certain hair colour, style, or music, although music does take a large part in most punks lives.  Punk is about liking what you like, being yourself, saying what you think and FUCK ALL THE REST.  You don't need a two foot high red mohawk to be a punk, although that is wicked cool. You don't need sleeves, a backpiece, or any tattoos at all to be punk. You don't need a Misfits, Casualties, Sex Pistols or any band like that jacket to be punk. You don't need anything to be punk except for awareness, self respect, respect for others and an open mind. A Goth is someone who sees beauty in the dark side of life. Today's society is focused on negating darkness because it is associated with evil. Think about it - in almost every fairy tale, who is the antagonist? The brunette. Who is the protagonist? The blonde. Dark is evil, evil is bad, and therefore we should wipe all trace of it from our lives. Unfortunately, that's simply not possible. No matter how hard society tries, people still die. Day turns into night. Love becomes loss. It's a fact of life. So while everyone else is denying an entire half of life, the Goths embrace ALL of life, good and bad. Goths understand that the best and most lasting joy is tinged with a little sadness, and that all love is bittersweet. Goths understand that not everybody has to be happy 24/7, and that the way to succeed is not by pretending you are. Sunlit skies are beautiful, yes, but so are dark cloudy ones. What is white without black? What is a rose without thorns? Thus, by embracing the shadows as well as the sun, Goths are, in many cases, actually more emotionally healthy than those in mainstream society.  Emo is an emotional person. They are not depressed all the time and some are acually very happy at times. They do smile, they don't sit in a corner crying all day. Some are actually quite popular and laugh and joke around lots. NB: Emo does not mean the person cuts themselves, they might but that is not why they're emo. The word "scene" coves a large spectrum throughout recent history, but its most modern definition is used to describe certian subcultures and movements. The most notoriously famous and targeted is the alternative music scene, or more specifically, branches of the alternative music scene such as hardcore, indie, fashoionxcore, etc. A breed of scenesters (people on the scene) has begun to come to the forefront. These scenesters are usually very music-savvy and loyal to a few specific genres (typically hardcore, metal, indie, retro, 80's new wave, classic rock, etc. to name a few), of which they dress to exemplify. It is hard to pin down a style for a scene male or female, considering the trends amongst them vary from coast to coast, and certian fads come in and out within their ranks. Typically, though, many scene kids will have facial piercings, tattoos, and longer hair. It is not unusual to see teased hair with long bangs on males, or short fauxhawks (a mohawk without the sides shaved, a fashion-friendly version) on females. It is almost a throwback to the revolution of Britian's glam era, very androgynous and fresh. Scenesters take a lot of pride in their overall image, and often they appreciate shock value. Oftentimes they are thrifty, employing their abilities as bargian-hunters and do-it-yourself gurus to do something unique with their style. Large vintage sunglasses, retro patterns, tight jeans, classic metal/band tees, plastic jewelry, and heavy eye makeup are just some of the incorperations into scene style for either sex. This style and showmanship is at its height during shows (concerts), where often scene kids will meet their friends and size up strangers who visit their turf. There indeed is competition among scenesters...sometimes friendly, sometimes not. Shows are in fact not just concerts, but often a means of socialization for those on the scene. Those people who partake in scene lifestyle often choose to date/socialize only with those like them, which can cause bitterness or rejection to outsiders. The music scene is often associated with other areas that scenesters are interested in, which is liekely, art, photography, creative writing, poetry, tattoos & piercings, civil rights, animal rights, etc. Many scene kids have strong beliefs about these things and consider those who do not to be "posers." They feel that their scene style is not only a fashion statement, but an all-encompassing lifestyle. Many scene kids incorperate their future plans into their lifestyle, going into careers such as journalism, photography, artistry, piercing, tattooing, working for magazines, being musicians, hairstylists, running venues and/or coffee shops, etc. This tends to cause scene kids to congregate, visit, or even move to big cities to find opportunities to meet other scenesters, find jobs that suit them, or to live where they have a plethora of activities that they enjoy readily at their disposal. Recently internet revolutions like myspace.com have provided a new means for the ideas of scene culture to be spead, for scenesters to find new friends, bands, and activities. Scensters design stylish and graphic profile pages to both draw attention to themselves and to find others like them, and many people have joined up with the scene fad due to internet advertising. The downside of many scene atmospheres is that some scene kids tend to develop a superior mentality. Some who are especially popular and affluent can make it harder for the younger, yet-aspiring scenesters to join in with the subculture. This is not always the case, however. Different areas breed different demographics of scene kids. Perhaps part of their attitude comes from the problem that scenesters have begun to feel threatened about their culture being jeopardized because of a sort of trickle down effect. The internet is permitting easy access for anyone who would want to don scene-esque style and jump right in to a culture that scenesters feel they have built from the ground up and developed into a complex lifestyle. However, this lends many to get caught up in popularity contests in local areas as well as on the world wide web. Unfortunately, this can also lead to rifts in scenes. Groups of hardcore scenesters start "crews," often characterized by fierce brotherhood to the point of violence against others who are unlike them or who are in other crews. The scene is dividing amongst itself, due to purists who feel the scene is about music only, and those who have taken the scene fashion to be almost, if not equally, as important as the music itself. Some of the fashionable scenesters stick to their musical roots, but often due to the aforementioned trickle-down effect, there are people joining the scene who are not interested in the music, but are only in it for the attention. Thus, the scene will continue to divide. Whether they will admit it or not, kids interested in this lifestyle of excitement, concerts, body modification, fashion, and overall alluringly unusual aesthetics will continually be labeled as "scene." They chose an alternative path because they wanted to find acceptance elsewhere. Now, they face a community just like any other: one of all different types of people, who have different opinions and standards. It has its pros and cons, ups and downs, just like any lifestyle does. A metalhead is somebody who loves heavy metal. Don't always have the "look". And it's not even necessary to listen to just the classic metal bands, you can listen to the subgenres. You just have to appreciate the genre as a whole. The term: Short for independent rock. In terms of music it would be independent of major labels/mainstream stuff. History: grew out from 60s garage, 70s punk, and 80s post punk it started in the mid 80s as alternative/college radio music. Once nirvana hit big the alternative genre split: the popular side was just alternative(Smashing Pumpkins, Hole, No Doubt, etc.) and the other half that wasn't mainstream(by choice or not) became indie rock(Pavement, Sebadoh, Built To Spill, etc). Some bands have signed to major labels but are still considered indie(Modest Mouse, etc.). Go figure. Sound: In the begining indie sounded like alternative(because it was) but it grew more experimental and weird. In Britain indie has more of a typical sound like Radiohead, Muse, etc. rather than a definition based on 'the scene.'  The scene: if you really think all indie kids do is try to be cooler than other people then... well.. you're mostly right.

