#⟨ OOC. ⟩ : LIVING THE SAPPHIC DREAM. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nvirskies · 3 months

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sand - c. la rue

idea taken from one of @star-girl69 's asks about married clarisse and immediately went to think about how the vast majority of greek demigods didn't get to live past their 20's or even teen years... and the survivor's guilt that would come with being one of the few lucky enough to live longer.

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, traumatic nightmare flashbacks, descriptions of violence, descriptions of blood + war, spoilers for TLO, set after both reader and clarisse leave CHB about 6-8 years into the future, google translated Greek term of endearment, crying, survivor's guilt, platonic RueGard, ooc Clarisse, she's matured more over time and more articulate with her feelings and words

summary: clarisse wakes up from a particularly bad nightmare in the middle of the night, reader comforts her through a breakdown

wife!fem!demigod!reader x wife!clarisse la rue

word count: 2.2k

καρδιά μου (kardiá mou) - my heart

Η καρδιά μου είναι η καρδιά σου (I kardiá mou eínai i kardiá sou) - my heart is your heart

"but you have more pieces of me than than desert has sand, and I have less pieces of you than I can hold in my hand" sand, alchemical: vol. 1, dove cameron

taglist: @lvrue @star-girl69 @azrielsdiary @petitegavotte @b0ok-lover

men, nsfw, non-sapphic, 16-/19+ dni

Greek demigods fell in love hard and fast with an unmatched intensity. They normally didn’t live long enough to even envision themselves in their adult lives, and why would they? Every day was a struggle to stay alive with monsters coming in from all angles and quests most didn’t come back from.

And that was why, as soon as the two of you graduated high school, Clarisse got down on a knee and proposed with the knowledge that you were the one she would want to spend the rest of her life, however long or short, with.

When you two had graduated college, the next thing in the books was to make it official in the courthouse, and that was what you had done. No extravagant party or ceremony, just a quiet day in the courthouse and a night in to celebrate.

But no matter how far the two of you ran from Camp Half-Blood, the nightmares never went away, never got better. As the years passed, more of the people you had considered friends died. One after the other, falling like cursed dominos, helplessly standing by as they all tumbled down.

Soon, the nightmares became more about the people that were lost than the monsters themselves. Nightly plagues of searingly painful memories from watching the life drain from so many demigods’ eyes burned themselves in both of your psyches.

All you could do was hope Charon would be kind enough to ferry them across the Styx without his payment of a silver coin.

And tonight certainly hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary with the two of you and your limbs interlaced in a protective embrace while sleep claimed your minds, as if the both of you could protect each other from the monsters both in and outside.

Your head, nestled into her chest. Her deep, rhythmic breathing made your hair flutter ever so slightly as she exhaled. Her arms, wrapped loosely around your waist, hands not-so-sneakily under the baggy shirt of hers you had stolen to wear as pajamas for the night. It was all perfect. Too perfect.

You would be damned fools to think that peace would last for so long. Demigods didn’t get peace, they didn’t get tranquility, and they especially didn’t get uninterrupted domestic bliss.

Unbeknownst to you, Clarisse’s face contorted into one of distress. Her arms pulled you in closer subconsciously as the all too familiar face of Morpheus greeted her with a sly smirk on his face in her dreams.

In moments, she was transported back to the Battle of Manhattan.

She was seventeen again.

Blood was everywhere. Abandoned weapons lay on the floor, the hands that once gripped them tightly, now loose and limp. Shrill screams echoed throughout the air, all cut short by gut-wrenching sounds of fatal injury. Metal cut through flesh. Acid burnt through metal. Flames licked and greedily consumed anything and everything as fuel.

Her feet felt heavy, her hands numb. She could do nothing but stand and watch it all unfold before her own eyes, forced to relive the carnage and devastation that had ripped through Manhattan on that fateful day.

Morpheus’ voice whispered in her right ear, the sound of it sending an uneasy chill down her spine. “Daughter of Ares. A fitting dream, no? Your father must have been proud of you for the way you fought after… well, I’ll let you relive that, too.” Before she could blink, she was transported to the moment right after Silena had been sprayed by the Lydian Drakon.

Clarisse was too late. She had always been too late.

She was back on her knees, choking and weeping bitterly as Silena lay in her arms, watching as life slowly left her once-lively eyes.

What kind of a warrior even was she? So weak that she couldn’t even protect her friend? Too weak to protect the girl who had adorned her armor and led her siblings into battle?

Just as Clarisse reached out to touch Silena’s face to wipe away the one mark of smudged eyeliner that the Aphrodite girl normally would never have even allowed to happen in the past, she was jerked back to consciousness, eyes flying open and arms almost crushing your sleeping form momentarily as she came to.

No longer was she in Manhattan, instead sheltered in the familiarly adorned walls of your shared bedroom. Upon the walls hung framed pictures of joyous times past and her sword collection, among other things.

Familiar faces stared back at her, some faces that would never age again. Immortalized memories of times that would never happen again. Everyone was dead or scattered across the globe.

A particular picture caught Clarisse’s eye. It was a portrait of Silena that she had commissioned one of the Apollo kids to draw for the daughter of Aphrodite’s seventeenth birthday.

She never lived to see that day.

Her eyes locked with Silena’s in the drawing for a moment, and that moment was one too much as hot tears began to prick in the corners of her eyes.

