#the wedding’ like u know how u continue to see the spirit in animals after they pass - or pennies that’s another major one - or 2p coins too

[bibleofficial]

walked up to my cousin’s step son after the wedding to see if he was doing ok & i was like ‘what u up to :D’ & he said ‘i got a new pet !’ & we looked at the table to see a yellow jacket he caught under the cup, which he described as a bee …. APPALACHIA

[yandere-sins]

The Fox Wedding - Embrace the marriage (Kita)

Summary: You are to marry the fox spirit Kita Shinsuke after you accidentally agreed to become his wife by signing the deed to your new home. A contract is a contract, he says, but is there more to this marriage than you know? Will you be whisked away by one of the foxy twins instead, or have to marry Kita after all? Can you be with a creature that only seems tender on the surface, or will you try to run even if it might cost you your life? Choose your route carefully, you never know what these foxes are up to!

Characters: Kitsune!Kita Shinsuke x afab!Reader

Rating: Explicit   Warnings for this chapter: Yandere, Kidnapping, Forced/Unhealthy Relationship, Rough Handling, Mention of bite marks, Mention of Non-Con, Pregnancy, Mention of (not human) blood, Monsters, Mention of burns, Verbal threats

“Don’t you remember?” 

He asked you this again on that one gloomy night as you rearranged your kimono. You had gotten good at putting it on, not because you wanted to learn how to do it, but because it was the only thing that made you feel better about yourself. The way Shinsuke owned you was painful, stinging, and tear-inducing, and you felt better not having to see the countless bite marks of possession he put on you. Thus, you learned how to do it. Better you than a maid, or worse, Shinsuke himself. 

“I don’t.” 

Your answer was always the same. How long had it been that you two were wed on that sun-filled, rainy day? A month? Three? Half a year? Yet, he never stopped with his riddles, and this question was the only one that arose every once in a while. Your heart ached with the desire to go home, leave this godforsaken country to be where you belonged - where you never should have left. But of course, it wasn’t that easy. 

“I see,” he whispered, and from the moon shining in through the open windows in your shared bedroom, you could see him nod his head thoughtfully while his eyes focused on your stomach. “You were still so small back then. The smallest human I had ever met.” 

His soft smile was lost on you as you shook your head, unbelieving of his words. Shinsuke didn’t like unnecessary talks. He’d rather have a quiet morning than one filled with small talk you learned. And when he spoke, it was hard to accept what he said. Nothing good ever came from him saying your name. No affectionate string of words sounded like he meant it when he said it in the usual indifferent tone. An ‘I love you’ was quick to change into ‘Mind your manners’, and often he ignored your wishes in favor of fulfilling some kind of clan duties. 

Perhaps, the only moment you managed to catch him off-guard was when a doctor - or something close to that just less human than you liked - announced your pregnancy, but you had been too shocked to be able to react to the sincere smile on his face and the tight hug he gave you despite the news being more of a tragedy to you. It wasn’t the child’s fault, even you knew that, but from day one, you felt responsible for it yet devoid of the feeling that you could love the kid like a normal mother would. 

With your hand falling to the little bump on your stomach, you were glad it was still decent enough to not be immediately visible. Yet, as long as you were aware of the growing life inside you, the more you felt the dread of having to take care of yourself for its sake. There were worse wounds that Shinsuke could inflict on you, and unfortunately, you wouldn’t even put it past the clan to follow his lead rather than step in and stop him. It still made your blood freeze to think back to when you saw the real him for the first time. No, not him. The monster he was. 

It was hard to forget the ashen creature that brought fresh meat for the village. You always thought foxes were small, playful yet wild animals, but that didn’t seem to apply to fox spirits. These images kept flashing before your eyes as you stroked your belly reassuringly, the baby inside of you not yet in need of comfort, but you sure were. 

Fox spirits were tall as bears, and every one of them deadlier than a pack of wolves. It was bewildering to learn that Shinsuke wasn’t even fully grown yet, only six of nine possible tails emerging from his back once he turned into that beast. You could have sworn with his fox form being as tall as you were, he’d be at least grown out, and it unnerved you to imagine what he’d look like once he was. 

Even if he allowed you to pat his fur, nudged you into the affection despite smearing deer blood all over you, it was no less reassuring to know what he really looked like even if he acted like that. You had seen him snap a deer’s neck in two cleanly with his maw. You had heard him growl. And none of this made you any less afraid of your own husband, the father of your child. 

Involuntarily, Shinsuke had made you become what previously had been your worst nightmare. You were a healthy woman, so it was only a question of time until his forced intimacy would produce the child everyone around you was looking forward to. Except you, but how could you possibly be when this wasn’t what you wanted at all?

Even so, you realized the child was just another innocent soul in a much more complicated scheme of his ‘love’. One you still not understood even though he was so insistent that it existed. Nevertheless, you couldn’t let yourself be punished and endanger the little one, always seeing these huge, beastly creatures in your inner eye whenever you thought about running or misbehaving. However, you also couldn’t stop yourself from flinching when he reached over to caress your stomach, unable to forgive and, even more so, forget what all he had done to you.

Tearing you out of your life, your world even, force you into this relationship and himself on you, was small compared to the ‘lessons’ and ‘training’ he made you go through to become more fitting for your role as his wife. Your maltreated body was only one evidence of his ‘care’ and ‘love’ that he so generously had sworn to you before your wedding. There was no ‘happiness’ in sight even after being married for so long. If he thought that child made you happy, he had been wrong.

Answers. Answers would have made you happy - or at least, made this more endurable. 

“Back then, you were scared too.”

His palm clasped around your hand tightly as he began to circle it over the baby bump. He acknowledged your flinching, your fear. Though even if he noticed, he only ever did so in his favor, dismissing it to do whatever he pleased or continuing to force you into obeying his will. Shinsuke always looked serious and talked with logic, you wouldn’t have believed the slyness in all of his doings even though it dawned on you that it was one of the foxes’ main traits. 

“Back when?” you mumbled, wanting to pull out your hand but getting stuck in his grasp, sighing inwardly as you gave up on fighting him. Not when he was so close to the child. You didn’t want to risk upsetting him. 

“Twenty years? Thirty? Time--” Interrupting himself, Shinsuke let out a thoughtful hum, clearing his throat before he resumed speaking.” Time is tough to calculate when you live for so long. Day is day, night is night. Sometimes it snows, and sometimes it rains, and all the other days are mostly the same. Only now, you are here with me, and that makes me happier than anything else.”

This time, it was on you to ponder, wondering about the time frame. There was no reason to get upset about the fact Shinsuke didn’t seem to know your current age, nor how long it really had been. The message ’a long time ago’ was received by you either way. What you couldn’t rack your brain around was that there wasn’t an instance you could remember meeting Shinsuke before, especially since you hadn’t been to Japan when you were as young as he made it seem-

“Oh,” you whispered. Oh, you had been to Japan before as a child, with your family to visit friends that resided in this beautiful country. But you had forgotten all about it, how old had you been? Four? Maybe five? Now you remembered that the reason for your first trip as a teenager had been to see the country you had been to before but could barely remember since you were just a toddler back then. 

Finally sitting up from his futon, Shinsuke moved over to sit next to you, his right arm snaking around your waist while his left hand remained on your belly. “Do you remember it now?” he cooed softly, leaving a kiss on your cheek as he waited for an answer patiently. 

“There was a fox…” you mumbled, straining yourself to remember what happened so long in the past. “I think it was wounded.”

“Continue,” Shinsuke instructed gently, bringing his lips to your temple before brushing back your hair to continue down your neck, leaving pecks of affection behind wherever they wandered. 

