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talesofstyles · 3 years

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Drs Styles

paediatric heart surgeon harry, husband harry and dad harry. honestly the holy trinity.

warning: they did it in the car. bloody animals.

Harry

“Move your car, please!”

“What are you going to do? Write me a ticket?”

“This is in the interests of safety for the children!”

I look at the time in the car. I’ve still got about twenty to twenty-five minutes to watch this drama unfold at the school gate. I just wish we had popcorn because drop-off and parking situations at the school gates are always more entertaining than Good Morning Britain.

The school gate is a strange social scene, and honestly, I don’t blame my wife for trying to avoid it like a plague. Sometimes, you don’t even have to talk to these people to know everything about their lives and more. I swear there are more gossips in the class WhatsApp group and daily playground chattering than in the copies of The Sun and Daily Mail combined. You know who’s married, who’s getting a divorce, whose husband shagged the au pair again, whose party you haven’t been invited to, even who’s looking for a builder.

I see the school caretaker chuckling to himself as he sweeps the autumn leaves off the pathway, no doubt also enjoying our morning entertainment.

“Why is Mrs Chambers screaming like that?” Alma, our eldest daughter, asks from the back of the car.

“Because that man parks his car in a drop-off zone,” I reply, still watching him as he removes a child from his car seat. “Do you know who that is?”

“I think the boy is your classmate,” Alma turns to her sister.

Fiona, our youngest, peers over to inspect. “Oh yeah, that’s Rufus and his dad.”

“Do we like Rufus?”

“Not unless we like boys who pee down the slides,” Fiona scrunches her nose up. “He stood at the top and peed down like a waterfall. I haven’t gone down the slide ever since.”

I shake my head and let out a chuckle. “M’sure they’ve cleaned it up since, button.”

Did you know that choosing a school for your child after nursery can be a head-throbbing, stomach-twisting, heart-pounding experience? Well, it can. How is one supposed to choose a school anyway? According to the proximity? Leavers Results? Adorable uniforms? Parents’ agendas?

After many, many discussions and visits through more schools than I can count, we ended up with Thomas’s Kensington. It’s a great school, and only ten minutes away from our home, making school runs easier. The downside of this school is the fact that it costs us an arm and a leg and that they’re always trying to rip us off any chance they get. Also, they only take the kids until 11, so after that, we’ll have to look for other schools again. But since our girls are only seven and five, we can worry about that later.

There’s a strange mix of parents at this place. I went to school up in the North and the school gate scene is nothing like this. Here there are more au pairs, fancy cars, nicer clothes and people coming with impressive tans from their last weekend break in Antibes. The kids here are suited up too: the PE kit is the size of a small weekender bag, and we put them in uniforms that make them look smart, hoping that will increase the size of their brains. A child walks past our car with a cello case, another with a hockey stick. It’s a different land here. One that my socialist in-laws constantly tease us about and one which my mum was hysterical about because she was scared her grandbabies would be little Tories. I promised her I’d keep them grounded by only giving them plain hobnobs. None of those luxury chocolate covered ones.

Jokes aside, my girls are happy here. They’re thriving. They learn French and Spanish and Mandarin, even if they share a class with kids who have ridiculous names like Kitty and Archibald.

A knock at my window calls me to attention. I wind it down.

“Are you Fiona’s dad?” A mum asks me.

“I am.”

“It’s about Ophelia’s riding party this Saturday at the riding stables.”

Like I said, it’s a different land here.

“I thought we RSVPed to that?” I look at her in confusion.

“Yes, you did, but we have to change the food options as one of the partygoers is allergic to nuts. I’m making everyone aware and we need to let the guests know that they can’t bring any nuts on the day.”

A dirty joke is right there on the tip of my tongue and I’m trying my hardest to keep it in. My wife would definitely find it funny though, I’ve got to remember this and tell her later.

“Noted,” I mean, I wasn’t going to send my daughter to a party with a packet of cashews anyway but I nod politely.

“And just gift vouchers for gifts please. Smiggle, if you can.”

Again, I nod, biting my tongue at the presumptuousness. But then I suddenly panic, because we haven’t entered the realms of pony riding just yet. Do I have to buy jods and boots? If I don’t, will my daughter be the odd one out? But Ophelia’s mum saunters off before I’ve got the chance to ask.

“Do I have to go to that party, daddy?” Fiona asks.

“Well, we’ve already replied, poppet,” I tell her. “Did you not want to go?”

“I’ll go if I have to.”

I don’t answer because I get distracted by a vacant space. I edge the car forward so my girls can hop off.

“I love you both. Have a good day, make good choices.”

“Bye daddy! We’ll see you after work!”

***

Evelina London Children’s Hospital is our second home. Of course, as a children’s hospital, we try to make the place as fun as possible as not to freak those little patients out at being ill. It is bright and primary coloured, and each ward is decorated according to its own theme with different colours and lovely artworks. There are televisions and toys almost in every corner. We have a giant slide on the ground floor, and even the bins are shaped like red London buses. The aim was to help the children to forget that they’re in a hospital and take their minds off their sickness.

Since my wife and I are in the same department, our offices are next to each other, both overlooking the Thames. It’s nice up here. Would’ve been nicer if we could sneak in a quickie, but that’s practically impossible with our shared secretary’s desk sitting literally in front of our doors.

Speak of the devil.

“Good morning. Here’s your tea,” my secretary follows me into my office with a cup of tea and a tiny plate with a couple of rich tea fingers. “Clinic until 3 pm, scheduled PDA ligation in the laboratory for 4 pm and then evening rounds on the wards.”

“Mornin’ Rhonda, you look lovely today,” I greet her cheerily. She’s a stern-looking woman who definitely likes her tea as strong as tits and who has probably never cried in her life. With such severity, she runs a tight ship, but she secretly has this affectionate side in her too. Not only is she a great secretary, but she also takes care of us in a way as a grandma does. She makes us tea, feeds us in between surgeries with biscuits or nice baby cheeses and crackers just so we wouldn’t starve.

See that sofa over there in the corner of my office? Rhonda got me that. It was around the time when I had just become a new father with the sweetest, most gorgeous little baby who did not sleep. Alma wasn’t a fussy baby though. For some reason, she just wouldn’t go back to sleep after her midnight feed for months. Believe me, I tried everything. I changed her nappy, I swayed and jiggled and rocked and sung her to sleep. Odd nonsensical songs like, ‘Alma darling go to sleeep. Sleepy sleep sleep. Pleeeeease. I’m so tirrrred. My eyeballs may actually exploooode. I don’t want you to see thaaat.’ And she would just look at me all wide-eyed like I’d lost the plot. Those were song lyrics? That was rubbish. Please don’t give up your day job. Also, it’s not sleeping time. I’m awake. I’m ready for life. Come on, entertain me, old man. Isn’t this nice, just you and me? Tell me everything you know. EVERYTHING.

Except of course she didn’t say all that. She would just stare at me and I had no idea what was going on in her little head.

I took over my wife’s patients at the hospital during her maternity leave, so I had longer hours at the hospital. One day Rhonda found me napping on the floor between surgeries, so she sweet-talked some porters into looking for any old sofas on the go and paid to have this one reupholstered. She even bought me a fleece throw for it too. We really don’t deserve her.

“You hittin’ on me?” She deadpans. “Yer wife not doing it for you these days?”

“It’s the blazer. I’m a sucker for a blazer.”

“If I’d known, I would’ve worn it more often,” she replies. “Did my nice dress yesterday not give you the fanny flutters?”

“It’s schlong shiver for me,” I roar with laughter. “And it’s the tartan, makes you look well old.”

“YN, yer husband’s a bloody git, did I ever tell you that?” Rhonda says loud enough for my wife to hear, and I can hear my wife’s laughter from her office next door. “Drink your tea. Your first clinic appointment is in twenty.”

“Yes ma’am,” I salute her.

***

The Arctic ward in the Evelina is home to many of our imaging, heart and kidney services. The name is probably giving it away, but everything is decorated in blue and white to go with the theme. We have several zones, and since paediatric cardiology clinics are held in the Walrus zone, I spend a great deal of time each day looking at walrus and snowflake decals.

“Doctor Styles!” I hear a little voice shouts in excitement as I walk towards the waiting room in the outpatient ward. I smile, because I recognise that voice even before I see the little person.

The waiting room is very open here compared to other hospitals. There’s a sea of noise, snacks, tiny juice boxes and colouring pages. There’s also always a look of expectation, judgement on the faces of parents and guardians every time I walk in. They want to see if their doctor is old or qualified enough to see their children. There’s always one child who has the whole gang with them; parents, two sets of grandparents and even several aunts and uncles, and there’s also at least one child running around in circles out of boredom.

This little lad bounces off his chair and hurls himself at me in a way like a little puppy would when its owner comes home from work. I put an arm out, hoping that he’ll apply the brakes but no such luck and he bundles himself into my arms. “Nice to see you, mate.”

His parents smile as they watch their son’s antics, who then runs off as I shake their hands. I turn around to see what caught his attention, and I can’t help but chuckle when I realise it’s my wife.

“Doctor pretty Styles!” He exclaims excitedly as he bundles himself into her arms. She gets a mouthful of curls in the process.

“Hi Rory,” she greets him as she runs her fingers through his curly mop.

“Oi,” I pout as I walk towards them. “You don’t think I’m pretty?”

“Your wife is prettier,” he says with a shrug, his tone matter-of-fact.

She laughs and gives him a high-five. “Rory, you are officially my favourite patient.”

She is right. Rory is one of our special patients for sure. We’ve both known him for about six years now, ever since Rory’s mum gave birth to this tiny human next door at St Thomas and his heart was literally broken. I remember watching proudly from the theatre when my wife replaced two of his valves when he was born. It was in our early years of training. Long time patients like Rory almost always feel like family. We’ve seen all their parents’ tears and watched over their children throughout the years. They send us cards and wine every Christmas and despite all attempts to keep a professional distance, their kids do feel like our own.

Rory shrugs off his dinosaur rucksack and unzips it, pulling out a drawing of a blue whale and an opened packet of KitKat. I like that the whale wears a top hat and appears to also don a moustache.

“I drew you both a picture. Only one though, because I figure you can share,” he says with a big toothy grin and hands the packet of KitKat to my wife. “And I’ve got half a KitKat here. Do you want it?”

“I’m good for now. Keep that KitKat for later on the tube,” she smiles and waves at Rory as she begins to walk away towards the fetal cardiology ward just down the hall. “Bye Rory, thanks for the picture.”

“Bye doctor pretty Styles,” Rory replies, making my wife laugh as she walks away. I give her a wave and a wink.

“Hey Rory, did you know a blue whale has a heart the size of a small car?” I ask him and his eyes widen.

“No way! That’s mega!” He exclaims. “Do you think you could operate on a whale heart?”

“I would need a very big ladder,” I tell him. “And a wetsuit. I’d give it a go though.”

A senior nurse from the outpatient ward, Florence approaches us with a junior nurse trailing behind her. “Dr Styles, always a pleasure.”

I smile at her. “Florence. How are we today?”

“Busy as usual,” she replies. “We’re about twenty minutes behind I’m afraid. We had Dr Goodridge in this morning and you know he likes to talk.”

“He always runs over,” I chuckle. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll skip lunch and get us back up to speed.”

“I’ll make sure to send some snacks for you. Here’s your chart, your files are already in your office. And this is Alice, your nurse today. She’s newly qualified so might need some instructions.”

The new nurse looks terrified so I smile at her to try and calm her fears. I totally get that. When you work in medicine, unfortunately, you’ll realise that there are a lot of rude self-important wankers.

I look down at my chart and find Rory’s name on the top of the list. “Well, look who’s coming with me to the exam room.”

Rory reaches out to hold my hand and we walk towards the examination room. His parents follow us closely, carrying the usual coats and devices that people do when they know they’re bound for a hospital waiting room. I see them inside and sit behind the desk.

“So, young man, I hear we’ve had a touch of drama with you. Can you tell me what happened?”

I’ve actually already got the information in the file, but I like the way this kid tells a story. He reminds me of my youngest.

“So… I was at school and we were doing PE and I wasn’t really feeling it because it was cold and really we should have been inside but Mr Witter makes us go outside because he used to be in the Army apparently and he says we should get used to the cold but that’s what they do in prisons.”

I smile. “Go on.”

“And then my heart started running.”

“You mean racing?”

He nods firmly. Racing isn’t even the word. It sprinted to the finish like Bolt at 252 beats per minute, three times the speed it should.

“It felt like bubbles in my chest and then the school went crazy panicky and they called the ambulance and they brought me to the hospital but not this one, it was another one and it wasn’t as good because you weren’t there and they had really bad biscuit.”

His mum adds. “And they gave him some drugs to bring it back to a steady rhythm; they were close to shocking him.” Her voice trails off and both parents’ faces look drawn and pale remembering the incident.

Rory looks absolutely unbothered by this. To be fair, we have put this little man through everything. We’ve cut his chest open more times than is necessary for someone so small, we hook him up to machines and put him on treadmills. His resilience and character amaze me, and I really can’t imagine what it feels like to see your child so vulnerable and helpless, to be paralysed and weighed down with such worry.

“Alright then, little man, we need to make sure that your heart is working as it should. This is Alice, and she is going to take you over for an ECG and we just need to make sure your tick-tock is in good shape.”

Rory nods and jumps off the chair. His dad offers him a piggyback, and his mum smiles at them. I can hear Rory offering that half KitKat to Alice as they leave the room.

His mother turns to me as the door is closed, her shoulders relaxing, allowing herself to breathe. “And how are you?” I ask her.

“You just think it’s done and then something like that comes along to scare you,” she says with a sigh.

“Let’s have these tests and then see if it’s anything major to worry about,” I try to calm her. “Episodes of rapid heartbeat is quite common in Rory’s case, and we can look into drugs to remedy that if necessary.”

She smiles, nodding.

“Did you have any other questions for me?”

She studies my face for a moment too long. “I… well, it will show up in Rory’s records soon, but my husband I are… I mean we’re getting a divorce.”

I pause for a moment. Of course, I know these things happen in life, but I’ve known this couple for years. I’ve seen them at their lowest ebb, bound by friendship and their love for that boy. I really do feel sorry for them.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I mumble.

“We just… we’re terrified about telling Rory.”

“He doesn’t know?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “We’re scared of breaking him. I mean, look at him. All of this stuff he’s been through and he carries on like nothing has happened. We don’t want to upset him.”

“It took a team of us the best part of six years to build Rory’s heart. There's a warranty on that workmanship,” I reassure her. “Have that chat with him. He’ll be fine.”

***

“Have we got time for dinner first?” I turn to my wife as we walk out of the hospital. We don’t normally have the luxury of ending our shift at the same time, but today is exceptional. We have parents’ evening at the girls’ school so Rhonda made sure to clear up our schedule after our evening rounds at the ward.

“No, but we can raid M&S and eat in the car?”

I’m starving and I almost cry with relief at the suggestion. “Always knew I married the right woman.”

She chuckles. “Damn right you did.”

We leave the car at the hospital and she drags me along the walkways to Waterloo, the breeze biting at our cheeks. I pull her into M&S, dodging the marching commuters and grab a basket.

“I’ll look for some wine,” she says before she saunters off. “Oh and I want sushi. None of that crap with the mayonnaise please.”

“Alright.”

I skipped lunch today so the whole place calls to me. I start taking very random things off the shelves: a packet of raspberry iced buns. That’ll do. I also take some hummus for my wife because she bloody loves hummus. I’m not even joking, I’ve seen her down a whole pot of it. Then I take some sushi as requested, some coleslaw, a family bag of mature cheddar and red onion crisps and a trifle. I hope I don’t bump into Rhonda. Next are cheese twists, noodle salad and cocktail sausages.

It takes me a while to notice that there is a man right next to me with a roll of yellow stickers in their back pocket. Hello there, you are one of my favourite people tonight. Have I managed to find that sacred hour when all the food is being marked down? He labels some prawns with dip and even though I get a little squeamish about eating fish near its expiry date, I put it in my basket. I then follow him around the corner. Now, this is dinner. I put all sorts of random food in my basket and smile at the thought.

Ooh, knockdown pizzas. I should get a pizza. That’s tomorrow’s tea sorted, the girls will love it. Although I can’t help but wonder, what’s the limit for us to feed our daughters frozen pizza in a week before they get taken away from us? But eh, we might be able to get away with it if we give them frozen peas on the side.

“Look at you,” says my wife, depositing two bottles of red in the basket.

“Yes, it’s me. I’m the yellow sticker bitch.”

She snickers as we turn to head for the tills. “Excellent work.”

***

“Mr and Mrs Styles, welcome.”

“Mrs Ebner, always a pleasure,” I shake the headmistress’ hand who’s standing at the door.

“Busy evening?” My wife asks her as she shakes her hand next.

“Always,” the headmistress replies with a smile, then proceeds to speak like she’s reading out of brochures. “But such a wonderful opportunity to connect with our parents and build on the special relationships we have with our school community.”

Two uniformed minions appear.

“Lewis, Maggie, could you please show Mr and Mrs Styles through to the drinks reception?”

They both nod in unison. The boy holds his arms out like a waiter showing us to our table. We follow them through the school’s grand corridors to the main hall. It’s the one thing I like about this place. It’s very Hogwarts-like with hefty engraved name boards and sepia photos of successful sports teams. In the hall, a throng of parents mill around waiting to see respective teachers. It’s the same every year. We all dodge the people from the PTA trying to sell us quiz tickets, and the bowls of crisps out of hygiene concerns.

“Red or white?” Asks a lady in an apron.

This right here is the very reason we get through parents’ evening. From the look of the bottle, it’s decent wine too. I think that’s where a good proportion of our fees is going.

“Red, please.”

We both take our glasses and walk to the corner of the hall. It’s essentially a holding area without the background music. The idea is that all the parents will get on and create a party vibe but it just becomes a strange family gathering. As terrible as it sounds, it’s sorted into cliques: parents who know each other via NCT groups, the international expat brigades who keep to themselves, the parents who’ve ostracised themselves by gossip, the ones who you know regularly brunch and ski together.

The boy from earlier suddenly appears in front of us. “Mrs Hughes is ready for you.”

I put my hand on the small of my wife’s back as we walk towards the classroom. Fiona’s teacher first and then Alma’s straight after. Right, we can do this.

“Mrs Hughes, we meet again,” I shake her hand. I’ve got no qualms about Mrs Hughes. She’s a seasoned teacher who likes a slack and sensible moccasin and we’re familiar with her since she taught Alma two years previously. When we enter the classroom, Lewis bows in reverence, taking his leave and I wonder whether to tip him.

“It’s always lovely to have another Styles girl in my classroom. Fiona is a particular delight.”

My wife and I smile proudly. I’m sure Mrs Hughes says this to every parent here about their child, but that’s always nice to hear.

“She talks a lot about you,” my wife says. “She seems to have settled in well.”

Mrs Hughes opens up a couple of books and it’s classic Fiona. Alma is ordered and neat—if she makes a mistake then she erases it completely and she underlines things with a ruler and listens to instruction carefully. She gets that from her mum. Fiona though, on the other hand, she’s all me. She has more wild abandon about her; no rulers, no rubbers. She puts giant crosses through things that don’t work and likes her bubble writing decorated with doodles of many, many cats.

I glance around the classroom as Mrs Hughes talks to us about standardised scores. The theme of the school is to show you how smart and educated these children are. Look at the copperplate handwriting, their reproductions of Van Gogh and our languages corner where they’ve all had a go at telling us what they like in French. I spy a contribution from my girl. J’adore les chats et le gâteau au chocolat.

I’ve lost track of the conversation so I try to catch up.

“So to push Fiona into those top scores, perhaps we can look into tutoring? For maths, in particular, so she can grasp some of the concepts a little more tightly,” says Mrs Hughes.

My wife and I look at each other confused. “Uh, I don’t think there’s a need, right? She’s only five.”

“It’s never too early,” replies Mrs Hughes. “We run an after-school tutoring club on Tuesdays that would help.”

Back when I was a youngster, clubs were fun endeavours that involved matching baseballs caps or were a chocolate biscuit that you had in your lunchbox. Maths tutoring session was not a club.

I ask her. “Is it free?”

“It’s fifteen pounds per session.”

See? My point being this should be a parents’ evening, not a sales session.

“Well, then it’s something to think about,” says my wife. “It could be that Fiona catches up with people throughout the year.”

“Possibly,” Mrs Hughes nods. Still, though, she proceeds to go into her folder and passes me a form. Sneaky. “Fiona has also shown great interest in languages and art. Her pictures have been a joy.”

Mrs Hughes goes to a file and pulls one of Fiona’s drawings. I glance down at it. It’s a standard child piece of art. The grass and sky are strips of colour to the top and bottom. It’s a family portrait, and we are as tall as the broccoli style trees. Wait, hang on a second. I count the number of people in the picture again. Is that-

“And Mrs Styles, I gather congratulations are in order,” she says with a smile. “Such lovely news.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Fiona told me it’s a boy,” she adds, and the sheer terror on my wife’s face at the realisation is priceless. “You must be very thrilled.”

I study the picture. There’s a house in the middle, and standing in a line in front of the house is our family. The one slightly taller than the broccoli tree is me. I’ve got my white lab coat, and I look like a serial killer because I’m holding a scalpel with the size of a butcher’s knife. Next to me is my wife, also with a white lab coat, but instead of a scalpel, she’s holding a very chunky baby who rather looks like a basketball with a head.

“Oh dear,” I chuckle. “Guess now we know what she’ll ask for Christmas.”

“Yeah,” my wife shakes her head. “We’re not expecting.”

“Oh, I apologise,” Mrs Hughes says with a sheepish smile.

“No worries, Mrs Hughes,” I tell her. “So, what else has our girl been up to here? Besides gossiping of course.”

Mrs Hughes laughs under her breath. “Well, in class, Fiona is attentive, bright and very helpful. She is a credit to you both.”

***

“I swear your daughter, Styles.”

We’re sitting in the car now. Finally done with parents’ evening, still laughing at the slightly creepy, chunky basketball baby in Fiona’s picture and the fact that three people, including Mrs Hughes, have congratulated us for the ‘baby’.

“You haven’t called me Styles in years,“ I turn to her with a grin. “Not since medical school.”

I can’t help but flashback to the good ol’ days when we had matching university hoodies and we’d test each other on the parts of a kidney whilst walking into lectures, sitting next to each other, sharing pens and cans of Lilt.

“Well, after that I became a Styles too,” she chuckles. “Would be confusing then, wouldn’t it?”

“True,” I laugh under my breath, then I grab her hand and pull it to my mouth so I can kiss her knuckles. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For being a Styles.”

“Aw, aren’t we soppy tonight?” She smirks. “Alright, stop the car.”

