Color Me Curious
untitled
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
pixel skylines
almost home
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
EXPECTATIONS
cherry valley forever
Noah Kahan
tannertan36
Fieri Frames
occasionally subtle
Not today Justin
Jimmy Eat World
No title available
Claire Keane
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Cosmic Funnies
#extradirty
YOU ARE THE REASON
seen from Canada
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seen from Ecuador
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Malaysia
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seen from Brazil
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@semitas-mens-archive
Considering seriously moving these babies over to their own blog. I’ve wanted to poke some people with asks, and it’s always easier to do that if they have their own.
So let this be a heads up:
I’m going to be moving them over to their own blog, soon.
Same URL, probably, unless something else catches my eye. Maybe I’ll put up Morgen or Nicholas as the blog’s poster child for it. I dunno yet.
By the time Nikodemus speaks, Nemo is long lost to his unwilling slumber, the cold grasp of what promises his death upon the paladin. Thankfully, with the doctor’s aid, he will not die, but as the good, unusual doctor tends to Nemo’s wounds, the level of festering demonstrates that it’s a close call, and a majority of the recent ones seem supernatural to some degree. Indeed, if the man were truly inclined to be holy, it’s no wonder his magic did not bring him much aid against the curses and infections by the most foul of creatures. There is some darkness that even the strongest lights cannot pierce.
He shivers when touched, though he’s not cold. More, clammy, and burning to the touch at the forehead. No, it’s something else, and in his time of weakness, Nemo’s hands occasionally attempt to bat away the prying touches of the doctor, but it’s as futile as a fly bouncing off a frigid window. Even more rare, there are whimpers and shudders, and he moves his legs to try and roll, but it’s no good. It seems he hasn’t had the benefit of medical treatment in quite some time, nor is he capable of understanding the acceptance of such a thing in this state.
With the hushed prayer guiding the steady recovery where Nikodemus’s work had concluded, Nemo’s breath eased as well after some sort of relieved sigh. For as strange of a situation this is, the paladin is as comfortable as he can be, his once rigid and tense body finally releasing so that he could lie totally limp for the first time in only god knows. There are tears that have formed in the man’s sleep, and it probably can’t be helped. He really hasn’t given himself much time to process all of what happened.
Despite such a brief encounter, it’s evident that Nemo is incredibly attached to the young child who’s wandered so suddenly into his life. Though it is pretty much soundless and also of little consequence, Nemo has turned in his sleep in the direction of where the child was when the boy voiced his name; he’s just too weak to wake up and see what made the child speak or what’s happening. It is great fortune that he and the child are safe here, for he’d surely have perished while trying to protect the child otherwise.
The very thought of the boy still plagues his mind, and as his dreams surface piece by piece, it is a greeting weaved by many voices which pierce the soul. Why, is the question asked, over and over. Why? Where were you? Where did you go? Nemo isn’t a man right now, though he is bent over in prayer as if this position was the only constant in his life. He has turned to stone yet again, eyes carved shut, hands weaved into each other, knees and feet pressed tightly together in his kneel. Betrayed by his tears even in his dreams, it’s the only thing left to suggest this statue has life within it, and the only testament of truth behind his failure to blot out the chorus and crackle of flames.
He isn’t alone in here.
It looks like a church, even if it’s relatively simple, missing most of its pews, the windows plain even though they’re not shattered. A brazier keeps the place decent, though it isn’t much against the murky cold, and the man is surrounded by the feet of people whose eyes he cannot look into, lest he catch a fragmented memory of yet another internal shortcoming. He won’t move. Won’t move at all. If he moves, they’ll move. Time will move. He has to hold still, and he knows it. He has to, and yet… and yet… he can’t. He just can’t.
He succumbs.
“Where were you? We needed you! Where were you? Why didn’t you help us?”