She had inadvertently woken you up with the way her arms tightened around your waist in a near vice grip, slowly coming to your senses. No longer were her breaths slow and rhythmic, their steadfast pattern replaced by one that was erratic and shallow. The once-steady thumping cadence of her heart as it beat in her chest was now quickened, all of which you could hear with your head having been nestled into her chest.

Craning your head to look up at her, you were greeted with the sight of Clarisse desperately trying to silently blink back tears and control her own breathing.

Hurriedly, you pushed yourself up off her chest and tugged the blankets off the two of you before sitting down on her lap. You took note of the way her hands had never left your waist, holding onto you as if she were drowning and you were the last life ring thrown out.

It wasn’t anything you and Clarisse hadn’t dealt with before. The nightmares had been a part of your lives as far back as you could remember, it just came with the territory of being a demigod. But they never got any easier as time went on.

She watched silently with eyes brimming with unshed tears, pleading wordlessly with you to do something, anything to make it all go away.

“Let’s switch, yeah? You can lay on me and completely cover me if you want, love,” you offered up, a melancholy smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. Wordlessly, she nodded and you slipped off her lap, laying back where she had just been moments ago.

Gently patting your chest, you motioned for her to rest her head on it, knowing that the rest of her body would soon follow, completely engulfing your form with hers. After she had positioned herself, her arms snaked around your waist again as she simply held you for a few moments, her face pressed into your chest as tears slowly soaked into your shirt.

One hand reached out to gently run along the length of her back, the motion meant to soothe. A few beats passed in silence before you spoke in a hushed whisper, the bedroom devoid of sound beyond the two of you breathing in tandem with each other.

“You hear that, love? That’s my heart,” you murmured softly, craning your neck to press a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “It’s beating, beating for you. Η καρδιά μου είναι η καρδιά σου.”

She didn’t respond beyond releasing another shaky sob into your chest and tightening her grip around your body, but you didn’t mind. You didn’t need her to talk just yet.

“You’re also η καρδιά μου, you know that, right? My heart, my wife, my love, my everything. And I’m yours. Entirely yours, and I”m not going anywhere.” You craned your neck again to press another kiss against the crown of her head, hand never stopping its path of running gently along the length of her back.

“I would go down to the depths of Tartarus for you. I would challenge Hades himself to a fight if it meant I had even a glimmer of a chance in getting you back.”

Never once did you try to rush her into talking or shushing her tears. You knew her better than you knew yourself, and giving her time to let everything out was the best thing you could do for her at the moment.

You were her safe space, the one woman that she could let her walls down around. She wasn’t Ares’ star daughter in your arms, she was just Clarisse. No expectations dangling over her head, just open arms and understanding.

After another few quiet moments, she finally spoke up in between half-choked sobs, whispering so quietly that her voice was nearly inaudible, “Silena… Manhattan… should have been able to save her,” before letting her face fall back down onto your chest, releasing another pained cry.

“She’s gone- a-and everyone else too- why me?”

Her question left you speechless, mouth partly opened in an attempt to come up with a reassuring response, but nothing seemed to come to mind immediately. It was rare for this to happen, as you normally had just the right words at the top of your tongue, weaving them as Arachne once wove tapestries on her loom.

“They’re all gone and- and- ”

“Shh, love…” you cut her off, gently pulling her head up to look her in the eyes, your other hand leaving her back to wipe the tears that were still streaming down her cheeks with the pad of your thumb. “Please, don’t go back into that self-sacrificial spiral. Talk to me, tell me what the dream was about?”

She only shook her head in response, unwilling to divulge details of the memory that had shattered your night of otherwise perfect proportions.

Deflating back on top of you, she whispered, “They’re all gone, and we’re one of the only ones remaining. It was like every time another one of them died, that small part of myself that I gave to them died as well.”

Her arms that were wrapped around your waist tightened for a moment before going limp along with the rest of her body as she lay atop you, her head pressed against your chest.

“Love…” you began softly as one of your hands found its way to her head and carded gently through her curls. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened. None of it was your fault. We didn’t ask to be born, to be thrown into this mess of a world and tossed around like pawns in the gods’ game of chess with our lives.”

“We didn’t ask for this life, and we were so young at the time. For fuck’s sake, we were only seventeen- we hadn’t even made out yet. We hadn’t graduated high school yet, there were so many things we couldn’t control.

“None of it was your fault, I promise you. You were so brave, and you did everything you could.” She stayed silent as you spoke, the only sounds coming from her were the soft, shaky breaths as she sniffled and burrowed her face further into your shirt.

“I can’t explain to you why so many things had to happen, that’s up to the Fates. I can’t give you the pieces of yourself back that you lost when we kept losing everyone,” you murmured whilst your hands kept on with their idle motions.

It shattered your heart to give her such an incomplete answer when you knew it was tearing her apart inside to live with it all, but there was nothing you could do beyond offer solace and comfort. “And for that, I am so, so sorry. But the one thing I can do is keep the piece you’ve granted me to keep, safe and sound.”

She only nodded in response, not trusting herself to speak in fear of her own vulnerability. Her tears soaked into your shirt, but you didn’t care. All that was important was that Clarisse was here, in your arms, and slowly calming down.

Clarisse knew just as well as you did that everyone had done the best they could with the circumstances given, and that the loss affected you just as deeply. But she didn’t dig into that, it would be a can of worms to open for another time, another sleepless night where your own troubles caught up with you after running from them for so long.

And so, the rest of the night stretched on into early morning, the two of you half-awake, seeking silent solace in each other until sunlight crept into the bedroom through the cracks of the curtains the next day.