“What?”

“There,” she points to a dark empty spot and I oblige.

Then, before I can even ask her why, she reaches over and grabs me by the collar. Pulling me close to her and gives me a kiss. I kiss her back, and I smile when she bites gently on my bottom lip.

“Oi, oi. Something’s got you randy.”

The next thing I know, she undoes her seatbelt and then rolls her trousers down her legs along with her knickers, fumbling and giggling at the awkward movement. I push my seat back and pull my trousers down.

“Don’t fall on gearstick now,” I joke as she climbs over to straddle me. “Well, unless you want to, of course…”

She laughs as she lowers herself over my lap. I really can’t believe what’s happening here.

“Mrs Styles, we’re about to have sex in a car. Around the corner from our daughters’ school.”

“I know,” she says with a smile before she runs her tongue along my neck. “Not our first rodeo though.”

“Oh right, we did it in our Volvo years ago, didn’t we? Thought the suspension couldn’t take it.”

“And it turned out fine. Told you that you needed to have more faith in the Swedes, they’re a reliable breed.”

“I love it when you talk about Sweden.”

“Ikea.”

“Fuck.”

“Meatballs.”

“Billy Bookcase.”

She throws her head back in laughter and I take this as an opportunity to run my tongue along her collar bone. She gasps. I reach down to lift her before I slowly lower her over my cock. We both sigh as I enter her, a long exhalation with our lips barely touching.

“Viggo Mortensen.”

“Isn’t he Danish?”

“Tomato, Tomahto.”

I smile at my wife and push my hips up, silently telling her that we don’t need to talk about Swedish people anymore. She grabs onto the car seat and levers herself up and down. I look at her in the eye, a goofy smile still plastered across my face.

But then I squint. Light. Bollocks, what’s that? Where’s that light coming from? Crap, that’s bright. Shit. I see the flash of a hi-vis jacket, a knock at the window and someone shaking their head.

Oh sodding fucking bollocking shit wank.

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ninjastormhawkkat · 3 years

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My Crazy Wordgirl Theory #2

I will get to writing stories for my version of the Becky Boxleitner au. I just really need to get this out of the way. After going through sites for the canon facts of the Wordgirl television series and re-watching old Wordgirl episodes to help me write some stories for my version of the au, I sort of discovered something interesting. In a scene from “The Rise of Miss Power” we see an image of a male and female Lexiconian superhero duo painted on the ceiling of the room in the episode special. Now about everyone in the fandom has speculated that image is a painting of her biological parents, or an idea of what her parents would look like. But what if that were not true? What if that painting was just a symbolic image of what the humanoid people on Lexicon typically looked like? Back in the episode, “Wordgirl Makes A Mistake”, Becky mentions that she accidentally crawled onto the ship of Captain Huggy Face, a famous (Lexiconian) Air Force Pilot when she was really little. For about 10 or 11 years, Bob and Becky have been raised on earth with no attempts to get back to Lexicon, and no one from Lexicon has come to find them. I am not trying to paint Becky’s biological parents in a bad light, but why was no Lexiconian searching for their lost child? From looking at Wordgirl’s Spaceship Hideout, it appears that people from Lexicon have the technological resources to track down the crashed ship of a famous pilot and find him and a lost child. This would take them only a few years. Also looking at Wordgirl’s origin story, it seems that Lexicon is not lightyears away from Earth or Becky and Bob would have been a bit older than when they were found in the origin flashback. (I know it is a cartoon, but some rules of science still apply to the show). I don’t know how far the planets are from each other but I think they exist in the same solar system if indicated by the alien tech that Lexiconians are able to travel faster to planets without aging much. Again I ask if this is possible, then why has no one come to rescue Becky and Bob? What if it was because Becky was meant to have crawled onto Huggy’s ship and never be found? We don't know the strength of Lexiconian’s memory at a young age. We know they can remember everything they read since Becky knows every word in the dictionary, but we don’t know how early they maintain a photographic memory. I believe that Bob may have told Becky the story about how they came to earth when she was old enough. From watching that scene, we can assume Becky only has memories of crawling onto a ship and falling asleep, then waking up to a startled pilot. Bob even has no clue how a child with no business being near a spaceship about to take off so he tells her what he only knows. Could it be Becky was never meant to be found by anyone else from Lexicon? Why so? Why hide from a planet of heroes? Here is where the conspiracy I formulated in my head starts. Let’s consider this question: What if Becky was only half Lexiconian?

We first need to look at Lexicon’s political structure. About everyone who has watched or watches the show must have thought at one point that Lexicon was a planet of heroes which is why Becky wanted to use her powers for good and become a superhero at an early age. What we may not realize is that the term hero could apply differently on Lexicon than on Earth. In the flashback of Wordgirl’s origin, Becky refers to Huggy as a famous air force pilot. He is even called Captain Huggy Face. Also in the special, “The Rise of Miss Power”, Huggy gives Wordgirl a book titled Super Advanced Secret Battle Moves of the Planet Lexicon in order to help her in the final battle against Miss Power. Now I don’t know about you, but this makes me think that Lexicon had some type of military control and the term hero on their planet was a military term. One of the statues of a Lexiconian in that special was wearing a Roman-style helmet, something a soldier in the Roman army would wear. I don’t know if Lexicon has a military government or just a government with a strong military influence. I don’t know what type of rule Lexicon has, but it definitely has a military of some sort. From the statues and painting we seen of Lexiconians, Wordgirl’s outfit is typical outer clothing for Lexicon. This also sparks an idea of a common uniform for Lexicons which would make sense if there is some type of military influence on the planet. This ties into my theory about Becky. Now from what I have learned about aliens from all the sci-fi themed shows and movies such as Doctor Who and Monsters Vs. Aliens, most aliens seem to view the human race as a lesser species compared to them. We can see that with how Miss Power acted toward the villains and the citizens. Even though she was not a Lexiconian, Miss Power still viewed everyone as lesser and as servants to herself. In my opinion with Kid Math, before Wordgirl set him straight, he seemed to view heroics as a game or something interesting that he could copy for himself. He was friendly, but he appeared to take what Becky was teaching him about being a normal kid as a learning experience at first. I don’t know if this also applied to Lexiconians, but I think that due to the implications of military themes shown in the series, there are some that might have had a purity complex. There could have been Lexiconians might have wanted only their species to be the “heroes” and keep that in their own bloodline. I don’t think every Lexiconian held that belief since in one episode we see Bob on a date with Bosco, but maybe some in higher social classes strongly believed in purity, or would never consider marrying a human. With the evidence of military themes, it is possible they have class structures on Lexicon. Now what if a high class Lexiconian, broke that purity thinking and mated with a human. Here is my theory on Becky’s Parentage.

A woman from Lexicon, someone with military training like huggy has and in a high position, was put in an arranged marriage with someone she did not love at all nor could ever love. This person, a military man, possibly with a higher rank than the woman and have strong familial ties on Lexicon, was a corrupt person. She tried everything she could to get out this arranged marriage, but even her family was pushing her to do it because of reasons such as tradition or importance of appearance or something that only concerns them and not the woman. The woman soon takes an exploration opportunity and uses it to get away from all the drama she is facing and for her own mental and emotional health. She soon lands on planet earth, specifically a place called Fair City, and explores around for a while. This woman soon spots a distracted human male about to cross onto a busy road. This woman already has a good nature and quickly pulls the man out of danger without anyone noticing her unusual super speed. The man, grateful, turns to thank the woman. According to how love works from the Hotel Transylvania movies, they immediately zinged. This man and woman get to know each other a little bit more over the time the women was allowed to stay away from Lexicon. She does not give every detail about herself (her alien background), but she feels free with this man who respects her emotions and loves her for her. They get more intimate over months and everything is going great. Then she feels ill one day and under the guise of going to a hospital, the woman goes back to her ship for a medical scan. To her surprise, she is pregnant with her boyfriend’s child. This is bad because her time on exploration is about to be up and if she returns any time later, they will find about about her hybrid offspring and her corrupt fiance may kill her and her child as “punishment” for finding true love. She doesn’t have the option to not come back because they can and will do anything to find her and this would put her lover in danger as well. With a heavy heart she soon leaves her lover and returns to Lexicon and marries her corrupt fiance. She does this to protect her lover and child. This woman soon gives birth to a daughter that has her human father’s eyes with her mother’s facial features, hair color and style. The top parted bangs is a possible mixture of her human father’s and Lexiconian mother’s hair style. Her husband soon becomes suspicious about his wife’s time away and “their” child. About a year later, her husband discovers the child’s human lineage and goes into a dark rage. This woman hurries and escapes the dome city she lived in and soon encounters Captain Huggy Face about to take off. She sees that her husband and his men are about to catch up with her. She puts down her child and urges her to walk towards the ship. In a last ditch effort to save her child, she sacrifices herself and holds back her husband and his men long enough so the ship takes off and there is nothing that can be done. The fate of the woman is unknown.

In regards to Becky’s human father, let’s go over some canonical evidence. It says on the Wordgirl wiki that Becky has light brown skin. I believe Becky might be biracial. She could possibly be an offspring of an African American Woman and a white ethnic man. I googled what biracial kids look like and Becky looks similar to a biracial child born of a African American parent and a white ethnic parent. (I don’t know the what proper term I should use for referring to White ethnicity and I do not want to offend anyone by accident.) (I am just basing my conspiracy theory on visual evidence and scientific fact.) For about everyone, except one person, on Wordgirl, they have black eyes. I have seen fanart of the characters with different eye colors. For Becky’s dad, while I agree he could have blue eyes, it is also possible for him to have brown eyes as well, the eye color Becky inherited. Another thing I noticed that Becky could have inherited from her human father is his personality. Let’s review Becky’s personality and behaviors. Becky does not enjoy her family singing on the road or doing about any family car activity on a constant loop. Though not often, Becky is able to use gadgets and seems to have an understanding of how each part should work in a machine. She was able to make sure the egg and apple slicer that was entered in the Young Inventor’s competition was able to still function as intended after pressing them together using her super strength. Another thing is that she gets irritated when the spotlight is taken off her every time she accomplishes something as Wordgirl such as with Tiny Big and Granny May when she was an undefeated bingo champion. Wordgirl/Becky also tends to get a bit sassy when she is irritated just like her dad. She also acts proud of herself and her accomplishments as Becky and Wordgirl which border on the line between humble and prideful. Like her dad she does get distracted and a little absentminded such as when she leaves Huggy behind after a crime or when she gets too focused on her interests such as Pretty Princess and boy crushes. There are times when Becky wants to accomplish something, either for her own desires or to just impress people, she will become inconsiderate of others. Examples include Becky interrupting Violet’s rehearsal for the Romeo and Juliet play and revealing Scoop’s personal tooth secret when she took over running the school’s paper for a day. Becky also sometimes feels she “needs to always be the winner”. It can be assumed that she copies that behavior from Tim Botsford who gets very competitive and upset when his family does not win. The thing is that Tim is almost immediately humbled afterwords when he puts into perspective that he did his best and is a winner in his family’s and his own eyes. Becky may also share that perspective sometimes, but she will still tend to fret over her mistakes until someone calms her down. As I said, Becky sometimes still needs to feel as the winner, more so in her battles as Wordgirl against villains. We have also seen Becky feel upset when people don’t like her work such as when Violet and Bob hid Becky’s horrible painting in the janitor’s closet when they were decorating the school gym for a dance while Becky was fighting evil as Wordgirl. Becky is also seen to be clever and tricky when she needs to such as in the episode “Bend It Like Becky” when she was trying to get Dr. Two Brains to agree with a soccer match that would determine which group was going to enjoy the field for the next 3 months.

One final thing before I finish is that throughout some episodes, we can see Becky similarly imitate her human dad’s facial features and body gestures when he is there. Now I leave off with this question. Do Becky’s personality and behaviors I mentioned remind you of any cheese loving, villain scientist? I will let you think about it.

#wordgirl #dr two brains #lexicon #i may have gotten carried away #i tend to over analyze #i like to cause drama

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black-moon-raven · 3 years

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“It's better to be recognized by who you are than be recognized by what sex you are.”

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[Name] : Yuuno Kurogane

[Alias] :

Yuu

Kurogane-kun

Transfer Student

Newbie

Problematic Child

Herbivore (Leona)

Shrimp ( Floyd)

Trickster (Rook)

Child of Man (Malleus)

Fallen Rose (Hitman name)

[Race] : Human

[Gender] : Female

[Age] : ??? ( appearance between 16-18)

[Birthday] : December 7

[Starsign] : Sagittarius

[Blood Type] : O

[Dominant Hand] : Ambidextrous

[Voice Actor] : Maaya Sakamoto

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PROFESSIONAL STATUS:

[Status] : Alive

[Homeland] : Earth, Japan

[Nationality] : Half-Japanese (father), Half-American (mother)

[Affiliation] :

Night Raven College

Kurogane Clan

Black Port Mafia

Red Moon Gang

[Dormitory] : Ramshackle Dorm

[School Year] : First

[Class] : 1-A

[Occupation] :

Student

Perfect

Assassin / Hitman

[Favorite Subject] : Alchemy

[Disliked Subject] : ------

[Club] : none

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APPEARANCE INFORMATION:

[Hair] : Brown

[Eyes] : Yellow

[Height] : 173 cm

[Weight] : 54 kg

[Appearance] :

Yuuno is described to be as a very beautiful and attractive young woman, being almost doll-like in appearance, with amber yellow eyes, fair complexion, and tall frame. She has long brown hair with strands that frame her face. She usually has her hair pulled back in a long ponytail down reaching her waist, but sometimes she is seen with her hair down.

In Twst Yuuno wears the male uniform with her hair pulled back in a low ponytail, because of a misunderstanding of her being a boy and also her not correcting the misunderstanding , she had to stayed wearing the male uniform. Her uniform consists of a black blazer and jeans with gold accents and a gray belt, a gray shirt with two yellow crystals, under the black vest, black socks, glaves and shoes and a black and white tie. Under the clothes she wears a body suit and bandages covering her chest.

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PERSONAL INFORMATION :

[Family] :

Arthur Rainsworth | Maternal Grandfather

Gray Rainsworth | Maternal Uncle

Unnamed Father

Unnamed Mother

Unnamed Younger brother

[Personality]

Yuuno is a strong and noble young woman with an attentive personality. This is seen over time as it disinterestedly helps others. She is also gender ambivalent, believing that gender is irrelevant in how a person is perceived or in how their roles in society should be met. She is also blunt in her communication, seeing no point in being less than completely honest. Her insight into the motives of others behavior is very keen, though she is clueless about her own feelings.

Not having magic like her classmates, she displays more practical and responsible qualities, and is not easily swayed by others. She is someone that holds true to her independence as well as her personal values and beliefs.

She show to be quite calm even in the most arduous situations. But Yuuno can't express himself very well, so she can't express what she really feels, thus hiding her feelings behind a mask so as not to worry anyone and not to get off steamy. Even so, even if she can't express herself very well, she is very perceptive of others emotions, and tries to cheer them up in her own way.

When it comes to dealing with people of the same age and the whole school in general Yuuna is a little awkward because she has no previous experience with them. She isn't entirely accustomed to her sudden increase of new friends and often don’t know how to deal better with them. Yuuno has a friendly personality as seen when she immediately became friends with Ace, Deuce and Grim. However she isn’t afraid to hurt who she suspects of harming the people close to her and she doesn’t show mercy to her enemies, she is capable of killing someone without any remorse but as she is at school she tries to endure (killing or hurt others) as much as possible so as not to cause problems.

Yuuno when really upset she releases a threatening aura, like bloodlust as a way to warn that if they continue to upset her she can kill them perfectly, which sometimes makes the other students stop and be afraid. Normally the Savanaclaw students try not to make her angry because they can feel more easily her aura (Animal instinct for danger.)

[BackGround]

---Before comming to Twisted Wonderland---

Yuuno was born in the Kurogane Clan, a wealthy and distinguished household of important status, know for is dojo that produces famous swordsmen for generations. Kurogane family is a also know for being a very traditional household.

Yuuno is the only daughter and the second child of the current Head (unnamed father) and his unnamed mother, as well as the younger sister of unnamed older brother and older sister of unnamed younger brother. Unlike his siblings, Yuuno was discriminated against by her family except for her mother and younger brother who adored and love her, while her other family treated her as if she didn't exist. Yuuno when young didn’t know why she was discriminated, just later years she know why she was.

There was never a seat saved for her during any celebration and Yuuno would be locked up inside her room. Even though she was locked in the room, her mother would visit her and look after her. Her mother was not the best mother, but at least in comparison with her father she was better than him. Reading stories to her, playing with her or teaching her new things, her mother discovered that Yuuno had talent because she learned things more quickly. Her mother told her father about her learning things quickly but he didn't care about her. As time passed, her mother stopped going to visit Yuuno and later unfortunately she ended up dying when she has five years old. Alone, Yuuno started looking at the window as a way to pass the time, and see her older brother training or the other clan people training in the dojo. Years later on her seventh birthday, someone came to her room, it was her younger brother. He was very cute and looked a lot like her decease mother, they even transmitted the same energy, and Yuuno's days were back to having a little color. Her younger brother would came to visit her every day and every day he would talk about his day, play with her and sometimes he would brought flowers and other things when he could. But just like the mother, the younger brother stopped coming to visit her and as always she was alone again.

When she was eight unable to endure it anymore, Yuuno ran away from home and went to a park near the mansion, where she sat looking at the people passing by, it was there that she met an old man named Arthur, with whom she started talking since then. Every day she ran away from home and went to that park to talk to Arthur, he told stories of how he traveled to different parts of the world. As the days went by she opened up to him and told him about her life, and how she was treated at home and everything. One day when she was getting ready to leave to go to the park, someone from the clan calls her and asks her to follow, then she follows, she follows the person to a room. When she opens the door she is faced with her father who had only seen from the bedroom window and Arthur. Yuuno was afraid, thought that maybe Arthur was someone from the clan and that he said that she ran away from home and told strangers about her life. But when she heard it from her father's mouth that Arthur was actually her mother's father, in this case her grandfather and that he was there to pick her up, Yuuno was more surprised but decided to accept, because between being stuck in the room without seeing her family and being with the grandfather who spoke to her and gave her freedom, she preferred to stay with her grandfather, at least until she was older.

Apparently her mother had run away from home and that was when she met her father and later on they got married. As Arthur knew where his daughter was and saw that she was happy he let it go, but he came to know recently that his daughter had died, and he came to visit her tomb, and when he left, he saw Yuuno the vivid image of his daughter sitting there in the park alone looking at people, he knew right away that she was his granddaughter and then he wanted to know why she was in the park alone, it was then that he decided to do some research and came to know that of the 3 grandchildren, Yuuno was being mistreated by the clan. So he decided to visit that park every day, to see if Yuuno would open up to him and gain trust in him for later when he went to get her, she would not feel awkward.

Yuuno went to America, which was where her grandfather Arthur lived and there she met her uncle Gray who was her mother's older brother. Yuuno also discovered that his grandfather was the former boss if Black Port Mafia and that his uncle is the current boss, and that the reason why her mother ran away was because she didn’t want to have connections with the Mafia and didin’t like what they do. Since then Yuuno lived happily, she had the love of her grandfather her uncle and also the people of the mafia, she didn’t know why her mother didn’t like the mafia because they were all friendly to her and protected her. After a year of being with her grandfather and her uncle, Yuuno asked her grandfather if he could train her, because she wanted to become strong and wanted to be doing something at the same time, the reason she asked if she could train was because she remembered when she hold always see her brother and the people of the clan training, so she thought "why not, since you are not in that mansion you could also train to become strong and maybe be recognized by your father when you come back". So Yuuno with 9 years, started training with her grandfather and her uncle, although the training wasn’t “normal” because one was the former mafia boss and another was the current boss, so the training was not “normal”. Arthur who was the one who started training her because he had more free time, started to see that Yuuno learned quickly, perhaps due to all the years that Yuuno was neglected by the clan, she became “hungry for knowledge” making her able to learn just by seeing people, but her body couldn’t follow with her knowledge, which often led to severe pain in her body, but over time with the training she got used to the pain and her body started to follow her knowledge and in a short time Yuuno became a master in defense and martial arts, but that only weren't enough to feed her “hunger for knowledge”.

One day Yuuno was poisoned, she took the cure but until the cure took effect on her, she still suffered a lot but was able to endure thanks to the training . It was at that time when she realized how naive she was, and know the reason her mother decided to run away. No matter how strong she is or how protective she was. She can die of poison without knowing she was poisoned or someone could try to kill her in other way, so since that day Yuuno asked his uncle if he could teach more things, Gray at first refused but when he saw how much she wanted to know he couldn’t deny it anymore and he taught her about poisons, not knowing that it was just the beginning.

Yuuno aged 14, entered the Red Moon Gang which was a group of assassins from the Black Port Mafia with the code name Fallen Rose, Yuuno decided to enter the mafia as a way to improve his knowledge and protect his family. At the age of 15 Yuuno felt confident that she had learned what was necessary to have recognition from her father so she decided to return to Japan. But when she comes back, he didn't care about her and everything was the same as it was before, months later she decided to return to America and went back to participate in the Red Moon Gang missions.

When Yuuno turned 16, Arthur tells Yuuno the truth about why her father didn't want to know about her. Arthur says that the reason why her father didn't want to know about her, was to protect her. Since her father was small, the clan's olders had put the clan's ideals in him and what he should do and everything, and he knowing what the clan's olders were like, he didn't want Yuuno to be used as a disposable piece to make the clan gaining connections in other words getting married, which is why if he paid the slightest attention to her, she would be used, just as her older brother was being used now. Arthur also said that it was her father who had found him and who had told him about Yuuno's mother having died and about her condition. Yuuno tells Arthur that she already knew, that when she returned to Japan she had noticed and that was why she later gave up having the so-called recognition by her father, because she knew that if she had been acknowledged by him she would be used by the clan as a piece, she also said that she didn’t hate him for not trying to fight the elderly clan because she knows they are not very good and if she were in the same position she would have done the same.

Later Yuuno stops participating in the missions and decides to live alone and go to a school in Japan away from the Clan and the Mafia, as a way to gain experience in society.

---In Twisted Wonderland---

Yuuno wakes up in one of the black coffins, having little memories of how she arrived at Night Raven College, along with having nothing to identify themselves with like her wallet or phone. Because Yuuno is not form this world, she doesn’t possess any magic like the other students in Twisted Wonderland. The magic mirror remarks that she is "empty."

Yuuno is enrolled in Night Raven College with Grim as one student and lives in the Ramshackle Dorm with him and the ghosts.