[gripefroot]

When Life Gives You Melons

The dull fluorescents and the tinny radio station over the speakers make the grocery store a hotbed of discomfort. Keeps him glancing over his shoulder, waiting for someone with a gun to pop out between boxes and rows of pasta, cackling madly against the liminal backdrop. So, Bucky isn’t exactly in the habit of ‘grocery shopping’ - but he does it for you. 

Or, should he say - with you.  

His knuckles are white on the handle of the shopping cart, and the metal beneath his glove creaks slightly. He tries to ignore the crackling music. The other people standing around - barely moving, barely aware - so slow at ten a.m. on a Tuesday. It’s easiest to keep his eyes on you.  

Whether you’re aware that he’s watching or not - and he fancies you do - there’s no shiver of discomfort, no hesitancy. Fingers curling around bright, plump lemons; weighing them in your palm with a bitten lip in concentration. It’s all very domestic, but that doesn’t make it less sexy. Bucky swallows thickly as your tongue hovers on the cusp of your top lip - still thinking? - and then with a breathy sigh that reminds him of dark nights in the bedroom, you put that particular lemon back.  

Testing his patience? He wouldn’t wonder.  

“You’re pretty,” he blurts, but keeps his voice lazy. Make sure you remember that two can play at this game - this cat and mouse dance where he isn’t sure who’s the cat and who’s the mouse - except that both parties seem to end enormously satisfied. His lips curl into a smug smile as you glance over, eyes dancing.  

“Lemons turn you on?” A suggestive wiggle of the brows, and he barely manages to suppress a laugh into a snort - draw less attention, that way. “Do we need to look at the bananas, next?” you add, and Bucky nearly chokes.  

“You tryna kill me, babe?” 

“You’re cute when you’re flustered.” Another lemon weighed, while your gaze, all hot and heady, stays on him - he swallows again, and your smile is all satisfaction. “What’s next on the list?” you ask, twisting the bag of lemons closed.  

“Um - it just says ‘fruit’.” 

“Let’s go see what looks good, then.” 

Nectarines and plums are out of season, looking small and sad. Pineapple is overpriced. Bucky pauses to sniff some peaches, dragging a scarlet-and-orange globe to his nose to catch any hint of ripeness.  

“Hey. What do you think?” 

He glances ahead - facing him square on, wicked smile on your face - a honeydew in each hand, held chest-high. He blinks. And then he laughs.  

“Nice melons,” Bucky jokes.  

“Thanks. I thought you might like them.” 

“So, you’re saying - we don’t need any because you already got some?” He quirks a brow.  

“Well,” your brows pinch in serious thought. “We can’t eat mine for supper, now can we?” 

“I could.” 

“Won’t fill you up.”  

He shrugs. “Overrated.” 

“If you’re really not interested in food,” a glint in your eyes now, that prickles heat across his skin, “I can offer alternative...eating options.” 

“I’ll take them,” he says promptly. 

“Perfect.” A sly smile - but a honeydew goes into the cart anyway, and he smiles back a sloppy, lovesick grin that makes his bones vibrate with joy, and he forgets how much he hates grocery stores as he follows you towards the misty display of fresh herbs. 

This rare day off together makes Bucky wish for more. His last mission in Neuquén, yours in Kuala Lumpur - still half-jet lagged, but every moment special. Even in the mundane ones, like opening a plastic bag so that you can slide some basil in as you slant a smirk up at him.  

“What?” he asks.  

“Oh, nothing.” 

“Uh, huh. What is it?” 

“Can’t I enjoy shopping with my boyfriend?” A blithe question, almost accusatory - but really, it’s a challenge. He’d be able to hear it in your voice from a mile away.  

“Without ulterior motives?” Bucky teases. “Fat chance, babe.”  

A tiny gasp, breaking off into a laugh.  

“I know you just want a piece of this,” he adds in a low voice, and by that glint in your eyes - he knows he’s right. Makes his belly flame hot, and he smiles as he drives the cart behind you, watching how you sway just so… 

It’s a shame there’s no thigh holster, today. But it’s a grocery store. And your knife is beneath your shirt, anyway. 

Maybe he can disarm you, later.  

“You know what we haven’t done yet?” you ask absently, as the checkouts beep. Putting goods on the runway, as Bucky surreptitiously tosses in about three packs of gum. 

“Hmm?” 

“We haven’t gotten anything for the baby.” 

Oh. Right. The baby. His lips press together in his usual contradiction of emotions when he considers this - happiness for 41 and her glowing smiles, annoyance at Clint for desecrating her, and maybe a little jealousy. Not that he’s brave enough to bring that topic up to you - he’s not even sure if such a future is possible for him - but with a sigh he shakes off these feelings for later. 

“We can go later,” he suggests. Gets a flash of a smile for that as you glance over.  

“After lunch?” 

“Sure.”  

Carrying bags of groceries back to your apartment should be tedious. But it’s not. Not with your elbow linked through his, making an obnoxious plastic bags-assassin-plastic bags-secret agent-plastic bags train, plowing through the Manhattan sidewalks as New Yorkers cast scowls for the inconvenience. Bucky doesn’t care. And he knows you don’t, either.  

Over sandwiches, a quick search into baby stores. He doesn’t know any, and you admit to only being familiar with baby stores in your hometown. He chuckles to himself, resting his chin on your shoulder as he gazes over at the screen of your phone, too.  

“A mall?” he says suddenly, good feelings gone. “Babe - no.”

“We won’t find anything anywhere else,” you point out. “Not unless you want to travel an hour.” 

“I don’t like malls.”

“I know, Buck.” A twist of your head, the lightest peck to his pouting lips. “Don’t worry. I’ll be there.” 

Bucky wrinkles his nose. Pretends to think. “Well, gee,” he drawls at last. “A pretty girl to hold my hand?” 

“And pinch your behind,” you interrupt. 