The two of you might have been running from your trauma like runners to a marathon, but at least you were running hand-in-hand with matching strides.

#🖋️ nvir writes #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x fem reader #clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue pjo #clarisse larue #clarisse la rue x you #clarisse la rue x y/n #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo tv #im not sorry #maybe i am #no im not

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aetherose · 2 months

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THE TAGS LIST

For you and I's convenience, an organized Tags List! SEE THIS POST FOR HOW TO SEARCH FOR TAGS ON MY BLOG.

MUN POSTS

&& ooc / your local queen of brainrot

&& rose plays hi3 / ellie herrscher ballista go

&& rose plays gi / this is my third playing gi tag jfc

&& rose plays hsr / screams in kafka simp

&& rose plays lc / im a sadomasochist confirmed

&& rose plays lor / screams in angela simp

&& rose plays lcb / 12 idiots and 1 simp

&& rose plays bg3 / who knew cats can get you so far

&& rose plays ptn / sapphic fever dream time baby

&& rose plays pgr / my impulses won and now we're here

&& aetherose pinned post / do not reblog; non-rp blogs dni

Spoiler tags to block: hi3 spoilers, genshin spoilers, hsr spoilers, lobcorp spoilers, ruina spoilers, limbus spoilers, bg3 spoilers, ptn spoilers, pgr spoilers

GENERAL

&& ic / give all to the present for the sake of the future

&& thread / the hearts that can bend shall never be broken

&& commentary / live to the point of tears

&& open starter / freedom is nothing but a chance to be better

&& asks / seeking what is true is not seeking what is desirable

&& drabbles / a nostalgia for innocence

&& memes / there is not love of life without despair about life

&& dash games / there is scarcely any passion without struggle

&& crack / oh lord save us from ourselves

&& incorrect quotes / just a rose tradition!

&& headcanons / man is always prey to his truths

&& oc lore / the gentle indifference of the world

&& gallery / at the heart of all beauty lies something inhuman

&& edits / the glimpse of an eternity stretched across time

&& mun art / rose can draw sometimes

&& aesthetic / an appeal to the essence of being

&& musing / can you see the meaning inside yourself

&& music / where words fail song speaks

&& announcement / gather around rose’s garden

&& patch notes / just a rundown of the updates to the blog!

&& psa / you should probably read this

&& starter call / where there is no hope it is on us to invent it

&& inbox call / a day will come when revolutions will have need of beauty

&& promo / a beautiful twilight that enhances everything

&& self-promo / heyo its me rose

&& discord chronicles / hidden beneath the surface lies treasures

&& signal boost / a little can go a long way

&& misc / rose doesnt know where to put this

&& munday / stuff about rose!

&& saved / rose’s most beloveds

&& wishlist / rose’s hopes

&& queue / rose remembered she can queue stuff

MUSES

&& c. elysia / miss pink elf

&& c. aponia / disciplinary perdition

&& c. mobius / infinite ouroboros

&& c. fu hua / taixuan impression

&& c. dr. mei / ward of humanity’s flame

&& c. seele / swallowtail phantasm

&& c. veliona / starchasm nyx

&& c. theresa / valkyrie pledge

&& c. senti / herrscher of sentience

&& c. binah / degraded arbiter

&& c. faust / representation emitter

&& c. rodion / what is cast

&& c. furina / endless solo of solitude

&& c. focalors / lady of all waters

&& c. columbina / the damselette

&& c. sandrone / the marionette

&& c. la signora / the fair lady

&& c. lumine / the abyss princess

&& c. klee / fleeing sunlight

&& c. raiden ei / plane of euthymia

&& c. raiden norika / guardian of eternity

&& c. kafka / twilight trill

&& c. black swan / loom of fate’s caprice

&& c. hsr bronya / windrider bullet

&& c. hsr seele / butterfly flurry

&& c. layla / silent nightingale

&& c. lumia / niveous eminence

&& c. rosemary / nocturne illusion

&& c. pamela / paradoxical heart

&& c. arabella / bloodied blossoms

&& c. lynn / starlight’s embrace

&& c. gabriella / tempestuous waves

&& c. daphne / flowing gales

&& c. calista / transcendent damnation

&& c. radiata / crimson lily

&& c. sylve / tempest archer

&& c. raven / lunar songstress

&& c. nimue / ethereal sorceress

VERSES

&& v. crossover / and we come together despite all odds

&& v. unspecified / dance in a world of endless possibilities

&& v. genshin / step into a vast magical world of adventure

&& v. hi3 / for all that’s beautiful in the world

&& v. hsr / may this journey lead us starward

&& v. lobcorp / face the fear; build the future

&& v. lor / book; librarian; star; and city

&& v. lcb / face the sin; save the ego

&& v. projmoon / hominem te esse memento

&& v. stp / you are on a path in the woods

&& v. bg3 / to become more than what we were made to be

&& v. d&d / our adventure begins here

&& v. fe3h / promise me you won't forget me

&& v. ph / there is no black and white; only our will

&& v. pgr / reclaim the world for humanity

&& v. modern / a world not far off from our own

&& v. ce / the ethereal abyss

&& v. ce: rein / reborn into peace

&& v. tenebra / repetition of history

&& v. herrscher of death / birthed from broken serenity

&& v. older layla / the nightingale’s metamorphosis

&& v. younger layla / from the embers

&& v. little layla / still-burning flame

&& v. white witch / the monster they made

&& v. star of the head / flickering lights in an empty city

&& v. shining star / reignition of lost light

&& v. fallen star / all-consuming darkness

&& v. chosen of bhaal / the embrace of her rancid blood

&& v. young nimue / unknowing accursed daughter

BONDS

&& complicated found fam / butterflies daffodils and birds

&& layla + crystal / the sweetest devotion i’ve ever known

&& calista x aelia / light up the night sky together

#&& misc / rose doesnt know where to put this

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survivus · 2 years

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like this for a one line starter just to get me warmed up !! pls reply to this with the muse you want !