“It was wounded, and I… I--”

“You gave me your rice ball,” he finished for you as you struggled with your words. 

“That was… you?” you slowly but surely pieced it together, and he nodded, pulling you closer to him and burying his face in the crook of your neck. His embrace was tight but less formal than any other touch he laid on you so far. A wave of honest emotions seemed to overcome him as you remembered, a voice of relief leaving him as your shared past revealed itself to you.

“But… But--” 

So many questions rushed into your head before you could even utter one of them. How much of what happened was coincidental? Was everything planned? Staged? Arranged? Your thoughts must have shown in your gaze, and though he only looked up for a split second, you were sure he noticed it as he chuckled a few times. 

“The truth is, back then, I wanted to kill you. I came back for you every day, and you were always playing in the garden, but your parents were always around watching you.”

Shinsuke sat up straight, instead now pulling you to lean on him and petting your hair. Your instinct detected hostility in his words, yet, your body told you to stay put and not allure him of the fear that crept up in you. You now remembered the silver fox you had met as a little kid, and though the memories were spare and rare, to think you could have died by his maw back then made a cold shudder run down your spine. 

“I didn’t want the humans to find out my clan was in that forest - now, this forest - I knew it would mean that I caused them to have to leave or hunters would come. However, when you did tell--”

“No one believed me…” This time you finished his sentence instead, and Shinsuke nodded. 

“I couldn’t rest, so I came back day after day, until suddenly… you were gone.” 

“Yeah, we flew back home after two weeks,” you mumbled, explaining it to him despite realizing you wished you had kept it a secret. He simply didn’t deserve knowing even a little bit more than necessary.

“Exactly.”

Gently rubbing your back, Shinsuke kissed your hair, his grip on you unbudging, but there was no notion and no feeling of yours that stayed hidden long from him. “Later I found out that the owner of that house - your family’s friends, I reckon? - were aware of us, and their ancestors were granted land from us to build their house in exchange for keeping this village and residents hidden. It’s passed down as a family secret.”

“And then…” For the first time, you sat up, and Shinsuke let you go without a moment of hesitation. Slowly, but surely everything made sense, even if those answers were less relieving than you had hoped. “I bought their house when they became too old to live there. Was that- Was that all planned?”

With your brows furrowing, you looked at his face, and Shinsuke closed his eyes for a moment thoughtfully, humming in contemplation. “Was it? Who knows. Once I learned the truth, I decided you shall be my bride.”

What a dissatisfying answer, you thought, and your expression faltered, body turning away in displeasure. For the first time since you were married, you heard him make a deep sigh, the shuffling of fabric behind you as Shinsuke inched closer, having recognized your defensive stance as telling him you weren’t all too happy with his story. 

“If we say fate brought us together, then destiny arranged everything. But I rather think that it was meant to be. You coming back to me is because we are meant for each other, [Name].”

“I don’t agree,” you muttered, feeling defeated. All this time, you had wondered how and why this all happened to you, but in the end, it really had just been Shinsuke’s doing. Part of you felt more betrayed, but the other half wasn’t actually feeling impressed by the knowledge. Disappointed, but not surprised, as a friend of yours always liked to say. “Then why the contract? Why set me up like this?”

“What do you think? Do you think you would have married me otherwise? Do you not despise me? Think that I am a monster? I think that’s what you called me before.”

The level of self-awareness was nothing you would have expected from him. Instinctively you would have liked to argue against him, but at the same time, his words depicted your feelings quite well. “Maybe I wouldn’t have thought that if you had--”

“[Name], please.” There it was again, the patronizing tone in his voice that had been the end to many of your conversations before. His arms wrapped around you from behind, lips landing at the back of your head as he mumbled into your hair. “I waited for you all this time, and know my feelings. There was simply no need for a year-long courtship and proving what I felt.”

“I could have needed it. Are my feelings that unimportant to you?”

Gripping his arms tightly, you dug your fingers in as best as you could. You had enough. Enough of his will being absolute and everything centering around him. All this misery just because he decided on marrying you long, long ago on his own. For the first time, you managed to pull out of his hold by your own strength, twirling around quicker than him being able to capture you again and complain. 

“You are a monster! I don’t care about your feelings either since you can’t seem to respect mine! I never wanted any of this!”

Gesturing loosely to him and your stomach, you made room for your anger, even getting up to stand your ground properly. You half expected him to follow, but Shinsuke kept sitting comfortable, merely lowering his eyes and shaking his head. “Calm down, [Name]. You’ll wake the whole village with your voice.”

“What if?! As if they didn’t know how I truly feel! As if they didn’t just turn a blind eye on this situation for your sake!”

“Arranged marriages are very common here--”

“But not arranged by the groom himself! And even so, you still forced me into this, I couldn’t even refuse! You… You beast! You monster! You’re the absolute worst being I ever met, and I hate you! I hate you so much!”

Finally, Shinsuke looked up again, his gaze calm and collected as always. It was the last straw that even now, he did not budge from his views, and you decided to do something you had tried to avoid ever since becoming pregnant. Turning on your heel, you marched towards the door, gripping into the depression of the sliding door to open it. As luck would have it, these kinds of doors didn’t have locks. Thus someone usually watched over you, never leaving you alone, but weirdly enough, it didn’t budge no matter how hard you pulled and tore on it, demanding quietly that it would move out of your way.

“[Name] stop. It’s not good for the baby to get so upset,” Shinsuke called after you, and you just knew he was standing up as he spoke, causing more pressure to fall onto your shoulders. You’d run away. No matter the cost, you wouldn’t stay here. Feeling the door heat up, you jumped away from it, shocked, looking at your fingers while eerie, small flames sparked up at the spot you just touched. By now, you were a little too familiar with foxfire and what it felt like, and yet, angry as you were, it only made you spin around to face him, not expecting to have his face right up in yours the moment you turned.

“I said, stop.”

“Then I won’t listen,” you hissed back at him, rubbing your fingers carefully as they trembled in fear. Never before had resisting him done you anything good, but you reached a point of no return. 

“Let’s go back to bed,” Shinsuke instructed again, his patience wearing noticeably thin as you were unbudging. “You go to bed. I am going home.”

Taking a deep breath, he stared you down with those sharp, shining eyes of his, a glare that usually made your knees buckle in fear. You never had given him such a hard time before, normally yielding before it got this far. In some way, it was thrilling, in another, nerve-wracking. 

“I’ll say it only once more,” Shinsuke warned, reaching for your wrist that you pulled away before he could reach it, slapping his hand away in the process. 

“Or what?” you spat at him, as disgusted as you could. This would end here, you decided. All of it: The fake marriage, your submissiveness, the way you played along and embraced your role as his wife until now. The child too, if you got out of this house, this village, and his clutches. 

“You saw the beast before.” Shinsuke spoke his words calm and slow, but his voice lowered dangerously as he kept up his glare unbudgingly. It was just his way of not losing his temper despite you being aware that he wasn’t going to be gentle from this point onwards. There was a never before heard tremble in his voice as he spoke again, the sentence making every inch of you freeze in fear.

Perhaps, you had needed that. One last attempt of being deviant. How else would you have learned that this place might not make you happy, but at least it was the only place that would keep you safe. Safe of Kita Shinsuke’s true nature, the one completely insane from his love for you. How else would you have known that calm waters were the deepest of them all? Deep enough to let you drown in them if you did anything to disturb them?

Maybe, being his wife wasn’t the worst there was. 

“But you haven’t seen the monster yet.”