He falls forward, and as he does, the brazier goes out. Vanishes, and with it, so does all the other light. Smothering darkness comes with the company of shuffling feet, and there is scampering about only shortly before the screams, shrieks, and wails thunder with the raging storms. He’s unable to go on, and he knows it, so he just lays there, eyes closed. This is the price he must pay for his sins. This is what he owes, what he’s reaped. He deserves it. There is light again, and he’s still just laying there, useless. He sees the women, hovering over their boys. The boys! Oh, those poor boys. He’d crushed bone, broken flesh, and taken life without asking twice, and his assumptions came at such a high toll. He can hear the women crying, and his arm raises, as if his intent is to wipe the tears from their faces, to fix it somehow, but no.
“It’s not… what I wanted. I didn’t mean… I’m sorry.”
No. You can’t say that. You can’t just take it back. That’s just how it is. They’re dead, gone, because of the being known as Nemo, and it was by his hand that the reputation of the church was tarnished again. He’d have wondered by now if they had any room to forgive him this time, for surely he wasn’t capable of purifying these sins alone anymore, but alas, there is nobody left to punish him for his transgressions. It is for this reason that his hand sinks yet again, as it always has, as it always will, and he closes his eyes. This is the only way God can punish him, he’s sure, and he’ll suffer as much as they ask of him, more if he’s granted his way.
Nikodemus’s sleep was light as first, his mind drifted in the world where dreams and reality sometimes blurred together. Strong, unfettered emotions tugged on him, drew him closer to them. Darkness of sleep blurred and grayed into dim light around him. His feet lead him nearer to the call, and he knew he couldn’t ignore it.
He found his eyes gazing from a distance at a familiar person. Nemo. On his knees, and hurting deep in a place where no light touched him. The guilt nearly made Nikodemus weep. There must be something he could do here.
Sensation burst in his chest, something long-forgotten and as familiar as his own heartbeat. Something he had not thought to ever feel again. Nikodemus knew--without knowing how he knew--that he must reach that darkness within Nemo and free him of it. This is your chance, whispered a soft, bright voice deep within himself.
Nikodemus stepped closer to the scene in front of him and lifted his hands, palms out to see.
“What’s this?” Nikodemus’s voice was bright and soft. A warm beam of light cast over him and spread, dispersing the darkness that wound Nemo into his despair. “These dreams are not restful, Sir Paladin. They do you no good when you need to recover from your wounds.”
Nikodemus’s arms were bare, but he was draped in gauzy cream and blue robes trimmed in gold that hugged his body. His hair hung long and straight and soft golden-brown over his shoulders, the top of his head adorned with a simple gold circlet. As he bent over Nemo’s prone form, there was a soft flutter like the impression of great wings that settled over him, sheltering him from the darkness that threatens him harm.
Amid the darkness is a ray of light in which Nikodemus lowers to his knees beside Nemo. To the paladin, the only thing this angelic form possessed that was an unmistakable reminder of Nikodemus was his bright cobalt eyes. “What plagues you so, that your dreams are so full of darkness?” A gentle hand reached to touch the man’s face, stroking his cheek gently with the back of his fingers.
Rules: Tag 9 people you want to get to know better.
Tagged by: @cursemarked
Tagging: @portaldefenders @thefourthwallflower @g-l-x-m-o-r-o-u-s @draconicmatriarch @aeterna-tenebrae and anyone else who wants to do this :D
Relationship Status: Married
Pets: My cat, named Brat, who is a loving devil furbaby.
Cats or Dogs: Cats, though I do like some dogs, too.
Coke or Pepsi: I don’t drink either but I’d pick Pepsi.
Text or Call: Text, because I’m terribly awkward and I don’t like my voice.
4, 8, 9, 11, 12, 13, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 22, 23, 24, 25, 35, 36, 40, 42, 46, 47, 52, 54, 58, 59 Morgen
I’m gonna answer these for both his home verse and his bodyguard verse. If there’s only one answer, then it’s the same in both. <3
From How Well Do You Know Your OCs
4:Does your OC prefer paper or plastic?