“And that? Well - how can a fellow say no?” A grin - which you return with a laugh, and he presses a noisy kiss to your cheek. “But if you drag me into a candle store, I’m rioting,” he promises, and you wriggle in his embrace.  

“I like a good riot every now and then,” you say lightly. “Don’t tempt me.” 

A groan, a roll of the eyes, a laugh - teasing all the way out the door, a casual pair in sneakers and jackets with fewer weapons than usual, still stowed away… 

As much as Bucky detests busy places, it’s not so bad with you. Your whispered comments on the subway and into the mall, teasing about this or that, murmuring quips at a hundred miles an hour as he tries to keep from drawing attention by laughing the entire time. But he’s grinning, his face hurts, and your smirk is the prettiest, most lethal thing he’s seen.  

The baby store, a sign lit up bright blue with little bunny and fox decals filling up the massive windows in the front. Bucky squeezes your hand more tightly, seeing families milling around and hearing the high-pitched whine of babies -  

It’s okay. Of course it’s okay. He’d rather listen to a baby cry than gunfire, any day.  

“I’m gonna text 41 and see what she needs,” you decide. Pause you pull out your phone, and Bucky lets his eyes rove. Bright displays - tiny baby shoes in every color and pattern and style, lined up on a rack. Headbands and hair clips and hats and bow ties and neckties...Bucky wanders over, curious in the oddest way. They made stuff this little? For babies? 

Without thinking, his lips draw down in a concentrated frown: hesitating only for a moment, before picking up with one hand - suddenly looking very large - a pair of black Converse shoes, which look like each one might fit one of his fingers. He looks at them one way, and then another. 

Maybe it’s just been too long since he’s seen a baby. Bucky doesn’t remember his sisters or kid cousins ever being this tiny.  

“Do we - ” he starts, wondering if baby Barton needs little shoes. Glances over at you, wanting an answer - but you’re staring, and he starts. Hadn’t noticed how intently you’re looking at him - phone limp in your hand, blinking fast, and if he tilts his head, listening to the rapid pitter-patter of your heart rate, suddenly elevated. “Are you okay, babe?” Bucky asks, concerned with a pinch of his brow - puts the shoes carefully back on the rack.  

“Ye - yeah.” A squeak. High-pitched and thin. He frowns now - this is unlike you. Keeping his eyes fixed firmly on your face, searching for any hint of illness or otherwise, he strides back to your side, clasping your elbow with the fingers of his flesh hand.  

“Did 41 text you back already?” Bucky asks. Watches the widening of your pupils, the sudden catch in your breath. 

“Oh - um, yes. They need…socks.” 

“Socks?” 

“And, um, bibs.”  

“Perfect. You wanna…” He lifts a brow. “Divide and conquer? Or…?” 

“Let’s…” You swallow. “Let’s stick together.” 

“Fine by me.” Bucky smiles - a reassuring, bracing smile, to you in the midst of the baby store chaos, and he reaches down to squeeze your hand lightly. Your flesh is hot and damp. “They’re having a girl, right?” he prompts, as you lick your lips. Almost hungrily. Hmm.  

“Uh - yeah.” A flicker of a smile, a shake of your head. “Maybe they’ll name her after me,” you joke, and he laughs as he tugs you towards the sock display.  

“What? 28? Or Agent?” 

“Ha, ha.” A dark, mischievous look. Bucky snorts with a shake of his head. Turns his head to study the rack of socks. Frowns some more.  

“How about these?” he asks dubiously. Pokes a pack of striped socks. 

“No,” you say. “Bucky - those are 6-9 month size. The baby comes out a newborn. See?” And with a tap of the fingers, you point towards the sizing, printed clearly at the top of the package. Eyes twinkling, as Bucky shakes his head. 

“This store is complicated.” 

“Just look for a pair labelled ‘NB’.”  

He does. Looks past the printed airplanes, the animals, the solid colors. You bench slightly to examine the lower racks, all lace frills and bows. Cars, alligators, unicorns.  

“Oh. This one.” Bucky reaches out - picks up an appropriately sized pack. Six pairs - doughnuts, lollipops, hard candy, cake, and pie. You laugh.  

“Perfect.” 

“Gosh, they’re so tiny.” With some effort he wiggles a finger into one of the doughnut socks - terribly soft and stretchy, but teeny - chortles to himself as he glances down at you, still crouched - and sees, again, that funny expression on your face as you stare. You let out a long, low breath. Are your hands shaking? “Babe?” Bucky asks, baffled. 

“It’s just - it’s getting hot in here.” A taut smile as you rise to your feet again. A meaningful look in your eyes. Oh, is that - oh. Bucky swallows, hard, and your fingers reach to unzip your jacket. “Really hot,” you add, with some exertion in your voice. Jacket pulled off. He swallows again.  

“Oh - er, ok.” His finger is still inside the sock. He pulls it off, groaning softly.  

“Maybe it’s best if we split up,” you suggest. “I’ll - I’ll go find...something. You’re on bibs.”  

“Okay, babe.” 

He watches the top of your head out of the corner of his eye - picking out jammies that look about the size to hold a banana, he thinks wryly. And he rifles through bibs. Finds a set to match the socks amongst the seeming hundreds of options, and feels immensely proud.  

Oh. Oh boy - Bucky catches sight, on top of the bib rack, of a basket full of stuffed animals. Bunnies, elephants, monkeys. Pink and purple and blue. At one end, a crowning jewel: a pale-tan alpaca llama, decorated colorfully with bangles and a saddle and reins.  

He has to get it.  

“Babe,” he hisses, arms full of merchandise - wandering over to the jammies, where you have at least four pairs slung over your arm as you hold up a purple-and-pink striped pair for view. “Babe, we have to get this.” Wriggles the llama for your inspection, and you lift a brow.  

“Of course we can,” you say with a smile. “It’ll look great next to your bed.” 

“Not for me,” Bucky says, affronted. “For the baby.” 

“Sure.” The striped jammies go over your arm, too.  

“You ready to go?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think we got enough.” A smile, gazing over the merchandise in his arms. Bucky offers a hopeful smile. Your bottom lip catches between your teeth - another once over, this one slower. He hears, yet again, the pickup in your heart beat. Glazed eyes, shifting your weight slightly… 

“You sure you’re alright?” he asks doubtfully. “Your heart is going really fast.”  