The worst was Shinsuke himself.

a/n: Thank you for reading Kita’s route of this story, I hope you enjoyed it! I noticed last chapter that it didn’t seem as enjoyable than the Prologues, I still hope that you will move forward to explore the other routes and enjoy this experience ^-^ Let me know what you thought, that would make me very happy ♥

Satisfied?

➤ Go back to the prologue to change your fate

➤ ?

Read other routes first to unlock more fates

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Chapter 1; My Story

Here is chapter one I hope you guys enjoy it :) And if you guys like this story as it goes on, send me an inbox message to be added to tag list :) Fill free to listen to this song as you read the chapter, hopefully I can get the link to work. I do NOT own the music and if there are any Native American tumblr people here that belong to Cherokee tribe, PLEASE inform me of any mistakes, I think I fixed them up on here from when a Wattpad user told me about their heritage but in case I didn’t PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE tell me. Okay hope u guys enjoy the first chapter :) 

Play music here

___________________________________________________

My story begins just like anyone else’s story, maybe even yours. My parents were both nature photographers who abandoned all city life to settle into the countryside of Oklahoma, there they met some members of the Cherokee tribe.  After been given their trust, my parents soon became members and friends of the Cherokee and they soon realized that this specific group of Cherokee ancestors were once members of a clan known as the Aniwaya meaning “Wolf clan”.          

The Aniwaya’s taught my parents all of their legends and tales from their ancestors and though they no longer go out to war anymore, they still praise the wolf as a teacher and mentor in their hunting skills and in ways of life.  The Spirit of Wolf lives within us and it is up to us which wolf we show before others.  My parents always took that lesson to heart, even as their greatest gift was bestowed upon them.            

One full moon night, I soon came into this world and breathed my first breath of air.

The chief, Waya meaning Wolf then marked me with the symbol of their tribe and I was soon walked around the entire village in his arms so that his people could meet the newest member of their tribe. My parents then named me (y/n) (y/m/n) (y/l/n).

As I grew, I was soon taught the ways of the tribe just like my parents were and I would go out with my parents every day to watch them take pictures of all the animals that roamed free through the plains. From buffalo, deer, moose, bears, mountain lions, eagles and of course the wise and magnificent wolf.  As they would take pictures, I was given stories that I would have to memorize and soon speak in the tongue of the Cherokee before the chief to show him all that I’ve learned.          

And on some occasions when my parents would take pictures of the wolf packs that would come near the village, while their pups were playing with each other or other members of their pack one specific wolf pup always got my attention the most whenever I was trying to study.          

He would always come up to me as soon as I would look at him and he’d start rolling around as soon as he’d come up to me just begging to be played with.  I always fell under his spell and just couldn’t stop myself from sneaking away from my parent’s side and going to go play with the little pup.          

I called him, Little Grey.          

After only a few seconds of playing and him nibbling on my fingers, his mother would soon call out for him getting the attention of my parents. As Little Grey’s mother would call for him, my mother would then call for me and soon we’d have to go our separate ways. And it was always the same story whenever I got to my parents.          

“(Y/n), what have we told you?” Mom would say.          

“But mom, Little Grey started it”.          

“Honey it’s not okay for them to interact with us, now come on its getting dark we better start heading back”. Dad said as he would gather up their stuff and wed head back towards the village. As we walked back to the village hand in hand my mom then said to me.          

“Besides, that wasn’t Little Grey that was Rama”.          

“No it wasn’t it was Little Grey”.          

“Little Grey was the runt of the litter (y/n), he’s too big to be Little Grey” dad said.          

“Check, check the pictures”.           

Later that night as we were now back at the village, I was with Chief Waya for my final lesson before bed.          

“There was once an old legend of a Cherokee grandfather who told his grandson of the Battle of the Two wolves that live inside every being. One is evil full of anger, hatred, greed, and hate but the other one is good, full of love, joy, compassion and kindness. The grandson asked which wolf won the battle and the grandfather simply stated “The one you feed” so you see young pup, the wolf you feed is the one you will become. You feed the bad one the hatred that you carry, then you become the Bad Wolf. But if you feed the Good Wolf, keeping and holding onto the love and happiness you hold with your family and friends then you become the Good Wolf”.          

“So it’s always based on the person and their actions?”          

“Yes. Most men prefer the feed the Bad wolf sadly though, but the world is not always cruel, there are some good wolves out there, always hold that hope that goodness still lurks in this dark world my little one”.          

“I will Chief, I promise, I’ll never become a Bad Wolf”.          

“I know you will my little Waya”.

“Pardon me Chief, but it’s time for our daughter to be asleep” my dad said as he entered the chief’s tent.“Of course my son,” Chief Waya stated. He then placed his hand at the center of my forehead and slowly moved his fingers down to the tip of my nose, a sign of leadership of passing wisdom to the next generation as well as his way of showing affection to the young ones of the tribe.

“Goodnight Chief Waya”.

“Goodnight my little Child of the Moon”. I then took my dad’s hand and he led me back to our tent.

I got on my nightdress made by a family friend of ours made of deer skin as my mom stated playfully.

“Alright you, we said into bed”.

“See, I am in bed!” I said as I took the blankets and covered myself up.

“Now (y/n), what made you think that wolf pup you were playing with was Little Grey?”

“I was right wasn’t I?”

“Well, according to our notes, Little Grey was the runt of the litter, either we were mistaken or Little Grey is a very special wolf pup” daddy said.

“I told you so”. I teased.

“Yeah you did, and mommy and daddy are going to write in their journals of how our trusted colleague Dr. (Y/n) (l/n) has shown us the error of our ways” we all softly laughed then daddy said.

“Alright now, go to sleep”. I then rocked my wind chime and as it played it’s gentle song my mom soon sung an old Cherokee lullaby as I gently fingered her wolf totem necklace around her neck and he gently gripped onto mine as she continued singing. I softly mouthed out the words to myself and soon I fell into a deep sleep. My parents kissed me goodnight and soon they too went to sleep just a couple of feet away from my bed.

The creatures of the night from the crickets to the wolves howling at the moon became our music box as the tribe went to sleep. 

My life was like a fairytale with two loving parents, a wonderful family and a beautiful place to call home that’s filled with wild animals that guide and protect us from the real world threat. But like all fairytales, tragedy must strike in order to gain a happy ending as I would soon find out two years later.

[aceprosecuties]

85 or 83 blackmadhi!!!!! your choice!!!

83. “It’s always been you.” 

Send me a number and a pairing!

—–

“Mother,please drop it.”

Nahyutanever liked having this conversation, so he often tried to stop it before ithad the opportunity to begin.  But itwasn’t always easy to get the former queen to let go of something when her mindwas set.  And when he was trapped in aroom with her, waiting for their guests from California to arrive, he couldn’tphysically run away.

“Althoughyou will only be regent until Rayfa has mastered spirit channeling, you stillought to consider it seriously.  You’realready twenty-six, dear.”

“Am Ibut an old crone, then?”

“That’snot what I’m saying,” Amara sighed, feeling frustrated with her son’spushback.  She didn’t understand why hewas always like this whenever this particular topic was brought up.

“That’swhat it sounds like,” Nahyuta clapped back, trying to not let his annoyanceturn into anger.  “Will I be unwedable bythe time I hit twenty-eight?”

“No,but-”

“AndI didn’t exactly have time to think about these sorts of things, you know,”Nahyuta reminded her, harshly.  “She made sure of that.”  Ga’ran wouldn’t let Nahyuta have manyvisitors, and the ones she did allow were usually loyal to her or only allowedto be with him for a short while.  On theoff chance he was able to engage in any sort of consensual activities withanyone, they were for one night, and usually Nahyuta did not even get theirnames.