#⟨ OOC. ⟩ : LIVING THE SAPPHIC DREAM.#⟨ SC. ⟩ : PLEASE SPECIFY A MUSE.

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ellasfm · 4 years

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» • * — ( elle fanning , cis female , she/her ) . i think i hear wait a minute by willow coming from apartment 2611. doesn’t eloise miller live there ?? i heard they are a twenty-two year old author from wayzata, mn , but they’ve been living in the apartments for two months . they come across a bit - anxious and - pessimistic , but they also seem like they could be + intuitive and + patient . whenever i see them , i think of a silver heart-shaped locket, stacks and stacks of books, small acts of rebellion. oh , and don’t forget to follow them on instagram at eloise.b.morris ! ooc . ally, 22, est, she/her .

hello y’all, back with my impulsively picked up second muse ! she’s actually an older muse i revamped to be a little less sad and i think i nailed it !!! details under the cut, like this post for me to hyu for plots !!!

full statistics | full biography | pinterest | wanted connections

tw panic attacks, psychological abuse, eating disorders,

statistics.

full name. eloise bethany morris. nickname(s). ella. occupation. author. age. twenty-two. date of birth. september 2nd, 1997. nationality. american. ethnicity. white | scottish, english, french. orientation. bisexual/sapphic, with a preference for women. gender & pronouns. cis female; she/her/hers. religion. agnostic.

height. 5’9”. weight. 125 lbs. eye color. green. hair color + style. flaxen blonde, relatively thin, usually up in a bun, braids, or pleats. dominant hand. right-handed. distinguishing features. deep-set eyes, willowy frame, pale skin.

biography.

ella’s upbringing was super... lonely, honestly. both of her sisters were basically adults by the time she was born, and never really interacted with her since they didn’t like her father’s second wife, ella’s mother. and with good reason.

if you thought zar’s mom was bad, get a load of heather morris. intent on living through her only daughter, ella was brought up to be a perfect little lady. a dancer, a star student, one of the most popular girls in her class. she was the first two things, but was never the third. she reeked of insecurity, and as a result was bullied throughout most of school.

even worse, her mom would force her to go to events where her bullies were, because those were the girls heather thought ella ought to be friends with. needless to say, they didn’t go very well. the only things her mother ever gave her were anxiety, deep-seated self-loathing, and an eating disorder she only overcame about two years ago.

ella’s one and only escape was books, she always had one on her person from the time she was five. for a long time, the closest things she had to friends were her favorite characters: matilda wormwood, hermione granger, and liesel meminger, among others. as a child, she dreamed of writing books like that, to help other little girls just like these authors helped her.

ella has always been a massive romantic, falling in love with every friendly face. and everyone she’s ever loved wormed their way into her heart, and to get it out, she decided to write. about the what-ifs and the maybe-so’s.

despite taking ballet lessons her entire school career, as per her mother’s request, she didn’t get into the american ballet company as her mother wished. her mom honestly wasn’t even that proud when she got a perfect sat score on her first try, nor when she got into harvard.

if she wasn’t going to be a dancer, she was going to be a lawyer, and her mother pushed her to get perfect grades in school. she hoped she would flourish at university, but she... kinda fell apart. we’re talking daily panic attacks, a crippling caffeine addiction, and her anorexia getting so bad she ended up in the fucking hospital her freshman year. despite that, she never missed a single deadline, functioning like a machine. and that was all that was important to her mother.

her sophomore year, though, she took a creative writing class, and when the ta read some of her work, she told her that she had a lot of potential and if she should continue down that road, the ta would like to be her advisor. that little bit of encouragement was all it took to reignite her dream of being an author.

writing became her therapy again, along with, thankfully, actual therapy. sure, school still made her anxious wreck, but ella was doing better. bit by bit, step by step. the summer before senior year, her advisor told her that she sent ella’s latest transcript to a friend of hers in publishing, and that she wanted to talk. she wanted to hold off for now, unsure what to do, until she got her lsat results back over thanksgiving break. she’d failed.

it was then, with her mother berating her non-stop as per usual, that ella decided she was going to publish. she walked out of the house with her mother still yelling, feeling freer than she ever had.

the day after her commencement, ella moved into a shitty apartment in boston and got to work with the publisher to get the book finished as quickly as possible. thanks to her advisor, it required minimal editing, and they had the first print sent to ella by the end of october.

on november 15th, the ipswich girls by eloise b. morris was officially for sale nationwide, and by its second week, it was a new york time’s bestseller. the last few months have been a world wind for ella, of book signings and award ceremonies and realizing with every young fan of hers that she’d achieved her dream.

now, she’s moved into new york city, a dream come true, and shortly after, she realized her publisher expected her to write a second book. she’s... still pretty paralyzed about that, trying to come up with something to top the ipswich girls, but... she’s trying. kinda. maybe. mostly panicking.

tl;dr: girl with strict mother finds freedom in books, becomes an author, writes a bestseller out of college, now is expected to repeat that success lmao fun.

personality.