What’s plastic? Its not a common substance used in his world, and he’d rather use something more durable than paper... Plastic is slightly better than paper, so plastic it is. (Bodyguard)Morgen’s thoughts on this question: “What the hell kind of question is this anyway?”
8:What are some of your OCs strengths?
Morgen has a head for guerrilla tactics and is a natural leader. He’s got a talent for explosives and he’s a handy mechanic.
9:What are some of your OCs weaknesses?
Morgen is not a social being, he’s not good at dealing with women, and its hard for him to trust people. He’s also bad at doing what he’s told when it comes to his own health.
11:What is your OCs spirit animal?
Morgen’s spirit animal is a bear.
12:Is your OC sexually active?
Not in his recent history, no.
13:What is your OCs earliest memory?
Being taken by raiders from his parents.Learning to defend himself and protect others from bullies. (Bodyguard)
15:What makes your OC angry?
Stupidity in others, needless killing/abuse of the helpless or innocent, slavery. Lots of other things.People who think they don’t need protection, when he was clearly hired for exactly the reason that they need protection. (Bodyguard)
16:When is your OCs favorite time of year?
There really aren’t seasons on his home world. But if he picked a time of day, it would be late afternoon, when the first sun has gone below the horizon and the heat starts to slack off for the day.Spring and summer, because its warm and he wont have to be standing out in the sleepy, cold outdoors. The heat feels better to him, he can focus on his work, instead of his body temperature. (Bodyguard)
17:How long can your OC hold their breath?
Never needed to worry about that much, but maybe a minute and 30 seconds?As long as he has to, is record is 3 and a half minutes during gas grenade training.(Bodyguard)
18:What kind of underwear does your OC wear?
Briefs.
19:Does your OC prefer plaid or polka dots?
Neither? Morgen’s got no patience for preferring either.
22:Has your OC ever killed someone?
Morgen: “Really? Next question.”(That’s a yes, by the way)
23:Whats your OCs biggest secret?
Morgen: “One that’ll get you killed if you ask again.” (Morgen, play nice!)
24:What does your OC smell like?
Grease, gunpowder, fire, and sweat.Clean cotton and warm skin. He doesn’t wear scented deodorants or cologne. (Bodyguard)
25:What time of year does your OC prefer? This question is similar to 16, so the answer is the same...?
35:How flexible is your OC?
Morgen isn’t terribly flexible, but he’s not stiff as a board either.
36:What turns your OC on?
That’s a difficult question for Morgen, his answer for this is entirely based on the situation he’s in. He’s very focused on the work he does, and doesn’t trust people easily, so ‘turn-ons’ aren’t something Morgen’s good at acknowledging.
40:What is the craziest thing your OC has done?
Taken on a fully armed squad of 10 well-trained guards on his first attempt to rescue slaves from the estate of a Master. By himself, and not properly prepared.The incident he doesn’t talk about--the one that ending his career in the military branded a deserter by a corrupt CO who framed him for something he didn’t do.(Bodyguard)
42:Does your OC drink coffee or tea?
Coffee. Black coffee.
46:Is your OC loyal?
Yes. Painfully so. He would sooner die than betray someone who’s put their trust in him.
47:Does your OC tolerate violence?
Morgen: “Again with these kinds of questions? Did you read my profile?”Morgen lives in a world where violence is everywhere. He’s just being prickly, don’t let him get to you. Though, if it involves children...Morgen: “Don’t go there.”
52:How does your OC feel about insects?
Other than an absolutely ridiculous annoyance? He doesn’t care about bugs. He’s annoyed by most and disgusted by others.
54:Does your OC smoke?
He used to. Morgen only smokes these days when he’s under a LOT of stress.
58:Is your OC introverted or extroverted?
Introverted. Very much so.
59:What is the first thing that someone would notice about your OC?
