theateared

[theateared]

I’M  NOW @sirsharp.

I hope to see those who want to write there.  If you wanna continue a thread, all you have to do is message me and I’ll be more than happy to, either on here in IM’S (I’m still logged in here on mobile and will check in between making the blog) or Discord.

[theateared]

I’M  NOW @sirsharp.

I hope to see those who want to write there.  If you wanna continue a thread, all you have to do is message me and I’ll be more than happy to, either on here in IM’S (I’m still logged in here on mobile and will check in between making the blog) or Discord.

[theateared]

I’M  NOW @sirsharp.

I hope to see those who want to write there.  If you wanna continue a thread, all you have to do is message me and I’ll be more than happy to, either on here in IM’S (I’m still logged in here on mobile and will check in between making the blog) or Discord.

[theateared]

I’M  NOW @sirsharp.

I hope to see those who want to write there.  If you wanna continue a thread, all you have to do is message me and I’ll be more than happy to, either on here in IM’S (I’m still logged in here on mobile and will check in between making the blog) or Discord.

[theateared]

I’M  NOW @sirsharp.

I hope to see those who want to write there.  If you wanna continue a thread, all you have to do is message me and I’ll be more than happy to, either on here in IM’S (I’m still logged in here on mobile and will check in between making the blog) or Discord.

[theateared]

I’M  NOW @sirsharp.

I hope to see those who want to write there.  If you wanna continue a thread, all you have to do is message me and I’ll be more than happy to, either on here in IM’S (I’m still logged in here on mobile and will check in between making the blog) or Discord.

[theateared]

I'm gonna remake.

[theateared]

Send me a “💭“ and your Muse will experience one of my Muse’s Memories

Bonus: Specify what kind of memory! (Ex: A Happy memory, a Childhood memory, an experience from college, etc)

[theateared]

ii.

    The second time they crossed paths, she was much more presentable.

    Or at least, ever the skewed individual, that was how  Edgar  would have described her.

    He’d tracked something into the depths of the forest, though by the time he’d wound himself through the thick bracken and brambles overhead, his kill had been stolen–  or, that was the word  he  would use.  In truth, she’d merely been hunting the same thing from the opposite way; though they’d met in the middle, she had ultimately been closer to it.

    “Oh?”   he asked, standing in the mouth of the clearing, watching her feed.  The sound of his voice was like a bolt of lightning;  it caused her spine to straighten, tail automatically coiling into a defensive position before she turned around to regard him, her fur matted with blood.   “That was mine.”

    “Was,”   she said, a paw swiping across her face to rid it of as much gore as possible.   “Past tense.”

    He should have been annoyed, should have displayed his dominance in a fit of rage, but he felt his mouth curl into a grin.  Who  are  you?  I  like  you.

    This time, when he took a step closer to her, she didn’t retreat.

    “It isn’t wise to hunt alone,”   he remarked, ears stood tall.  They hadn’t picked up on any other sound as he’d entered the clearing, giving him the solid impression that it was just the two of them there.  It hadn’t taken as long as one might imagine for him to learn the ways of the wild. Some would argue that he’d been an animal long before he’d occupied the body of a lye.   “Where are your creedmates?”

    “I don’t have them,”   she replied, voice unflinching.  Even so, he could smell it:  that hint of trepidation;  the apprehension that accompanied a lone soul in the midst of a confrontation.  It led him to a startling truth:  she really  didn’t  have anybody to come to her aid.  The thought made him grin wider, approaching until he was sitting beside her.  A crooked leg of the dead separated them, though the gap was small, barely mindful.

    Up close, she looked all the more intriguing to him.  He could see small indents in her ashen fur, proof of teeth and claws, and the hint of  multiple  different scents clinging to her had him assuming that she was either a whore  or  she’d had a close shave with an unsavoury group of lyes.  Whatever the case, she had wound up injured, small and kitten-esque even in  his  wake. What interested him the most, however, was the patterns in her fur.  Though the area around her mouth had taken on a crimson sheen, the light grey mark resembling a heart beneath her eye drew him in.  He realised with some amount of intrigue that she had a similar marking on her chest;  it lined it attractively, the sides curving behind her legs, leaving her underside an adorable grey.

            You had a Signature*…  but something clawed over it.  Did  you  do that?

    “ … you truly don’t belong to anyone?”   he asked, one paw settling atop the carcass he’d been dead set on since noon.  When she didn’t respond, his claws sank in, drawing meat from the fleshy body, teeth bared in a wide smile.   “Nobody to come and help you?”

    “I don’t need help,”   she spat back with a glare.

    “Why are you so aggressive?”   he quizzed with a chuckle.  “I could kill you for commandeering my kill, you know.”   Come the end of things, she could do nothing to keep him from feeding too.  If she struck an issue with his imposed sharing methods, she knew it was likely that she would face the wrath of a far stronger lye.  Even his  expression  was enough to put her on edge…  though she didn’t want to bend to his whim, she also didn’t want to annoy him too much.  After eating her fill, Grace stood up from her spot, taking a few calculated steps away from him.