“Oh, yeah,” you say. Breathless and soft. “Um - can we...we should stop somewhere before heading home.” 

“You sure?” Absently Bucky’s flesh fingers run down the alpaca - freakishly smooth and fluffy alpaca - whatever it’s made out of. He’s sure he’s never touched anything so soft… “What’s so important?” he asks, as your lashes flutter so slightly, your burning eyes still on his face.  

“Umm…” Darting tongue, wet lips. Skin radiating more heat than usual. “Having my way with you in the nearest bathroom.” 

“Let’s go,” he suggests. “Sooner the better.” 

“Yes,” you agree. “Let’s.” 

Nervous energy at the checkout - fumbling with cash, grabbing the bag too fast to be polite. Shared, secret laughs as the baby store is left behind, bag swinging, and you jerk your head towards a family bathroom. Unlocked.  

“This is nasty,” Bucky announces, as you lock the door behind him - creepy lights, a ripe smell. But then your hands are on him, pawing at his belt as he groans aloud - bag drops to the floor, and he doesn’t hesitate to lift you by your hips, pressing your back to a wall.  

“You,” you pant. Teeth gnash against his neck as he tugs down your jeans with some difficulty - underwear pushed aside. “Are so sexy. Bucky, you’re so sexy.” 

“Huh?” Not that he’s complaining - especially when his brain and senses are so doped up on you.  

“Ugh - holding those baby socks. You’re lucky I didn’t pull off your pants and suck you off right then and there.”  

Bucky shudders head to toe, eyes fuzzy - and with some magic because he ain’t thinking right now - sinks right into; hot and wet and moaning so pretty in his ear, and he’s so warm still mostly-clothed, but he doesn’t care - thrusting up and in as you melt around him. Barely staying on his shaking legs, ignoring the distant sound of mall-goers walking by - no, this is more important.  

He buries his face into your neck, losing himself in the husky vibrations of your moans - clenches up when you do, choking out a grunt as you bear down on him.  

Like, two minutes. Efficient. His head is still rushing, though.  

“Oh, oh, Bucky - look.” A twist of your head, and blearily, Bucky follows your gaze. 

The bag on the floor, discarded in aroused haste - above just peeking out of the top, the beady black eyes of the softest-ever alpaca. Staring right at him. Sewn-on smile frozen.  

“Do you...do you think he saw?” Bucky asks hoarsely.  

“Definitely.” A little kiss pressed to his temple, but he barely feels it.  

“Babe...we can’t give the baby that alpaca.”  

“No?” you ask with some amusement. Hold around his neck tightening. “We can adopt him, then. It’s a he? Have you named him yet, Buck?”  

“Robert.” 

A tinkling laugh in his ear. “Robert? That’s such a grown-up name! Not even Robbie or Bobby?” 

“He’s an adult,” Bucky says firmly. “After what he just saw? No llama has ever grown up so fast in the history of llamakind.”  

“Bobby,” you counter. “Now let me down. I can feel the germs crawling on me.”  

There’s a softer light in your eyes after that - heat still lingering in the back, but it makes Bucky feel cozy and warm as he zips his pants back up. Hands washed. Bag picked up. Awkwardly he pushes Bobby’s head further down in the bag with a wince, as you laugh again.  

“Melon for dinner?” you chirp, as he wrenches open the door.  

“Uh - sure. Melon for dinner.”  

[alien-rainbow]

By Your Side Until My Death (8/?)

Chapter 8: Welcome To Wonderland

Available on AO3

Princess Artemis, the eldest daughter of the kingdom of Olympus is to be married to her childhood nightmare. In a land where anything remotely magical is banned, Zoë fears for her and Ladon's life but knows that she could never leave the princess's side if she tried. Magical beings, a forbidden romance, family secrets, and safety for magic all wait beyond the kingdom's borders.

- 3rd person, will be completed eventually, teen, not completed, Zartemis

Artemis was sitting once again on a dragon's back as they flew deeper into the forest. Though this time she was perched on top of Landon with Zoë and Athena. Athena was only a child in the dragon's eyes so he didn't see her as a threat and Zoë often smelled like Artemis when she went to see her dragon so he felt safe around her too. Thalia and Reyna weren't the same and the sight of them with weapons, even once they were put away, caused the dragon to attack.

They were flying over acres of colors then blended together because of the speed they were traveling at. Festus was above them with the rest of the group and flapped five times for every one of Ladon's wing beats. The copper-colored dragon was three times as big as the fire-breathing dragon who they learned was also Leo's Assero creature.

Artemis didn't even feel cold as she felt her sister shiver in her arms. Festus was definitely warmer, he radiated warmth while Ladon had normal body heat for a dragon (at least that's what Zoë and Annabeth said). Artemis was more sensitive to heat them cold, she loved the winter when it got colder and the moon was up for longer than the sun.

"Are you okay?" Zoë asked turning to look at the two sisters. They both nodded as Athena snuggled closer to her sister trying to streal her heat. "Are you cold? Would you like my cloak"?" Zoë aks noticing that Artemis's arms were still smooth and not cover in goosebumps even though she only had the tunic and loose cotton shirt on. The younger woman had wrapped her cloak around her younger sister, claiming that she didn't need it. And from the looks of it, she really didn't.  

"No thank you, I'm fine, the cold never bothered me anyways," Artemis said blushing at the woman's genuine and constant concern for her wellbeing. "Did you ask how long it would take?" Artemis asked wrapping her arms tighter around her sister. She wanted to get her sister out of the cold and somewhere safe and warm as soon as possible.

"Another two hours I believe, Annabeth said they have to be quite far in to stay safe."

"From who?" Athena questioned tilting her head to the side like a lost pup.

"She wouldn't say," Zoë said her voice drifting into silence. With that, the three decided that it was time to stop talking. Athena pulled out of her bag and began reading trying to distract herself from the cold and fear that was doubled by the uncertainty. The time later, she slammed her book closed and shoved it into her bag.

"Where are we going? what are we doing? what are we going to do? Why are we going with them?" Athena demanded, "I hate being in the dark." Artemis knew she wasn't talking about the actual darkness, she may have felt a little uneasy but not hate. The younger sister hated not knowing what was going on and what was going on.