I think it would go one of two ways: “He looks dangerous” or “He’s a pouty tough guy type”. Both are fairly accurate, I suppose.
10, 11, 15, 16, 17, 22, 18, 19, 35, 52 Nicholas
From How Well Do You Know Your OCs
10: What is your OCs favorite outfit?
When he’s getting dressed up, the first picture of this post his his favorite. Buuut when he’s casual or just out in informal wear, he’s likely to being wearing a t-shirt with a button-down shirt and comfortable slacks.
11: What is your OCs spirit animal?
Funny, I was just thinking about this recently. Nicholas’s spirit animal is a panther.
15: What makes your OC angry?
Nicholas is not angered by much, he often filters anger away from himself and pthers close to him because it stagnates and become toxic in the mind and emotions. But something that does get him angry is someone who does not want to help themselves. He will fight to give a person the desire to better themselves if they need it, but it does vex and upset Nicholas if the person refuses.
16: When is your OCs favorite time of year?
Nicholas loves the winter, after the holidays. When the atmosphere of the people around him has calmed after the holidays have ended, and nature is slumbering under the snow and cold. Its a time of rest and recuperation.
17: How long can your OC hold their breath?
Nicholas has spent some time with free diving, and had learned to hold his breath for three minutes while diving, and nearly five minutes above water.
22: Has your OC ever killed someone?
Yes. A few times.
18: What kind of underwear does your OC wear?
Underwear? What underwear?
19: Does your OC prefer plaid or polka dots?
Nicholas wears plaid flannel shirts when working on sculpting or painting. He doesn’t care for polka dots, though. So if he chose a preference between the two, its definitely plaid.
35: How flexible is your OC?
Very, he is a dancer and he keeps himself limber with stretches and yoga. He doesn’t have any amazing flexibity feats but he’s talented in bending himself about.
52: How does your OC feel about insects?
He’s not fond of insect, but he’s not afraid of them, either. Their are useful ones for gardening, but in general he sees them as a nuisance.
even monsters have something they want to protect. and they’d kill to keep them safe.
I FOUND THIS IN SOMEONE'S RULES, AND IT'S RELEVANT
I like to know my writing partner. This isn’t always necessary, and if you’re not the sort of person who tries to get chummy with their roleplaying buddies, that’s absolutely fine, but in my experience, the plots and characters that last the longest are the ones with the players that I can message at 3 in the morning with an idea without feeling like I’m bothering them.
REBLOG IF YOU'RE FRIENDLY TO FEMALE OCs.
I feel like everyone only wants to play with my male OCs.
((I’m friendly to ALL oc’s ♡))
🍕 🚿 🌜 Morgen and Nicholas
From a very obscure headcanon meme
🍕 - what is their favorite pizza topping?
Morgen likes meat lovers pizza, but if he had to pick just one? Lots of pepperoni.Nicholas likes chicken, spinach and feta pizza, so he’d probably choose the feta cheese as his favorite topping.
🚿 - what temperature do they like their showers?
Morgen’s showers are often cold because there’s no way to heat water, and he’s luck to even get enough water to shower most of the time. But when he has the choice? Just a little hotter than room temperature. The world he lives in is always hot so taking hot showers isn’t terrible comfortable.Nicholas on the other hand, the hotter the water, the better. He likes the room to be thick with steam when he showers and the hottest water he can stand makes most people cringe a little. Nicholas likes the burn, he comes out feeling very clean afterward.
🌜 - what is their favorite moon phase?
Morgen pays attention to the moons’ phases because of his work. He knows that on full moons, when the normal populous is out and acting out under the moons’ influence he’s not likely to run into trouble with people getting up to anything that would put himself or people he’s protect into harm’s way.Nicholas also enjoys the full moon. He enjoys reading under moonlight, or dancing when the moon is at his full height in the sky. The full moon also inspires his artistic nature with the way it changes the way things look under its light.