    “You can have it,”   she commented dismissively.  At the very least, the  illusion  of choice was there.  She watched his head swivel in her direction, black sclerae seeming all the more dark when accompanied with such a ghoulish smile.  

    Why do you look like that?  What are you so  damn  happy  about?

    “What an angel.”       “Don’t call me that.”     “Struck a nerve, dear?”

    She’d been doing so well.  Though cold and unresponsive, she hadn’t revealed her  anger  until then.  It caused her face to slacken, the uptight scowl there melting into a resigned line.  Part of her  wanted  confrontation;  awaited the swift pierce of his claws and teeth with breath so bated that it made it feel perverse.  As tough as she was, she was certain that he didn’t miss the hint of anguish she carried along with her like a small block of concrete, like a stone in her pocket, its weight manageable but present nonetheless.  It followed her cleanly, even as she turned her back on him and left.  

[theateared]

I thought I told you to stay on the ship.

[theateared]

SEND ME A NUMBER AND HELP ME DEVELOP MY CHARACTER!

01:  A memory from your character’s childhood

02:  A memory from your character’s teenage years

03:  A memory from your character’s career

04:  A memory that your character cherishes

05:  A memory that your character wishes to erase  

06:  Something that makes your character angry

07:  Something that makes your character happy

08:  Something that makes your character laugh

09:  Something that frightens your character

10:  Something that turns your character on

11:  Describe your character’s childhood friend

12:  Describe your character’s parents

13:  Describe your character’s former lover

14:  Describe your character’s present best friend

15:  Describe your character’s worst enemy

16:  What your character does on a day of

17:  What kind of books your character reads

18:  What kind of music your character likes

19:  What your character does when they wake up

20:  What your character is like at social events

[theateared]

ANYWAYS,  I’m gonna get into bed for my final shift tomorrow.  After tomorrow, I’m here the rest of the day Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday and Monday morning, so I have  LOADS  of time to get to replies and asks and stuff!  Thank you for your patience!

[theateared]

Maaan, every time I get to go into Edgar’s intricacies and how he views himself and the world, I get a little heart-eyes because he’s.............  he’s just become something so amazing imo like he was nothing like this and now that i’ve actually developed him and committed to him..............  god i Love him..........

[theateared]

jyn erso // rogue one

[theateared]

poisonseer-rajaa​

   Looking past what he could only describe as pride, the alchemist chuckled within the confines of his own mind; so there really was something to push their buttons, and he wasn’t even trying to find that out now. He was certain to keep that tidbit safe and guarded in his memory.

   Observant and keen on listening to every word with insatiable curiosity, he let them speak for as long as they desired, looking only to absorb more and more. Rajaa had no intent of treating them the way they implied, but he saw no point in clarifying that – he’d rather them believe that it was his goal.

   “A son of Gaia, and that is all I can tell.” And all that he knew, but he would prefer to leave it up in the air whether it was a matter of secrecy or not.

   He wasn’t something specific, no part of a major species with no brethren to claim – but human he would never consider himself, far above those pesky little maggots in his own consideration.

   “So say, Edgar, what drives you to live?” I wonder if you’ll lie?

                                                         _____   【 🞮 】   _____

     It didn’t really stem from comparative annoyance.  It wasn’t as if he was truly offended by being called a ‘cat’;  it was more a case of him not being that at all.  Would one call a car a ‘lorry’, or a rock a ‘dog’?  To him, it was as senseless as that, and acting senseless around him was a quick way to burn his fuse.

     The question distracted him, head tilting to one side as he thought about it.

     ❝ What a loaded question, ❞   he admitted, trying not to linger too much on his disappointment.  What Rajaa might have mistaken for mystique was honestly just a source of dismay.  You aren’t more interesting just because you won’t say what you are, you know.  At the end of the day, you’re just like me or anyone else -  you belong to someone, something.    ❝ And it has a loaded answer!  I’ll try to keep it brief-- ❞   1/435.    ❝ I believe that, aside from any boring old tosh about instinct and what-have-you, what really empowers me is the desire to oppose a power greater than me, to be at the helm of my own future, so to speak.  Every day that I continue to live like this, I stray further and further from the desired end that my ‘’saviour’’ wants for me  -  and I revel in the freedom of it. ❞

     There was no such thing as oversharing when it came to things like Gods.  What are you going to do, beardy,  kill Him?

[theateared]

divergentdisparity​:

@theateared​ sent: 🍎 Our muses going apple picking  / from eddie, we need some wholesome shit!!!!! (Accepting!)