lets get the zodiac out of the way: virgo sun, pisces moon, aquarius rising.

she’s... still very much a Good Girl, and she wants to change that, she wants to be her own person.

like in january she got a tattoo in feminine script on her wrist that said ‘i belong deeply to myself’ and the entire time she felt like a Bad Girl okay????? and she just started smoking weed and that also makes her feel like a Bad Girl

still pretty anxious, but she’s getting better. she’s on medication, now, and usually does something impulsive whenever she feels bad. or she writes. it’s fifty-fifty.

very organized, almost to the point of being anal.

very weird, abstract, neo-dadaist sense of humor. like stonks makes her wheeze.

she’s basically a big fuckin nerd okay???????????

usually very chill and relaxed, doesn’t get riled up too easily. it’s hard to tell when she’s having a panic attack because she just looks a little more zoned out than usual.

cannot fucking flirt like at all.

Big Virgin.

her guilty pleasure is watching compilations of fox news pundits railing on and on about how the ipswich girls was written to promote witchcraft and the lesbian agenda.

(also if you’re curious i put a summary of the ipswich girls here, even though its only bits and pieces but like if you’re curious. it’s basically the craft with fifteen-year-old girls, and also gayer. tw for suicide mention, brain damage and injuries. )

wanted connections.

fast friend. someone who she got along with immediately upon coming to new york.

childhood pen pal. i just think it’d be cute.

crush. ella flirts by gazing tenderly across the room.

philophobe. ella loves love, and this person doesn’t. for better or for worse, she’ll try to convince them otherwise.

bad influence. and she is very willing to be influenced.

wing(wo)man. she’s so bad at flirting please. somebody. anybody.

deja vu. a negative connection; someone ella can’t get comfy around bc they remind her of her childhood bully.

former dance rivals. ella used to do the competition circuit in ballet. she wasn’t particularly competitive, but her mom certainly was. probably a real dance moms situation.

#ten23.intro #panic attack tw #psychological abuse tw #eating disorder mention tw

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dishonoredrpg · 4 years

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Congratulations, ALEXANDRA! You’ve been accepted for the role of TEMPERANCE with the faceclaim of ZOE BARNARD. I was wholly unprepared for the straight-up laughter that your application would pull out of me, but Meraud is, like, perfect. She’s that even mixture of haughty and beautiful and hysterically arrogant that makes all of her blend together and form exactly what I was looking for in Temperance. The hints and touches of outright ridiculousness -- and the acknowledgment of that -- was icing on top of a delicious pastry. Still, there was an implied human quality to her that had me fully in-love by the end; you really showed to me how she could grow and change if given the chance. Just, completely enraptured -- you encapsulated both the gold filigree and the melting of that filigree as mentioned in the skeleton perfectly. I can’t wait to see what you both do!

Please review the CHECKLIST and send your blog in within 24 hours.