Worse? Ahanu genuinely couldn’t imagine someone going through worse and walking out of it. He hesitates, for he’s been shot twice before, and the first time was bad enough that his sister of all people had to pull him out of shock; just what kind of power did the Kamikaze possess? Regardless, Ahanu was still convinced that he was human - mostly, anyway - and that would mean that he’d need medical treatment for what he had sustained. After all, even if the bullet wouldn’t bother him much, the clawing his sister did had a bad tendency to infect and scar.
He nods in acknowledgment of what he’s been told, while his sister remains totally docile, only occasionally looking up to peer around at where they are and what’s going on. This is his chance, Ahanu decides, for he knows that while he and his sister likely already have a bit of a bad reputation, things aren’t yet set in stone. They have to make an impression, prove their value, make it clear which side they’re on, and indicate their will to fight back against the depravity that has so boldly set itself upon the world. Yes, he has to make a stand, and show that they’ll be useful, if not vital. Being abandoned again would doom them this time…
Soon, a gentle tune from the boy breaks the awkward rhythm of the bus, and the sister occasionally pipes up with his tune, matching him and chirping the words of a supposedly forgotten language whenever her brother pauses. Piece by piece, he wraps her tighter and tighter into a blanket he’s managed to snatch out of the chaos, and the beast is totally subdued. He presses a protective kiss to the back of her head before standing, her cooing and his patting insisting that she will stay where she’s been placed until encouraged otherwise. With that, he makes his way towards the front of the bus. He may not have much on hand, but he’s seen his fair share of wounds.
“You can sit down, if that would help. Please. If you have any tools or supplies, I’d be grateful. I don’t think you want me to use my old thread and needles to treat you, but it’ll be better than nothing.”
Morgen wasn’t paying attention to the twins when they started their humming. At first he felt annoyed by it, tensing up with the desire to tell Ahanu to stop. The effort to say so feel like more than the redhead has in him, so instead he huffed softly to himself and just let it go.
He did eventually came to realize that it oddly soothed the other slaves in the bus. Even the driver was looking a little less tense. Morgen was glad for that, but it didn’t ease his own fevered attention on the sandy road ahead. It cranked up his fear of something happening, he had to be on alert, since the rest were relaxing their guard.
Ahanu’s words startled Morgen, though he didn’t physically jump. He turned slowly to look at the young man who now was no longer a slave. For a long moment he thought to ignore his words. He would sit down and tend his wounds when they stopped. Instead, he looked out the front window and nodded to the rock formation jutting up from the sand. They’d be there in only a few moments. Morgen said as much.
“That’s where we’re going to stop,” his voice sounded faint, but he didn’t have the energy to make himself speak any louder. He didn’t anymore until they got there. And as the bus slowed to a stop, the gunman swayed and nearly fell with the jerk of the bus coming to rest right along side the face of a large rock wall.
Morgen’s vision faced gray and black for a painful moment in which he held onto the bus’s wall. A gray film of exhaustion made the world appear dull as he moved to step off the bus. Moving into the cold desert night air woke him up and cleared his head. That’s better, for now.
Morgen and the driver sifted through the sands between the rocks until they found a small cache where Morgen had stored some resources. Water, dried food, and medical supplies. He also pulled out a plain silver colored flask that he immediately took a swig from. The fire of alcohol burned his throat but also served to put a little more life into him. It made him care a little less that he was in pain.
“We’ll be taking a different route back, Justin,” he said to the driver and sat heavily on a flat topped rock. He’d never admit it, but sitting was so much a relief he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to stand again. The man called Justin nodded to Morgen before he spoke again. “I want to get back before the rest. They’re following the safer road, stopping in that abandoned town before turning toward home.”
Morgen got another nod from the man before the driver got back on and started checking routes they could take back that would be faster for getting them home soonest. The gunman turned his attention to his wounds, peeling his shirt off with a hiss of pain each time his movement pulled at a wound or where the shirt had stuck to his skin with blood.