"We are going with people that seem to want to help us, they will one way or another give us more information, especially magic," saying the last word sent a shive of anticipation through her body. The word mafic was taboo back in Olympus, but out here it was normal, everything was magic.    

 "That still doesn't give me a lot of information. We don't know what we are walking into and without any information, we can't make an accurate functioning plan. I hate it."

"I know, but do you really want to risk losing them? They know stuff about magic that we will not be able to learn without them. I don't know about you, but I need to know."

"I want to know too," Athena said frowning at the dragon above them.

"Then we will find out everything," Zoë said speaking to the two sisters. "Though I believe your thirst for knowledge is impossible to satisfy." Athena laughed and agreed that no amount of information would ever be enough and that there would always be more to know.

The golden dragon then began to fly lower to the ground before it had placed itself near as it could to Ladon without risking touching.

"We are landing soon! just follow us!" Percy screamed through the wind. Zoë rolled her eyes at the loud male but nodded her head and repositioned herself on Ladon's huge back. The golden dragon then shot forward so it was flying in front and just above the copper-colored dragon. The two dragons were flying towards a small mountain hidden in the trees, it's top jetted out only a few feet above the tops of the trees.  

Festus flew into a gap followed closely by Ladon. The two dragons ducked, dived, and danced through the cracks and gases until they came to the center of the mountain. The holloed out dome was covered in glowing flowers and branches and gaps in the stone let in the intense moonlight. There was a waterfall on the far end of the done that fell into a sparkling blue pool filling the cavern with the sound of running water.

Artemis's eyes widened as she saw what was on the walls. Hundreds of animals were perched in caves, on sideways growing trees and branches and hanging from vines. Dozens of holes and cracks filled the walls, some small enough for a mouse and others big enough for Festus. Said dragon landed on the ground and backed towards the edge to allow the larger dragon to safely land.

"Welcome to Bunker 9!" Leo said jumping of his Assero and walking towards Ladon. "This is where I found Festus! This whole thing was already hollowed out but abandoned. It was originally my workshop but then a bunch of Asseros decided to stay here. Now it's both!" He spreading his arms out gesturing to the huge cavern. A huge smile was on his face as he looked around the room. "Ladon can stay here whenever he wants." Zoë sild off Ladon and stood next to Athena and Artemis who had hopped off the second they had landed.  

"Thank you but he will probably find a place where he can be alone. He doesn't really like a large group of people," Zoë said as she placed a hand on one of Ladon's many heads. Leo nodded and went back to the copper-colored dragon and begin talking with him. The dragon responded with a series of clicks the sounded strangely like mores code.

"Annabeth!" someone yelled running out through one of the tunnels. She ran over to the blond and threw her arms around her pestring the blond with worries and questions. The girl had long brown hair that had a few braids, some of which head peacock feathers. She was shorter than Annabeth and had darker skin too. She wore the same orange shirt but had an embroidered tunic on over it.

"Piper I'm fine," Annabeth said trying to calm down the worried girl, who handed Annabeth a small yellow and orange kitten who must have ben Bobbito.

"Who are they?" The peacock feathers girl asked pointing to Athena, Reyna, Thalia, Zoë, and Artemis who were all standing next to Ladon. Annabeth then began to explain to the girl who they were gesturing to them all while she said their names. Artemis was surprised that she remembered them, they had only said their names a few times. The girl then walked up to them and held her hand out.

"I'm Piper McClean, its nice to meet you," Reyna and Athena shook her hand while the others stood back and watched. They all returned the greeting though with faked happiness. Three others came from the same tunnel that Piper had entered from minutes ago and went to their friends.

One was a tall male with pale skin and close-cut black hair. He had a strong muscular build and was wearing a purple shirt compared to the orange most of the others wore. He also had a golden horse eagle hybrid pin attached to his tunic. He jogged over to the others with Hazle walking behind him. The other was a tall girl with caramel hair that was braided over one shoulder and dark almond-shaped eyes. She ran over to Leo and threw her arms around the shorter boy hugging him, then pulled him into a quick kiss.

"Are You guys ready to go?" Annabeth asked appearing beside Artemis.

"Go where?" Athena inquired.

"We are currently in Buker 9, which is part of Montauk Hills, AKA the only organized magical community. We all live in Camp New Blood, which is an organization of mostly younger people who are working to improve magic and rescuing beings of magic from the cities and bring them here. A place where they will be safe and learn to use their magic."

"Is that why you broke into that orphanage?" Artemis questioned.

"Yes," Annabeth said smiling. "People with magic are in great danger in this world, 'normal' people are scared of us, and try to kill us. The people at Camp NB are working to save the next generation of magic."

No one knew what to say to that, so they just nodded and said that they ready to go. Annabeth then leads then through the tunnel that the others had come through. The tunnels hove through different areas and opened up to a new area every few feet. Glowing vines colted the sides and top of the tunnel and glowing rocks coated the bottom.

After what seemed like only ten minutes of walking they exited the tunle. They had walked way farther but the tunes were enchanted so that you could places quicker than should have been possible.

They were standing at the top of a green hill that looked down upon the camp. It was surrounded by a fast-flowing river that was said to act as a barrier if ever needed. At the widest part of the river, there was a small island with a tall pine tree that had a golden blanket hanging from its branches, another defense. And wrapped around the base of the tree was a slumbering dragon, a defense for the defense.

Reyna, Thalia, Athena, Zoë, and Artemis stood at the top of the hill staring down in wonder. Most of the others had already walked down towards the river laughing talking with each other. The only ones that had stayed with them were Annabeth, Nico, and Will. The shortest of the three walked up to the group of girls and after taking in their shocked expression said.  

"It's a lot to take in, isn't it?" He said turning away from then to gaze across the grounds, he sounded like he spoke from experience. The five of them nodded or should some for agreement still not being able to form words. After a beat of silence, Nico turned back to the girls saying, "Well let me be the first to welcome you to Camp New Blood."

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

Only magical community = Montauk Hills (Like a city) Explanation = Camp Jupiter: Its entrance is a service tunnel near the main Caldecott Tunnel in the Oakland Hills, near San Francisco. ||||||||||Camp HB: The camp is in Montauk, at the end of Long Island.)

The cave thing for Assero creature and Leo's workshop = Bunker 9

Camp New Blood = Young magic peoples that are rescuing other magic people and becoming supper powerful cuz why not? Explanation: New Rome and Half-Blood

[ruleandruinrpg]

CONGRATULATIONS, ISAAC!