OOC NAME: Alexandra PRONOUNS: she/her AGE: 22 TIMEZONE, ACTIVITY LEVEL: PST, fairly active? i have no job, and no university classes, and so my time is extremely free! ANYTHING ELSE?: Apologies in advance if i’ve spelled it ‘dishonoured’ at any point in the app, I’m a Canadian and sometimes the ‘u’ just pops out! Also - going through the worldbuilding tag and seeing ‘Brethren Lundqvist, Emissary Konecny’ made me wheeze irl Buzzfeed Unsolved style. TK as a religious emissary… the world trembles at the concept IN CHARACTER SKELETON: Temperance NAME: Meraud Cyrielle Azenari Meraud is a medieval Cornish name, with varying meanings depending on the source. Its connection to the sea within ‘mer’ is unquestionable, and it was that connection I enjoyed: the Azenari family draws their wealth through their connection to the sea, and while they are no longer seafaring, and instead profit off of other sailors, the family’s tradition of honouring that mercurial power. The fact that a different source I found says Meraud actually means ‘a profit from the sea’ is almost too perfect. Cyrielle, a French name, and the feminine variant on ‘Cyril’ — Meraud’s maternal grandfather’s name. Chosen not only to appease the man, a harsh fellow, who disapproved of his only daughter marrying a man whose family’s money was earned rather than inherited (her mother, you see, was from old money, since lost, but the name, and the pride, lingered). The selection of ‘Cyrielle’ appeased him, in part, and while he dotes on all his grandchildren, Meraud is a particular favourite as a result of her name. Azenari is a Basque surname, drawn from ‘azeri’ or ‘fox’. A rather good name for a family that makes their money through cleverness, isn’t it? FACECLAIM: Zoe Barnard (1) or Anya Chalotra (2)! AGE: 23 DETAILS: I found myself so, so torn between Temperance & the Lovers — I tend to go for the sapphic characters, and for Dishonored it was no different. I just adored Temperance when I read her skeleton, the way she was snobby and spoiled but still cultivating a friendship with the Hanged Man, the way she was spoiled and proud and too caught up in herself to appreciate or understand the pure love held by the World and the Lovers. She dreams of being a femme fatale, the protagonist, the heroine, but all she really is, is a spoiled little girl, with dreams and rages in turn, and no real understanding of the world around her beyond what she cares to see. There’s so much potential there, so much capacity for growing and changing, and, given the opportunity, my fingers itch to write it for her! BACKGROUND: What is this character’s history? Where do they come from? What makes them the way that they are? and little girl, who do you think you are? / you think you need it, you think you want love / you wouldn't want it if you knew what it was. The Azenari family was an old one, though not always a noble one. Dust off Tyrholm’s yellowing records and you will find them mentioned, a seafaring heritage, both in legal (merchant) and illegal (pirate) business. It was an easy profit, certainly, bringing luxuries and delights from across the world to bring tastes of warmth to the rocky city, and as they prospered, their power and influence grew. Gold and goods streamed into the city, and, newly ennobled — a gift from a long-past king, pleased at the benefits the port drew into his city, and seeking the influence he’d gain through their inclusion within his court — they flowered even as did the new exotic blooms in the castle’s greenhouse. Skip, then, ahead in the books by a century or two, to a more recent entry: a marriage, a joyful day, the union of Elazar Azenari and Nessa Enys. Scorned by a few in the bride’s family (no matter the hundreds of years which had passed since the Azenari family had been anything but noble, some clung to old prejudices, and a disdain for new money) but celebrated by most, the happy young couple set about their lives with futures light bright by Tyrholm’s most gifted candlemakers. Elazar was the oldest child, the heir to the docks and their wealth, raised to it all his life, and with the inevitable and long-expected passing of his mother provided him with all the responsibilities that came along with the family’s legacy, he shouldered them easily. Nessa was a sweet girl, enchanted by Elazar’s enthusiastic manner and the curious, whimsical gifts he brought her during their courtship, and any familial doubts about his heritage were more or less stifled by the economic reality: she was the youngest daughter of five, and her family could afford very little in the way of a dowry. And they did love each other, perhaps the most important detail of all, with a baby only eight months after, and another two years after, and a third, their only daughter and last child, a year after. Kenver & Ruan, born two years apart, and thick as thieves. Despite identifying quirks (the latter far prefers books and records, a born bookkeeper, the former in search of a knighthood even at a young age), many had trouble telling them apart, and the Azenari household was a rowdy thing before the birth of their youngest, their only girl, a long sought-after daughter: Meraud. She was spoiled, naturally, plied with treats, doted upon by her brothers, showered in delicacies from far-off lands, and grew to expect it all. Her mother taught her elegance, beauty, poise, things necessary for a lady of the Tyrholm nobility, and Meraud’s list of accomplishments and talents only grew as she grew older. She was an elegant thing, long legs, long eyelashes, a skilled dancer and successful flirt, the broken-hearted youth she left trailing after her as a teen only building her confidence, with nothing seeming to even approach shattering it. She had a place in the court, growing up alongside the World, never envying the other’s position or power, but simply glowing on the outskirts, a beautiful flower within the castle’s grey walls. She lacked nothing, and never really learned to distinguish between wants and needs — she received both, after all. Even a shattered engagement did little to impact her, at least not publicly, though inside she burned, hurt even though she refused to admit it to herself. After that, though, the world seemed a little less vibrant than it once had. Envy, loss (both of a friend who grew apart from her, a would-be engagement dissolved seemingly over nothing) hooked their claws in, and she grew spiteful, petulant. A girl who’d been raised to be good even to her lessers instead became disposed to throwing things at them, and many a servant quit rather than face one more morning of lighting a fire in her room only to face Meraud’s petulant rage at being awoken. Her parents refused to see the spoiled girl they’d raised, and continued only to dote upon her, and she grew consumed by herself. Whether the spell would break upon them, as her own refusal to see Tyrholm’s dark corners for anything beyond the home of velvet secrets, whispered confessions, has begun to fracture, remains to be seen. all the feeling was all or nothing / and i took everything I could Grew up very much spoiled by both & mom n dad who always wanted a girl both are awfully protective of her PLOT IDEAS: Regarding the Lovers & the World — I want Meraud to learn! To grow! It’s not as if she grew up without proper models of love in her life (her parents have a rather happy marriage, after all), but the rather superficial experiences she’s taken from the endless spoiling have rather overshadowed it all. Dependant on what the Lovers & the World’s writers want, and how those characters end up being written, I could see Meraud’s fascination with both going in a few directions. Temperance upright: peace, patience, harmony Meraud moves to a deeper comprehension of L&W’s relationship, learning to appreciate it rather than let it dig its claws deep with jealousy. The fire within her turns to soft, warming embers, rather than an inferno that threatens to consume her. Perhaps she learns to love the two platonically, appreciating their love for the beauty it holds, and embracing the importance of her own as different rather than lesser — maybe even finding a love of her own? (A little addition to this can be found in my headcanon regarding ‘Love’) Temperance reversed: discord, recklessness Meraud’s jealousy builds, spilling over, and she finds herself driven to hatred, rumours, gossip: she’s a rather experienced socialite, after all, and could very easily be pushed to attempts at driving a wedge between the two. I don’t see it working at all, really, rather a more tragic bitterness, perhaps that even leads her to work against the World in more political, less personal ways. Meraud! Getting! Woke! She’s closed her eyes to all that is wrong in Tyrholm for far too long, and though the process of opening her eyes has started, there’s a long path ahead for her. Though, frankly, the way she struggles with the dark side of the world may appear ridiculous to other characters, in light of all her privileges and a rather evident love of the luxurious, it’ll be rather overwhelming for her, and I foresee a great deal of gentle weeping on velvet couches with silken cloth dabbing gently at her eyes. I also do, eventually, imagine her pushing for the World as a leader. She does have a certain level of respect for them (fascination at them, longing for them?), and though I’d imaging depending how the above plot idea turns out, I can see her becoming a rather enthusiastic political supporter. Power She’s incredibly ineffectual, a spoiled young girl rather than the powerful figure she could be, if she wasn’t far too self-centered and petulant to achieve it. I’d like to see her grow into this potential, whether for good or ill in the end. She’s intelligent, witty, charming, if she tries, and if she gained a little more awareness of her own flaws, could certainly be a force to be reckoned with. CHARACTER DEATH: Strong yes! The ability to write a romantic, tragic ending for a character has so much potential, creativity-wise and can be incredibly satisfying, I’d love to write one for Meraud. WRITING SAMPLE Wide eyes veiled with dark lashes blink softly, brows furrowed. She’d been late in exiting her father’s office at the docks, summoned there for one reason or another, and had walked over with more than a little frown visible on her face. The gall he had! Meraud had things to do, and besides, the docks were the domain of Kenver and Ruan — she had little interest in the origins of the gilded jewelry upon her wrist, the satin gowns that draped delicately across her body. And then! Adding insult to injury, he father had forgotten their appointment. She’d waited, a dutiful daughter on occasion, but as an hour, then a second, passed, and his tousle-headed figure had remained absent, a fury had grown within her. She cared little for his rule about walking the docks alone. She’d not be here another minute, not wait around like one of her neglected dolls, but would return home herself. It was then, though, that the flaw appeared: far from the docks appearance on days she walked it with her brothers or her father, it was filled to the brim with loud, boorish men. She could smell the alcohol on their breath even from the office’s second-story window, and the things they said! Horrific, scandalous, disgusting, all of them. She shivered at the things they said, words about women that she’d never heard spoken before, ducking as one turned to face the open window. Their conversation turned to her father, and then, of course, to his family, filth in their words and in their intent shrinking her down upon the floor, silent sobs even as she drew her gown around her carefully. It was there her father found her, in the morning, a miscommunication evident in her day-early arrival. But the damage was done, then, in the vicious words of dockhands and pirates, merchants and sailors alike, even those she’d known as a child, her worldview shattered like a poorly-treated bit of porcelain. EXTRAS Anything you’d like can go here, whether that be a playlist, a pinterest board, some headcanons, or whatever you’d like to show us! pinterest board here: https://www.pinterest.ca/draconiform/01-meraud-azenari/ my occasionally serious occasionally not tag for meraud: https://draconicwrites.tumblr.com/tagged/ch%3A-meraud Also wow wow I listened to a lot of ‘Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812’ while writing this app and Natasha……. kindred spirit? So I’ve included some applicable lyrics below that I feel really apply to Meraud (or in many cases, apply to how she sees herself) From Natasha & Bolkonskys: And from the first glance I do not like Natasha / Too fashionably dressed / Frivolous and vain / Her beauty, youth, and happiness From the Opera: Pearls and silk / Glittering before our eyes / Feminine envy / A whole crowd of memories / Desires and emotions & They are looking at me / They are talking about me! / They all like me so much / The women envious / The men calming their jealousy Headcanons Pets — Meraud has two primary animals in her life. The first, a fluffy black longhaired cat, is named Parceval, and is more of a family pet. Not the typical mouser seen at the docks, he’s elegant, perhaps even a little snooty, despite his questionable origins. Meraud’s father brought him home as a kitten, even then filled with disdain, a stray discovered by a merchant among his wares. He had no interest in the childrens games, and instead grew, well, not fat, per say, but certainly a little plump, spending nights in front of the fire, well adored (as he should be). The second is Eme, a little songbird named for the emerald she so resembles. She’s a beautiful little creature, who adores Meraud, and is perhaps the creature she most loves (and loves unselfishly) outside members of her own family. Love — Were Tyrholm the modern day, we could call Meraud pansexual. She sees little difference between her capacity for infatuation for men or for any other gender (I hesitate to call it ‘love’, as she doesn’t quite understand the concept, but she could certainly be attracted romantically and sexually to anyone.) The problem, however, is that she’s picky. Meraud is rather self-centered, and the person she’d allow herself to care for must be similarly high-quality: wealthy, pleasing in appearance, fascinating in conversation… I’d rather like her to fall for someone that doesn’t meet these standards, because I think it’d be a good learning experience for her.

