This blog follows the general rules of play: no godmoding, proper spelling and grammar, basic respect, etc. As a private blog, I will only be playing with mutuals. There is no offense meant from me to you in this, simply a capitalization of my time. Non-mutuals may send in memes - any memes (headcanon, munday, sentence starters) - and there may be times when I post open starter calls, of which anyone can be part. However, if I am not following you, please do not pester me about this. I rarely write with characters from fandoms with which I’m not familiar. Sometimes I do; sometimes I don’t. More often than not, I’ll go out of my way to research the canon material (or, in some cases, watch/read it) in order to build a better world with you and your character. However, there are two fandoms with which I won’t write: Supernatural and Lucifer. Demons and darker religious material can be triggering to me, so for the most part, I just avoid it completely. I will also be especially picky with Game of Thrones characters, as I have tried to watch the show and decided it wasn’t for me. I can take an extremely long time to reply. This is in part due to the multitude of other blogs I run, but it is also due to whether or not my muse is interested in a given thread at a given point in time. More often than not, I tend to pile drafts and queue a bunch of them at once. (In the same manner, I tend to write a lot of headcanon at once and post them, but those are less likely to be queued.) Due to my work schedule, I will likely only be active on Fridays and Saturdays. I do check in on the other days and may queue quotes or pictures, but you shouldn't expect anything else from me on those days. Relationships will be different based on the character and their orientations (both sexual and romantic). Regardless, it must be based on chemistry. I’m willing to plot out ships but only once we’ve already had the characters interact together, as I’m not interested in plotting only to find that our writing styles don’t match or the characters don’t relate well in threads despite our headcanon on them. I’m not a fan of writing smut and will not do it unless it is plot relevant to our characters. In most cases, expect it to be prompted by a meme, as it’s not something I’ll bring up unless it’s developed to that point and would be important to the characters to show. I and all of the muses seen on this blog are at least 21+. Any NSFW material will be tagged. Given the canon material of many of the characters found on this blog, the following potentially triggering material may be found on this blog: pedophilia, abuse (sexual, physical, emotional), child abuse, and suicidal ideation. Depending on threads, other triggering content may also be present. All of this will be tagged, along with any NSFW material. If you need anything tagged that I have missed, do not hesitate to let me know. I want my blog to be as safe as possible for you. My icons come from a variety of sources, including those made for me by the marvelous River, ones I’ve found on hollowart, and ones I have made for myself using screencaps at Bloodqueen Gallery. Even the ones from hollowart have been edited to match my aesthetics. I don’t care if you use the bases at hollowart, but please do not use the ones I’ve edited or the icons made for me.
— (noun) A lost word, an aeipathy is classified as an unyielding passion or love of something or someone. A passion so strong that it could be considered pathological; it withstands, time, doubt, and change. (via wordsnquotes)
NEW FLCL SERIES IN JUNE AND SEPTEMBER.
HARUKO’S COMING BACK.
SHE DOES THE VOICE OVER IN THE TRAILER.
SO MUCH INTERNAL SCREAMING.
H A R U K O.
MY FUCKED UP CHILD.
THE THEME SONG STARTED AND JUST FLCL FLCL FLCL FLCL. AND IT’S HARUKO. AND I JUST.
FLAILS.
THE BEAST is much more comfortable walking around on all fours than he is on his haunches. Despite the fact that he is a prince transformed into an animal, the latter is still what he physically is - and animals such as he is are four-legged creatures and walk about on all fours. In his first few years, he trained himself - slowly but surely - to maintain balance and walk on his hind legs to give himself a more humanoid stature, to retain something of his old nature, but doing so took a great deal of work (consider training a cat or a dog to walk on their hind legs). His balance is slightly off walking like a human, and his more princely attire (what has been modified to fit his more beastly frame) always feels constrictive against his fur.
When no one else is around, he has a tendency to prowl about more like a lion with much less constrictive clothes (think the cartoon version - the draped cloak (not even a full shirt, just a cloak) and torn pants), and even with visitors, his clothing is still likely to not be princely in nature unless he feels the need to perform or believes that they’re worth the extra work. He is primarily concerned with his own comfort, especially as his time as a cursed being grows longer with no suggestion of being saved - making the most of how he looks, even if that is not who he is.
“Just a farmer’s boy.”
At one point, that might have been true, but that moment has long since passed. At a guess, one could likely say the same of the THING that stands before him. It speaks like a man and stares at him with a man’s wariness, but there would be no mistaking it for anything but a BEAST.
“If I asked the same of you, would you answer?”
“About as well as you did.”
The prince is not a petulant child, but he maintains the same stubbornness. Truth be told, it is not a question he has needed to answer since his days in school; when he was human, every one had known who he was, and those who didn’t asked someone else. He rocks back on his haunches.
“What is a farmer’s boy doing here?”
@dejabrewed - because you write a thing when you have muse to write the thing even if you’ve got other stuff you’re supposed to be doing on a blog oops.
You’re maybe a little too old to be playing in shops.
But it’s all you know how to do - your mother’s guitar between your hands on the soft sets, your voice crooning as calloused fingers shift chord to chord, plucking notes with eyes closed. The lights are too harsh on your skin (that’s her imagination, actually, the warmth of shop lights make her much younger than the harsh ones of the stage - she’s not quite a decade older but she looks the same. she’s just too close to see it); you think everyone must see every wrinkle no matter how good the make-up looks before you leave.
--and you never start with her guitar, even if the acoustic sound is better background noise than the one you’d bought with The Shooting, the one to match Rin and her purple Rickenbaker, Kara and her pitch black, the one painted gold in bright contrast even though Rin’d begged you to go with a soft ice blue (and Kara didn’t say it, but Jess knows that if she had to pick a metal, silver fit best - but she had to stand out, didn’t she? wasn’t that the point?) - but you’re a rocker.
You were anyway.
You’re not sure what you are anymore.
Her arms are way too full - two guitar cases on one side (she has such a hard time keeping them from knocking together if she holds one in each hand), her mother’s in her hand, hers tucked between arm and far too spindly waist; an amp in the other (heavier than the guitars by far but necessary) - and she has to put the amp down on the ground to open the door, brushing sunglasses up onto her head, tugging at her bright red hair. It’s too hot for anything but a tank top - it accentuates curves; Rin would be proud if she were still here - but she has multi-colored hoops and bands hanging from her wrists three inches high. They keep her from feeling so bare.
Jess places the amp just inside the door, glances around before finally, finally--
“Jo, Jo!”
A pause - Fuck - and she corrects herself (she is always shortening names; even when Dee named her Samantha, she was Sam, and Dee was always Dee; she couldn’t even remember what her real name was anymore)--
“Ms. Calloway--”
Keeps the guitar tucked against her side, the other in her hand, is careful not to rush or speak louder than an almost hiss because to disturb the customers would be death--
“It’s--- I’m Jess.”
She holds out a hand, polite as you please. Or trying, at least.
“...where do you want me to set up?”
discoholicmusic
gummygunk
origamiaround