You have been accepted for the role of ARSEN TARASOV. Admin Rosey: Truly, I could not be more over the moon with your portrayal of Arsen. It’s like you plucked him out of my head and brought him too life -- everything from what drew you to him to the smallest of headcanons had me saying YES, YES, YES. You showed me the perfect amount of what I expected to see, what I knew of Arsen, and those aspects of him I did not expect at all. By the time I finished your application, I knew it was the right fit. Arsen would be upset. I would be upset. The whole of Ravka would be upset if I denied them this Arsen you have brought to life. Thank you, so much for your beautiful application and welcome to R&R!  You have 24 HOURS to send in your account. Also, remember to look at the CHECKLIST. Welcome to Ravka!

OUT OF CHARACTER

ALIAS: Isaac

PREFERRED PRONOUNS: he/him.

AGE: 22

TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL: 7 out of 10. I’m a college student with depression – muse can come and go, school can sap that life out of me. That said, I do my best to get online when every day and read through replies/communicate with other players, especially since school is over for the summer. There are times when I’m replying every day and times when it’s not so frequent but, for the most part, I’m good at getting my replies every 2-3 days.

TRIGGERS: OMITTED

CURRENT/PAST ACCOUNTS: @il-scarvves / @lxllian / @thxnecromancer, @bxgbadwxlf, @greybvck, @rjlcpin

IN CHARACTER

DESIRED CHARACTER: Arsen Timofei Tarasov

ARSEN: if you changed one letter, what would you get? You’d get a raging fire; a fire that burned, that destroyed, cruel as death and all too intentional. Arson. The comparison was there, was made, and even it’s blue eyed subject couldn’t deny it. But arson is crude; arson is the action of a human seeking entertainment. Arsen is purposeful and he is anything but human. If Arsen wants to destroy for fun, he has a million ways to do it besides his flame.

TIMOFEI: what a joke. Timofei – one who honors God. Arsen is a devil with horns and the smile of a sankt. God? Angel? No. Never. Violence courses though him; Gods can be capricious, even cruel, but they don’t take kindly to boys with pride and boys with pride don’t take kindly to being told to submit. His parents tried, tried to give him a name that might humble Arsen. They failed.

TARASOV: not noble, not rich – when he was born, he was swaddled in rough cloth that grated his soft skin. If the name Tarasov means anything to anyone it’s because of Arsen, because of the boy that burns brighter than the sun and who has stars for eyes.

WHAT DREW YOU TO THIS CHARACTER? How could I not be drawn like a moth to a flame? Arsen, as a character, burns with boldness and glimmers with beauty. Characters like his, who disdain all but few, who put himself above all if he could, who take delight in creating chaos – they’re just so much fun (and so, so irresistible).

As a character, those were things that drew me to Arsen – that vanity, beauty, and arrogance but also his love for his brothers and his fire. As a person, I was drawn to the fact that he identifies as a demiboy. I’m genderfluid, typically using male pronouns and presenting as masculine though not always. The fact this character that I fell in love with is also NB like me and uses fluid pronouns like me really meant a lot. He’s bisexual too but not specifically the guy who sleeps with everything that breathes; none of his connections are sexual in nature and while he’s described as a ‘creature of passion and indulgence’, it doesn’t necessarily mean ‘guy who slept with everyone’ – I was able to interpret a bisexual character who was sex-positive but not sex-obsessed and that’s really important too.

WHAT FUTURE PLOT IDEAS DID YOU HAVE IN MIND?

A CHILD’S GAME: when Arsen was young, he had a game he liked to play with his siblings. It wasn’t a game they were privy to, just unwitting pawns for him to manipulate. He turned one against another and delighted in the fallout, swooping in at the last second with a charming grin and comforting words. I don’t that think that changed when he was brought to Os Alta; just because they fanned his flames, gave him more outlets for his cruelty, doesn’t mean old habits died, especially ones he delighted in so. I’d like to see Arsen continue to play his games, to manipulate others, turn one against another with a sly look and a whispered ‘did you hear…?’ I’d like to explore the outcomes of past games; people who’ve caught on to his tactics, people who have fallen victim to them, and, most of all, the unwitting pawns for all his future plays. Maybe, even, someone to play these games with – a chess-master against another chess-master.

A MAN’S HEART: Arsen loves few and trusts fewer. There is Valerian, who he’d die for, and Shona and Luka who brighten up his days but, beyond that, there’s not much. But there could be and then there could be heartbreak and I want to see that disaster. I want to see him love someone in the way he does (romantically or otherwise) – that way that consumes him, makes him need them like air, makes him red-hot with jealousy – and then see it all fall apart. See his anger, his hurt, see it crumble his well-controlled flame, manicured facade, and stone walls. I want to see him break, I want to see him become ashes, and I want to see what rises from those ashes; he’s a star and I want to see what happens when the star dies – does he fade into a black dwarf, does he become a new neutron star, or does he become a black hole?

A DEVIL’S HALO: when dealing with a character with so much pride, you can’t help but think of the ultimate embodiment of pride – that, and what happened to him. What happens when his pride becomes to much? When one too many compliments sends the whole pile toppling? Does he resemble another star with too much pride or does something else happen? Wound his pride, is what I’m saying. Make him fail, make him realize he isn’t a heavenly being, and make him deal with that.

WOULD YOU BE WILLING TO HAVE YOUR CHARACTER DIE? No, I don’t think so. I think everything short of death – every fall from grace, every punishment, every torture – I’d be okay with but I’d rather play Arsen through his falls and hardships. I’m attached already tbh.

IN DEPTH

IN CHARACTER PARA SAMPLE(S):

She was a small slip of a girl with mouse brown hair and ruddy cheeks that starkly contrasted her snow-pale skin. It was an earthen look, one that was a dime a dozen around the Little Palace, and not something Arsen Tarasov cared for. In another universe, they wouldn’t have looked twice at her; they wouldn’t have looked twice at her here (they weren’t exactly fond of all the young Grisha in training – they were grating and messy) but she was everywhere they went. Lurking around corners, standing a hall-length away… It was getting unnerving.

Unnerving but not unsurprising.