“I know that,” Amara responded with anequally harsh tone.  She didn’t like thatNahyuta was insinuating that she did not remember all that he sacrificed.  “But perhaps something should bearranged.  Having someone by your side asyou rule would be in Khura’in’s best interest.”

“Sowhat…I marry someone to please this country for two or three years and thenhave to stay with this stranger for the remainder of my life?”

“Royaltydoes not often have the luxury of love,” Amara said, echoing a sentiment thather mother had passed down to her and her sister.  

“Easyfor you to say, since you did havethat luxury,” Nahyuta snapped, hoping that he could end this pointlessdialogue.

Luckily,he received some help when the doors opened, and the guards announced thattheir foreign visitors had arrived.  

Nahyutahad been working closely with Miles Edgeworth to develop a closer relationbetween their two countries; Edgeworth had been helping him with the rebuild ofthe legal system from behind the scenes, to which Nahyuta was verygrateful.  There was much that Edgeworthknew about various legal systems across the world, and his knowledge washelpful and appreciated.

However,Edgeworth had a companion on this trip. One that Nahyuta was not expecting.

AtEdgeworth’s side was Prosecutor Simon Blackquill.  He stood out in the room like a sore thumb;Khura’in’s royal chamber was decorated with vibrant and elegant colors, so theharsh monochromatic Blackquill was extremely out of place.  What was he doing here?  Nahyuta swallowed a lump in his throat thathad suddenly developed.  Did Edgeworthdrag him along?  Did he volunteer to comeof his own volition?  

“ChiefProsecutor Edgeworth,” Nahyuta smiled and walked up to his guests, ignoring thevarious questions running through his mind. “We are, as always, honored to have you here.”

“Thankyou very much, Prosecutor Sahdmadhi,” Edgeworth responded, as respectful asever.  Nahyuta’s eyes traveled to Simon,who had his arms crossed and looked…bored, if anything.  How disrespectful of him.

“ProsecutorBlackquill.  I’ll admit I wasn’texpecting to see you,” Nahyuta said, speaking as though it wasn’t a big dealthat Simon was here.   Few images flashedin his mind: Simon’s bare back glistened in sweat, his hair wild and out of itsusual ponytail as Nahyuta watched him writhe and moan.  Simon on his knees in front of him, withNahyuta’s hand twisting in those black and white strands.  Simon grabbing Nahyuta’s jacket in a way thatsurely was going to wrinkle the expensive fabric, all to pull him into adesperate kiss…

Memories.  Ones that Nahyuta did not need to be actively remembering right now.

Simonjust smirked.

“Unhappy,Sad Monk?”

Disrespectfulas always.  

Nahyutawanted to take him somewhere right now to teach him a lesson.  

Theirlittle secret arrangement had gotten a bit out of control, he would admit.  It was meant to only be physical and only be once. But that turned into twice…and then three times…and then more and more;whenever Nahyuta was in the states now, he would find himself at ProsecutorBlackquill’s apartment during the night, wanting some stress relief from hisconsistently busy schedule.  He neverstayed for breakfast though.

Itwas annoying when that Panda began invading his dreams, though.

Sure,it was a very nice break from thenightmares of his past, but Nahyuta found it frustrating nonetheless.  And then when Simon started just popping upin his thoughts on their own…he wasn’t sure exactly what to do.

Whenhe mother would speak to him about marriage, he had always dropped the subjectsomehow or told her no.  But recently hewould think about Simon goddamn Blackquill too; if he was married, he wouldhave to end…whatever it was they had, and he had zero desire to do so.  

Butit was only physical, he would tell himself. Nothing more.

“Blackquill,you are a guest here,” Edgeworth reprimanded. “Please show our hosts the same respect you would show me.”

Nahyutawas surprised when Blackquill nodded.  “Ofcourse, Edgeworth-dono,” he said, before looking again at Nahyuta.  “Thank you for having us, Sahdmadhi-dono.”

MilesEdgeworth was the only person in the world capable of making Simon Blackquillact like that.  It was almost magic, andNahyuta found it weirdly fascinating.  

“Ofcourse.  While we’re happy to have you here,I still am wondering why you’vedecided to come,” Nahyuta responded, still a bit confused.

“Ithought that it would be best for me to learn your country’s legal proceedingsfor my own edification.  Edgeworth-donoallowed me to come as a sort of…ambassador,” Simon explained, not breaking eyecontact with Nahyuta for even a second.  “AndI suppose to see the sights.”

Nahyutaknew what “sights” meant here, and felt a bit warm.

“Wellthen,” Amara said, coming up from behind Nahyuta and smiling at theirguests.  “I suppose we should not keepyou two waiting.  You’ve had a long trip,and I’m sure you’re both hungry and tired. Please…this way.”  She beganwalking out of the room and Edgeworth followed, striking up a conversation withher as Nahyuta and Simon trailed behind them. Nahyuta was very well-trained in appearing different than how he felt;his almost blank stare ahead did not give away his rapidly beating heart.

Whileat dinner, the group postponed any discussion of work until the next day,instead choosing to just share stories and the like.  Rayfa joined them for dinner, but she wasuncharacteristically quiet, saying that she was trying to keep her mind calmfor her training in the morning, and she left without saying all too much.  

Whichwas…for the better.  She and Simon wouldlikely not get along very well.

Afterdinner, the guards took Edgeworth and Simon to their rooms, and Nahyuta watchedSimon walk down the hall for an uncomfortably long time, tensing when Simonlooked back at him.  He resisted the almostoverwhelming urge to follow him, instead finding his way back to his ownbedchamber.  

Unfortunately,Nahyuta found himself unable to sleep. Blackquill was on his mind, and all of their past activities keptrummaging around in his head until he was no longer able to stand it.  It was late enough that most people should besleeping – with the exception of the night guards – so Nahyuta soon foundhimself walking out of his room and towards a certain destination.

Hewent to the guest room that Simon was occupying, but instead of seeing a closeddoor, he saw a guard standing next to an open one.  When Nahyuta requested to know whereProsecutor Blackquill was, the guard informed him that Simon had said he wasunable to sleep, and wanted to walk around outside.  Another guard accompanied him.

Nahyutaknew he should just…try going back to sleep.

Insteadhe was outside, roaming around in an effort to find Prosecutor Blackquill andhis guide.  They wouldn’t have goneoutside of the palace grounds at night, so he figured it wouldn’t be too longuntil he was able to find them.

Luckily,he was right; he eventually located the pair walking through the gardens.  Simon had apparently found one of his mother’sbirds and was making a new friend; the little animal was resting in his handcomfortably while he spoke to it, pointing up to the sky as if he was showingit constellations or something.

Itwas…endearing.  

“ProsecutorSahdmadhi!”  The guard noticed him andbowed slightly as Nahyuta approached. Simon looked over and smirked a bit.

“Towhat do we owe this pleasure, Sad Monk?” Now that Edgeworth wasn’t around, Simon could act as he desired.  

Good.

Nahyutainstructed the guard to leave them, and waited until the man was out of sightbefore approaching Simon.  

“Beautiful,isn’t she?”  Of course, he was speakingto the little bird that Simon still had in his hand.  

“Yes.  Though I usually prefer birds of prey myself,”Simon responded, lifting his palm up to let the bird fly off; he watched as sheperched herself in a nearby tree.  

“I’maware,” Nahyuta remarked, remembering how much Simon’s beloved hawk despisedhim.  Too many times had Nahyuta neededto fend off talons or deal with some scratches on his body.  Of course, Simon never offered any sort ofcomfort.  He would just tell Nahyuta tostop pissing off Taka.  