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[Fun Facts]:

[Likes] :

Sweets

Animals

Horor Movies

[Dislikes]:

People who underestimate her

Hear people talking badly about her friends

[Hobbies] :

Cooking

Gymnastics

Train her combat skills

[Fears] :

Lightning (it’s not a fear but she doesn’t like lightnings so)

See her family and friends die in front of her and not be able to protect them.

[Weakness] :

If her heart gets very stressed, she can't concentrate and be able to analyze calmly, and she may not be able to use or control herself when needed.

Her grandfather and uncle say that she has "hunger for knowledge" because of this Yuuno is able to store many things in her head but sometimes her body doesn’t accompany her, leading to extreme pain in her, like when she was younger and was learning martial arts, she was able to learn mentally and knew what to do but her body was not used to it and was not keeping up with her knowledge, which led her body to be hurt and in pain for some time until her body was getting used to it and follow her knowledge, that's why she has to rest well and always be training to not lose her shape.(her knowledge is her talent but at the same time her weakness if she is not careful)

[Favorite Food] : japanese traditional sweets and food

[Least Favorite Food] : onions

[Favorite Drink] : green tea

[Least Favorite Drink] : Carbonated drinks

[Talents] : Shooting

[Unique Magic] : None (she doesn’t have magic)

[ADDITIONAL FACTS] :

[Trivia] :

The stories her mother told when she was younger were actually Disney tales.

Arthur (maternal grandfather) and Gray (uncle) are very fond of Yuuno because she looks like her mother, so they have difficulties in refusing the things Yuuno asks of them, example of which was when she asked Arthur to train her and Gray to teach about poisons and how to murder.

In reality her father cares about her only that he can’t show interest in her because otherwise, it will cause the olders of the clan to use her for the sake of the clan and not for her sake, that's why he tries not to show interest in her when in reality he cares about her and loves her. The older brother is like that too, he knows that if he talks to her and shows interest, the olders of the clan will use her, it was him who prevented the younger brother from going to visit her because he was drawing attention. Yuuno only later knows that her father and brother's attitude was as a way of protecting her that's why she never hated them.

Yuuno not only learned methods of self-defense or methods of killing, she also learns common things like taking lessons in Japanese harp, flower arrangement, calligraphy, and dance, as well as studying cooking and gymnastics as a hobby.

If it weren't for the family's situation or if she hadn't followed the mafia path, Yuuno would have grown like an ojousama.

Yuuno doesn't like lightning because it reminds her of the days when she was alone in the room and had to hear the lightning strikes alone in fear.

Yuuno has tattoos:on her two legs, on her right arm, on her chest and on her back. The design of the tattoos are black roses with thorns.

Yuuno with 16 years old she decided to go to study in Japan.

Yuuno doesn't know how she got in Twisted Wonderland, she has no memories of how she got there.

One of the reasons that Yuuno's age is ??? it is because it isn’t known if she went to Twst with the aged between 16 and 18 or if she was older only that going to twst she became younger, because as I said before, she doesn't remember how she got in Twst.

In Twst Yuuno was misunderstanding as a boy and only in episode 5 did they discover that he was in really a she. It was also Yuuno's fault because she didn't correct people because she really didn't care if she was treated like a boy.

Yuuno is gender ambivalent, believing that gender is irrelevant in how a person is perceived or in how their roles in society should be met, that's why she didn't care if she was treated like a boy.

Dire Crowley and NRC staff knew that Yunna was a girl, but since she didn't care about people treating her like a boy, they let her be and see how long the rest of the students discovered that he is a she, but they never expected that took that much time .

Ace and Deuce who spent more time with her never noticed that he was a she, they just thought that Yuuna was a girlish boy, like Apel.

Jack, Leona and Ruggie and some students from Savanaclaw discovered that she was a girl in episode 3, but decided not to tell anyone. They already had an idea that she was probably a girl due to the smell and in episode 3 they confirmed their suspicions.

Professor Divus and Vil used to ask her, if she didn't want to wear a female uniform, Yuuno always refuses because she finds it more comfortable and easy to move the male uniform, they both gave up after asking her many times.

Because Yuuno always took classes at home, when she went to Twst, she didn't know how to communicate with people of the same age because she always spoke to people older than her so she was a little awkward at first.

Yuuno when she met the ghosts of Ramshackle Dorm she wasn’t afraid of them, she was only surprised because she had never seen ghosts in real life and just only in films. After living with the ghosts for a while, she became friends with them.

Yuuno likes to receive praises for when she does things well.

Yuuno likes to learn new things her grandfather and her uncle used to say that she is "hungry for knowledge" always wanting to learn new things and storing them inside her head so she can use them later. When she started her classes at NRC she was thrilled to learn new things about Twst, she wanted so much to learn about the Twst that she used to visit the library when she could, to gain new knowledge. She often uses her knowledge in classes and exams.

Yuuno after taking the disc in episode 2, she noticed that she was getting too relaxed with her training because she was on Twst and then after that she went back to training as she trained when she was in her world.

Yuuno after episode 3, she sometimes works at the Mostro Lounge to earn money.

Due to the training she had as a child and also because she was an assassin in the mafia, Yuuno has more refined senses than a normal person. Able to hear, feel and smell when someone tries to approach her (although she can't feel it when Lilia approaches her, making her surprised many times for not being used to it), she is also able to know and identify the type of poison, used in food to poison her, through smell and taste (she was surprised when in ep.4 she heard Kalim talking about having eaten poison, making her realize that no matter what world she is in, we can all be poisoned in some way way, although she didn’t agree on Kalim’s way of thinking at the time).

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted #twisted wonderland oc #OC #oc's #disney twisted wonderland oc #Oc´s #twst oc #Yuuno #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #Yuuno Kurogane

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hphm-tanaka-chung · 4 years

Text

HPHM Profile~ Rose Tanaka

I took most of the revised template that @hogwartsmysterystory created, but made a few changes to get right to the gist of everything. If anything needs clarifying, let me know and I’ll fix things up.

(image created by hufflepuffmystery on Instagram!)

Identity:

Name: Rose Tanaka

Gender: Female

Birth date: October 27, 1972

Age: 17 as of June 1, 1989

Blood Status: Half-Blood (mother was Muggleborn, father was a wizard)

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Alignment: Neutral Good

Ethnicity: Japanese

Nationality: Japanese

Residence: Osaka, Japan

MBTI: INFP

Magic capability:

Wand: Poplar with unicorn hair, 12 inches, quite bendy

Animagus?: In the canon game, Rose is a falcon animagus.

Magical Abilities: In the canon game, Rose is a legilimens.

Boggart/Riddikulus: Rose’s Boggart is not instantly visible, but she’s scared of the cold. She’s scared of the feeling of numbness within, and she’s scared of seeing even a little bit of frost spread over matter. In the Riddikulus form, the ice had dissolved into a swirling sparkling wind that gently lifted her hair and clothes, which, of course, made her laugh.

Mirror of Erised: The image that stares back at her is intriguing. She sees herself as an older woman with a broomstick in hand, wearing one of the Japanese Quidditch team uniforms--but at the same time she has a few books in her other hands that depicted titles that had nothing to do with Quiddtch...

Patronus: Rose’s Patronus in the game is a lop-eared bunny.

Patronus memory: Her Patronus memory would be of the time her grandmother took her to see the cherry blossoms when she was still very young--the time she spent with her grandmother was near and dear to her.

Amortentia: Rose smells chrysanthemum tea, parchment, fresh mown grass, and something minty. Anyone who smells her scent would smell cherry blossoms, fresh parchment, hot chocolate, and something like...hair dye.

Appearance:

Faceclaim: Satomi Ishihara

Voiceclaim: Lea Salonga (may subject to change)

Game Appearance:

Height: 5’6”

Weight: …?

Physique: Slim and fit, not a lot of muscle

Eye Colour: Brown

Hair Colour: Black (dyed dark blue in year 5)

Skin Tone: Pale

Body Modifications: N/A

Scarring: N/A

Inventory: (what do they carry on them?)

-a hair comb

-a few spare quills

-a plain black headband

-a photo of her as a baby and her family

Fashion: Rose tends to wear shirts with collars, so don’t expect her to be out of her school uniform for too long. On occasion she’d wear a hoodie and jeans, or anything traditionally worn by English girls of the time. Hey, just because she’s Japanese doesn’t mean she can’t learn about the English culture.

Allegiances

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Ilvermorny House: Horned Serpent

Affiliations/Organizations:

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Ravenclaw)

Toyohashi Tengu -> Japanese National Quidditch team (Japan)

Professions: Quidditch player; Hogwarts Flying Instructor/Quidditch Referee

Hogwarts info:

Class proficiencies: Astronomy (A), Charms (O), Defence Against the dark Arts (E), Flying (E), Herbology (O), History of Magic (E), Potions (E), Transfiguration (E)

Electives: Care of Magical Creatures (E), Divination (A), Muggle Studies (E)

Quidditch: Ravenclaw Seeker (4th-7th year)

Extracurricular: N/A

Favourite professors: Professor Sprout, Professor Flitwick

Least favourite professors: Professor Binns

Relationships

Best friends (canon): Rowan Khanna, Badeea Ali, Charlie Weasley, Ben Copper, Chiara Lobosca, Talbott Winger, Andre Egwu

Rivals: Merula Snyde

Enemy: R

Dormmates: Rowan Khanna, Badeea Ali, Tulip Karasu

Pets: Cat (Arisu)--a half-breed of cat and Kneazle

Love Interest: Torn between Ben Copper and Talbott Winger. Despite having gone out on 2 dates with Talbott, she still thinks of Ben Copper a lot, and reminisces back to their time at the Celestial Ball.

Closest canon friends: listed above

Closest MC friends: Emmett Chung

Familial relations:

Mother: Melissa Tanaka (nee Feng)

Melissa was born and raised in China by strict parents Rose never got to see. A hard worker at school and in her family home, she eventually got herself a job as a bank manager. She moved to Japan in hopes of settling trade issues between China and Japan--it was there where she met Rose’s father. She is now working as a representative of the Chinese national bank, and her consistent travelling between the two countries resulted in a lack of bonding between her children.

Father: Ashina Tanaka

Before Ryotaro Tanaka stepped foot into Mahoutokoro, Ashina went first. He was a good student at Mahoutokoro, but not a face everyone remembered so well; he constantly kept to himself and buried himself in his work all the time. The few friends he did have, he rarely kept connections with after graduating. Still, he took delicate care in everything he did, and eventually opened a shop where he made crafts and learned the old Japanese arts upon graduating.

Brother: Kyoru Tanaka

Kyoru Tanaka was Rose’s older brother who was first considered for Mahoutokoro but eventually chose to go to Hogwarts when his letter of acceptance arrived from that school. Despite the geographical distance he made the trips to and from King’s Cross work. Just like his father, Kyoru kept to himself a lot, and he made very few friends in his time there. Upon his imprisonment in the buried vault he thought nothing of the impact he left on the rest of his family.

Cousin: Cho Chang

Cho Chang is six years younger than Rose and aspires to be a good flier like her cousin. Though they never really met much she heard of her older cousin’s stories and eventually got sorted into Ravenclaw in her first year, when Rose was then made Head Girl.

Grandmother: Fei-Ying Tanaka

Rose was very close with her paternal grandmother who was just equally proud of her son and his achievements. When she was younger they would spend a lot of time together while Kyoru was in school, and from her grandmother she would learn how to read and write in Japanese, communicate and read and write in English, and understand more of her culture and her family history.

Background/History:

Rose lived a rather detached sort of life within her family when she was younger. The one person she had a firm relationship with at the time was her grandmother, who always took her out on trips to the park while teaching her many different things. Her father was busy manning the shop soon after Kyoru started to attend school, and as for her mother she barely saw her around a lot either. During this time, though, Rose did learn a few useful things from her father as well as her grandmother--she soon mastered the ancient art of origami and ink drawings.

Eventually, Kyoru went missing in the summer of 1982, and two years later Rose began to attend Hogwarts. Before September 1 every year, she would move to her aunt’s place and live with her cousin, Cho.

Hogwarts Mystery unfolded.

Upon graduation, Rose went back to Japan and at first contemplated on using her talents to teach at Mahoutokoro, but the memories she had of the wizard in white robes ambushing her on R’s orders were enough to make her refuse her placement. Instead, she sought a position on one of the Japanese Quidditch teams. She eventually was placed in the substitute roster on the Toyohashi Tengu as Seeker, but her exceptional talents on the pitch eventually bumped her up to the starting roster. She was eventually admitted to the Japanese National Quidditch team, and represented her country in the 1994 Quidditch Cup. Although the team did not make it into the final, she still revelled in her glory.

Well, that was, until Talbott reached out to her while she was recovering from minor injuries from the matches. She was hesitant to reach out to him in return, but remembering her promise to him she eventually started a correspondence with him.

Rose fought along with her peers at the Battle of Hogwarts and survived. After Hogwarts was fully rebuilt, she took over as the Flying Coach at Hogwarts, and then the Quidditch referee certified by the British Ministry of Magic, when Madam Hooch eventually retired.

Rose did not consider marriage throughout this time, but eventually she reconnected with Talbott and the flame reignited. They got married in early 1999. Current legacies undetermined.

Personality:

Rose is not at all like the rest of her family--much like her grandmother, she is understanding and patient with everyone she meets. Rowan was actually the first one to break through that shell the rest of her family had cast upon her, and she became much more open and friendly. She’s not afraid to get a little competitive at times with her peers, but it was all for fun in the end. Still, she knows well where her loyalties lie. She would snap shut if something upsets her, and break down if the situation bore too much pressure. Her way of venting involved making a lot of origami and writing in a small notebook--almost like a journal--or furiously writing essays that didn’t pertain to academics.

Misc:

Rose’s favourite colour is pink, but perhaps that came from the fact that she was literally named after a flower.

Rose and Tulip actually share a close kinship based on the fact that they were named after flowers. Admittedly, Rose was about to be named Blossom when she was born, but her father once surprised her mother with an elegantly painted origami rose which spurred the change of name before her birth.

Rose could make origami. She trained her patience through it.

Despite Rose not warming up to flying at first, she eventually became really good at it and so continued to foster her talents in that subject area.

More to come…?

#hogwarts mystery mc #hphm rose tanaka #hphm #hphm mc #hogwarts mystery profile #about rose tanaka

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deepestalienrebelbailiff · 4 years

Text

Conner home for Christmas

After the exciting subway ride from the city to his parent’s house in the country, Conner had found the usual Christmas celebrations a little bit dull now that he had the power to change the world around him however he wanted.

Sure, he’d had some fun on the day, but in honoring his mother’s wishes, he’d not been allowed his phone out while they were together as family. Sure, he could have amended that stupid rule using the chronivac app, but he couldn’t bring himself to change his mom.

His brother in law, on the other hand, got a bit of an upgrade.

Conner found his brother in law really hard work. He was businessman with little interest outside of the board room. His sister was only with him for his money, and he was a complete snooze fest who felt the world should revolve around him.

After a torturous breakfast, Conner excused himself to “brush his teeth”. Entering his bedroom, he quickly opened his laptop and called up the chronivac software. Within seconds he’d navigated to Nicholas and started working on him. He glanced down his stats and chose to change his name.

‘You were never a Nicholas man, too boring for ya, no – you’ve always been Nick”

He looked down at his age. ‘I always thought you were too old for my sis. She’s only 26 and you’re 35 you cradle snatcher. Let’s bring you down to a decade’

He watched as Nick’s body started to loose it’s frown lines and started getting younger. There was a scream from Conner’s sister, and he realised he’d left world aware on and quickly clicked world unaware and applied it to the previous two changes.

He kept going, changing Nick’s black hair to blonde, his interests from board rooms and accounts, to comic book movies and sports and his job from businessman to professional model. He then had fun tweaking his brother in laws body to that of a professional model. His arse was a sight to behold.

He then made Nick completely fine with any guy or girl playing with his attractive body. They were welcome to squeeze whatever they liked, whenever they liked. And he toggled over to his sister and made her completely fine with it, in fact, everyone was fine with anyone playing with this stud - as long as they didn’t do anything too sexual. That was still for the marriage chambers. Conner still had some sanctity for that bond between his sister and brother in law.

Suffice it to say that Christmas dinner was much better than breakfast, particularly when the family post dinner games involved a game of strip poker, and drinking shots off Nick’s impressive bod.

The tradition in Conner’s family was to take Boxing day morning as a very lazy one. No-one in the house moved until gone 12pm, and Conner was awake at 7am as usual.

Nothing to do, no-one to see, so what would he do with the time?

Of course, he’d open his laptop and start playing.

He looked around the sleepy country town and found a few people he could toy with. He explored the local bedrooms and improved a good number of cocks, decreased the fatties and bulked out anyone who he saw who was too skinny in his opinion. Most people were still in bed and so he searched wider a field. Until he spotted the police station. ‘It would be hot to play with a few cops to start the day’ he thought and clicked on the station. He could see all the different men and women who’d drawn the short straw and found themselves working long hours on boxing day.

He decided to select the police chief. A man in a deep blue uniform, 55 years old with quite a paunch and a balding head. Sargent Bruce Tucker was a man of principle and conviction. A man people didn’t mess with. He’d neglected his family as he was really married to the job, and his wife had left him, and his kids had strained relations with him. Professionally, he was respected as one of the best police chiefs in the state. Personally, he was lost in the same vacuum that many men find themselves in after chasing a career all their lives.

Conner could see all of this from his stats.

‘Ok Brucey boy, let’s get improving you. No longer 55, but police chief at 35.’ Bruce’s body lost years of concern and looked healthier, lithe and his complexion smoothed. ‘No longer fat, but a muscled beast, with particular attention to your arms, chest and arse’. And Conner watched the webcam like image of Bruce started to enlarge. His belly was the one thing reducing as his arms bulged with thick biceps, his pecs pushed out into massive pillows of firm flesh, and his arse bubbled out stretching his uniform until it caught up and amended to the bulk of this bodybuilder cop.

‘Let’s change your bio man. Your wife didn’t leave you because you worked too hard, but after years of trying to work through, you both realised that you were only interested in men sexually. You’re both still great friends and live in the same house as her and your kids. The agreement is that you hook up anywhere except the house, and they all love you man.’

A weight seemed to have lifted off Bruce Tucker, as he sat working at his desk, his face filled with contentment.

‘You’re a good looking son of a bitch too man, let’s make that jaw super sexy’. And Bruce’s jaw reshaped ‘your cheek bones, your nose, your forehead, hell you’re sexy as hell now man. Everyone wants you. Boy, you’re one hot stud, in fact let’s add a nick name here, you’re pals and colleagues all call you Bruce Tucker, the man making fucker due to the way you seduce the hottest and straightest guys into a night with you’

And Bruce’s reality came into being.

Conner spotted a good looking intern working in offices a few doors down from Bruce and decided to check him out. Don was an attractive gym goer who was testing the waters of police work through an internship program. He was straight and had a string of girlfriends who he enjoyed hooking up with. The thrill of juggling a number of girls as the ‘only one’ kept him hard every time.

This guy was full of himself, so Conner increased his muscle mass by 10% and slightly reshaped his face to make him overly attractive. He then gave him a mental prompt to wish Sarge a Happy Christmas.

Don got up naturally and headed to Sarge’s office. He knocked and heard the deep bassy voice of Sarge beckon him in.

“Happy Christmas Sarge, did ya have a good one?” Don confidently asked

“I sure did son, what’s your name again?’ Bruce knew Don’s name but enjoyed seeing the confident lad taken a back.

“D-Don sir”

“Well D-Don, have you brought me a present?”

Don looked suddenly shocked and annoyed that he hadn’t foreseen this

“N-no sir, I forgot it, it’s at home”

“Are you sure you’re not making it up boy?” Don went red

“No matter lad, come over here. I’ve got a present for you”

Don looked at the stallion before him. He’d never been made to feel like this before. He’d been belittled, and spoken down too, and he found himself aroused. He looked up at Sarge and saw a man dripping with sensuality.

He then saw what Sarge was inviting him to enjoy. A massive, growing bulge in his trousers. A thick piece of meat, a size like Don had never seen before.

“But sir, I…I.. don’t swing that way, and we’re at work.”

“O I find that all men are ready to swing my way boy, and you’re no different. Now come and let me play with your fine arse.”

Don couldn’t help himself. He walked over to Sarge who squeezed the 21 year olds worked globes and within a few minutes had Don begging to take his pole deep into his mouth and then deep into his hidden cave of wonders.

Conner smiled, seeing the immense changes he’d made. But it wasn’t only Bruce and Don who were getting down. He spotted a couple making out upstairs.

He navigated toward the room where the lovers were getting hot and sweaty, loosing clothes and kissing everything.

A man called Frank, a well-built guy with a few nicely placed tats, was now showing off his hard earned bod while Daisy was love biting his thick neck. She had her blouse undone and one full breast was hanging out of her lacey bra.

Conner was contemplating spicing up their inevitable sex by increasing Franks cock and deepening Daisy’s hole, when he clicked on Daisy’s relationship and saw that she was married to another guy called James. When Conner clicked on James, he was taken a back by this handsome guy looking back at him through the invisible webcam camera. To his delight he saw that James was walking through the front doors of the station. That’s when he spotted a button he hadn’t seen before.

He hovered over this button and read the brief explanation of how it worked.

Grabbing his headset, he plugged it in, and clicked ‘possess’ mode.

He decided to be more of a voice in the head of James, a voice who could change things about him and all those around him.

As James entered the station, he nodded a greeting toward the chubby guy at the desk and he imagined the guy has a well-muscled cop rather than Mr Dunkin’ doughnuts over there. A weird thought that he’d never thought before, and then he watched as Dunkin’s body started reshaping. His great mass transforming into hard muscle in all the right places. Dunkin had no idea that he’d ever been a lard arse, as he bit into his protein bar.

James quickly moved on, of course he’d imagined that event and he wasn’t interested in guys anyway.

He turned a corner and saw Jed, a particularly handsome ladies man filling up at the water cooler.

‘I wonder what Jed’s like to kiss?’ he thought to himself, well of course Conner has spoken into his thoughts these new ideas. And as he went to pass Jed, Jed said, “Happy Xmas Jimmy boy” and pulled him into a passionate snog with plenty of tongue.

Jed felt his way down James’ back and squeezed his firm butt “man, I’m glad you never miss glute day”. And with a pat on his arse, Jed got back to work.

Conner had of course made all these extra changes normal to everyone except James. As if he wasn’t going to be tortured enough by finding out about his wife. But Conner couldn’t help himself. This was so much fun.

James headed upstairs quickly, trying not to see anyone else. How could this be happening. Every time he saw a guy, he had a gay thought, and suddenly it came true.

He caught the eye of the IT guy, and thought he’d have had a better life as a tech minded jock, and no sooner had he thought it than he saw the guy bulk out, his confidence growing by the second.