��🔧』 “This is the kinda thing your dad takes you to do as a kid, I heard… it- it feels weird, my first time doing this being when I’m, like- a grown-ass woman.”, she muses. Indeed, the gentle sunshine offset by that sweet, cool autumn breeze would probably take anyone else back to a time when they were barely old enough to remember trips like this - barely old enough to care about the sweltering heat, and young enough to be able to laugh at the occasional worm in the apple before an adult throws it aside in disgust.

Given how she was so easily stripped of these simple pleasures, though, anyone would think she’d be upset by that kind of reflection. And, to be fair, part of her did wish that she possessed that nostalgia, to have some capability of feeling some familiarity with this kind of setting. Despite that, though… she’s smiling. She can’t help but to grin, with her basket full of apples looped over her forearm, and the much taller Edgar watching her reach up to grab those fresh fruits, she can’t help but treasure the moment anyway.

People would kill to experience these moments for the first time again - and now she’s living that dream, doing all the things she couldn’t as a kid, with good ol’ Uncle Edgar by her side!

“Hey- Edgar, uhm-.. what should we do with all these apples? We could make an apple pie, maybe? Caramel apples? Applesauce? God– oh, god, it’s been a while since I’ve had apple sauce… god– so many possibilities! And- and you get to help me out with them! Isn’t that just… awesome?!”

                                                         _____   【 🞮 】   _____

     It certainly hadn’t been his first thought to  go  when he’d seen the advertisement for seasonal fruit picking while passing through town, though the thought of it making a nice afternoon with Alex soon changed his tune.  The kid seemed to require a new batch of memories, and he was more than happy to attempt to make them for her.  With her, even.  There was a lot of stress going on in his life at the moment.  With the promise of death looming over him, growing closer and closer by the day, he’d resigned himself to fatal wistfulness.  

     While I still have some time left, I should let the people I feel something about know      that, at the very least, they weren’t  invisible  to me.  Not even  I  am safe from this                                                                sentiment.

     The question prompted his head to turn, smile ever-present despite the overwhelming urge to curl into a small ball and lay completely motionless.  Now wasn’t the time to think about his dwindling lifespan;  it was the time to focus on his quaint little human friend, to make her happy  -  if only one last time.

     ❝ Well aren’t  you  just brimming with enthusiasm  -  and apple recipes!  I think that a pie sounds w-- ❞   He paused momentarily, eyes narrowing at HABIT’S creeping talons as they inched towards Alex’s basket.  To this day, his shadow still had a mind of its own, and more often than not, its intentions were more malevolent than Edgar’s  -  even if said malevolence manifested in the form of  apply  thievery.  After a sharp tut from its owner, the shade fell back into place, once again glued to Edgar’s side.   ❝ I think that a pie sounds  wonderful, ❞   he finished, voice teeming with pleasantry as his own basket was held aloft by the sturdy curve of his tail.   ❝ Though, if we commit to baking, I humbly request to introduce you to something wonderful of my own afterwards. ❞

[theateared]

poisonseer-rajaa​

    ‘Human.’

   “Mind your tongue.” The herbalist spit with disdain for the term – he would not accept being addressed with such an insult, and he cared little for their power or threat. “I did not remember your name, but I did not opt for insolence instead.”

   Far calmer after a short pause, it was obvious that he manipulated his tone to hide away the displeasure that came from being treated as if one of those VERMIN that kept spreading their putrid species in lands that were never theirs.

   “I find you interesting, but not beyond reproach.” Rajaa walked without looking behind him, confident no assault would follow. “However, I would rather not sully our amicable time with a misunderstanding.”

   They could still be useful in the future after all, even if what he felt was an incessant need for approval became ever-so obnoxious at times. Regardless of what would come from this exchange, information was what he sought as of right now.

                                                         _____   【 🞮 】   _____

     ❝ You  do  not  tell me what to do. ❞

     He hadn’t followed an order since his childhood days, and he wasn’t about to start doing it again.  While he had little interest in butting heads with the herbalist, he wouldn’t allow  anybody  to attempt to command him.  He did as he pleased, whenever it was convenient for him, and anything else was a chore that he would rather not burden himself with.  He was above shouldering stresses that he didn’t wish to carry--  that he wasn’t  obligated  to carry.

     ❝ I would rather continue peacefully, Rajaa.  Petty drama is very low, if not at the bottom, of my list of priorities, ❞   he said, slowly beginning to walk after him, arms tucked behind his back.   ❝ But don’t think for a second that I will allow you to treat me like an inferior.  Consider the fact that I found what you had to say insolent;  how often do I speak out against things that annoy me?  It isn’t often, because there truly isn’t much that bothers me.  Perhaps me biting back is a means of drawing a line in the sand. ❞

     It was a strange mix, such a  serious  tone with such a wide  smile, and it gave him an ominous aura as he followed.  As much as he seemed irate, he truly didn’t feel any differently about getting food with him.  He was more curious than he was frustrated, and he didn’t want to completely vaporise the chance to get along and learn.

     ❝ ... what  are you, then?  I feel the best way to accommodate people is to learn who they are, no? ❞