The wounds across his chest were clearly jagged claw marks. Kanti hadn’t scored him deeply, but they still hurt fiercely. Morgen’s blood had crusted black around the wounds and bled sluggishly where he’d pulled the wounds open again while moving. This is not going to be pleasant...
From the small pack marked with a red X as a medical kit, the redhead pulled a small knife no longer than his fingers and sterilized it with a lighter and splash of the alcohol in his flask. Morgen took a few deep, dizzying breaths before he started at the high end of the wounds and scraped away the dried blood and cut the skin where it was inflamed already.
Sweat ran down Morgen’s face, jaw tight with his pain. Obviously this was something he did often, in spite of his pain, he didn’t stop, though his hands shook when he paused to catch his breath. He set the knife aside when he’d finished leaving the wounds open and angry red but they didn’t bleed profusely either. Morgen’s eyes were closed, taking a few moments to let the pain dull again.
(Nicholas) Does your character trust people right off the bat or does it take them some time to warm up to someone? (Crio) If your character was allowed to murder one person without any consequences, who would that person be and why? (Kay) What position does your character sleep in? (Morgan) Your character has been granted 3 wishes; what would they wish for and why? (Nightshade) Are they afraid of death? Do they have any regrets?
From 30 Uncommon Character Development Questions
(Nicholas) Does your character trust people right off the bat or does it take them some time to warm up to someone?
Nicholas is very open and inviting to people right up front and immediately. He’s good at reading people by their body language and attitude, so he engages them in conversation and is very polite and inviting to get to know people. After that, he’ll either learn whether he wants to trust you or not, by how you act and how much he comes to like you.
(Crio) If your character was allowed to murder one person without any consequences, who would that person be and why?
Crio is a healer, so... Killing is not something she takes lightly. And in all cases she will likely avoid killing someone if she can, subduing, rather than harming. But... If there was one person she could have chosen to put to death, it may have been the one who started the war that was all she’s ever known in her life. Let that bloodthirsty Lordling be put to death and have never ruined the land she was born to.
(Kay) What position does your character sleep in?
Kay sleeps on his side--facing the room--or on his back. Though when he’s in healing sleep, he’ll likely position himself until he isn’t hurting so much. He sleeps facing the room on instinct. Anyone that enters is likely to have a knife at their throat or a gun against their chest before he’s even realized he’s standing. Those people will be lucky if they survive the encounter.
(Morgan) Your character has been granted 3 wishes; what would they wish for and why?
Lil’Morgan is still smol and has a heart of gold. His wishes would have to be something he’d think about for a looooong time. Maybe.. wish for his mother to be happier, and find some peace, because she was so unhappy when he was small, and he wants her to be better. Second, he’s wish that he could travel and not be afraid of everything, because he’s afraid of a lot of things and a lot of people, and traveling would be better without that.And last--IF there was a Genie involved--he’s wish the Genie free, because he deserves to be free! If not, then he’s wish for the chance to thank whoever it was the saved him from death when he lost his eye. Because he really did almost die, and whoever saved him deserves to be thanked properly!
(Nightshade) Are they afraid of death? Do they have any regrets?
Nightshade didn’t understand what it was to life or to die for a long time in its life. It took a long time for it to come to understand what it means to live and to be a living thing, and to understand that death is the final sleep, the one you don’t wake form. I would say Nightshade isn’t afraid of it’s own death, but is fearful of the death of others and being left alone. As for regrets... It has lived his life to the fullest and best. Its best wasn’t always good in nature, perhaps, but still.... It does regret having hurt Nicholas as it did when it was full of malice and hatred. It wished it hadn’t done so much to some who became his friend after all they went through together.
How Well Do You Know Your OCs
send me a number 1-60 and i'll answer the questions with one of my OCs
1: What's your OCs favorite color?
2: Where does your OC work?
3: What's your OCs favorite food?
4: Does your OC prefer paper or plastic?