He finally got to his buds office. He hesitated outside Frank’s office. What if he had a thought about Frank, but he had to share this with his best bud.

So he opened the door and saw his wife spread eagle taking Frank’s cock, and his best friend and wife’s faces covered in horror.

‘Hadn’t they locked that door?’ – Conner smirked, having unlocked it digitally.

“What the fuck Daisy, Frank. I… I…. don’t know what to say. You traitor’ he said boring his eyes into Franks soul “and you bitch, we’re married.” He stared at his life partner.

But before he could go any further Conner whispered a thought into James’ mind.

“What shall we transform Frank into? A skinny twink, a frat boy, a dumb criminal? We could make Daisy into a whore, or a doll, a poodle?’

Conner let James have more control “I think I’m going to just stay and watch for a bit” he said to the shocked pair, and he locked the door. Conner made some adjustments. He made James gay now, and increased the sadistic streak, while adding a need for these two to still be part of his life.

Frank started pulling out, but James looked sadistically, “No mate, you keep fucking my wife. Let’s make some changes while you do. Neither of you can help it, and both of you love it.”

With Daisy on the table and Frank standing at the table, taking her hard, James went up behind his naked friend.

“Man, you’ve been working out a lot haven’t you.” James started massaging Frank’s muscles. “I can make them smaller” and Frank continued thrusting into Daisy while watching in horror as his muscles diminished. “And I could make your cock tiny” Now Daisy was moaning at the lack of the pleasure rod, and Frank started whimpering at his loss.

“But where would be the fun in that? So man, I’m going to grow you out. You see my tastes have changed today and I’ve got these new abilities. I wanted to share them with my best mate, and that’s what I’m going to do. So let’s make your cock 12” long and 6” in girth. How’s that Daisy? Uncomfortable? Yet pleasuring you. But man, you don’t fit inside her anymore, so Daisy let’s make your hole 11” deep so you can take most of his monster. While you, bad boy, will grow in muscle. Bigger than you were.” James kept massaging his growing friend as the transformation took place.

“You’re now bulging with muscles and you love working out at the gym. All your other hobbies shrivel in comparison to your work outs. You exist to eat, sleep, work out and fuck. Oh and to be the best damn cop you can be with your lower IQ.”

Frank didn’t know whether to smile or cry. He’d just been caught fucking his best pal’s wife, and now was the putty in his angry friends hands. He was fully aware that he had a much bigger body, new feelings toward the gym and new lustful desires.

“Yeah, and Daisy, you’re a complete whore. You love a big cock deep in your hole. You’re not a policewoman anymore. You’re a horny gay Frat boy now, looking for big muscle guys to take your well worked bubble butt.

And he watched as her firm breasts shrunk into flattish pecs, built to some extent through halfhearted gym sessions. They both quickly repositioned as Daisy’s deep vagina grew into a 4” floppy penis, and the 11” deep cavern now became his deep arse hole.

“Frank, you wanted to be part of our lives, so you’re now my bull of a boyfriend. I can bring home whoever I like, but you can only bring back guys when I say it’s ok. And Dai, you’re gonna be our young houseboy at 20. O yeah, and Frank, you’re gonna keep fucking him for the next hour until he’s so sore he’ll find it hard to walk.”

Frank smiled at the pleasure he was about to inflict on the young guy who served him and his boyfriend at home, and at work.

James walked on.

He caught site of himself in the mirror and said “If only I had a more latino look about me, with meaty paws and a beefy build. But plenty of definition” He watched as he grew and changed. His skin darkening a few shades.

He then headed over to the lock up.

He approached the cell with 3 college bros. “What are you lads in for then?”

“Mmm…we sort of messed up a guys face”

“Did you now, and what did he do to you?” “He looked at my bud here like he fancied him”

James took a deep breath “and what’s the problem with that, he’d a good looking lad”

“You’re not a queer too are you officer? It’s not right for him to think those sort of things about my man here”

James smiled “you’re man ey’? Well that can be arranged. How do you feel about that good lookin’?”

The good-looking guy called Drew, who spent a lot of time at the gym and plenty of time in the bathroom using lotions and potions to make his skin shine and his hair stay just that way, looked at James.

“I don’t follow sir? Look I didn’t ask him to attack that lad.”

“How do you feel about him looking at you in that way”

“A bit uncomfortable”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t like people thinking about me in that way”

“In what way, what do you think he was thinking about you?” “I don’t know, faggy shit and stuff”

“Ok, well let’s see what sort of faggy shit.” James radio’d upstairs and asked them to bring down the guy they’d attacked.

“Hey, don’t bring that fag down here”

A skinny guy with ginger hair was brought in by a cop who had let himself go over the past few years, but who had now never skipped a gym day in his life, and no-one noticed James’ transformation of the accompanier.

The ginger guy looked terrified

“What’s your name son”

Ginger replied “I’m George”

“HI George, you’ve got nothing to fear. I just wanted to see what you’d been thinking about when you looked at Drew earlier today”

“mmmm….” George did not want to answer

“That’s ok George, you don’t have to say anything. But I’m going to make it happen. The guys here will act out everything you think. And don’t worry about sticking just to what you imagined earlier. You can change anything in this fantasy, including what they each look like.”

The three in the cell looked shocked and horrified. They didn’t know what to say. This couldn’t be real. What the fuck was this cop up to?

But then George looked at Drew and Drew felt really warm. He felt really comfortable and stripped off his top. Drew’s face gleamed with sweat as he started gyrating his hips, dancing to tuneless music as he walked toward George. He then started an erotic dance against the cell bars.

George smiled an unbelieving yet ecstatic smile. He then looked at Drew’s pals and they started to grow. The spark of intelligence in the first bruiser started to dim, as his IQ rolled down and his muscles bulked up. While Drew was beautiful, his two friends now became dumb jocks who wanted nothing more than to lick their sweaty stud, suck on his thick rod and feel it explode inside their deep bubbled butts.

“Would you like Drew to be your boyfriend, and his brutes to be your house boys, or would you like something else? I could allow you to keep the power of transformation for one luck individual if you don’t want these three today.”

George said “just two more minutes” and the fantasized about himself being as sexy as Drew, with bigger muscles and the object of Drew’s affections. His defined muscle mass didn’t decrease from his high IQ and his life would now be funded by his model of a boyfriend, and his two sexy porn star houseboys, who loved to do whatever he said, however humiliating or debasing it was.

James looked at the hot guy in front of him and said “Ok lad, here’s a few more things I want to give you, and with that he added a smattering of tattoos across his body, an ear piercing and two nipple piercings. He then pushed the muscle nerd against the bars and started making out with him. For a moment he realized he wasn’t in control of this. George had fantasied about him too, and the beefy cop fucking him in the lock up was exactly what George got. George loved the feel of this beef cakes thick pole thrusting harder and harder into his deep arse, as he grew the cop with another 100lbs of pure muscle.

Conner loved the way this had developed as he heard the heavy footsteps of his brother In law outside his room calling him down for lunch.

Boy, time had flown, and with that he opened the door, grabbed a handful of brother in law butt and headed down stairs, groping the hunk all the way to the boxing day buffet.

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ms-demeanor · 5 years

Note

Thanks for answering my ask, but I wasn’t really asking about the actions of the black bloc/violent protestors at a given protest. What I want to know is if this actually works in any larger sense - cause it seems mostly like it’s just a weird kind of performance, gesturing at full armed rebellion but never going there and never actually effecting change. And like, I accept that I’m a fool for wanting nonviolent change, but I’m not sure the presented alternative does much better?

Now, it’s not really discussed in that article (only vaguely touched on when they mention that the anarchists showed up early for the counterprotest) but based on the timing of certain tweets and calls to action it’s pretty clear that the march fizzled because Andrew Aglin couldn’t get people to show up when there was already a large group of counterprotesters who had made it clear they were not going to respond to violence with nonviolence.

Alt-right protests and marches before Charlottesville didn’t have such clear uniforms and tactics - the khakis-and-polos along with sticks and shields are a fairly clear (to me) indication that the white supremacist organizers saw black bloc as a tactic worth preparing against.

The KKK didn’t fear the hippies. They feared the Black Panthers.

In 2017 20 states saw bills to limit protesting put before their legislatures. Thankfully not many of them passed, but a few did.

These bills varied in their terms, a few naming masks and facial coverings as being a problem but most of them focused on something else: blocking roads.

THAT’S the tactic that these states think is too extreme - blocking the road.

You know, that thing those protestors in Hong Kong were doing. That thing that a bunch of folks online are praising for being “polite” and “classy” and that Hong Kong’s police commissioner is calling a riot.

Here’s the thing, if you’re asking “does black bloc” work you’ve kind of got to ask “does any protest work?”

What does protest accomplish?

About six million people marched at the Women’s Marches in January of 2017. Did they accomplish their goals?

I’m going to say, just from the rollbacks on trans protections and widespread bills that erode abortion protections, “no.”

Now, that doesn’t mean that their mission is complete and that they didn’t hit the mark and decided that “eh, one day of pussy hats was good enough.” They’re still working.

But is it doing anything?

That’s really hard to say.

Also, I’d like to point out that while the Women’s March was praised for its nonviolence commentators were quick to point out how rude and lewd their signs were and how much trash was left behind.

Which is why a lot of anarchists react to the question of “does black bloc accomplish anything” as a form of tone policing that’s almost meaningless.

Black bloc forms up and protects nonviolent protesters and carries injured people away from riot cops. Someone punches a white supremacist and it becomes a meme. All antifa are violent thugs, they’re the real fascists because they want to limit speech through violence.

Black Lives Matter and Occupy Wall Street and Labor Day marches block freeways to protest violence and inequality. They part for ambulances, someone breaks a window. These leftists don’t have any respect for people who are just trying to live their lives and get to work; they care more about burning trashcans and breaking windows than they do about the workers they claim to protect - what if it was a black woman who owned that starbucks that they damaged in their riot, did they ever think of that?

The women’s march is full of speakers telling deeply personal stories, individuals reaching out and offering care and comfort to one another, and even a few stories about how well these protestors can get along with the police; we’re not so different after all! But wow, a lot of their posters had genitals or sexual slogans on them, and they left behind a lot of trash. This isn’t appropriate for children, and if they care about the environment so much why are they littering? What a bunch of nasty, shrewish women. They’re just mad that Hillary lost.

You say:

it seems mostly like it’s just a weird kind of performance, gesturing at full armed rebellion but never going there and never actually effecting change

and I’m going to have to say that all protest is performance. Protests aren’t about *doing things* they’re about showing up and being seen in support of an idea. And I do think that protest accomplishes some things; it lets people know they aren’t alone, it raises awareness of issues. Those are fine things.

As to the armed insurrection bit - well, have a tremendously ironic image:

That sign, being held by a navy veteran, says “if you need violence to enforce your ideas then your ideas are worthless.”

I don’t think you could have a clearer image of the concept of “the state monopoly on violence” than a military veteran chiding protesters for throwing rocks at cops and breaking windows.

The article that featured that photo shows a fascinating tension. You’ve got people at a peaceful protest saying “we’ve got to make sure the nazis know they can’t just show up and spew their hate” who don’t seem to realize that the nazis showed up in spite of the peaceful protest and were chased away by a black bloc. You’ve got the alt-right protest organizer failing to do her paperwork (typical; if your protest fizzles you can always say “the city would’t give us a permit” or “there were logistical problems” instead of “I couldn’t get more than twenty guys to commit to showing up”). My favorite bit of the article is where they admit that police were overwhelmed by antifa and that thirteen arrests were made and there were 6 people injured, two of whom were taken to the hospital. Man, for an out-of control bunch of thugs hellbent on punching nazis that’s some admirable restraint.

So there’s this conflict I’ve got. On the one hand a pretty goddamned big part of me *wants* armed insurrection against, for instance, the police. The police kill people with impunity and I think it’s a gigantic problem, especially considering the issues that we have in the US with white supremacists “infiltrating” the police and military and such.

On the other hand if you’re driving your reinforced bulldozer into an old lady’s house because she used to be married to the mayor who wouldn’t grant you a permit for your muffler shop you’re not exactly part of the solution.

Getting back to insurrection:

One of the things that I DO think black blocs accomplish is to get people to question the legitimacy of the state’s monopoly on violence. The nonviolent clergy could have been badly beaten while the cops looked on impassively except that a bunch of ballsy motherfuckers decided not to let that happen. And some of them got arrested for it. People went to protest Donald Trump’s inauguration and a bunch of protesters got injured after there was some property damage - but there was also video of police targeting people who were helping street medics and of of people protecting injured people from the police. THAT I think is valuable, the illustration that you can do the right thing even if it is illegal. I think that’s effective and I think it’s heroic.

Anarchists have been debating the value of violence as a mover for social change for, like, a hundred years. You’ll note that we’re not dealing with assassinations or bombings in this discussion, but punching a few guys. Like, seriously, this is something that is very contested among anarchists and that individuals feel conflicted about even within themselves.

But, like, black bloc isn’t generally an “armed” insurrection unless you count baseball bats.

Here’s the deal: in my ideal world every time the alt right showed up with twenty dipshits talking about a white homeland there would be ten thousand peaceful protesters there with kazoos buzzing their nonsense away. (Credit where credit’s due; I think I saw this concept articulated this way by tumblr users argumate and pervocracy before I started using that phrasing myself) Actually one of my favorite kind of protests is simply drowning out the bullshit or making it appear ridiculous. Wanna see one of my heroes?

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GOOD JOB. DIRECT ACTION. FUCK YEAH.

Making nazis look ridiculous is almost as memeworthy as punching them in the face and much more palatable to the wider public. Also the nazis FUCKING HATE IT. Hard to be taken seriously with your talk about white genocide when you’re backgrounded by the baby elephant walk.

(god, seriously, everyone go get electric kazoos and mini amps and practice bagpipes, you don’t have to be good at it you just have to be loud)

If you want nonviolent change over time I recommend looking into Food Not Bombs; they’re doing good, nonviolent work that they still get arrested for and that hasn’t really made a dent in policy since they were founded in 1980.

I don’t think you’re a fool for wanting nonviolent change. That’s what I want too. But honestly all of the alternatives look kind of shit right now. You’ll get just as arrested for throwing a milkshake at someone as you will for nonviolently blockading a courthouse. Six million people peacefully marched to support reproductive rights and we’re still looking at the possibility of seeing Roe V. Wade overturned. Journalists covering the J20 protests were charged with felonies (until charges were dropped), maybe a simple assault charge for decking some asshole isn’t that bad.

But until we do figure out something that works I’m not gonna shit too hard on the only tactic that has been proven to suck the fun out of being a nazi.

Because remember - it’s not really the government that black bloc is deployed against; it’s the fascists for whom that the government provides no impediment.

(oh also a general reminder that most direct action is criminalized: be a good anarchist and feed hungry people in your community today)

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annabcll · 4 years

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MEDALION RAHIMI / CIS FEMALE. — annabel majidi is really making a name for themselves as a tier 2 shepherd. i think that she is studying english + investigative journalism in their junior year at lockwood, living in audax. originally from new york city, new york, anna is known to be diligent & adroit, but can also be cynical & austere. — james / 20 / est / she/they.

4/5 !!! so close !! anna doesn’t really have ... any changes to her, except for her connections to the victims section so :^)

TW POVERTY, CAR ACCIDENT, INJURY, DEATH MENTION, GRIEF MENTION

a e s t h e t i c s

falling feathers darkened at the tips, leather jackets and pinstripes, red trenchcoats and plaid skirts, worn ballet shoes covered in dust, smudged eyeliner and unruly hair, boxing gloves, ornate canes and pain medication, bandaged hands, classical music floating throughout an empty ballroom, bomber jackets and cropped tees, spilled ink and stained hands, glasses skewed, sneers and jabs, constant fighting, smog in a city, spotlights and encores, piles of books and a long line, backless dresses and sitting alone at a bar, wariness.

general info !!

full name: annabel odeda majidi

nickname(s): anna, annie (hates), anna banana (father, exclusively)

b.o.d. - october 31st. scorpio child.

label(s): the catalyst, the charlatan, the crepehanger, the minefield

height: 5′6″

hometown: nyc, ny

sexuality: bisexual

stats

biography !!

born to two high schoolers who never married, firoj majidi and parvana banai. they were head over heels for each other - when firoj graduated he took up two jobs alongside community college to support their family, until parvana graduated and took on the arts.

growing up was tough - living in the city wasn’t cheap, parvana’s art rarely sold and the two often went without eating in order to provide for annabel. as a child she’d often wear hand-me-downs from extended family.

was taught to be a hard worker and it was reflected in her schoolwork - anna excelled in all her classes but especially english. her love for writing grew at a young age, and as a child she saved up enough money to buy herself proper journals.

the only thing that she grew more passionate towards than writing was ballet - she caught the image of girls flying through the air and landing on their toes in the window of a dance studio on a walk home from school one day and that was it - something clicked inside of her.

that same day she would spend hours prancing about their tiny apartment, trying to mimic what she’d seen. it was easy to spot the passion anna had for the dance - and within a few months they had saved up enough money for a month’s worth of lessons.

anna was ecstatic - her slippers were old and found in the back of a thrift store by an odd miracle, but she put her all into the lessons regardless. she was quick to pick up on each move, and by the end of the month it was clear that anna had a natural talent.

parvana picked up a job in order for them to keep affording the lessons, month after month - they weighed down on their pockets, but it kept anna happy.

flash forward a few years - life was good. money was still a struggle but they were tight knit.

or rather, anna thought they were tight knit.

firoj and parvana split up when anna was twelve - an event that rocked the young girl’s world, something that she couldn’t understand. they had kept up a front of love when anna was home from school or ballet - but behind doors, they had been growing apart.

anna viewed their separation as parvana running off with another man - an art collector who had a fascination with paravana’s paintings. she viewed this as the end of the world. she viewed this as the death of love.

when anna was twelve, she swore she would never fall in love - refused to believe in its existence. she couldn’t wrap her mind around the simple separation.

her father got a third job in order to keep up with payments, and anna pushed herself in both ballet and school - not being able to handle an empty apartment. she decided to get a job - to help ease her father, but was too young.

so anna decided to do what any average 12 year old would do. she started scamming people.

she’d sell store-bought lemonade as if it were homemade, stole ceramics from art class and sold them to neighbors. she found an old girl scouts uniform in the back of a goodwill and for the next month, she sold knock-off girl scout cookies from the dollar store - going door to door.

her personality had changed drastically - anna went from a sweet, optimistic girl with warm brown eyes and an infectious laugh to cold, calculated, and downright cruel. she knew what she wanted and how to get it.

she got an invitation to a prestigious private school, full scholarship, before she hit high school - originally wanted to reject it as the thought of being surrounded by new york’s richest teens was appalling, but their ballet program was a one-way ticket into the american ballet theatre. anna ultimately accepted the scholarship.

high school was immediately hell for her - pretentious rich kids who all shared a collective brain cell and her secondhand uniform being a prime target for them.

ballet got extremely competitive - anna was a threat to every dancer in their program, bullying and sabotage became standard - but anna retaliated when possible.

this all, however, suddenly stopped when anna picked up her latest scam: faking psychic. through a small network of ‘bees’ she’d pay to gather information (gossip, rumors, etc. etc.) she was able to accurately ~see~ into students’ past, present, and potentially future affairs. the money was very worth it.

from that point forward, people were intimidated by her.

when anna was 16 she was handpicked to join the american ballet theatre’s studio company, alongside 11 other lucky individuals. her dream from that point forward was to become the youngest principal ballerina for abt - and she was going to start by winning over the role of clara in their production of the nutcracker.

she was 17 when she was chosen, much to the dismay of the other girls. she had momentarily quit her ‘psychic’ business in order to dedicate the entirety of her time towards rehearsals & practice.

the final week before her first performance as clara, anna got into a car accident heading home after another tiresome rehearsal. knocked unconscious, anna woke up three days later with no recollection of the accident - and her leg freshly operated on.

it was a devastating event that should had killed her - maybe she would had been better off if it had - but instead, it had effectively destroyed any chances of her dancing professionally.

it took two months of extensive physical therapy for anna to walk again - now relying heavily on a cane.

with ptsd and depression weighing heavily on her shoulders, anna turned back to writing - mostly as a coping mechanism, but it soon became the fierce passion it once was when she was younger.

for the remainder of her high school life, anna dedicated the majority of her time towards recovery, her writing, and directing her school’s theatre productions. oh - and claiming that almost dying had given her the gift of mediumship. it wasn’t too far off from her psychic claims - her peers believed it well enough to either stay away, or pay her for a small amount of comfort.

decided to go to lockwood after graduation in order to stay somewhat close to her father - she’s here on a full scholarship for her dual-major in english & investigative journalim

is in midst of writing her first book, based heavily on her experiences as a scholarship student at a private school, YA fiction, essentially - mostly just to dip her toes in the water and to try and become an established author. if it goes well, it’ll become a series.

the watershed app captured her attention immediately, and she’s been slowly trying to work her way up the tiers of shepherds. finds it completely fascinating, and uses it to help with her psychic business.

still can’t dance any longer, but she works as a ballet assistant for one of the dance instructors.

personality !!

lives in audax, where things break A Lot. she’s usually seen threatening RAs and maintenance men until they fix whatever problems. :^)

that being said - she’s not the friendliest person. knows what she wants and how to get it, and will not hesitate to use people or push them out of her way in order to achieve her goals.

her cutthroat nature was the reason for her success in academics and dance - tends to intimidate the students in the ballet classes she helps out in.

horribly stubborn - if she’s got an idea of you already in her mind, then it’s hard to convince her otherwise.

still uses a cane - in fact, she can’t really walk without it - unless she wants to be in pain.

it’s sturdy, ornate, and pretty fucking solid. doubles as a weapon if need be - has definitely … hit people with it before, though she’s calmed down now that she’s a little older.

used to be very angry, very defensive as a teenager - is still the same, just … less intense. will not hesitate to speak her mind and let her opinions known - especially in the face of injustice.

doesn’t really have the best … relationship with authority, mainly because of where she was raised and her con-artist businesses. tends to be snarky and sarcastic to anybody in charge - or really, anybody in general.

pretty distrusting, pretty emotionless on the outside, doesn’t like to be seen as weak or somebody to be pitied. keeps herself closely guarded and doesn’t really let others ‘inside’ due to her own comfort levels.

she’ll sleep around but dating is out of the question, for the most part - she’s been on a few blind dates, a few casual get-togethers - but she’s always the one to break things off. is more of a careful hook-up kind of gal.

still does her psychic medium business !! sometimes she wonders if she’s a bad person because of it - but ultimately, it’s on her customers for believing in all that nonsense anyway. anna herself is a skeptic - doesn’t believe in anything unless she can see it and feel it.