Whatan annoying, disrespectful, and godless man he was.

“Theyare my mother’s,” Nahyuta continued, looking up at the tree and seeing a fewmore.  He said nothing for a moment, andthen for reasons he wouldn’t have been able to explain, he mentioned: “She’sbeen…telling me that I need to wed soon.”

Washis mind playing a trick on him, or did he actually see Simon tense up andfrown after that statement?

“Why?”

“Shethinks it would inspire more confidence in the new regime.  Having someone at your side as you rule ismore…customary, I suppose.”   He laughed,though there was little joy in it.  “It’sfunny…I just escaped Ga’ran and now my mother wants to clip my wingsagain.  So to speak.”

“…Areyou going to do it?”

Nahyutastared at Simon.  He waited, thinking ofwhat he should say in this moment.  Helooked at Simon’s face, as if memorizing every little detail of it.  Unlike Nahyuta’s eyes, which were so trainedto show little emotion, Simon’s eyes gave him away a lot of times, even when hewas trying to hide his deeper thoughts. Right now, there was a…fear in them. Fear of what?  Of losing Nahyuta?

“…Itwould be in my royal duty if I did.  Ialways need to think about what is best for Khura’in.  I don’t have the luxury of always thinkingfor myself.”

Simonscoffed, but said nothing in response at first. He turned his head away angrily, his jaw clenching as his fists balledup at his sides.  

“Verywell then.  I’ll leave you to it.”

Simonstormed past Nahyuta in a hurry, but Nahyuta caught his arm and prevented himfrom leaving.  

“Wait.”

Simonlooked back at him, and again his eyes gave him away – he was hurt.

“Idon’t always have that luxury, but it doesn’t mean I don’t do it, you know.”  Nahyuta squeezed Simon’s arm tightly, afraidthat if he let go, Simon would storm off and that would be the end.  “I’ve been…avoiding the discussion as much aspossible.  Perhaps she is right that itwould be better for the country but Idon’t have any desire to marry right now. And there is something that has been on my mind…that has been making mewant to ignore this royal duty of mine.”

“Oh,and what would that be?”  Simon asked thequestion accusatorily, causing Nahyuta to laugh a bit.

“You’rean idiot sometimes, Panda.  It’s you.” Nahyuta smiled, practically hearing the fast-paced beating of his heartin his ears.  “It’s always been you.  Even as I tried to deny it…tried to tellmyself what was between us was just physical…”  He was shaking now…this was his confession,wasn’t it?  How was Simon going torespond?  Was he going to yank his armback and walk away?  Yell atNahyuta?  Laugh?  

Hedid none of those things.  

Instead,Simon brought one hand to the back of Nahyuta’s head and pulled him into a deepkiss.  And when Nahyuta let go of his armto put his hands on Simon’s chest, Simon used his free hand to cup Nahyuta’scheek, careful not to break the contact between their lips.

Howlong did they kiss?  Nahyuta wasn’t sure,but he did notice that both of them were panting softly when they broke apart,faces still close as their foreheads touched.

“Don’tget married.  Go on a date with meinstead,” Simon whispered, his face flushed from both the kiss andembarrassment.  “A real one.”

“Iguess I could do that,” Nahyuta answered, before bringing Simon in to kiss himagain.

Needlessto say, he had to tell his mother that any future wedding was cancelled.

[moodybidoof]

Dishonored OC meme

I’ve done this before but I’ve been rethinking my characters since playing DoTo so I figured it couldn’t hurt to redo it. 

NAME: Phelim Campbell NICKNAME(S): Phlegm AGE: 20 during the main events of Dishonored, 35 at the start of DH2  GENDER: Cis man SEXUALITY: Bi, with a preference for men HEIGHT/BUILD: 5′11, skinny as a rail FACECLAIM: Kris Kidd

PERSONALITY DESCRIPTION: The absolutely rowdiest of boys. He doesn’t care about much beyond immediate satisfaction, so he acts upon whatever impulses pop into his head without much hesitation. Said impulses usually end with him in a fight or running from someone who wants to fight, and along the way things are set ablaze, dogs are let loose into the streets - really, anything can happen if he’s involved. Dunwall isn’t kind of the people who live on her streets, but Phelim always finds a way to make the best of a shitty situation. 

Despite his affinity for crime and chaos he’s actually a pretty friendly person - even kindhearted in his own way, at least with kids and animals. He’s not one to hold grudges and has more than once ended up drinking and laughing with someone who’s just kicked his shit in. Friendliness doesn’t guarantee loyalty of course, but most people he interacts with understand that. There’s only a handful of people who he’d actually stick his neck out for, but those who have earned that kind of love from him have an unwavering ally on their side. 

The only people he’s really hostile towards on principle are aristocrats, and anyone with a reputation for sucking up to the rich bastards. He’s seen enough of life to know that they can never be trusted; they just hide away like rats whenever there’s trouble, and only come out when it’s safe to gorge themselves on whatever offal is left. Phelim’s not political by any stretch of the imagination, but if he had to make a stance it would be “eat the rich”. 

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION:  Tall and too skinny, he could probably stab someone to death with his elbows or knees if he ever found himself without a weapon. His body is a jigsaw puzzle of bruises and scars from all his shenanigans, and he’s always covered in a layer of dirt and sweat - at the very least. With his slight figure, high cheekbones, and long lashes he could actually be pretty but it’s nearly impossible to see beyond all the grime he’s caked in and his generally disgusting behavior.

His eyes are green. His hair is dark brown and grows out curly if he lets it get long enough, which he almost never does. He’s missing most of his middle finger on his left hand, and has a glass eye in place of his right eye after DH2.

CHARACTER DETAILS

INTRODUCE YOUR OC AND THEIR BACKSTORY.

Phelim Campbell was born on the 15th day of the Month of Rain, 1817. His father was a Dunwall whaler, the son of a Dunwall whaler who was himself the son of a Dunwall whaler. His mother was a Tyvian seamstress who came to Dunwall to be with the visiting sailor who’d swept her off her feet - or at least, that’s how she told the story. She didn’t talk about her life in Tyvia often and when she did she provided very little detail, so Phelim took to making up his own versions of her history. He and his mother made up countless stories centered around her; one where she was a revolutionary who killed a king, another where she was a famous thief on the run from the law. (Those were his favorites, though she personally preferred the ones where she was a mermaid or selkie.)

His father was out at sea more often then not, so Phelim spent his earliest years helping his mom around the little little shop she ran out of their home near the Old Port District. Mostly she just did alterations and patchwork for the locals, but occasionally she’d be commissioned to create something special for a big event - weddings were her favorites, but they got more funerals than anything else, even before the plague. Phelim would sit and watch her work, sometimes attempting clumsy imitations of her handiwork on pieces of scrap cloth, while she told him stories about witches, spirits, and giants. On the rare occasions when his father was around, he would chime in with his own tales of the creatures that lived deep beneath the waves. Young Phelim was certain that there was magic in every dark corner of the world.

When he was eleven, Phelim’s parents enlisted him in the Navy as a powdermonkey, as a way to supplement their income and in the hope that he would become a proper sailor when he was old enough. Unfortunately, Phelim shot up like a weed as a preteen, making it impossible for him to continue his job, and his reputation for fighting (and rumors of gunpowder theft) got him discharged anyway. He spent the next few years working with his father on a whaling trawler, but all that time in close quarters did nothing to help their already strained relationship. Things finally came to a head when Phelim was 17, so he left home to make his own way in the world.