It wasn’t the first time they’d attracted an admirer; shining as brilliantly as a star, as inviting as a flame, how could Arsen not attract a few hanger-ons? That didn’t mean they were welcome, especially not when they were stalking Arsen through the Little Palace, being everywhere they turned.

Valerian was the first to notice it, actually. They stood beside their friend, their brother by everything but blood, chatting and catching up in the gardens. Valerian had glanced over their shoulder and Arsen had rolled his eyes. How could anyone take their attention off of them? Especially when they were talking. The blond frowned and playfully shoved their friend’s shoulder.

“My eyes are here, love.” Their expression was twisted with one of those dramatic, faux-pouts. Arsen wasn’t upset, just mildly annoyed.

“And what beautiful eyes they are,” crooned Valerian in response, lips curled in a crooked grin. “I think someone else noticed too.” He jerked his head towards the opposite side of the gardens. Arsen huffed and glanced over, eyes scanning the scene until they noticed the girl half-hidden behind a column.

They noticed her freckles, like dirt, and her red cheeks that made her look like she’d just been exercising. That was all they cared to notice though.

“What about her?”

It was Valerian’s turn to roll his eyes which he did and then, to top it off, he shook his head. “Just thought you’d like to know that you’ve got a little stalker.”

“I didn’t.” If Arsen sounded annoyed it was because they were annoyed. They’d been talking, after all, about the other day when they’d embarrassed Rita. It was a much more important topic than that little girl lurking in the shadows.

…Said every petulant five year old ever.

And, like the parent of every petulant five year old, Valerian relented and let the subject return to what it had been. Not that Arsen was a five year old but they could be petulant at times, especially around someone they trusted like Valerian; this, of course, was not something the golden-haired Adonis would ever admit.

From there on, Arsen noticed her more and more in the places they went. The people they talked to did too – at least Shona and Luka did though because they’d actually noticed her or because Valerian had told them, Arsen couldn’t be sure. She was there nonethless, behind every turn, staring at them with wide, dark eyes. The only times she wasn’t there was when, they presumed, she was in her classes.

They learned her name from one of the others in the Little Palace: Nadzeija, Durast. She was young and Arsen wanted nothing to do with her. Despite the disdainful looks they gave her, that annoyed curl of their expression anytime she appeared in their line of sight, she didn’t give up. They applauded her tenacity even it annoyed them beyond reproach. They knew they were irresistible but couldn’t she get a hint? The fire is pretty but, unless you’re something special, you don’t play with it.

The straw the broke the camel’s back occurred on a snowy day. Arsen disliked snow. It put them in a sour mood from the moment they woke up and peered out the window. Seeing the white dusting on the roofs, the flakes fluttering through the air… Arsen glowered at the world outside like it had insulted their mother – or themself rather, they didn’t care much if someone insulted their mother.

Breakfast had been bland and the blond had felt a headache coming on as they sat at the long table, listening to all the chatter that surrounded them. Valerian was out that morning and that was just a cherry on top. As they were leaving breakfast, they ran headfirst into the mousy girl.

It was the closest they’d ever gotten. She wasn’t much different up close: freckles, red cheeks, pale skin, limp dark hair, and big dark eyes. The most notable thing was how short she was. They easily had a foot on Nadzeija, maybe more. She looked nervous too, standing beneath his icy gaze.

“Uh… I’m sorry for, uh…” she stuttered, looking down at her feet which scraped against the stone floor. Arsen rolled their eyes.

“For what? Running into me or stalking me?”

Someone snickered as they passed them by.

If it was possible, Nadzeija’s cheeks got redder; she certainly got quieter.

Had she really not noticed that they’d noticed her? Did she think she’d snuck up on them? Been able to steal glances and out-clever the fiery fox? If she had, she was more foolish than they’d originally thought.

Arsen could’ve left her alone in that moment; she was already shamed, already likely to go straight back to her room, bury her head in her pillow, and not be seen for another week. She was looking at the ground like she wanted it to swallow her whole. They could’ve let her go. They didn’t. Mercy might have been a word in their vocabulary but it was only one they brought out at the right time; other times, they were as cruel and wounding as a blaze. This time was the latter.

“It’s disturbing, you know. Looking over my shoulder and always know that there’ll be someone there, watching me. I can barely piss in peace. Look across the dining hall, you’re staring at me. Turn the corner, you’re there. Glance around, find you. It’s creepy, not cute.” With every word, the girl sunk into herself more, like a flower wilting. Arsen didn’t care. “Your dedication might be endearing if it weren’t some wildly misapplied; now you’re just a stalker. What’s the next step? Going to steal my underwear? Kidnap me? I bet if I looked in you’re journal, there’d be little doodles of me and little hearts with Mrs. Tarasov in them. What do you have to say for yourself, hn? What defense can your little brain come up with? A crush? Dear, that’s obsession. Well, I’m all ears.”

A silent beat passed, then another. Her head was still bowed, her bangs obscuring her expression. Her fingers were clutched into fists at her side though; no doubt, her heart was pounding in her chest. Arsen waited though, grinning like the cat that caught the canary – it was a cold and cruel expression, one that could cut through steel resolve. Not that she seemed the type to be so hardened; she looked like glass about to shatter.

Another beat passed and then she turned; her heals squeak on the floor and she began to walk away. They watched her go but she didn’t turn back around, didn’t even lift her head. She nearly bumped into someone again as she walked away – that someone had been Valerian. He watched her go then turned back to Arsen.

“What did you do?” he asked apprehensively, looking his brother up and down.

“We just talked.”

“You made her cry.”

Arsen shrugged their shoulders. “She deserved it.”

“I think our definitions of deserve might be a little different.” That was the last Valerian said on the subject though; there were better things to do than argue.

Next time Arsen looked over his shoulder, the girl wasn’t there.

CHARACTER HEADCANONS:

RED ROUGE: I can see Arsen being someone who likes to wear make-up – a red lip tint, something to darken and line his eyes, etc. While he’s already gorgeous without the make-up, of course (an angel loses their wings every time he admires himself I sweat. to. God.), he thinks it makes him prettier.

HEART-BEATING FAST: I mentioned that I see his love as something that is all-consuming, like an inferno. Allow me to explain: Arsen doesn’t love often but, when he does, it’s a sort of love that he’d die for. He put himself in harm’s way, in front of a dagger or another Grisha’s magic, if it meant saving those he loves. For someone so arrogant, so full of himself and in love with living, that’s something. It’s a dangerous something too, prone to anger and jealousy, ready to kill and even give up everything if necessary – again, he’d die for Valerian and death scares him most of all.