is actually … a pretty sentimental person, doesn’t take anything she’s got for granted, and is hugely appreciative of her father. sends him money when she can. hasn’t spoken to her mother in years - pretty sure she’s got a step / half-sibling or two but she’s never met them.

a lone wolf and likes it that way, but she isn’t super opposed to friendship - even if she won’t necessarily call anybody a friend. appreciates others who are similar to her - got their head on right, and knows what they want in life.

has a pretty bad fear of driving - will uber if she needs to go anywhere - even then, being in cars makes her pretty anxious. still has ptsd-induced panic attacks, though she’s managed them pretty well.

doesn’t really do drugs! will smoke weed to ease the ache and her nerves, but otherwise she only takes what is prescribed for her. doesn’t drink anything hard, either. big fan of beer and wine. probably gets wine drunk home alone late at night … like … two times a week.

goes between being high strung and uncaring - she’s not especially moody ( rather, is just consistently angry for whatever reasons ) but she definitely tries to bottle everything up.

probably keeps pepper spray on her at all times, even though she’s got her cane. has a gun hidden in her dorm, cat ear brass knuckles on her keychain. she’s not paranoid, she just likes being prepared.

kind of wants to write a novel based off of watershed so! she takes a lot of notes - tends to be very observant.

has a soft spot for children, animals, and soft women. kind of person who will put herself in the line of danger in order to protect others - even if she doesn’t necessarily know them too well.

also the kind of person who’ll set something on fire - or do something because you’ve told her not to. incredibly spiteful when wronged. will raise hell if need be.

morally ambiguous tbh.

connections to the victims !!

tatiana samuels / mutually disliked each other and they’d avoid one another if possible. nobody is quite sure of why - some say it’s because tatiana was skeptical of anna’s psychic business, others say it’s because tatiana had gotten a bad fortune predicting her death.

george craig iii / once a friend of anna’s due to their similar personalities - their friendship was ended because of tatiana. once again - it isn’t quite known why, but it’s been hinted that tatiana had made george choose between her friendship & anna’s. tatiana had been the obvious choice, and that was that.

hana williams / a friend & a client, anna would regularly do tarot readings for hana. after tatiana, anna had tried to keep her readings positive.

christoph wainwright / enemies due to christoph pushing her buttons and generally just rubbing her the wrong way, her own suspicions leading to a natural defense against him, which he reflected.

wanted connections !!

maybe … a roommate?

acquaintances. people who’ve seen her around campus and are curious. people who’ve seen her like … kick someone’s tire in a small fit of rage or spend 20 minutes trying to coax a cat into coming near her so she could pet it.

someone from new york who recognizes her from whatever !! whether it’s from newspaper details of her incident, her legacy at her private school, her legacy as a ballerina before her incident, etc. etc.

has taken up boxing recently - so somebody whose helping her at the gym?

someone who tried to like. help her cross the road or something because they saw her with her cane and she yelled at them so now they’re in this weird spot.

dance students !! if somebody does ballet - she might be helping them.

someone she’s soft for for whatever reason :/

hookups !! of any sort !! the kind where you never talk outside of it, or a hate-fuck scenario … anything !!

customers who come to her for psychic readings and like. comfort in the form of talking to the dead.

people skeptical of her !! maybe trying to ruin her in some way.

other shepherds. someone higher up that she’s trying to manipulate in some way for her own benefits.

a drunk one night stand that neither wants to talk about.

a pregnancy scare with another, separate one night stand! it turned out to be nothing, but there was some. weirdness. between them afterwards.

a blind date or two dnfjgkmh

someone she ghosted :/

ok ok ok so … back when anna was an older muse, she was fresh out of a broken off engagement b/c her husband-to-be cheated on her … so i kinda want … smth similar to happen to her again ? y’know. make her fall in love. break her heart. ruin her again. it’d b fun ! angst is fun !

someone she’s like, protected from a creep at a bar or a club ! and now they feel indebted towards her and she’s just like uuuh no. stop.

annoyances !!

like … maybe a pal or two, or three. mainly just people she gets along with !!

on the other end - something where they just. despise each other for whatever reason. pure hatred.

hatred but make it sexy.

a dealer because even though she can get medical marijuana … it’s good to have a lil extra on ya :)

people She’s suspicious of for whatever reason - someone she caught doing something. suspicious. untrustworthy.

someone where their mail keeps getting mixed up.

uuh really im down for anything !!

#wshintro #car accident tw #injury tw #death mention #grief mention #being poor :/ tw :/#thts a joke im also very poor

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thevoilinauttheory · 5 years

Text

30 Day Character Challenge, Days 4 through 19.

This is a long post, and so the entire thing will go under the cuts!

Day Four— Family: Does your OC have a family? If not, who do they consider to be family to them, even if they’re not really family? (26/27) Valere Voilinaut has a lot of family - starting with his brother, Maximiloix. Making him the grand-uncle of Lothaire and Honorie. He also has seven other siblings besides him. He is the third oldest child. Besides his siblings, he also has a wife, Yue. Whom he loves with all of his being, next to his son and his daughter. As for family that aren’t blood related, he has gotten along well with Solaire and his husband, as well as Sabeloux and his wife.

Day Five— Friends: Does your OC have any friends? Do they belong to a friend group? What do they do with their friends? (18/27) Solaire does not have many friends - for good reason too. He’s not the most friendly person in the world, quick to judge and even quicker to assume things. Being Caromont’s ex-fiance makes it hard for him to see him as a friend when he feels cheated on, but is slowly moving past those feelings with the help of his husband (whom is his best friend). He is, however, fairly good friends with Raymond and his husband, as well as Valere and his wife. Though other than that, he has a hard time making long lasting friends without ruining the friendship himself. He doesn’t do much - as he makes a living as an adventurer, painter, and carpenter - he doesn’t have much time to put aside for any of the friends he does have, aside his husband, whom he does everything with. If he does go out with friends, it is usually joining together for a dinner.

Day Six— Guilty Pleasure: What does your OC like to do that they never tell anyone that they do? Does anyone ever find out? (7/27) Orpheux would probably find a way to kill himself if anyone found that he not only enjoys embroidery, but flower arrangements and tea-making as well. Not because his ‘masculinity’ would be at stake, but rather his visage of destruction among most people. He isn’t known for calm behaviors, and finds enjoyment in causing as much damage as humanly possible - from war crimes to property damage, to purposely attempting to break treaties. These rather domestic activities would definitely ruin his image. He would never tell a soul - and no one has caught him yet, not even his brother.

Day Seven— Casual Outfit: Give examples of what your OC wears on a normal day, with nothing special planned. (2/27) Berenger usually wears nice clothing even when the situation doesn’t call for it - the best dressed at any occasion. Though on a casual, common, and usual day, he may be found in a restaurant uniform with an apron - even though he owns his own storefront, he prefers to cook the food himself. Outside of work, he is usually found in a nice vest and slacks.

Day Eight— Formal Outfit: Give an example of something formal your OC has worn/would wear. How often do they wear this outfit? Do they have any others? (25/27) Maximiloix wears his casual outfit at the same time as his formal outfit - which is to say, he doesn’t change at all. Well, he does, just to wash his clothes, but he wears the same thing regardless. A long white robe, tight pants, and heels. His sense of style is very… *very* flamboyant, and even if he were to wear something else, it would be less modest and more colorful than his robes.

Day Nine— Spirituality: Does your OC have a religion? What do they believe happens to people when they die? What superstitions do they have? (17/27) Genevier isn’t a religious woman, though her patron deity is Halone, growing up in a religious city. However, despite that, she is a very, VERY, superstitious person - black cats? Avoids them at all costs. The numbers 4, 9, 13, 17 - she avoids them at all costs? Down to 4 arrows? She breaks one so her luck and aim aren’t affected in her hunting. You will never see her pass a match to another after using it; she will avoid priests that walk openly on the streets; nor will she ever accept a clock as a gift. She’s careful around mirrors, keeps umbrellas outside, and never uses a ladder. Her salt shakers have weights at the bottom so they don’t fall over.

Day Ten— Broken Temper: Your OC with their anger out of control. How did this happen? Does this happen a lot? (11/27) Quinn doesn’t get angry easily, not in the slightest. He’s very calm and collected with himself, though when he does get angry, it’s like the hells themselves erupted. He doesn’t have the physical strength to beat anyone down, but he does trash rooms and break apart his inventions just to keep himself from hurting anyone. However, the chances of him getting that angry are far slimmer than winning the lottery. Though, the quickest way to piss him off is to yell or shout around him - he’s very skittish about loud noises.

Day Eleven— Get the Sad Out: Your OC is in despair. What would cause them to be like this? How do they express their sadness? Do they cry? Does this happen a lot? (20/27) M’nhea being in despair is like a fire but cold. He never seems to have it in his heart. Or at least, at face value. For someone of very little brain, he is very good at hiding his emotions - the loss of his friends and family, and his homeland, hit very deep with him. He will never show his sadness in front of anyone save for a couple of people, most of it is spent in an inn room sobbing. He screams and cries and begs to gods for everything to be given back, knowing full well that’s not how it works. After a good solid half a bell of crying, he will either clean himself up and return to what he does best, or promptly pass out until the next morning.

Day Twelve— Argument: Your OC gets into an argument with somebody. Is it somebody they know well? Does this happen a lot? Do they get angry or do they remain calm? (25/27) People tend to avoid arguments with Maximiloix - not because he’s vicious or on top of people screaming, but because he’s very calm and collected. His ‘arguments’ are… arguably more like debates. He shows hard facts and rarely lets his emotions on the subject get the better of him. However. Any attempts at an argument with his own husband immediately gets shut down. Why? Caromont is always right, and he will never be told otherwise - whatever they’re arguing about isn’t worth their relationship. (It’s usually small things though, mostly about Max’s health. ‘You need to eat’, ‘go to bed’, ‘brush your hair’, ‘drink water’ - while Max usually wants to argue, he knows he shouldn’t.)

Day Thirteen— Fist Fight: Your OC is challenged to a fist fight! Who would do this? How would your OC react? If accepted the challenge, who would win? If they declined, how would they get away? (12/27) The fact that the randomizer chose Danny for this question is pure coincidence, I swear. Danny gets into *a lot* of fist fights. He’s the epitome of the “pick your battles, wait that’s too many put some back” post around here. If he was challenged to a fight, it would be from Wood Wailers and it wouldn’t be much of a challenge, he’s mostly attacked on sight - hands are his weapon of choice despite using magic. Another that would ‘challenge’ him would be his now worst enemy and rival, @shangomango ‘s Tobias Finch. Except. I highly doubt it would be with their fists, though that would be an interesting fight if they both cast aside magic. (To answer the last question, Danny would never decline nor run from a challenge to fight - which may end up being his downfall.)

Day Fourteen— Injured: Your OC got injured somehow. How did they get injured? How do they handle it? Does anyone help them recover? (5/27) An interesting prospect, considering that Eulan is a pocketwatch. He probably got injured by being stepped on for the thousandth time. And unfortunately, he’s usually stuck like that until his usual caretaker, Theolaud, can backtrack and find him. Theolaud has become skilled in repairing watches because of this.

Day Fifteen— Anticipation: What makes your OC impatient? What can’t they wait for? Why? (23/27) Camilla can’t wait for her training to be over, she can’t wait to get out into the world and help it herself instead of watching her parents do the work she wants to. She is very impatient, not only in terms of waiting for her life to begin but with other things as well. She definitely can’t wait until dinner is ready either, she is a very hungry child.

-- Day Sixteen— FREE SPACE: Congrats! You’ve made it more than half-way! Draw/write about your OC doing anything. For my free space, I’m going to just… I guess list how all of my characters are related, since some of them have pre-established relationships. Knowing one might accidentally introduce you to another. Amosis: Only one relation - Eulan Arcambault, though it’s unknown how they’re related or what they have to do with each other. Though it wouldn’t be unlikely that he knows of Maximiloix or Lothaire with their studies into Allagan history. Berenger Allard: Younger brother of Caromont, older brother of Raymond. Is familiar with Solaire, but does not know him well. Caromont Allard: Older brother to both Berenger and Raymond; married to Maximiloix. Step-grandfather to Lothaire and Honorie; brother in law to Valere, and good friends with Jadeinne and Mayve. Darian, Zacharie, Alvisaix, Gwenael, and Quinn were all his students currently or at one point. Familiar with Theolaud, does not know him well; same with Eulan. Solaire is his ex-fiance, they’re still working on their friendship. Raymond Allard: Younger brother of both Berenger and Caromont. Good friends and co-study with Theolaud, pupil of Eulan. Good friends with Solaire, Valere, and Quinn. Eulan Arcambault: Professor over Raymond and Theolaud’s training. Familiar with Caromont’s work, but doesn’t know him personally. Has some form of relationship with Amosis, but it’s unsure what it is exactly. Sabeloux Boucher: Younger (more mature) brother of Orpheux; Lothaire’s ex-fiance. Really, really does not like Camilla. Somehow friends with Valere, despite being terrified of his brother, Maximiloix. Familiar with Jadeinne, only as a business partner. Orpheux Boucher: No relation to anyone besides Sabeloux, being his older brother. Gwenael Corbeau: Jadeinne and Mayve’s cousin, Danny’s second cousin; student of Maximiloix and Caromont. Childhood friend of Quinn, Honorie, and Lothaire, one of Lothaire’s exes but still remained good friends. Jadeinne Corbeau: Mayve and Gwenael’s cousin, Danny’s birth mother. Good friends with Maximiloix and Caromont; business partners with Sabeloux. Honorie Fauvier: Maximiloix and Caromont’s granddaughter and cousin to Lothaire. Camilla is her second cousin, whom she absolutely adores. Student of her grandfathers for a short time. Childhood friends of Quinn and Gwenael. Quinn Grangier: Student of Maximiloix and Caromont’s; childhood friend of Lothaire, Honorie, and Gwenael. Good friends with Raymond, Solaire, and Valere. Danny Harold: Son of Jadeinne, godson of Maximiloix. Student under Maximiloix; second cousins to both Mayve and Gwenael. Doesn’t know of his birth family. Good friends with Lothaire. Umeko Malaguld: No relation to anyone besides Olsso, her fighting partner and close friend. Mayve McRae: Cousin to Jadeinne and Gwenael, second cousin to Danny. Likes scaring Maximiloix. Good friends with Caromont. Has met Lothaire, but doesn’t know much about him. Olsso Oronir: No relation to anyone else besides Umeko, his fighting partner and close friend. Zacharie Proulx: Childhood friend of Darian, grew up with her much like a brother. Student of Maximiloix and Caromont. Decent friends with Alvisaix and Camilla, though they are a little young to be too close to him. Knows of Lothaire, hasn’t met him. Genevier Rafale: No relation to anyone else. Solaire Rose: Ex-fiance of Caromont; good friends with Raymond, Quinn, and Valere. Knows of Berenger, but attempts to avoid him. Loathes Maximiloix. Darian Rosseau: Childhood friends with Zacharie, grew up with him much like a sister. Good friends of Camilla and Alvisaix. Student of Caromont and Maximiloix. Has met Lothaire all of once. M’nhea Tia: No relation to any one else - though in my own head-world and plot that’ll never be , he’d likely be familiar with Raramlah and Maximiloix. Alvisaix Vairemont: Student of Maximiloix and Caromont. Best friends with Camilla, good friends with Darian and Zacharie. Has met Lothaire on several occasions, but prefers Maximiloix’s teaching style. Theolaud Vauquelin: Good friend and co-study of Raymond, pupil of Eulan. Doesn’t really like Solaire much, mostly because he reminds him of himself. Unfamiliar with anyone else. Camilla Voilinaut: Best friends with Alvisaix, good friends with Darian and Zacharie; Lothaire’s adopted daughter, and Maximiloix and Caromont’s granddaughter. Student of both of her grandfathers. Honorie is the best aunt/second cousin. Lothaire Voilinaut: Grandson of Maximiloix and Caromont, cousin of Honorie, father to Camilla. Good friends with Danny, Gwenael, Solaire, Raymond, and Quinn. Slightly scared of Valere. Ex-fiance of Sabeloux. Doesn’t like him at all. Maximiloix Voilinaut: Grandfather to Lothaire and Honorie, great grandfather to Camilla, older brother to Valere, married to Caromont. Teacher of: Quinn, Gwenael, Danny, Alvisaix, Darian, and Zachaire - not including his own children. Good ‘friends’ with Raymond and Jadeinne. Tentative about Solaire and Berenger. Loathes Sabeloux. Terrified of Mayve. Valere Voilinaut: Younger brother to Maximiloix. Friends with Caromont, Quinn, Solaire, and Raymond. Does not like Theolaud much. Raramlah Ramlah: No relation to anyone else. --

Day Seventeen— Pet Peeves: Your OC’s biggest pet peeve. Are they vocal about it? Or do they keep their annoyance to themselves? (7/27) Orpheux will let people know if they are annoying him as they are annoying him - if he feels he can’t do anything to utterly ruin their lives, he will tell them how annoying they are, then walk away. If he can get away with murder, he will. Unfortunately, he is a very simple man when it comes to it.

Day Eighteen— Caught in the Rain: Your OC gets caught out walking in the rain without an umbrella. How would they react in this situation? Would anyone want to offer your OC an umbrella? Would they accept? (26/27) Valere doesn’t…. care. He likes the rain quite a bit, though prefers snow more. He’d politely decline an umbrella if offered to him, assuming he didn’t scare potential people off with the dead expression and weird tattoos on his face. If he got caught in the rain, he’d just keep on walking, without regard for what he is wearing or holding.

Day Nineteen— Relaxation: What does your OC do to relax after a long day? Do they get to do this often? (27/27) Raramlah relaxes by going bar hopping. Drinking is their strong suit, alongside fighting. Drinking is a very common thing for them, and if they aren’t found in the colosseum in one of their matches, they are drinking at the Quicksand. Sometimes they’ll make their way out to Western Thanalan just to watch people come and go from Vesper Bay.

#30 day challenge #about: Valere Voilinaut #about: Solaire Rose #about: Orpheux Boucher #about: Berenger Allard #about: Maximiloix Voilinaut #about: Genevier Rafale #about: Quinn Grangier #about: M'nhea Tia #about: Danny Harold #about: Eulan Arcambault #about: Raramlah Ramlah #long post

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id-never-letyoudown · 5 years

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A Muse List

Wilford Warfstache: reality warping semi-madman. He goes through time and just rolls with the punches. Knows at least a dozen alternate versions of the same person. Makes multiverse ships technically canon. Sometimes he forgets which timeline he's in and acts like a kid who fell asleep in the car and woke up in bed. Kinda OP, but I I'll discuss anything big with the other mun beforehand. For now it's just small stuff. -tagged: pink stache whiplash

Dark: literally watch Damien. Only this Damien had ties to the mafia, which Celine was heavily against. Also Damien and Will had a romantic relationship, highschool sweethearts, promise ring. Then Damien started running for mayor, Wil met Celine, feels were had. (ps: he's got both sets of genitalia, cuz everyone forgets.) -tagged: 3d dream

Fordwil Stachewarf: started as a joke of a bizarro!Wil and now, welp, here he is. He's a manipulative green haired asshole. A creep. He does not "roll with the punches", if one version of you likes him then he will expect all of them to, and he will take. Stuff with him can get hella triggery so I don't use him often. He's a total hardass. -tagged: green jerk

Chase: ha, an average bro. Trickshots. Memes. Bad puns and scraped knees. Anxiety ridden and depressed. Tries to drink away the pain. Also he's a werewolf and used to have hella bad anger issues, they have gotten better, but when it's that time of the month it's easy for him to slip. -tagged: sad awoo

Dr. Iplier: ;A; after losing his V-card to his highschool sweetheart who was moving away, three months later when he tries to break it off, she tells him she's pregnant. So they have a shotgun wedding. Also his family disowned him for this. He had to balance college, a job, and financially caring for his long distance, pregnant, wife. The boy was stressed, and he vented to her. Very next day she says she lost the baby. And ol' doc blamed himself. They've been married since, and whenever he brought up separating she would bring up the baby. He hired a PI who uncovered that there never was a baby to begin with, so now he's just "fuck you, fuuuuck yoooou." Now he's trying to get her to divorce him so she won't take everything. -tagged: doctor love me

Host: ah hah, favorite boi. My Host did used to be the Author, and after getting his ass handed to him, started looking for ways to really amp up his abilities. He found It(not the clown, fck off)and offered a deal "I'll give you a vessel, in exchange for power" and It misinterpreted and took HIS body instead of letting him find someone else. Over the years he's realized his mistakes and has become much more humble. Basically: Host is a host to a being not of this world or even dimension. -tagged: host2

Yan: goes from "not feeling a thing" to "feeling too much" real quick. If you see him being peppy and cheerful, it's an act so ppl don't question him. He wants to feel. So whenever he gets feelings for someone he often takes it too far. Much too far. Also he's a kitsune h e r e -tagged: bloody cute

Winston: fucking pink, pompadour, greaser demon. Him big. Tol. Stronk. Very protective of his partners, especially if they're human. Big teddybear. Loves animals and works as a mechanic. His town? Almost everyone is a demon there, they just wear glamours all the time. -tagged: big pink

Anti: fucking glitchy glitch tech demon. Acts like a computer virus. Very bitter. Up Dark's ass. He has feelios that he refuses to deal with, so he just annoys Dark and insists on being by him most of the time. He likes Dark because he's one of the few who don't take his bullshit and aren't scared of him. -tagged: virus boi

Bing: saaah dude. Super laidback unless he's alone, then he gets to work and is actually semi serious. He's got a few defects, mainly with his eyes, so he wears shades. Default safemode, the dial(yes, dial)is on the back of his neck. Ppl confuse this for volume too often. Notch one: he can cuss. Notch two: he can look up lewds. Notches from then on just increase how raunchy he can be and the frequency of his lewd statements. Very last notch: he can FUCK. also, he has a detachable dick, like, he can still feel it when it's not attached, thanks to bluetooth. Weird man. -tagged: robruh

Virgil/Anxiety: anxious bab with a sarcastic tongue and foul mouth. Total pessimist. Will not go out of his way to interact with people. Loves puns and dad jokes and Disney. Sings. Acts like a damn cat tbh. But surprise! Him a spider. Has giant spider legs coming out of his back that he hides -tagged: smokey eye

Patton/Morality: god, fckin. He's trying so hard. He wants to be the bestest friend/father figure that he can be. Sometimes he holds his own feelings in and bottles them up. -cough-surprise binch, daddy kink and puns. -tagged: pun papa

AD: h e y, I know we all have headcanons n shit, but my Dark would have tried to get their pal DA out of the mirror and into a body, after things settled, somehow. It would have taken him years, but he would have. Course it didn't go quite as planned. By then whatever remained of the DA was far too gone, turns up being stuck in a broken mirror realm can really fuck you up. And eventually turn you into a demon. AD is not the DA anymore, all they remember is that night and that night only.