The Rat Plague hit the poorest neighborhoods just months after that. At the time, Phelim was working as a laborer in one of the slaughterhouses that lined the Wrenhaven and squatting wherever he could nearby, so life became much more dangerous than ever. The slaughterhouses of course attracted swarms of rats, which brought infection, which brought more rats, and so on. Phelim was forced to get more creative about where he lay his head at night, so most weeks he passed out from exhaustion before he truly slept. For all he knew he was already infected - if not from a rat bite, then maybe a bite from one of the girls at The Golden Cat - so he truly lived every day like it was his last.

When the Financial District flooded Phelim didn’t hesitate to try and gain something from the chaos. That first night he walked away with more gold in his pockets than he’d ever seen in his life, in the form of watches, jewelry, and coin. It didn’t matter to him that it had all been taken from abandoned homes and bloated corpses. Even after the area was condemned, he still found ways in and out through the Wrenhaven River and eventually left his job at the slaughterhouse to dedicate himself full-time to looting. His travels along the river often forced him to cross paths with the Dead Eels, but he was surprised to find kindred spirits in the gang rather than enemies. It didn’t take long before he was recruited into their ranks.

Life was good for a while after that - better than it had ever been. The Dead Eels were like family, and their feud with the Hatters gave him purpose and an outlet for his limitless aggression. When he wasn’t fighting and drinking in Draper’s Ward he could still be found down in the most disgusting parts of the city, collecting river crust acid for himself and the other Eels. The fact that he was almost always covered in some kind of slime earned him the nickname Phlegm, which he wore with pride.

All good things must come to an end though, and when Empress Emily Kaldwin began to clean up Dunwall in earnest the gangs were run out of Drapers Ward and Phelim was arrested. He spent two years doing hard labor, aiding in the cleanup of the Flooded District (he was repeatedly caught pocketing things, which added months to his sentence), and was released only after he was recruited into the Lower Guard. To no one’s surprise, Phelim chafed against the rules of the Watch and often tried to fight with his superior officers, who everyone knew were just rich second sons and daughters. The watch didn’t recruit out of prisons without expecting that kind of behavior though, and each act of rebellion was met with swift and brutal punishment. He was eventually transferred to River Patrol; the choice was justified by citing his extensive knowledge of the Wrenhaven and the local gangs, but mostly it was just because no one wanted him in the city proper. 

The transfer helped temper Phelim’s rage a little, and even he had to admit that he’d be hard pressed to find a better source of income. The City Watch was the only gang in Dunwall that wasn’t falling apart, and while it killed him to have to play nice with his COs he could at least take solace in the fact that he was making money on the side without their knowledge. As a Patrol Guard Phelim mostly just checked peoples papers and poked around their store rooms, and when something wasn’t right he was always happy to correct the problem for a few coins in his pocket. (Though few things made him happier than denying access to high class civilian ships on account of some minor, bullshit excuse.)

Phelim worked for the City Guard for about ten years overall, right up until Delilah’s coup. He wasn’t in on the plan and was meant to be killed when it all began, but he managed to escape in a stolen boat. He lost his right eye in the process, but at least he was alive. I’m still a little fuzzy on the details beyond this point but I do know he sails to the archipelago east of Serkonos and becomes a pirate. 

WHAT’S THEIR OCCUPATION? HOW DID THEY GET INTO THAT PROFESSION?

I think I answered this already but in short: He was a powdermonkey for the Gristol Navy, a whaler, a slaughterhouse laborer, a looter, a Dead Eel, a Lower/Patrol Guard of the City Watch, and finally a pirate. 

WHERE IN THE EMPIRE DOES YOUR OC LIVE? IF THEY LIVE IN DUNWALL OR KARNACA, WHAT DISTRICT DO THEY LIVE/WORK IN?

He’s originally from the residential area near the Old Port District in Dunwall, but is currently living in Serkonos. There’s a book that talks about how pirates live in the archipelago east of the main island so I’m imagining he basically lives in the Dishonored version of Nassau. 

HOW DO THEY FEEL ABOUT WHERE THEY LIVE? WHERE DO THEY FEEL SAFE OR “AT HOME”? IS THERE A PLACE THEY’RE AFRAID OF OR THAT THEY AVOID?

He has a home in Not-Nassau and he loves it and the city itself; it’s perfect, wonderful controlled chaos. There’s no specific part of the city that he avoids, but he stays far, far away from the witches, fortunetellers, and the like that set up shop near the docks. He’s a superstitious as the next sailor, but in the sense that he believes magic is real, powerful, and should not be messed with. He doesn’t want any part of that. 

As much as he loves the city, he feels most at home out to sea on The Golden Hagfish.  

WHAT SOCIAL CLASS DO THEY BELONG TO? HOW WELL EDUCATED ARE THEY?

His family was working class, but his mom had clearly come from higher up the social ladder or had been educated well beyond her station. She taught Phelim how to read and write, how to handle numbers and money, and other basic skills, and he picked up a lot of random information while working different jobs and talking to people from all over. He’s decently educated and is just full of scraps of weird, specific facts.

HOW DO THEY DRESS FOR WORK? FOR THE EVERYDAY? FOR SPECIAL OCCASIONS? DO THEY CARRY ANY WEAPONS OR OTHER SPECIAL ITEMS?

He wears pretty much exactly what you’d expect most of the time: canvas doublet and breeches,cotton waistcoats and drawers, stockings, linen shirts and boots. None of it really fits well and it’s always mismatched, since a lot of his wardrobe is either stolen or half of it once belonged to a different crew member. Special occasions mostly just mean that he’s wearing something that vaguely matches and has been washed recently, but he does have one particularly gorgeous long coat that he stole off a some rich asshole. He saves that for really special stuff. 

He always has cutlass and a pistol hanging from his belts, and he keeps a dagger in a sheath at the small of his back. As for special items, he keeps a bone charm in a small pouch that’s been sewn closed. The pouch is sewn onto a short leather belt, which Phelim wears tied around his bicep. The whole thing isn’t very big, and since he’s so skinny and his shirts are usually so big you really can’t see it at all. His mother crafted it and gave it to him when he started as a powdermonkey, for luck, and he’s had it ever since. He’s not entirely comfortable with it honestly - it terrifies him that he can actually hear it humming and he’s afraid of what could happen if an Overseer ever caught wind of it - but he’s more afraid of what could happen if he rejected and got rid of something clearly magical. 

WHO ARE THEIR FRIENDS? DO THEY BELONG TO ANY POLITICAL OR SOCIAL FACTIONS (THE CITY WATCH, THE ABBEY, WHALERS, STREET GANGS, THE ARISTOCRACY, OCCULT SOCIETIES, ETC)?

His oldest and bestest friend is Jules Lynch, who belongs to @theladyjokaste. They grew up together, lost touch for years, and then reunited in Not-Nassau. Jules probably can’t believe that he has to put up with Phelim’s shit again, and also that people are apparently calling him Phlegm now and he likes that.

The other Golden Hagfish crew members are like family of course, but he’s especially close with one of the other riggers. Dixie “Rook” Blakemore has a harsh voice, sharp eyes, and cannot be trusted in a game of chance because she doesn’t leave anything up to fate. She and Phelim have all sorts of rigged games together, from shell games to the Serkonos favorite ventiuna. 

Back in Dunwall he ran with another one of @theladyjokaste​‘s children, Micajah “Cage” Tanner. They were in the Dead Eels together and Phlegm had a terrible, obvious, unrequited crush on him that Cage used to his advantage.

ARE THEY IN A RELATIONSHIP? IF SO, WITH WHOM?

Nope.

DO THEY HAVE ANY CONNECTION TO THE CANON CHARACTERS? FRIENDSHIPS? RIVALRIES? RELATIVES? BRIEF ENCOUNTERS?