HONOR THEY MOTHER AND FATHER: since being sent to Os Alta to train, Arsen has had limited contact with his parents over the years, less so when they realized he wasn’t turning out how they’d hope. It’s no love lost, really; Arsen’s parents wanted something human and he was not. If Arsen gets or sends a letter from/to his parents, it’s a rare thing indeed. They’ve got plenty of other brats to serve their parental instincts. How many was it now? Five? Six? Arsen can’t be bothered to recall.

THE MONSTER UNDER THE BED: Arsen’s fears are spiders or heights, not thunderstorms or lightning strikes – the latter of those he actually likes, he’s neutral on heights, and while he’s not exactly fond of bugs, he’s not going to run screaming away from them either. So then what does he fear most? Death. It’s a terrifying concept to him, more so than being shamed or falling from grace – death is irreversible. The shroud cannot be returned from. He fears the deaths of those he loves too but less so than himself (except for, maybe, Valerian).

A SONG OF ANGELS: Arsen if very good at getting what they want. Why? Because they’re very good at saying the right thing. When they want something from someone, they can say all the right words, all the right praises, talk, and chit-chat. They’re good at gauging what someone wants. Of course, they’re better at it with people they know but they’re still fine at making those judgements in other situations. Anyone who ever goes shopping with them will find that Arsen never pays full price for something.

SEX AND GENDER: Arsen is bisexual. He likes men, he likes women, he likes everyone. It’s not that he’ll have sex with everyone but if he’s interested in someone then how they identify isn’t a factor. While he’s certainly prone to his sins, lust among them, he’s note quite the playboy some people peg him for. He’s not ashamed but he’s also discerning, if you get what I mean? Romantically, he’s bi as well but also demi-romantic probably since I don’t see him having romantic feelings more as an off-shoot of his platonic feelings rather than it’s own separate thing. He also identifies as demiboy and use he/him and they/them pronouns depending on how he feels at the time.

EXTRAS:

I made a mockblog!

I also have edits in this tag and incorrect quotes in this tag.

And here are some personality statistics:

HOGWARTS HOUSE: Slytherin

MORAL ALIGNMENT: chaotic evil or neutral. I had a hard to time deciding on this; while Arsen enjoys the whole ‘beauty in chaos’ thing and one of his favorite past-times is turning people against each other, he does good things if it serves him.

MBTI: ESTP

ASTROLOGICAL SIGN: Scorpio (Nov. 2nd)

ENNEAGRAM: type three – the achiever

ANYTHING ELSE? OMITTED.

[sippyboi-blog]

Rules: complete the survey and say who tagged you in he beginning. When you're finished, tag people to do this survey. Have fun and enjoy! I was tagged by @curiositykilledthecompanion, thanks lovely ❤❤ 1. are you named after Someone My birth name was my aunty's, and it just so happened that we were very similar in many ways, but my preferred name was just one that I came up with (Zeke if you wanted to know) 2. When was the last time you cried? Like yesterday 3. Do you like your handwriting? When it's readable, yes 4. What's your favourite lunch Meat? I actually don't eat meat, so veggies? 5. Do you have Kids? Yep, there's my first born, depression. Her name's (Birth Name). Hen there's her nb sibling anxiety. Their name's why. But there's just so many of them, I've lost count. But in all seriousness, I'm 15, and I don't have kids, nor do I really want them 6. If you were another person, would you be friends with you? Probably, coz I think everyone's beautiful, the thing is though, me as me knows what I've gone through and my thoughts and all that jazz, which is kinda why I don't like myself. But as a person on the outside looking in, I'd probably just want to be there for me. (If you're confused, don't worry so am I) 7. Do you use sarcasm? Nooooo I dooooon't use sarcasm :/ (more often then not hehe) 8. Do you still have your Tonsils? Yup 9. Would you bungee jump? Always wanted to, so yes 10. What's you favourite type of cereal? Toast, cornflakes, porridge and milo! 11. Do you untie your shoes when you take them Off? Not usually 12. Do you think you're a strong person Sometimes 13. Favourite ice-cream? Cookies and cream, or boysenberry (idk how to spell it) 14. First thing you notice about people? Either their hair or their tattoos 15. What's the least favorite physical thing about Yourself? Uterus and chest. It always makes people think I'm a girl (but trust me there are a lot more where that came from) 16. What colour pants and shoes are you wearing right now? Pink pajama shorts and no shoes 17. If you were a crayon what colour would you Be? Either like a weird greeny brown colour (idk why) or like a soft magenta? 18. Favourite smell? Chemicals, and lavender (chemicals aren't good for your health most of the time, so don't go sniffing them constantly) 19. Who was the last person you talked to on the phone? A lady asking to speak to the home owner, probably wanting to sell something, she seemed nice enough 20. Favourite Sport to watch? Gymnastics, dancing cup stacking, and generally obscure sports really 21. Hair colour? Purple and blonde (original? Dark brown/blonde idrk) 22. Eye Colour? Yellow and green 23. Contacts? Nope 24. Favourite food to eat? Rice, or something exotic maybe 25. Scary movies or comedy? Depends on my mood, but generally both 26. Last movie you Watched? I don't really remember, it's been a while 27. What colour shirt are you wearing? Blue and white plad 28. Summer or winter? Winter 29. Hugs or kisses? Hugs! 30. What book are you currently Reading? The broken window by Jeffery Deaver 31. Who do you miss right now? My dad 32. What is on your mouse Pad? I don't have a computer or mouse pad. Cri 33. What's the last TV program you watched? Either my wife and kids or black mirror, I don't remember 34. What's the best sound? Music/a really good harmony/mainly music. Also, birds quietly chirping, and rain. 35. Rolling Stones or the Beatles? Don't really listen to either. But Beatles I guess 36. What's the furtherest you've travelled? New zealand to japan 37. Do you have special Talents? I can juggle 38. Where were you born? Auckland, new zealand 39. Song you're listening to at the moment? The nameless by slipknot 40. How are you today. Pretty good actually, I had a good day. I tag @lullingbees, @laurentthings, @dianauriewentz, @vajanity, @kayeedle