Any semblance of the DA they once had is now gone. Now they're out for revenge, and when you're able to travel through reflections that can come quite easily. Ofc they look like Mark(more specifically Dark, as he was the one who both put them in and took them out of the broken mirror that was keeping them tied to the manor), only hella scarred and with white streaks all throughout their hair. Their eyes are mirrors, which is just fckin creepy. Personality wise they don't trust easy. A smartass with a sharp tongue. Brutally honest. Redeeming quality? If they see someone/something that's vulnerable they'll protecc. -tagged: spitting image

Kink(Klancy): a kinky mtherfcker. Used to be in a hella abusive relationship with someone who called beating and using him with no regard for his safety at all "bdsm". And it was Klancy's first and only romantic relationship. It wasn't until his bad, horrid excuse of a dom took them to an actual, legit bdsm club that he realized what the dom was doing was abuse. So he dumped him, and Jeremiah and his buddies helped get his stuff. Klancy decided that from now on he'd take his sex life in his own hands. He isn't currently looking for a a relationship, but I'm a shipping hoe so if y'all are up for a slow burn, hit him up -tagged: kink it up

Eric: hoooooo b o y, well, his backstory was awful before. Now it's uh, downright trigger worthy. I won't go into detail, let's just say Pops has a bad touch way of getting Eric to "calm down". He is a quiet, anxious boy. We all know his canon story. He feels guilty that he's the only one of his siblings living now. And Derek doesn't help. He's moved out and with Klancy, because I want them to be friends and you can fite me in the pit. Klancy-aside from Host-is the only one that knows what Derek's been doing since uh, Klancy being Klancy decided he'd try the dad on for size and Derek said some questionable things in the heat of the moment. Klancy has practically adopted Eric, he'll fight Derek.

Eric is a nervous wreck and easy to manipulate. Which makes him perfect for juicy, angsty threads. -tagged: yellow handkercheif

Periwinkle: a defective Google unit made with an experimental sensory system, it made him incredibly sensitive to the point of pain. So he wears clothes from head to toe, along with a helmet, Daft Punk style. He works at a nearby Google place, doing surveys with owners of Google units. He fakes being emotionless when on the clock, as he's been threatened with deactivation due to violent outbursts. -tagged: off limits

Copiplier: his name's Leslie, Officer Morgan. He prefers being called Lee. He abides by the l a w!! No exceptions. Whenever someone makes a noise complaint or some other with the office, he's the one that shows up. Mostly because none of the other officers want to deal with t h a t mountain of paperwork. His hair's on the long side, man bun long. And he buff. When I say he looks good in the uniform I mean "gets mistaken for a stripper" good. Which is fair, because for some time he was a stripper, before police academy(cough, he still is, on the weekends). Strict boi is kinda dense and ever since Yukio gave him some damn pocky he's been addicted to it. Which is great, since he used to be a smoker. -tagged: oh officer

#muse info #muse list

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thewarriorandtheking · 6 years

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10. The King’s Woman

Two mornings later as they were laying in bed, Thorin was idly running his fingers over Kaylea’s hair when he suddenly stopped.

“Are you going to put those other beads I gave you in your hair?” He asked.

Kaylea snuggled against him, her arm across his chest. “I keep meaning to, I just have not made the time.”

Thorin scoffed. “It takes no time at all!”

“I have not the skill in my hands that you do, my king,” Kaylea replied. “I will do it soon.”

“Why not do it now?” Thorin asked. He got out of bed and retrieved his undergarments from the floor. Moving over to the table he pulled out a chair and looked at Kaylea expectantly. She was watching him from the bed.

“You are going to braid my hair, my king?” She asked, obviously suspicious.

Thorin only smiled and gestured to the chair. Kaylea pulled on her leggings and undershirt then took the pouch of beads and a comb off the dresser and handed them to Thorin before taking a seat. Thorin got to work immediately, combing her hair out. He then started to braid her hair from just in front of her ears, in a four-strand braid the same as he wore. He had one done in almost no time, attaching a larger bead to the bottom. He then started on the other side.

“Today are we…” Kaylea started to ask, but Thorin shushed her. He wanted to concentrate, this was an important task. Kaylea looked at him, her eyes narrowed.

“Is this some Dwarvish custom I know nothing about?” She asked.

Thorin only smiled. “You have shown me some of your customs, now I will introduce you to one of ours.”

After he finished the first two braids he started another at her temples, adding some beads as he went. Where they came together at the back he braided them into her hair and added more beads at the bottom.

“I told you it would take no time, my love,” Thorin said, giving her a kiss on the neck. “Now you have your hair done in a proper Dwarvish style.”

She smiled at him, reaching up behind his head to bring his mouth to hers. After a moment, Thorin leaned his head forward to rest his forehead on hers. “I should probably tell you the only time a Dwarf braids a woman’s hair it is his wife’s. And husbands and wives share the same braids.”

Kaylea laughed softly, she fingered one of the long braids that matched his. “I knew you were up to something. So, we are married now?”

“Sadly, no,” Thorin replied. “There is a ceremony involved, or at least a contract. And anyway, when I marry you it will be a big ceremony with hundreds of guests and you in a spectacular dress.”

“When you marry me? I do not believe that was the answer I gave you.”

“I intend to change your mind, my love,” Thorin said matter of factly. “In truth, it is not unheard of but it is a bit scandalous for a king to carry on with a woman who is not his wife, or at least his fiance. These braids show there is an understanding between us.”

“So, you have marked me as your woman?” Kaylea teased.

“I will have no other,” Thorin said seriously. “We should probably get dressed, much to do today.” He watched Kaylea closely as he gathered up his clothes, trying to see if she was angry that he had claimed her as his without asking her first. He was relieved she seemed more amused than upset. After spending several days in near-constant company he was starting to be able to read her. It was odd, in some ways it felt like they had been together for many years but in others she was still a bit of a mystery to him.

“Dain is leaving on the morrow,” Thorin said as he dressed. “I thought I would have a dinner for him tonight.”

“Gandalf and Bilbo have been talking about leaving as well,” Kaylea replied, picking her clothes up and shaking them out. “Perhaps you should host a dinner with all the members of your original company, a sort of reunion before they all go their separate ways.”

“An excellent idea,” Thorin said. He looked over at her as she put on her tunic, the leather looked very worn next to the new beads in her hair. Thorin sighed. “Do you have any other clothes you can wear?”

Kaylea looked down at herself. “What is the matter with my clothes?”

Thorin gave her an amused look. “From what I have seen, you have three pairs of breeches, three tunics and that coat and everything is black.” He sat down to pull on his boots. “Can you blame me for wanting to show you off to my cousin?”

Kaylea had to laugh. “I suppose not.” She had always thought of it as one of the benefits of being a soldier, you never had to think about what to wear, just put on your uniform. “I came here to fight, I did not expect to be attending dinner parties with the man I love.” She smiled at him.

“What happened to that blue tunic you wore in Rivendell?” Thorin asked. “Even that would be a welcome change,” Thorin walked over to her, putting his arms around her waist and pulling her close.

“I may be able to find something else to wear, my king.”

“Mmmm...I cannot wait to see it.” Thorin kissed her neck, then looked up at her. “Are you coming, my love?”

“You go ahead. I will catch up,” Kaylea replied.

When Kaylea found Thorin he was directing the repairs to the water distribution system. While Thorin and his companions had been holed up in Erebor they had repaired part of it, but the whole thing needed to be working if the city was to start functioning again. Kaylea noticed some of the Dwarves they met gave her hair a curious glance, others smiled and nodded their approval to Thorin. She had tried to be angry at Thorin for basically telling everyone they were getting married, but she could not do it. Kaylea had to admit it was because part of her wished it were true. Not to stay in Erebor and be a queen, that could never be her life, but she did wish she could have Thorin in hers. However, she put these thoughts aside to concentrate on the task at hand. She had seen the Dwarves tended to over engineer things and the city’s water system was no exception. It was cleverly designed, but some of the cleverness got in the way of efficiency. Kaylea had tried to explain to Thorin how it could be improved, but in his mind it had worked well before and just needed repairs. Kaylea decided she would just draw it out for him. They agreed to meet for lunch and Kaylea returned to her quarters and spread a map out on the table. She pulled her handheld out of the pocket in her saddlebag.

“Ship, tie in.”

“At your command, General,” came the Ship’s sonorous voice.

Kaylea held the device over the map. “Take a look at this and give me a schematic to improve the water distribution system, use one of the Mir systems as a baseline.” She looked at the screen as the plans appeared.

“Sir, if I may ask, who designed this?” The Ship asked.

Kaylea chuckled. “I doubt it was one person. I’m sure it has grown with the city.” She looked at the Ship’s schematic. “Perfect. Can you flash it on the map?”

“Please center your device,” the Ship replied. “I will just give you an outline. I don’t believe you will need to add many details, these Dwarves seem to be competent engineers. Do you have any objection to my taking a few images of this map? It is very interesting.”

“Go ahead,” she replied, moving her device over the map. AIs were always fascinated with old maps, maybe in their spare time they created virtual cities to wander around in. The Ship overlaid the schematic with the laser, now Kaylea would just have to rough up the lines.

“How is that other project going?” Kaylea asked.

“80% complete, sir,” the Ship replied. Kaylea signed off and got to work on the map.

She had been at it for an hour or so when there was a knock on the door and Balin stuck his head in. “Is the king here?”

“No,” Kaylea replied, straightening up. “But he should be soon, we are supposed to have lunch.” Balin walked over to look at the plans she was working on. He gave them a cursory glance, but then looked more closely.

“This will be a big improvement!” He exclaimed. “The addition of these reservoirs is a marvellous idea. And very easy to do as well, we could have this done in less than a week.”

Kaylea smiled at him. “Your system is similar to others I have seen. I have been trying to explain it to Thorin, this will make it easier.”

Balin nodded, he looked up at her hair a second time with a curious glance, taking in her new braids.

“In case you are wondering, we are not married,” Kaylea followed his glance. “Thorin has asked me, but it is not possible. I cannot remain in Middle Earth.”

Balin breathed a sigh of relief, but then thinking he was being rude, drew himself up. “Please do not misunderstand me, my lady. I know you would make a great queen. And you make Thorin happy, that is no small thing. But it would be better for his kingdom if the King Under the Mountain married a Dwarf. I think you know this.”

Kaylea nodded. “I agree, my friend. I have told Thorin the same. I cannot stay here in Middle Earth, and I am not able to bear children. He must have an heir to ensure the succession of his line.” She paused, turning the charcoal pencil she had been using over in her fingers. “Though leaving him may be the hardest thing I will ever do.”

Balin came over to her and laid a hand on her arm. “I know you love him, lass,” he said. “And Thorin loves you with all his heart. He will not give you up.” He smiled at her. “Those braids say you are his, even if you are not to be his wife I think you know there will always be a place for you here.” Balin gave her a knowing smile.

Kaylea smiled back at him. “He told me it is not common for Dwarves to have mistresses.”

“As you know, there are not many Dwarf women. It is hard enough for even a king to find one, nevermind two,” Balin explained. “But you are not a Dwarf, and no one can look at the two of you and not see you are meant to be together.” He paused at the sound of a step outside the door. It was Thorin.

“Hope you are ready for lunch,” he said, eyeing Balin suspiciously. “I am starving.”

“Come and see this,” Balin said, indicating the map. Thorin looked it over and agreed the improvements looked very promising. He looked at Kaylea with some admiration, was there anything she did not know?

Thorin suggested they take lunch on the parapet overlooking the valley towards Dale, it was a crisp late autuml day, the air was cool but the sun felt warm and it was a pleasant day to be outside. The air was so clear even the mountains far to the south were visible. They ate in silence for a time.

“What were you and Balin talking about, my love?” Thorin asked finally, handing her an ale.

“Of kings and mistresses.”

Thorin rolled his eyes. “A king would not need a mistress if he marries the woman he loves.”

Kaylea looked at him seriously, steel in her voice. “A good marriage can bring you strong allies, and you will need all you can get for what is coming.” She looked off into the distance for a moment. “Erebor lies at the gate to Angmar, whatever threat comes from the North will visit you first.”

“Let them come,” Thorin said defiantly. “We have beat them once, we will do it again.”

Kaylea stood up, taking a deep breath and brushing crumbs off her clothes. She moved over to lean on the parapet, looking out over the valley toward Dale. Thorin felt she had something she wished to say, he waited for her to speak. Kaylea turned back towards him, her face grave.

“What I am about to tell you, the White Council would prefer to keep to themselves,” she began. “I do not agree. I believe the ones who are to fight this war should know what is coming so they can prepare.”

She told him then of what she had discovered in Dol Guldur and how the White Council had banished Sauron to the South. It would be some time before he began to gather his power again, but it would happen. She told him about her lord’s belief that Sauron’s one ring would soon be found and his Nine servants were once again at large in the land. Thorin listened with growing concern. “How soon will he be ready for war?”

“Not soon. The might of Gondor will hold him for some time. It may be fifty years off, unless he finds that ring.”

Thorin nodded slowly. “Then we must begin preparations.” He looked at Kaylea curiously. “Your lord is sure the ring will be found?”

She smiled ruefully. “I have never known him to be wrong.”

“Who is this lord of yours? Why do you not speak his name?” Thorin asked. “He must have once been a great lord here.”

Kaylea nodded, looking off to the north. “He is still a very great lord. His name is not spoken in the history of Middle Earth because he was banished.” She turned to look at Thorin. “That is really all I can tell you.”

Thorin pondered her words, there would be much to do. He wished again he would have her by his side to face this threat. He was not sure she would give him enough time to change her mind about marrying him. With her warning though there was much he could do to prepare his kingdom for war. His people had lived out the Dark Times in the halls of Moria, they could do the same in Erebor.

That evening Kaylea told Thorin she was going to change for dinner and would meet him in the dining room. Thorin hoped he was going to see that blue tunic again as he went to his chambers to change. He did not know Kaylea had spent a part of her morning asking the Ship to alter the code on the surgery unit so it could make her a dress. The unit could not make material very wide, so it had done it in panels and put it together. Kaylea had chosen a dark blue long sleeved style that reached to her ankles. It was slit high on either side, easy to move in and casual enough to wear with her boots and leggings. From the hips up it was close-fitted and the square neckline plunged low across her breasts, a short set of laces between them. Along the edges was fine gold detailing of an interlacing Dorsai design, similar to the Dwarvish motifs that were everywhere in Erebor. Kaylea was glad Thorin had done her hair, since she wore no jewelry it added the finishing touch. As Kaylea left her quarters she wished there had been a spot to pin a camera to her dress to capture Thorin’s expression when he saw her. She had just reached the top of the stairs when she saw him coming along the gallery towards her, he was looking down apparently deep in thought. Thorin apparently had an endless wardrobe of fine clothing. Kaylea had not seen this dark green fur-trimmed vest and high-collared silk shirt before. He was quite close before he glanced up and stopped in his tracks to stare. After a moment he continued along the gallery and stopped in front of her. Kaylea curtsied gracefully.

“I thought I would make a bit of an effort. Do I look acceptable, your majesty?”

Thorin stepped forward and slid an arm around her waist, pulling her close to speak in her ear. “More than acceptable. How am I supposed to keep my hands off you in that dress?” He kissed her deeply, his hand travelling up to toy with the laces between her breasts. Kaylea moved her hand down to massage him through his clothes, she pulled back to bite him on the ear. Thorin sighed. “How late do you think we can be for dinner?” He asked with a wicked smile, his voice husky.

“Good things come to those who wait, my king.” Kaylea moved to his side, keeping hold of his hand. “Shall we go in?”

Thorin shook his head, looking her up and down. “I cannot believe you have had that dress in your saddlebags all this time,” he said as they started down the stairs together.

It was a very merry evening, Dain had come with two of his commanders. Gandalf and Bilbo were there, as was Elrohir who was planning to leave for Rivendell in the morning. All of Thorin’s original company that had survived the Battle of the Five Armies were in attendance: Balin and Dwalin, Fili, Dori, Nori and Ori, Bifur, Bofur and Bombur, Oin and Gloin.

There was much reminiscing and retelling of stories, the escape from the halls of the Elven King, the trolls, the flight from the goblins. To Elrohir and Dain some of the stories were new, or were told in more detail than they had heard before. Gandalf and Bilbo had quite the smoke-ring contest after dinner, entertaining everyone. Bofur let the company in several songs, including the one he had learned from Kaylea on the road to the Misty Mountains. Kaylea sat next to Thorin and the two of them exchanged many whispered words during the evening, with secret smiles and holding of hands. All Thorin’s companions from his company were glad to see him so happy, since he had recovered from his wounds he seemed almost like a different person. And they all found themselves staring at Kaylea Wolf more than once during the evening. They had all seen her prowess as a warrior, this was the first time they saw her as a queen. Dain was skeptical Thorin was going to give this woman up, as Balin seemed to think he would. She was wearing his braids now, and Dain had to admit they did seem very well suited to each other. They even finished each other’s sentences, better than he and his wife and they had been married for 100 years. Balin had said Kaylea would not stay in Erebor but looking at the two of them it was hard to believe. Dain knew he had to leave to return to the Iron Hills and get his kingdon ready for winter, but he would be keeping a close eye on his cousin.

#fanfic #fan fiction #tolkien fanfic #thorin #thorin oakenshield #thorin oakenshield x oc #the hobbit #the hobbit movies #middle earth #true love #falling in love

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sailorgreywolf-legacy · 6 years

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The Royal Wedding

This is for the last day of rarepairs week. The theme is Formal.

It was early in the morning as England drove through the quiet Windsor streets. It felt distinctly like the calm before the storm. It was early enough that the traffic was somewhat quiet, but he could see the tents that people had set up in hopes of getting a glimpse of the new royal couple. It was the same thing as the last royal wedding, but that didn’t make it any less of a nightmare to organize. He knew that it would packed with people hours before guests even began to arrive.

But, England was feeling calmer now that it was the day of the wedding. He no longer had to be part of the planning, and the political manipulations about the guest list, and who would sit where. All the planning was done, with the exception of any last minute changes. He could just enjoy it now.

He turned into the driveway of the hotel and passed his keys off to the valet, then turning to take a garment bad out of the backseat as he did. He could have gotten dressed at his own house, but then he would have to be careful to not ruin anything on the way over. So, it was better to keep his suit in the best condition possible.

He already knew where he was going, since he had booked this room so that his partner would have a place to stay during the wedding. He had done it as soon as he knew the date, because he knew hotels would have been near impossible to book later, even for him. He had been through enough royal weddings to know that he had to do it before the date was released to the public.

He already had the room key in his pocket already, so he didn’t need to wait at the door. But, it was only polite to knock and to give Portugal the opportunity to make himself decent, just in case.

A voice came from the other side of the door, “Just a moment.” There was the sound of shuffling on the other side of the door, and then the door opened to reveal Portugal, who looked completely awake, though not yet composed. His shirt was only halfway buttoned, and his hair was still loose.

Portugal said, “You’re just in time.” England stepped into the door and greeted his partner with a smile, “You look handsome already.”

Then he leaned in a pressed his lips against his partner’s. These light kisses had become so routine between them that it would have felt wrong to see each other and not at least exchange a peck on the cheek.

After they separated, Portugal closed the door behind him and said, “Don’t flatter me, Arthur. I am still a mess.” His tone could not have been more playful, and England knew that Portugal knew perfectly well that he was handsome. He was even handsome when he had done a hard day’s work and his hair was tangled with salt water, and his skin was even more tanned from the sun. Even unrefined, he was beautiful. That was a feat that England had never been able to achieve himself. He looked best when he had the time to groom himself as a gentleman should.

ngland walked the rest of the way into the room, and was hardly surprised that all of Portugal’s things were in meticulous order. He had always been the kind of person to keep things in the tidiest state possible.

England placed his own garment bag on the bed and opened it to reveal his own suit. He said, looking back at his partner, “You look better than I do.”

He got a warm smile in response, and a brief shake of the head. Portugal was running a brush through his hair, leaving the brown waves soft and beautiful. It looked so silky that England had the urge to run his fingers through it.

As he worked his way through his hair, Portugal said, “I appreciate you inviting me as your plus one.” England started to unbutton his pants so that he could change into his slacks. He laughed, “Lilibet didn’t quite put it in those terms.” One of Portugal’s eyebrows arched, “Oh?”

After that, Portugal swept his hair into a ponytail at the nape of his neck and secured it. England liked seeing Portugal’s hair down, but he wasn’t going to dictate what his partner did with his own hair. And it didn’t matter; Portugal was handsome either way. With his hair swept back, it did not distract from the handsome lines of his face. And it did look more formal for him to tie it back.

England had managed to strip off his pants before he said, “She asked if my husband was coming.”

Portugal laughed so loudly that the sound echoed off the walls until he put a hand over his own mouth in an attempt to silence himself. England couldn’t help but smile back and let out a little laugh of his own. He knew that it would not be quite so amusing if it didn’t ring so true.

Portugal took several deep breaths before he was finally able to say, “She clearly knows us too well.”

He was beaming proudly, and it made England’s own smile widen. England pulled on his slacks. He tucked his shirt in and buttoned the pants before finally saying, “She has been queen for a very long time, and we have never been subtle.”

England knew perfectly well that he had never hesitated to kiss his partner where the Queen probably saw it. Nor had he ever attempted to hide the fact that they held hands when they walked side by side.

Portugal replied, “And we’ve been together at more than one royal wedding.” He was right, and England remembered all of them well. He had always insisted on taking Portugal to every possible royal event that he could. It always gave him a chance to have someone to talk to through an event that might become boring otherwise, and it gave him an opportunity to get dressed up and spend a day with a partner.

It really shouldn’t have been a surprise to him that the Queen had figured out his relationship with Portugal. But the jest, which had barely sounded like a jest, made him realize how much she had seen and how it had appeared to her. It was an honest appraisal of their public image, and England felt no shame at it. England had needed to stifle his own laughter when she had said it, and had replied with a wide smile and glowing pride.

He took his tie out of the bag and began to form the knot. He said, “I told her that I was planning on inviting you.”

Portugal glanced at him and smiled and stepped towards him. He then said, “Your tie isn’t straight, Arthur.” England stood conspicuously still as his partner stepped towards him. He didn’t need to even glance down to trust that his tie wasn’t straight. Portugal took it firmly in hand and straightened it. He was so close that England could smell the subtle scent of the sea that seemed to cling to Portugal’s hair no matter what he did.

Portugal glanced back up at England and said, “I wouldn’t mind being your husband.” England felt himself blushing, though it wasn’t the first time they had discussed the subject. They had done it many times when they spoke of the luxuries humans had that they could not.