Obviously he worked under Lizzy Stride and Edgar Wakefield. He didn’t like Wakefield or the way he took control of the gang, but he didn’t stick his neck out in Lizzy’s defense - not like he could get her out of prison, and he didn’t want to end up dead - which is how he lost a finger. He probably briefly saw Daud after Daud broke Lizzy out of Coldridge and was there when the Brigmore Witches attacked the Undine, which was easily the most terrifying experience of his life so far.

WHAT DO THEY THINK OF THE OUTSIDER AND THE VOID? OF MAGIC AND ITS PRACTITIONERS? 

His parents instilled in him a fear and respect of magic from a young age, as both of them were superstitious. He views magic in the same way I think a lot of people irl view faeries - shit’s real and capricious and dangerous, so best not to fuck with it. He can deal with smaller things like the bone charms his mother gave him, and the charms a lot of other sailors keep, but anything more powerful than that he wants nothing to do with. (Even then he wouldn’t ever try to make his own charm or use one made by someone he didn’t have total and absolute faith in.) 

WHAT DO THEY THINK OF THE OVERSEERS? DO THEY ADHERE TO THE ABBEY OR DO THEY HAVE A DIFFERENT BELIEF SYSTEM? IF THEY’RE NOT DEVOUT, WHAT DO THEY VALUE OR PRIORITIZE IN LIFE?

Dangerous and terrifying, also to be avoided at all costs even if their dogs are very cute. Besides the fact that he doesn’t want to get caught with a bone charm, he thinks they’re creepy and that their scriptures are weird bullshit. He prioritizes himself first and foremost, and just does whatever it takes to survive and have fun.

HOW DO THEY FEEL ABOUT TECHNOLOGY AND SCIENCE (WHALE OIL, TALLBOYS, WALLS OF LIGHT, THE ACADEMY OF NATURAL PHILOSOPHY, CLOCKWORK SOLDIERS, ETC)?

He knows that Walls of Light and Tallboys made his life nightmarishly difficult for a while but mostly it’s well beyond his understanding or interests.

DISHONORED

WHAT DO THEY THINK OF EMPRESS JESSAMINE AS A RULER? OR DO THEY NOT CARE?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ He didn’t care.

HOW ARE THEY AFFECTED BY THE RAT PLAGUE?

He was technically homeless when it started, Slaughterhouse Row attracted plenty of rats, and security in the area became brutal so that was a pretty fucking bad time. He had to move around a lot to avoid the city watch, and he pretty much accepted that he’d almost certainly contract the plague. Like, he was genuinely surprised every morning he woke up and wasn’t bleeding from his eyes. That’s part of the reason why he took the risk of looting the Flooded District so often; he figured if he was sure to die, he might as well try and die rich. On the bright side he did make a killing and it lead him to the best people he’d ever meet. Once he was set up with the Eels in Drapers Ward, life totally turned around.

DO THEY HAVE AN OPINION ABOUT CORVO? DO THEY BELIEVE HE’S GUILTY OR INNOCENT?

He doesn’t pay much attention to politics but everyone heard the rumors about Corvo, and Phelim had not reason not to believe them. While he didn’t really care one way or another about Jessamine, he loves Dunwall and ends up partly blaming Corvo for everything that happened while the rat plague ran unchecked and for all the changes that the Lord Regent implemented.

IF THEY LIVE IN DUNWALL, HOW DO THEY FEEL ABOUT THE LORD REGENT’S GOVERNMENT AND THE AUTHORITARIAN CITY WATCH?

“That guy can go fuck himself with a whaling harpoon.” 

WHAT IS THEIR FATE IN A LOW CHAOS ENDING? WHAT ABOUT HIGH CHAOS?

His canon is set in a low chaos universe, so he ends up joining the Dead Eels and then ends up in prison after that. In high chaos he’d probably contract the plague, considering how he was living. 

DISHONORED 2

DO THEY SUPPORT EMPRESS EMILY AND LORD PROTECTOR CORVO OR THEIR CRITICS? OR DO THEY NOT CARE? DO THEY BELIEVE THE CROWN KILLER STORIES?

He’s happy to see the Lord Regent go, but support is a strong word. Empress Emily is the reason he loses his family and ends up in prison, so while he’s happy about many of the changes she puts into effect he’d still probably tell her to go fuck herself if they ever met. Though to be fair, he’d say that to basically any politician. 

He’s heard that the Lord Protector had to do some shady shit to get Emily her throne back so he had no trouble believing the Crown Killer stories. Frankly he thinks they’re pretty badass and it’s made him respect Corvo a little more.  

HOW ARE THEY AFFECTED BY DELILAH AND DUKE ABELE’S COUP?

He’s in the city watch at the time and while he’s not really loyal to the royal family, he loves his city and there’s no chance he would have been on board with letting some foreign shit waltz in a take over. So I mean, the coup very nearly kills him. 

IF THEY LIVE IN KARNACA, HOW DO THEY FEEL ABOUT DUKE ABELE’S GOVERNMENT? ARE THEY AFFECTED BY BLOODFLY INFESTATIONS OR SILVER DUST STORMS?

He isn’t in Karnaca but I imagine the rest of Serkonos wasn’t doing much better. Not-Nassau is totally independent, being a pirate republic and all, but I doubt Duke Abele would be too happy about the situation. Attacks around the archipelago went up, more pirate ships were lost, and any ships that had made port in Karnaca had to be quadruple checked for bloodflies. Phelim is just so sick of this shit, was it not enough to live through one coup????? Why do these people need to make their drama everyone elses’ problem?

IF THEY LIVE IN DUNWALL, HOW DO THEY FEEL ABOUT THE CITY BEING CONTROLLED BY DELILAH’S BRIGMORE WITCHES?

UMMMM THAT IS LITERALLY THE NIGHTMARE SCENARIO. He’s not in Dunwall at the time and I cannot even begin to describe how lucky he feels when he hears the news, and how equally angry and upset he is that the city he loves so much is being desecrated this way. 

WHAT IS THEIR FATE IN A LOW CHAOS ENDING? WHAT ABOUT HIGH CHAOS?

Low chaos he makes it to Serkonos. High chaos he dies at the start of the coup, killed by his partner in the River Patrol. 

IF YOUR OC WAS AN NPC…

WHAT WOULD THE HEART SAY ABOUT THEM?

Dishonored:

He used to feed the Hound Pits dogs, and wept over each night’s casualties. He tries not to think about where the hounds are now.

At night he sits with needle and thread, patching threadbare clothing the way his mother taught him. He has not seen her since before the plague began.

His parents gave him a charm carved from bone. He pretends he cannot hear how it whispers.

Dishonored 2:

Sometimes he swears he’s seen something from the corner of his missing eye, but when he turns to check there’s nothing there.

He still dreams of a red uniform, and all the ways he could kill the man wearing it. 

He’s lost so many friends and each night drinks to all their memories.

WHERE COULD THEY BE FOUND IN-GAME?

With the other Eels in Draper’s Ward, during the Brigmore Witches DLC, or around the docks in Karnaca in DH2.

WHAT LINES WOULD THEY SAY WHEN IDLE OR NOT ON ALERT?

Dishonored:

“C’mon already. I’m itching for a fight.”

“Can you believe how people lived here? How can anyone need so much shit?”

“Drinks are on me tonight.”

Dishonored 2:

He’s singing Drunken Whaler to himself while cleaning things up on the deck of a ship.

Occasionally he’ll mutter:

“Ugh, what’s that smell?” sniff, then ask, “Is that me?”

“Can’t believe Shen left me with this shit job. What a choffer.”