#accepted #accepted: temperance

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eviloneills-blog · 7 years

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top five colleen moments!

YOOOO my computer has now crashed twice as I tried to answer this Most Blessed Ask because it personally hates me but let’s get started with COLLEN WING, my girl, my icon, the light of my life, the utterly flawless mixed Asian butch lesbian swords master who has her own complete story arc and a place as the 4th defender because her story makes more sense in combination with Luke’s, Jessica’s, and Matt’s then D@nny’s ever will. (A girl can dream.) ANYWAY

(This is also probably the time to mention that I skipped to only watching the Colleen scenes and couldn’t give you a rundown of the general plot to Iron Fist if you put a gun to my head.)

1. Colleen + Claire hospital fight scene. It’s just so rare to see two (2) women interacting in the MCU, particularly TWO WOMEN OF COLOR!!!! YESSSS. And aside from the attacker guy this scene is specifically all about them. Colleen just destroys him so efficiently, and Claire is the live action version of the “Got your flower (purse)” meme like the ultimate supportive female friend she is to Colleen. Iconic.

2. FIGHT CLUBBBB. That one shot with Colleen with the hood over her head, illuminated by the pulsing lights??? And then Colleen just destroying people because of how much she loves her dojo she’s willing to do anything to keep it running??? Excuse me brb crying.

3. Colleen + Misty in the hospital room. I can already hear the Daughters of the Dragon theme song playing and it Will Be Epic.