He said, “If we were mortal men, we could have been.” Portugal finished straightening England’s tie and turned to find his own tie. He said, his voice muffled as he leaned into the closet to find his tie, “We can’t change that. But, I will gladly take the title of your husband if Elizabeth wants to give it to me.”

He eventually pulled it out of the closet and began to work on tying a knot. England let himself dwell on the thought for a moment. Even if countries could marry, he and Portugal could never have made it work on a political level. But, he had no doubt now, after hundreds of years of friendship, and centuries of being lovers, that there was no one else he would want to spend his life with.

He eventually remembered that he should be continuing to get dressed, not contemplating impossible notions of matrimony. The queen had allowed him the luxury of not being at the palace for the last minute preparations. But he would feel her wrath if he was not in the right place at the right time.

These events were always very carefully choreographed, and being the personification of the country did not excuse him from knowing the schedule. It had become even more meticulous since royal events had started to be televised. It made the monarchy more familiar to the populace, and England recognized the importance of that. But, television cameras were highlight any mistake, if it was made.

England reached for his vest and pulled it over his shirt, and began to button it. For this occasion, he had chosen a three piece suit in deep emerald green. In past years, he might have chosen a military uniform. But, it was a different time and now England preferred to be a civilian instead of decorating himself in pomp and all the medals of the empire. The empire was gone, and it felt better to just be a civilian.

He looked over to see that Portugal had finished with his own tie and was now pulling on his own vest. The dark blue that he had chosen made him look so handsome.

There was silence growing in the room, and England preferred not to leave it like that. He said, “Are you looking forward to this?” He suspected that even if Portugal found the pomp boring, he would have agreed to come anyway.

Portugal pulled on his jacket, effectively finishing getting dressed. The jacket fit snugly around his shoulders and reminded England of how muscular Portugal really was. Portugal replied, “I am looking forward to the reception more. The ceremony will be long and somber.” He paused for a moment before continuing, “I do love seeing true love though.”

England understood completely. Part of Portugal’s love of the ocean was the desire to be unfettered, and sitting through ceremony had never been easy for him. There would be little to do during the ceremony except watch, whereas the reception would have food and dancing. That was the kind of frivolity that Portugal had preferred the whole time that England had known him.

Portugal slipped a small black box from the pocket of his jacket and added, “Dear, would you help me with these?” England pulled on his own jacket and walked over.

He nodded and extended his hand for the jewelry case. He opened it to see a set of cufflinks in the shape of an armillary sphere, like the one on his flag. They were one of the few things that Portugal consistently wore to formal occasions, and they were meant as a tribute to the era of exploration.

England said, as he affixed the cufflinks, “The ceremony won’t be that long.” It was a white lie, qualified only in comparison to royal weddings of the past.

Portugal said, “You don’t have to lie to me. I remember how intricate it all is. That is one thing I do not miss about the monarchy.”

England finished with his the other’s cufflinks and looked up into Portugal’s green eyes. He smiled and tried to be look coy, “I promise the reception will be good.” The other smiled and said, “I’m sure it will be. I hope you will save me a dance.”

England laughed. He brought one of the other’s hands to his lips and kissed it like a gentleman should. Then he said, “I will save you every dance.” Portugal laughed, and his cheeks even turned a little red. England counted that as a success.

If only he could dawdle here and make his partner blush again, he would be perfectly content. But, the schedule was sacred, so he said, “If you’re ready, we should go.”

Portugal nodded, “Let’s go watch a wedding.” He planted one more kiss on England’s forehead before joining their hands and turning to walk out of the door and into the excitement of the day.

#aphrarepairsweek2018 #porteng #engport #aph portugal #aph england

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alltheworldsinmyhead · 6 years

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#royaiweek day 5: home(coming) // world war II au

POST-WAR BLUES

ao3//ff.net

'Cause they say home is where your heart is set in stone

Is where you go when you're alone

Is where you go to rest your bones

It's not just where you lay your head

It's not just where you make your bed

As long as we're together, does it matter where we go?

- Gabrielle Aplin “Home”

ROY

By the end of the war, Roy makes Captain. It does not hold any particular significance, as there are no longer actively fighting and he won’t be in military anymore, but he is given this rank as an award for “countless successful missions”, “unusual acts of bravery on the battlefield” and for “ wit and strategic thinking of truly unique kind- at least that’s what the official letter from general command states. All of his superiors agree that he well deserved it and all of his colleagues congratulate him, loudly demand a celebratory round of drinks and then jokingly call him “sir” for a day or two.

And Roy… well.

It feels very wrong somehow, to be given promotions for dropping bombs on the cities.

He boards the train home along with Maes, leaving Breda and Fuery on the crowded station in London and parting with Falman and Havoc a few stops later. They pass small towns and forests and fields on their way and as Maes falls asleep with Gracia’s letter laying on his knees, Roy stares out of the window and thinks about coming back home.

His mother will be there, waiting for his train; he is sure of that. She’s mad at him, but not so mad not to welcome him back. And Mimi will be there too, by mother’s side. He’s sure his little sister must’ve changed through all those years but it’s hard to imagine that she’s not a girl anymore. That she no longer wears two braids, no longer sneaks out to wander through the woods and would not follow him wherever he goes with the puppy devotion.

Both his mother and Mimi will wear black and there will be an empty space right where his father should be standing.

And of course, the whole village will be there, whether waiting for their loved ones to come home or watching other’s loved ones coming home with bittersweet envy. Mrs. Jones from the bakery and miss Poppy from the school and all of the women from the church’s choir and Mister Haviland who lost his leg in the first Great War and escaped enlisting into part two of it.

And there will be Riza. She will come. She will come with her head held high, against gossips of the town, against his mother’s poisonous glances and her father curses. She will come and wait for him, with her hands bare and no shame whatsoever.

God, he missed her. He missed her so bad that this yearning has taken a form of physical pain somewhere in his chest. No bullet could ever hurt as much as being away from Riza for so long.

He has even a proof of that.

Lucky charms are abundant in an army during the war; whether it’s a photograph of their loved ones ( or photographies, as plural, in case of Maes) or some object, like a pack of disgusting, cheap cigarettes favored by Havoc or a worn-out pocket size bible of Falman’s. Even men that could never be called superstitious held something special to them close at all times. No matter how reasonable and grounded you are, the moment you are up in the air and see Messerschmitts on the horizon, every rational thought flies out of the window. You may know that those special items don’t really do anything, but it doesn’t hurt to have them, right?

Roy was not an exception from this rule and was not particularly ashamed of that, although he wasn’t sure this object could be called a lucky charm in a strict definition of this term. Sometimes he thought of it as of a lifeline, connecting him to a person he used to be before he left to join this horrible, pointless war; as of some kind of a link that he could hold on to when he felt he was about to slip into insanity any moment.

It was a small, wooden chess piece, white paint peeling off it, hole drilled through its middle so that he can wear it on a chain around his neck.

A queen, that he snatched from the table one August day and hid in his pocket, without understanding why he did so.

Every time he raised his hand up and found its familiar shape underneath his shirt it was almost as if he was back home again, sitting on the wooden porch of Hawk’s Nest, Riza in front of him; biting on her lower lip and thinking about her next move, eyes fixed on the board and unaware that he cannot, for dear life, stop staring at her.

He had some more mementos in the base during the war; a thick stack of letters from his parents and a small bouquet of dried primroses from his sister; Riza’s yellow ribbon that she wore on her wide-brimmed hat when she went to send him off on the train station; some photographies; his journal. But for some reason, the chess piece was the thing that he felt most connected to.

He loves his mother, loves his sister and loved his father dearly. They are his family and he owes them everything. No matter how at odds he is with his mom, he knows she’ll be waiting for him at the station and he will wrap her up in a hug and feel like a little boy again.

But as the train whistles sharply and starts to slow down, making its way towards the familiar stop at snail’s pace- as he thinks of home, all he can think about are warm, brown eyes and the lovely face of the girl that agreed to marry him, before he set the world on fire. He doesn’t deserve her hand, now more than ever, but damn. If he’s alive when so many others are dead, he’s gonna use the rest of his life trying to become better for her.

With a small smile on his lips and holding the white queen in his hand, he smacks Maes’ thigh to wake him up and stands up to reach for his suitcase.

RIZA

By the time she reaches the train station, Riza’s dress is drenched with sweat, her fringe is plastered to her forehead and she’s so nervous that she’s afraid her heart will just jump out of her chest and fall in front of Roy’s feet.

It’s a beautiful June day; the sun is shining brightly on the clear sky, sheep look like clouds of white, their fur slowly growing back after April shearing. But Madeline’s calf had hurt his leg sometime during the night and then she had had to manage the small crisis in chicken coop - and ended up just barely managing to finish all of her duties on time this morning. She had run through almost whole 6 miles long way from Hawk’s Nest to the station and cursed the sun the whole time.

But it’s still so good to be here, to get her hands dirty, to numb the voices in her head with the grueling physical work. After she came back from London in early April, she found the farm in such bad that she has spent a few following weeks just working and sleeping, working and sleeping. A blissful escape from thinking, if anyone asked her. Maybe her muscles were burning and angry blisters were forming on her hands, but at least she did not have to sit in the office the whole day and type and type and type, the letters forming names and surnames, each one meaning someone was not coming home anymore.

At least she didn’t fall asleep with the images of burning planes spiraling down and crashing into the sea. At least she didn’t wake up each day with the excruciating pain that she will hear “Roy Mustang” through the radio.

Thank God for small blessings.

She was not in London anymore. She was home, standing in front of the train station, with her hair messy and the hole in her stocking, waiting for Roy’s train to arrive.

For the millionth time she recalls the last time she saw him; at the party, his parents held for when he went on his first and last leave, just after completing the training and before starting serve. They had spent the first hour or so politely conversing about his military life and her transcribing course, circling each other cautiously and acting as strangers.

He was wearing his uniform and she was wearing this blue dress with buttons that she doesn’t have anymore because it became too big when she has lost weight. She thinks she has given it this one pregnant friend of Rebecca, but she’s not sure.

They were chatting about everything and nothing as if there was nothing between them as if he has never kissed her, as if she has never kissed him back – and then he offered her his hand and pulled her towards his childhood bedroom.

She closes her eyes and yes, she still remembers it all so clearly; the trumpets in the song playing downstairs, his slicked-backed hair and dark eyes, so honest and more serious than she has ever seen him before. How he dropped on one knee and leaned his forehead on the knuckles of her left hand, the rich timbre of his voice, quietly asking her to please, allow him the joy of marrying her.

And her soft, breathy “yes”.

How could she even do anything else but agree? She could never deny Roy anything he would ask for.

She smooths out the wrinkles on her skirt, takes a deep breath and pushes the glass doors; the train station is crowded, full of those lucky ones who get to see their sons and fiancés and brothers come home. She, with her sweaty palms and serious face, sticks out as a sore thumb.

She spots Mrs. Mustang in the crowd with no problem; clad all in black, with face obscured by the widow’s veil she puts a little distance between her and everyone else, back straight and hands laced. She is the epitome of grace, even with this bittersweet air of half-sadness, half-joy surrounding her. Riza doesn’t dare to step closer; the last time they talked she received a firm slap on the cheek and a clear signal that she would never be welcomed into this family, no matter how insistent Roy was on marrying her.

Riza sacrifices a minute or two to go through her old list of reasons why Lilian Mustang hates her; she is poor, her father is mad, her mother is dead, her farm is ruined. She is nothing but debt and trouble. She has – or at least had, now, that the war is over- a job. She hunts. She wears pants sometimes. She’s not a virgin.

And the one at the root of it all; she stole her darling son from her. She’s been stealing him, piece by piece, for years, long before they were found in those raspberry bushes, drunk in each other.

But Riza can do nothing about it and she has already spent too much time dwelling on that, so she shakes it off, trying instead to focus on Mimi. Roy’s younger sister grew up so much while Riza stayed in London, that she barely looks like the same person; she’s so tall now, with the same black hair as all of the Mustang’s tied in a ponytail and wearing modest gray dress that belongs to a woman, not a girl she used to be not so long ago. Gone are the plump knees and chubby cheek - Mimi has cheekbones now, sharp, sculptured, giving her face a mature look of a movie star. She’s standing next to her mother, scanning the crowd with her blue eyes and when she spots Riza, her mouth curves into a small smile and she discretely waves her with the tips of her gloved fingers.

Riza returns the gesture; how she would love to talk with Mimi. Give her a hug, offer condolences, run barefoot through Mustang’s peach orchard and make flower crowns out of daisies again.

But not today. Maybe never; maybe too much time has passed, maybe there are too different now to act like those happy-go-lucky little girls again.

Then, there is a whistle, a whine, a hollow sound of metal rolling on another metal. Somebody shouts, somebody starts to cry; people push towards the tracks, pushing one another out of their way,

And Riza stays frozen, her back glued to the wall of the station’s building, all at one drowning in the whole ocean of emotions, a wild current of them pulling her under.

Suddenly, she’s scared, she’s frightened, she’s terrified; her legs tremble and she clasps her hands together so tightly that her knuckles turn; somewhere at the back of her mind, her brain registers the taste of metal on her tongue as she bits hard on her lower lip.

Roy, Roy, Roy her blood hums his name in her ears.

What if he doesn’t want her anymore?

Don’t be ridiculous she scolds herself. She’s not really afraid of that; she knows her boy. She knows his heart as well as her own. Roy could never look at her like during this party if he didn’t want her. And although a lot can change during six long years, although they are different people now, each and every letter that he send her spoke of his loyalty and love and devotion – shouted about it, even –so clearly, that he could never fake it, could never lie to her like that.

He still wants her, still loves her. So why is she trembling? What is that that she’s so scared of?

The train slowly stops but Riza cannot hear anything but the names shouted by people.

“ Marcel” and “Thomas” and “Maes” and “Andrew” and-

“Roy!”

Mimi is standing on the bench, balancing on one leg and waving her handkerchief excitedly.

“Roy, Roy!” she shouts out, despite her mother tugging on her skirt, apparently demanding of her to stop. “Roy!”

Riza cannot see her face, but she’s sure Mimi’s crying; she sounds a bit teary and she was always likely to tear up while reading a romance novel or listening to a sad song.

There is a sea of people separating her from the train, so she’s not actually able to see how soldiers step out, but she spots this moment; the screams increase in volume and more people starts to cry and then Mimi jumps down, right into somebody’s arms-

And Riza is standing still, her feet rooted in the ground, her hands clenched into fists, her vision narrowed down to the dark head next to Mimi’s. He’s taller and broader than she remembers him; all of the other details are obscured by the crowd.

Some girl pushes through people next to her, running towards a man in glasses who drops down his backpack to catch her. Some woman has her arms around the tall guy in mid-twenties; she openly sobs into his chest and he looks down at her fondly. Some other couple is kissing. Some man gathers three kids from the ground all at once and spins with them around, their cheerful shrieks filling the air.

All this joy. All this happiness.

“Riza!”

Her heart stops.

“Riza!”

Her breath catches.

“Riza!”

He’s taller. And broader. Hair still unruly, eyes still dark and sparkling, although they were not bags underneath them before the war. Shirt stretching out on the muscles that didn’t use to be there.

Flushed cheeks that she remembers, the aura of self-confidence that’s new. A mixed of the Roy she knew and the Roy she will get to know.

She covers her mouth with her hands and closes her eyes. Tears spill down her face, cool against the heated skin.

“Roy.” She can barely recognize her voice when she whispers. “Roy.”

The war, the bombs, the planes, the bombing alarms, London and the lists of fallen-

All of the shouts in her head disappear when he pulls her into his arms, when he wraps himself around her, when he says her name like that – like a prayer, like a promise.

Before:

"You always refuse to sacrifice the queen.” She notices with a tint of humor in her normally-serious voice, playing with the loose strand of her hair and staring at her feet, instead of looking at him.

And he’s so stupid, stupid in the way grin splits his face, stupid in the way he can’t help but want with all of him to run his fingers through her hair.

“ Well, I’ve told you. Queen is important. She can do almost anything. If used in right way, she can decide on the outcome of the game.”

Are they still talking about chess?

Probably not.

The sun sets behind the hills and they watch it together, sitting on the steps in front of her house. It’s a summer evening, warm and smelling of sweet peaches and warm soil. Crickets are singing, a light breeze is making the wheat sway and swish.

He takes her hand in his, laces his finger with hers and she basks in this feeling; how he doesn’t shy away from her callouses and roughened skin, how warm and big his hand is. There is a sense of security in his touch. There is something stable, something grounded; you could build on a foundation like that.

She raises her head up to look at him and finds him already looking at her. He’s smiling softly, this smile making his eyes crinkle and shine; she can feel her cheeks turn pink. It is just a regular summer evening, one of so many they shared, but still, there’s something different in it, there’s some added weight hanging in the air. It feels important. It feels like something they will recall twenty years from now.

And still, it’s just natural as breathing when he leans towards her and gently raises her chin up.

The sun is setting. The crickets are singing. The wheat is swishing. The old wood is creaking underneath their weight as they move.

“I’m home” he whispers in her ear.

#royaiweek2018 #royai week 2018 #royaiweek18 #royai #royai fanfiction #royai au #fma #fma:b #writing

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bnha-love-imagines-blog · 6 years

Text

Mariska #1

Character Profile Full name: Mariska Josephine-Esmeralda Marie-Anne Arlovskaya

Pronunciation: Mar-e-ska Jo-sef-ene Es-mer-al-da Mary-Ann Ar-lov-sky-a

Meaning of Name: Mariska: Of Bitter Sea in Hungarian; Josephine: Diminutive of Joseph (He will add); Esmeralda: Emerald in Portuguese; Marie; Rebellion; Anne: God’s Favor; Arlovskaya; Surname in Belarus

Hero/Villain Name: Alegria (Joy in Portuguese) the Thoughtful hero

Nicknames: Mari, Jo-Jo, Alda, Annie

History of Nicknames: Mari: Diminutive of first name; Jo-Jo: Jealous cousin called her this when he would visit the Arlovskaya estate in order to make fun of her; Alda: Her parents called her this frequently; Annie: Diminutive of Anne

Aliases: N/A

Nationality: Portuguese-Belorussian

Affiliation: Hero

Student Number: 25

Quirk: this would be the official label of the quirk, the in-depth description of it is later: Telekinesis/Pathokinesis

Birthday and Astrology Sign: September 27/Libra

Age: 15 turning 16

How old do they look: 16

Mental Age: 19

Gender: Female/She/Her

Orientation/Sexuality Preference: Bisexual/Biromantic

Birth date: September 27

Birth place: Homyel

Death date: N/A

Death place: N/A

Appearance: Eye color: also mention if this is unusual in the family or society.: Sea foam green eyes

Eye shape: Deep set eyes

Do they wear contacts or glasses?: Reading glasses Hair: Waist length naturally wavy naturally dark blonde hair; dyed strawberry blonde ombre to ash blonde

Height: 5′5

Weight: 140

Body build: slim, lean, muscular, overweight, etc.: Slim thick (small, lean waist, good amount of muscle on bum and legs)

Body shape: pear, hourglass, rectangle, etc.: Hourglass

Complexion: Rose ivory

Cup size: D

Blood Type: O+

Handedness: Right handed

Hand type: big hands, tiny hands, delicate hands, long fingers, short fingers, calloused hands, etc.: Delicate with some callouses from baking and cooking, long fingers, small compared to any male’s

Nails: long, short, dirty, clean, etc.: Oval shaped, long, painted nude, clean

Movement: Graceful

How do they walk: fast, with a limp, slow, hop in their step, swinging arms etc.: Toe first from years of dance

Posture: Relaxed, straight

Flexibility: Ballerina/Gymnast level

Voice: Mezzo-Soprano Belorussian accented

Speech Mannerisms: do they pause, stutter, say “um”, etc.: Licks lips between words, lisp when saying c’s

Scars: A scar on her right hip from her grandfather over pushing her in training and stabbing her (nicked her uterus almost causing her to become sterile but didn’t); A burn scar on her left shoulder from when she made a comment about how she believed they killed her parents

Birthmarks: if any: N/A

Piercings: if any: Double standard earlobe; nose stud on the right

Tattoos: if any: N/A

General face structure: like high cheeks bones, or looks like (insert celebrity): High cheekbones; Facial features are that of Perrie Edwards

Defining physical traits: N/A

Statistics: Power: ★★★☆☆ C

Speed: ★★★ ☆ ☆ C

Technique: ★★★★☆ B

Intelligence: ★★★★★ A

Cooperativeness: ★★ ★ ★ ☆ B

Extra Explanation: N/A

Quirk and description: Telekinesis: Ability to move things with her mind (includes lifting people) Will get bad migraines and ringing in her ears if used too much; Pathokinesis: The ability to sense and control others emotions, Unable to use it on loved ones and has less control over her own emotions after using it for 30 minutes

Clothing: Uniform: UA High School Uniform

Casual outfit: (Changes frequently)

Preferred outfit: Leggings, off brand converse, a faded guns’n’roses crop top

Hero/Villain costume: Catsuit

Equipment / Support Items: if used: Handcuffs, taser, retractable police baton

Accessories: N/A

Jewelry: Rose gold locket with both her parents’ pictures in it, a gold ring with an opal that her father gave her before he died

Characteristics:

Personality:Kind, intelligent, daydreamer; stubborn, frivolous, gullible

Myers-Briggs Type: ENFP-T

Alignment: Chaotic good

Big Five personality traits: Extroversion: 96%; Agreeableness: 95%; Intelligence/Imagination: 91%; Emotional Stability: 9%; Conscientiousness: 5%

Enneagram: Type 2: The Helper

Most prominent personality trait: Kindness

Best traits: that others can see, they believe, etc.: Her kindness

Worst traits: that others can see, they believe, etc.: Her inability to follow plans

Likes: Anything they like to do, eat or see. : Music, dance, literature, culture (Portuguese, Belorussian, Japanese), yoga, cuisine Dislikes: Anything they don’t like to do, eat or see.: Large bugs, clowns, her grandparents

Quirks: (not the superpower but little silly things they do) Hums as she does something, taps her fingers, twirls her hair, rolling her tongue Fear: Her grandparents killing more of those she loves, clowns, large bugs, being too weak

Hobbies: Singing, dancing, reading, yoga, going to the gym, eating, playing guitar, and cooking/baking

Skills/Talents: Singing, Dancing, Flexibility, Playing guitar, piano, and violin

Strengths: Combat, Intelligence Weaknesses: Her kindness, gullibilty

Reason to keep on living: It would make her parents proud

What is their self-image like: Appearance wise: She believes she’s beautiful except for her scars Personality wise: She is happy with who she is Overall: Okay but hates her past and everything relating to it