WHAT LINES WOULD THEY SAY WHEN REACTING TO THE PLAYER?

Either game:

“Nice sword.”

“You looking for a fight?” if the player gets too close. 

In DH2 he occasionally says, “What’s with the mask? Pretty flashy way to hide your face.”

WOULD THERE BE ANY REWARDS, CONSEQUENCES, OR SPECIAL EVENTS DEPENDENT ON YOUR CHARACTER (LIKE CALLISTA GIVING YOU AN HEIRLOOM FOR SAVING GEOFF CURNOW, GRANNY RAGS GIVING SIDEQUESTS, ETC)?

This could happen in either game, but it’s funnier imagining it happening with Daud. 

He calls the player over and is obviously embarrassed, but he powers through and asks if they could deliver a letter to a certain apartment. He’d do it himself but he’s got work to do here. (He’s alone on the ship in DH2 and mentions that he doesn’t wanna ask one of the other Eels in DH.) He gives you the letter and tells you not to read it but obviously you do anyway, and it’s a really shmoopy love poem. Once you drop it off and let him know he rewards you with a big river krust pearl.  

IS THERE ANYTHING ELSE YOU’D LIKE TO SHARE ABOUT YOUR OC?

He loves dogs and no matter what is going on in his life, he will always stop to feed and play with any dogs he comes across. The captain of the Golden Hagfish, Agnes King, owns a mangy little rat catching terrier and he’s so fucking in love with it that he’s basically stolen the dog from King at this point. He’s also been blessed by a stray polydactyl black cat that lives in Not-Nassau and visits his house whenever he’s around because he feeds her. 

[witchykitchenconjureman-blog]

As i often am, that morning i was feeling equal parts martha stewart and marie leveau. In addition to being those two ladies, im also always the dude everybody LOVES to make halloween costumes with, since i have craploads of little knick knacks, trinkets, and odds and ends sitting around for years, waiting for a purpose. And that, folks, is what voodoo is all about: collecting simple things from around your world, creatively making your purpose their purpose, and sending their magick off to do what it does how it sees fit. Who knew all this shit around my house was a link to the universe?                  {{{{{{MIND BLOWN}}}}}} Before i digress further, back to my point..... That day being saturday, and me being a 35 yr old gay guy with a cat and an injured knee, I had an urgent need to do something exciting, but with some meaning....and almost always with glitter. This is why we craft. Both artsy-crafters and witchy-crafters; we're just lonely creative geniuses with sewing kits and glue guns and mason jars and quill pens and mortars and pestles. We're like pioneer folk, but gothier and with bluetooth capability. And, usually, we're kinda the shit. Again, it being a saturday, and with all the voodoo ive been studying, i immediately think "hmm, saturday...BARON SATURDAY!" A LITTLE BACKGROUND INFO... The baron i most often speak of is Baron Samedi (translated: "Baron Saturday"), but there are several Baron incarnations (LaCroix, Cimetiere, etc.) The barons belong to a group of loa called the ghede. In essence, the ghede are cemetery/death-related spirits, but they live right here among us in our world, and they are no angels.  They drink, they smoke, they cuss, they fuck, the are quite obscene at times. So basically, theyre that hot mess Laura from yr cousins wedding, right? Nope. They're better. Know why? Cuz the barons aint all doom and gloom. They can actually be helpful, albeit obnoxious  guardians who can sometimes help in dire situations. They also hold a very important place in the voodoo/hoodoo pantheon, because they are in charge of our exit from this life, and can help when things hang in the balance. Petition them carefully and dont expect special treatment...but if u offer some candy and alcohol, u just may luck out (still not Laura, i swear!) The ghede dance the banda, and they represent death and fertility. They each have a unique and fascinating story to tell.  Baron samedi is probably the most famous of the ghede, and his wife Maman Brigitte also plays a prominent role in their graveyard community. The baron is revered by new orleans  natives and tourists alike. In haiti to this day, the first male grave in a cemetery is dedicated to him, and the first female plot to his wife Brigitte. The Baron along with the rest of the ghede are celebrated on November 2nd (All Souls Day, Day of the Dead). The dark, skeleton-like images of the ghede have got a very halloween-y appeal for many, understandably. But they also have a significant religious, cultural, and practical appeal for like bazillions of people (according to the university of vague and exaggerated facts.com......ok, lets just say alot of people then). From africa, haiti, cuba, throughout the caribbean and south america.... and here in the states, specifically in louisiana. Each place has evolved its own traditions and spin on the original african Voudon tradition. But his tophat! His glasses missing one lens! His funerary style! His skull face!....Laura? Nope the unmistakable baron samedi! The loa are fascinating to learn about. Personally i find that, through creating items with the powers and symbols of a certain loa in mind, i can make a connection to them. I begin to understand them. I feel their vibe (like dig it man....no, but seriously). Do i believe a mystical being is possessing me in a supernatural sense when i serve the loas? No. I do however feel as if i invoke certain energies from the idea of them. They are powerful archetypes associated with specific numbers, colors, plants, animals, objects, and acts. Putting a human-like name, face, and personality to these energies is the best way to get to know them and their inherent power. 

         A) Smudge my sacred space (my home)

         B) Welcome ghede spirits/energies (by fanning towards me, prefferably when the moon is waxing)

         C) Get rid of ghede spirits/energies (by fanning away from me, prefferably when the moon is waning).....

                Plus....on the other side is a sacred mirror, perfect for mirror spells! Personally, ive seen similar feather orisha fans (and mirrors, but not fan/mirror combo), and i havent seen any dedicated to the baron or the ghede, though im sure they exist. But who needs their fans?!! I poured this one out from my heart and soul and, because i made it, my magick comes built-in. All of the details are specific to the ghede or the baron specifically, and quite honestly it made me feel closer to understanding what makes Baron Samedi a powerful image i can channel into my own creative magick.

There was no plan.

No specific end goal.

No list of supplies.

Just grabbin' and gluin' and beading with fervor until painstakingly perfect. I wouldnt stop until it looked like something the baron himself had commissioned from me. Beautiful in an honest way, and beautiful in its ugly aspects as well. The ghede have a twisted beauty that is awe-inspiring....

As the process continued, the art transformed. I was, in a sense, "possessed" by creativity. Quickly i grabbed anything i could use that has an association with the baron and the ghede:

Numbers 9 and 13.

Colors purple, black, and red.

Skulls and skeletons.

Crosses.

Nails.

Every detail bringing the baron closer.

By the time i was finished,  the entire table was a full-on Baron Samedi conjure altar:

Offerings of rum, coffee, and cocoa. Cigars. An image of a rooster. Candles. Incense.

And my fan. OUR fan. Without the idea of him and his signature style and tastes, none of this very real magick would have occurred.

Even if he is a mythical being or a metaphor, his mere history and unique character make him someone who will continue to carry magickal associations when focused on.

After the work was complete, i blasted "No time to cry" by sisters of mercy, danced a bit in my legbrace, and fanned the incense throughout my apartment, feeling as if those feathers were part of my very own wings.

I left the baron his rum, coffee, cocoa, rooster, and half a cigar in a nice black box with a bow. I wouldn't have felt right removing them (even in the world of the dead, there are no take-backs).

Finally,  i hung the fan, mirror-side down, on the inside of my front door. This is where i can interact with it daily, and also where it can best fan in the good and fan out the bad.

Though i never petitioned the baron for anything (it felt more like a fun boozy brunch with a friend than conjure), i left the experience  feel honored and powerful. And with a dope piece of magickal art.

Its nice having friends in high places.

P.S.  tell hot mess Laura, Baron Samedi says hello.