4. Park scene where my girl is wearing the absolute Best Red Bomber to grace the face of the earth, truly an #iconic sapphic look. I want one. Also she tells D@nny to go away. A perfect scene aside from one critical element (D@nny)

5. Colleen and Claire talking in the precinct in The Defenders. Colleen talks about wanting something stable and a light goes off in Claire’s head so she recommends that Colleen date her adorable niece Esperanza Temple, a nice, normal programmer at an up-and-coming startup. This is exactly how this scene went, I can prove it with Science.

(JK I freaking hated this scene, Colleen explicitly states she wants stability in a relationship, Claire tells her that it’s her who’s supposed to be the stable one for Danny. it’s really OOC for Claire and also feeds into so many gender-essentialist bits of BS I’ve heard about marriage where the wife is supposed to be the “supportive helpmeet” jfc I hate this scene.)

Honorable mention goes to every one of Colleen’s fight scenes, which I didn’t really go into because I’m crap at describing fight scenes and prefer character beats/interaction but anytime she picked up a katana it was internal gay screaming.

Also her outfits. I love her outfits, they look like things 24 yr old women actually wear. (Clears throat a bit at some shows). They are also all extremely gay.

#asks #colleen wing #i think we should put together the colleen squad #there's got to be some great pun with wing #i'd say the wing men except most of us aren't men

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acuppellarp · 7 years

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Welcome to A Cup-pella, Mi! We’re excited to have you and Dani Harper in the game! Please go through the checklist to make sure you’re ready to go and send in your account within the next 24 hours.

OOC INFO

Name + pronouns: Mi, She/Her. Age: 20 Timezone: GMT Activity level: 8/10 Ships: /Happiness Anti-Ships: /Forced

IC INFO

Full Name: Danielle Carter Harper. Age/Birthday: 23, January 2nd. Personality: Stubborn, Honest, Loyal, Reckless, Flirt. Hometown: Houston, TX. Bio:

Dani doesn’t like living in the past, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have one. Whilst she doesn’t like to reminisce on them, she does have parents. Many would probably be shocked to know she was a preacher’s daughter and that her mom was one of the heads of beauty pageants, but that was the reality she was born into. It had been quite the struggle growing up, her parents having had expectations that she didn’t live up to time and time again. Dani wasn’t that cute, pink loving, little princess they had dreamed off, no she’d been a hyper, messy explore and tree climber. What most people would call a tomboy. She couldn’t wear dresses because they tore when she was outside and her mother didn’t think it was lady like how she pulled it up when climbing, but that was just Dani for you. The disappointment already settled there, but it only became greater when the girl became old enough to say no more pageants. Mrs. Harper was devastated and didn’t speak to her for weeks, maybe even months, Dani didn’t take time. All she knew was that she was ready to ditch the dresses and find herself, which she also did.

Teenage Danielle was rocking leather jackets and tight jeans with her favorite band tees, it was a horrid sight in her parents eyes. However they dealt with it, after all she still showed up at church and got those expected A’s. The fights were always brewing though, Dani wasn’t sure if it was her being a teenager or her parents actual hatred towards her for not being what they expected. One night seemed to have defined it all, which .. yeah she should have seen that one coming. Dani had been trying to keep her sexuality on the down low, but she wasn’t necessarily hiding. After all her parents wouldn’t really condemn her to hell, right? Turns out, yeah they would.

One night she had the house to herself, Dani had invited a girl over and they had a great time in the basement “watching a movie”. Not having heard the car pull up outside, it was an utter shock when her father suddenly cleared his throat whilst she was on top of a girl, making out. To this day Dani still remembers his face as she’d looked up and he’d seen it was a girl she was with, the night just a nightmare she hated to relive. Of course her parents had seemed alright and just send the girl on her way home, but as soon as that door had closed Dani really wished she’d had a god to pray to. If her father hadn’t kicked her out, she would have run away. Fact was though, he did and he had shown no mercy. Packing up her stuff in fury, Dani had wanted to scream and kick, but instead she kept it together and swiped the blood off her split lip before getting the hell out of there.

Her life had forever changed since that night, Dani choosing not to be a victim. Even today, she refused to view herself as one. Sure being a homeless teen had been hella tough and she’d met fucked up people and done shitty things, but she also knew it was what made her.. her. It took her a few months, but she got to New York all on her own. Of course there was some help from a few people along the way, but fact was she had been a lone wolf. It all changed once she turned 18 though, knowing that now she could do whatever the hell she wanted without social services butting in.

Dani had gone straight ahead and gotten a job which slowly and surely made it possible for her to rent out a studio, things just rolling from there and now here she was. It had been one hell of an road, but she wouldn’t change it for anything. There was a reason she went through those things, a reason she was still breathing and kicking like no other. Everyone has a bad story, some worse than others, but it doesn’t mean the pain is any less or worse.

Pets: none

EXTRA INFO

Sapphic goddess and overall badass, but with a good heart - ya know?

trouble ahead/@dharps/Take it down a notch will ya 👌👽:

Five latest tweets:

@dharps: Can we all just appreciate ladies 🍑 #yesplease @dharps: We do what we have to when it comes to tips, at least when we’ve got an eye on a hella pretty bass down in the shop. 🎸 @dharps: I honestly love when people think they’re better than you, it’s the funniest shit to just sit back and be like: Oh yes you douche lord, we all want you to choke and die. @dharps: … um yes babe, rock it! 👅💦 @dharps: Your daughter calls me daddy too.

#accepted

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