Any religious or spiritual faith: Freelance Catholic (Prays with rosary, confesses sins daily, goes to church during holidays, worships the saints)

How does this faith / lack of affect them: It connects her to her mother. She feels at home when she comes home and is able to pray the way she and her mother would when she was a child with the rosary beads

What superstitions do they have: Walking under ladders, breaking mirrors, spilling salt, using the Lord’s name in vain

Coping mechanisms: Prayer, cuddling with her love(s)/her dogs/both

Any life motto or quote they live by: don’t be a jerk, yolo, cup should be half-full always, etc.: “A little thought and a little kindness is worth a lot more than any amount of money”

Favorite things:

Favorite Food(s): Kletski, Galushki, Tsibriki, Arroz Doce, Dobradinha, and Bacalhau com natas

Favorite Drink(s): Water, Green Tea, Coffee

Favorite Color(s): Teal, Purple

Favorite Animal(s): Dogs, Red Pandas

Favorite Number: 13

Favorite Season(s): Fall

Favorite Holiday(s): Christmas (Parents favorite holiday)

Favorite Time of Day: Sunset

Health:

Physical: Healthy

Mental: Not the best because of PTSD and Depression

Emotional Stability: Not the perfect but not terrible when her pathokinesis hasn’t been used

If faced with crisis, what is their go-to: fight, flight, or freeze: If there is someone in danger, fight. If she is in danger or it’s a natural happenstance, flight

Nutrition: Very well, home cooked meals almost daily, has a bit of a sweet tooth though

Habits: this could be sleeping habits, eating habits, nervous ticks, biting fingernails, etc.: Sleeps on left side and mumbles in sleep, eats with mouth closed and as nobility style etiquette, bounces her leg when nervous as well as taps her fingers, meditates and prays daily, good care of body, if she's in a big crowd, she'll accidentally sense a negative emotion or will change someone else's emotion if she is very emotional around those she doesn't know

Family History: example, a certain mental illness or physical disease runs in the family: N/A

History, Background, and Future:

0-4: Happy; Her grandparents seemed kind enough

5-8: She understands more but her parents will protect her

9-11: Age ten, her parents are killed when a piece of construction from the new garden house mysteriously falls in. Her paternal grandparents care for her when her maternal side isn’t doing so; both begin to train her rigorously

12-14: Is trained to beating and pain, she loathes both sides as she knows they caused the “accident”

15-Present: Moves to Japan after getting into U.A

Did they like their upbringing: Loved it until her parents’ death

How has their upbringing shape them: She has become lowkey bitter to older people unless shown they are kind

What did they enjoy most about their childhood?: Cooking with her mom, playing piano with her father, running through the garden

What did they hate most about their childhood?: The pain of loss and the burden of becoming great

Current Dream: be the number one pro-hero, run a successful company, etc.: Be pro-hero with proud parents

Long-term goals for Future: get married, have kids, be successful, be a pro-hero, etc.: Pro-hero married with kids

Home:

Home Life as a Kid: abusive, supportive, neglecting, etc.: Happy then abusive

Home Life Now: abusive, supportive, neglecting, etc.: Generally quiet until moves into dorms and now it’s very supportive and loud

Relationships:

Parent(s): Chiara (Carriedo) Arlovskaya, Ivan Arlovskaya

Sibling(s): N/A

Relative(s): Carmella Carriedo and Antonio Carriedo, Natalya Arlovskaya and Dmitri Arlovskaya

Best Friend(s): Midoriya Izuku, Momo Yaoyorozu, Ochako Uraraka

Friend(s): Iida Tenya, Tsuyu Asui, Kirishima Eijirou

Crush(es): Todoroki Shouto, Katsuki Bakugou, Midoriya Izuku

Pet(s): A Husky named Chi-Chi and a German Shepherd named Vanny (both named after her parents)

Rival(s): N/A

Enemy: Villains, Mineta

Extra:

Smells like Strawberries and Vanilla

Works in a bakery

Social media queen

Amazing photographer with cell phone

Hates snack cakes

Theatre Nerd

Speaks Portuguese, Belorussian, English, and Japanese

Has met Gran Torino and is unofficially his granddaughter

I have edited @izukulove ‘s oc form but nevertheless, it is still theirs and I hope they do not mind my using and editing it! This is the newer, updated version of Mariska! I will number each post by order of release.

#bnha oc #mari #admin opal has spoken

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pasiphile · 7 years

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So we saw Valerian this week. And it was a disappointment.

The visuals were gorgeous, though, that’s about the one thing they got right. It looked fabulous. From the multi-layered virtual marketplace to the titular City itself, to the variety of interesting aliens... It was all really, really good. Not only where the special effects beautiful, it was even pretty recognisable from the comics.

But. Well. The rest?

The story was laughable, a simplistic and predictable half-arsed excuse to show off various pretty locations and aliens with no real coherence. For a movie that long, it’s astonishing how little actually happened. Cause if you strip away the pretty and the cute lil’ sidequests and the whole Rihanna-as-an-alien-stripper subplot, you’re left with a very simplistic, formulaic, barely thought-out flimsy sketch of a story about how War and Racism are Bad. Or something.

Worst sin is the characterisation, though. I had pretty high hopes, based on the trailer, and the first few minutes between Valerian and Laureline were a joy: bickering, flirting, wrestling with neither of them really winning, it’s exactly the sort of old-married-couple interaction that I - . Wait.

What do you mean they’re not together yet?

For those who don’t know the comics: Valerian is a dork, who likes to pretend to be a rogueish Bad Boy but really really isn’t, and is aware of this. He isn’t a playboy, he’s hardly ever really seen flirting with anyone. Laureline, meanwhile, is a girl who’s originally from basically a Medieval Fantasy world, where she lived in a forest and was basically a cave girl - who decided to hitch a ride with Valerian because what he did looked interesting. They get together somewhere between the first and the second comic, and their relationship is very much an equal one, with both of them occasionally being condescending to the other but essentially being very much on equal grounds. And on the whole, Laureline is the rule-breaker (logical, given her background), and Valerian the rule-follower.

So when I learned they were gonna make a movie about it, I was hoping they’d go for the full-on established couple version, and feared they would turn it into a will-they-won’t-they belligerent sexual tension thing.

And they did. Only they made it even worse. They massively, massively changed the characterisation - that is, where they even bothered with personality, because it’s not like either of them got a lot of background. Laureline is mentioned to be a by-the-rules, straight-A student, while Valerian is a Bad Boy with a reputation who has slept with hundreds of women (which are shown in his virtual “playlist”/gallery of fame) but Laureline is different. Throughout the movie he keeps trying to convince her to at first sleep with him, and then for some reason, marry him (the first marry me was the point where I broke out in incredulous laughter - the final had me go YEUUGH very loudly). Laureline, meanwhile, doesn’t want to be another one of his conquests, and she gets (understandably) annoyed at his condescending jerk attitude, but in the end she caves in. It’s gross. Not just the way they changed it, but that it’s all limited to that - there’s practically no characterisation beyond their relationship, unless you call Laureline angrily yelling “he RUINED MY DRESS” at an attacking alien characterisation. Oh, and as if that isn’t enough: in the comics both Laureline and Valerian are Agents for the Time Agency; here, they’re soldiers in the military, where Laureline is a Sergeant and Valerian a Major.

Like. Even if I hadn’t known about the source material, I’d be annoyed, because it felt forced and uninspired and very, very all-done-before. Not just the relationship, of course: the main plot about the Pearls was clearly lifted from Avatar (which in turn wasn’t exactly what you’d call original), both in terms of narrative as even in the way the Pearls and their home planet looked. Other bits felt very Jupiter Ascending - and it did feel like that, just bits all strung together but without any real strong plot connecting it all. Even the worldbuilding was rather shoddy (especially when you compare it to the Fifth Element, which had a lot of the same problems but still managed to present a more coherent image than this fucking one).

The word that I kept whining at my girlfriend afterwards was it was so Straight. It really did feel like a fantasy of an overexcited teenaged boy poisoned by the patriarchy, and in no scene was that more clear than the completely unnecessary five-minute strip scene with Rihanna changing into various stereotypical “sexy outfits”. Oh, or the female soldiers all wearing uniforms with miniskirts while the men wear trousers. It’s supposed to be the twenty-sixth century, but in every possible way except for the aliens and the technology it could as easily have been the twentieth. Like I said: uninspired.

And it’s a shame, and frustrating, because there is definitely potential there. Cara Delevigne, bless her, really did try her best, and she would’ve been great as the actual original Laureline. The look and feel of the thing was perfect. If they’d kept to the original story and the original characters this would have been a great movie, but instead they spent their energy and time on things like Rihanna in a sexy stripper outfit or action scenes that start out cool but go on way way too long, or casual sexist jokes about shopping wives or massive fight scenes that were negotiations in the original.

And that’s just one small part of a long, long lists of sins (all the space commanders are male! the Converter is never actually used! he fucking asked her to marry him). I coped by just looking at the pretty - and I really can’t overstate how gorgeous it all looked - but really, it’s been a while since I saw any movie that was as blatantly unoriginal story- and character-wise as this one.

In short: this is what happens when you give an annoying Straight Boy TM unchecked access to fabulous source material.

Now go read the comics.

#i am #v annoyed #v v v annoyed #we could've had it alllll #and instead we got heterosexismmmm #ugh #Valerian #whoops i ranted

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citizenscreen · 7 years

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When the Harvard educated, classically trained stage actor Fred Gwynne heard that Yvonne De Carlo was to be his co-star in The Munsters he balked. Al Lewis, a showbiz veteran since the days of vaudeville, had the exact same reaction. The co-stars and friends went straight to the producers to complain, “She’ll never fit in. She’s a movie star!”

She was born Margaret (Peggy) Yvonne Middleton in Vancouver, British Columbia on September 1, 1922. “I was named Margaret Yvonne. Margaret because my mother was very fond of one of the derivatives of the name. She was fascinated at the time by the movie star Baby Peggy and I suppose she wanted a Baby Peggy of her own.” Peggy Middleton would later use her middle name, Yvonne coupled with her mother’s maiden name, De Carlo in her pursuit of a professional career in the movies. As Yvonne De Carlo the young woman would become one of filmdom’s great beauties, she would appear opposite some of Hollywood’s greatest stars, date some of the most famous men in the world and become a pop culture icon.

Yvonne De Carlo was raised by a single mother who dreamed of stardom and puritanical grandparents. Her father, a handsome, charismatic con man, ran from the law when Peggy was 3 and never returned. Hoping to shape a future star in the image of her own dreams, Peggy’s mother signed her up for dancing lessons early. Peggy, however, always wanted to be a singer and was blessed with a strong voice and a lively personality, both of which would serve her well throughout her life. After several years of ballet lessons Peggy’s mother announced that they were going to Hollywood for a chance at stardom. Her formal education was erratic at best, but Peggy continued to dance uninterrupted although she shifted from ballet to other forms of dance that fit her build much better. The first trip to Hollywood proved unsuccessful, but at the age of 17 Peggy became Yvonne De Carlo dancing in Vancouver nightclubs. Already a stand-out beauty, Yvonne returned to Hollywood with her mother and at the age of 18 and won the Miss Venice Beach beauty contest, which gave her the confidence for nightclub work in Hollywood and eventually opened the door to the movies.

Paramount Pictures signed De Carlo to a contract in August 1942. While there she appeared in bit parts in about 20 movies, which included uncredited roles in several notable productions like Frank Tuttle’s This Gun for Hire and David Butler’s Road to Morocco, in which she played Dorothy Lamour’s handmaiden. Both of those were released in 1942. As great as the movie parts were, however, they weren’t getting her any real attention. What got her attention were the USO shows she was a part of, which made her a favorite pin-up of the boys in uniform and she loved singing for them.

In 1944 Paramount let Yvonne De Carlo go, but producer Walter Wanger cast her in Charles Lamont’s Salome, Where She Danced (1945), which led to a $350 a week contract with Universal. The role of Salome catapulted De Carlo to stardom making her another one of those overnight successes after years of hard work and perseverance. Still, she’d made it…

“Yvonne De Carlo, a comparative newcomer, is starred in the title role. Miss De Carlo has an agreeable mezzo-soprano singing voice, all the “looks” one girl could ask for, and, moreover, she dances with a sensuousness which must have caused the Hays office some anguish.” – Bosley Crowther, NYT, May 3, 1945.

Publicity shot for Salome, Where She Danced

Moderately billed as “the most beautiful woman in the world” by Universal for Salome, questions about her looks were sure to surface. When asked in 1945, “Who else is beautiful like you in Hollywood,” she replied, “That’s a heck of a question to ask a lady! But if you insist – Merle Oberon and Hedy Lamarr.”

Before she knew it Yvonne De Carlo was Universal’s hottest property and the studio demanded she never be seen in public as anything less than a star. That was a demand De Carlo could meet easily. She was beautiful, confident, exotic, mysterious and excelled at getting the attention of the press. In fact, no studio could have asked for a more perfect personification of “movie star.” She relished the role and enjoyed every minute of it. It’s no surprise that billionaire producer Howard Hughes pursued her as he did many famous beauties of the golden age. The two dated for a time – until Yvonne mentioned marriage. She also had a serious relationship with Robert Stack who remained an admirer of hers his entire life. Although I’d like to I can’t name all of the men Yvonne De Carlo dated here because according to what she wrote in her autobiography, Yvonne: An Autobiography she went out with many men including Burt Lancaster, Robert Taylor and Billy Wilder. And, as she noted in a TV interview following the book’s release, “There were a few truck drivers in there too.”

In 1947 Yvonne made a splash with her seductive dancing in Walter Reisch’s Song of Scheherazade and appeared in Jules Dassin‘s highly regarded noir, Brute Force starring Burt Lancaster. De Carlo followed those with numerous pictures, mostly of the sword and sand variety that required little to no acting ability. That changed in 1949, however, when she made Criss Cross��directed by Robert Siodmak starring opposite Lancaster and Dan Duryea. Yvonne considered this her first dramatic role and she delivered the goods in memorable fashion matching Lancaster’s considerable energy, which is no easy feat. Unfortunately, solid reviews as the dangerous dish in Siodmak’s picture didn’t yield better parts for her. De Carlo complained to Universal in 1950, but the studio refused to put her in more dramatic pictures so she didn’t renew her contract choosing independence instead. By the way, I’ll never understand why Universal never put De Carlo in a horror picture. She would have been fantastic as a villain.

With Dan Duryea in Criss Cross

Between 1950 and 1955 Yvonne De Carlo made nearly 20 pictures and dabbled in television. Formula Westerns were a specialty for her during that span, but none made a splash with the exception of Norman Foster‘s Sombrero (1953), which inadvertently led to the biggest movie of De Carlo’s career, “I had done a picture at Metro titled Sombrero, which wasn’t much of a hit. But I had portrayed a saintly type of woman similar to what DeMille had in mind for Sephora. He saw the picture, was very impressed, and promptly said, “You’re it.” The Cecil B. DeMille movie Yvonne referred to is, of course, The Ten Commandments wherein she plays Moses’ wife Sephora opposite Charlton Heston. The Ten Commandments was released amid a frenzy of publicity in 1956. De Carlo had been a movie star for years by this point, but DeMille’s picture took her to another plane. At the premiere Yvonne said, “Thanks to Mr. DeMille, I can get in some Class A pictures.”

Charlton Heston and Yvonne De Carlo in The Ten Commandments

The following year De Carlo starred opposite none other than Clark Gable in Raoul Walsh‘s Band of Angels. Unfortunately, that movie’s reception was warm at best leaving Yvonne no choice but to return to the B adventure pictures that had been her bread and butter. By the end of the 1950s, however, fantasies were on the way out making way for more serious fare. De Carlo found her niche on a nightclub stage once again and in television as a guest on many of the popular series of the time. She made a notable picture in 1963 thanks to John Wayne who hired her for Andrew V. McLaglen’s McLintock! opposite him and Maureen O’Hara. The movie was produced by Wayne’s Batjac Productions for United Artists. De Carlo is fun to watch as the attractive widow hired by Wayne’s character, McLintock as his cook and housekeeper. I particularly enjoy the scenes in which we see Maureen and Yvonne together – two classic, saucy beauties playing rivals. Anyway, despite the movie’s solid reviews and its impressive showing at the box office, Yvonne’s movie career saw no upswing. Her next big role would be on TV as an average wife and mother who resides at 1313 Mockingbird Lane.

Let me backtrack a bit to set the stage for Mockingbird Lane – In 1955 Yvonne married actor and stunt man, Bob Morgan. By all accounts it was instant attraction that brought the two together. The couple had two sons and the marriage lasted until their 1974 divorce, but the troubles had started much earlier. Bob had difficulties with Yvonne’s fame in comparison to his own. Regardless, the two tried to work things out and when Bob suffered a serious accident while working a stunt on How the West Was Won in 1961, Yvonne stopped working to help with his recovery. Morgan battled for his life and eventually lost a leg as a result of that accident, which happened when he was run over by a train. The accident and recovery left the Morgans in serious debt. It was under these difficult emotional and financial circumstances that John Wayne offered Yvonne De Carlo the role in McLintock! and the reason why she accepted the role of Lily Munster.

At a Hollywood premiere with Bob Morgan

1964 began dismally for Yvonne De Carlo. For the first time in three decades she had no movie prospects and was deeply in debt. When her old studio, Universal, called with an offer for her to star in a situation comedy about a family of monsters living in the suburbs she accepted. At first Yvonne was skeptical about taking the job, but her agents and her bank account forced her to accept.

The Munsters debuted on September 24, 1964 with Yvonne De Carlo as the matriarch of a an average family working toward the American dream – who just happen to be monsters. Alongside Fred Gwynne as Herman Munster, Al Lewis as Grandpa, Butch Patrick as Eddie and Pat Priest as Marilyn (she replaced Beverly Owen who played the character for the first 15 episodes of the series), Yvonne’s Lily charmed the pants off adults and children alike. The Munsters, which combined familiar, suburban sitcom comedy with memorable characters from Universal’s horror heyday, was a monster hit quelling De Carlo’s concerns about the show immediately. Not only did she enjoy working with the other cast members, she also loved the premise, the writing and the fun. It took Gwynn and Lewis no time at all to realize they’d been wrong about Yvonne De Carlo. She showed up to work with no movie star attitude whatsoever. A hard worker and a dedicated artist, Yvonne was marvelous as Lily and had comedic timing as good as anybody they’d ever worked with.

During a show retrospective, Pat Priest mentioned De Carlo’s style, how she’d use her hands to make Lily unique and her own. I didn’t realize how much that had to do with my enjoyment of the character until I heard Priest say the words. I rewatched a few episodes and sure enough Yvonne’s dance training is evident in every movement including the expressive hand gestures. Lily Munster is stylish and glamorous despite her 100-plus years and despite spending the day doing the cooking and cleaning. Or rather, uncleaning since she has to add cobwebs and dust instead of removing them. Every day when Herman gets home from work the house is in disorder and he’s welcomed with a warm embrace. Lily also manages to keep the romantic fires burning in her marriage as well as she and Herman are as much in love as the first day they met – right after he was created, I believe. When Lily strokes Herman’s cheeks and whispers, “you know, they just don’t make men like you anymore” you know she means it. But this woman is no pushover. When the occasion calls for it Lily is also the disciplinarian who keeps the peace between Herman and Grandpa who are prone to act like petulant children on occasion. As a mother she’s tops too. Donna Reed and June Cleaver have absolutely nothing on her.

All of that is believable thanks to De Carlo’s talent, which allowed for playing the instances of broad comedy and the warm moments with serious intent and gusto. From the original show opening, which features Lily at the entrance of the family home seeing every off for the day, Yvonne sets the tone and grounds the series.

The popularity of The Munsters hit the stratosphere almost immediately after its release. Universal took full advantage by producing everything from lunch boxes to puppets to models with the character’s images on them. There was The Official Munsters Magazine, an official Munsters Comic Book series and anything else you could think of. The Munsters were everywhere and the actors were sent on publicity tours all over the country. Yvonne De Carlo loved the renewed attention, “It meant security. It gave me a new, young audience I wouldn’t have had otherwise. It made me “hot” again, which I wasn’t for a while.” She also enjoyed walking around the Universal lot in full Lily make-up, which took a painstaking three hours a day and included a 20-plus pound wig.

It’s hard to believe The Munsters only lasted two seasons, its popularity waned as quickly as it had spiked. In order to try to revitalize interest Universal hired the same cast, with the exception of Pat Priest who was replaced by Debbie Watson, for a feature titled Munster, Go Home! in 1966. The movie, which represents the first time the Munsters appear in color, was not a box-office success and signaled the apparent end of the beloved family, but Gwynn, Lewis and De Carlo were summoned once again for a TV movie, The Munsters’ Revenge in 1981. While it was fun to revisit with the Munsters at that point, both movies failed to capture the charm of the original series.

I think The Munsters touched so many people, kids especially, because the actors played them seriously, as if they really were a regular family. In fact, the show’s comedy stemmed from the them thinking they were normal people and regular neighbors. The fact that they are monsters and the comedy that resulted from that are almost incidental. That is, as far as most of the storylines are concerned. I believe it was the ability of Gwynn and De Carlo (in particular) to find the right balance between heart and parody that makes The Munsters fresh and enjoyable today, decades and several generations after its initial broadcast.

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Yvonne continued to work in movies and television through 1995. She never reached the same popularity as The Munsters in either medium, but she had a stage triumph in 1971 wowing audiences and critics as Carlotta Campion in Stephen Sondheim‘s Follies. Yvonne belted out Sondheim’s show-stopping number, “I’m Still Here,” which became not only her anthem, but that of numerous aging super stars through the years. The memorable number was written specifically for Yvonne De Carlo by Stephen Sondheim, which in itself speaks volumes about her singing talent.

In Follies

Yvonne De Carlo died on January 8, 2007 at the age of 84. As I looked back through her life and career for this tribute the one thing that kept coming to mind was guts. She was a gutsy lady, a fighter who, like a few other Hollywood greats who started their trek toward stardom early, had several lives worth of responsibility on her shoulders. Yet, she persevered. Yvonne De Carlo will always be remembered first and foremost as Lily Munster, which is ok in my book, but she was also a movie star and she fit both roles perfectly. As a result Yvonne left behind many memorable moments on film and on television – and millions of devoted fans.

“Particularly I loved Yvonne De Carlo – she was my favorite actress. I used to dream I was Yvonne De Carlo.” – Sophia Loren

Yvonne De Carlo, The Movie Star Munster When the Harvard educated, classically trained stage actor Fred Gwynne heard that Yvonne De Carlo was to be his co-star in

#Al Lewis #Fred Gwynne #Paramount Pictures #The Munsters #Universal Pictures #Yvonne De Carlo #Yvonne De Carlo Career Retrospective

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