5: How old is your OC?
6: Does your OC have any supernatural powers?
7: Is your OC in a relationship?
8: What are some of your OCs strengths?
9: What are some of your OCs weaknesses?
10: What is your OCs favorite outfit?
11: What is your OCs spirit animal?
12: Is your OC sexually active?
13: What is your OCs earliest memory?
14: Does your OC have a cell phone? If so, what kind?
15: What makes your OC angry?
16: When is your OCs favorite time of year?
17: How long can your OC hold their breath?
18: What kind of underwear does your OC wear?
19: Does your OC prefer plaid or polka dots?
20: What's your OCs favorite kind of pizza?
21: Who is your OCs best friend?
22: Has your OC ever killed someone?
23: Whats your OCs biggest secret?
24: What does your OC smell like?
25: What time of year does your OC prefer?
26: Is your OC a human or an animal? (or something else idk)
27: What languages does your OC speak?
28: Does your OC like anime?
29: Can your OC swim?
30: What does your OC choose to do about the, er, hair down there?
31: Does your OC believe in fairies?
32: Did your OC go to college? What did they major in?
33: Are your OCs parents dead?
34: Is your OC religious?
35: How flexible is your OC?
36: What turns your OC on?
37: What was your OCs first word?
38: Does your OC have any pets?
39: Who is your OCs biggest enemy?
40: What is the craziest thing your OC has done?
41: What is your OCs motto about life?
42: Does your OC drink coffee or tea?
43: Who is your OCs biggest hero?
44: What color eyes does your OC have?
45: Does your OC like reading?
46: Is your OC loyal?
47: Does your OC tolerate violence?
48: What social class is your OC from?
49: What country was your OC born in?
50: Does your OC cry easily?
51: What is your OCs favorite genre of music?
52: How does your OC feel about insects?
53: What is your OCs sexual orientation?
54: Does your OC smoke?
55: What gender is your OC?
56: What kind of clothes does your OC wear?
57: Would you call your OC adventurous?
58: Is your OC introverted or extroverted?
59: What is the first thing that someone would notice about your OC?
60: Does your OC enjoy nature?
Nonsexual acts of Intimacy - Select from the following for my muse to respond to...
♔ : Finding your muse wearing their clothes
♕: Holding hands
♖: Having their hair washed by your muse
♗: Your muse falling asleep with their head in my muse's lap.
♘: Cuddling in a blanket fort
♙: Sharing a bed
♚: Head scratches
♛: Sharing a dessert
♜: Shoulder rubs
♝: Reading a book together
♞: Caring for each other while ill (specify which party is which)
♟: Patching up a wound
♤: Taking a bath together
♧: Your muse playing with their hair
♡: Accidentally falling asleep together
♢: Forehead or cheek kisses
♠: Your muse adjusting their jewelry/neck tie/ etc.
♣: Back scratches
♥: Your muse crying about something
♦: Slow dancing
a very obscure headcanon meme
send a symbol for a corresponding headcanon about my muse!
🎠 - what are their favorite rides at the carnival?
🎃 - what do they like to carve into their Halloween pumpkin?
🍕 - what is their favorite pizza topping?
🚿 - what temperature do they like their showers?
♻ - do they recycle?
🚦 - have they ever ran a traffic light?
🌜 - what is their favorite moon phase?
🌂 - do they usually travel with or without an umbrella?
🍝 - what is their favorite meal of the day?
🐉 - what mythical creatures do they think are the best?
Shattered Home | Closed
She glanced up at him over the rifle, reading his expression before turning back to the metal at hand. She carefully oiled and cleaned each crevice of the weapon before piecing it back together just as she’d done to the man who watched her. “It’s not much,” She commented, “But it’ll do more damage than my derringers. And we need all of the ammo we can get, right?”
She sighed, already hearing what he’d have to say about it before she’d even finished her sentence. “I know you don’t want me to go. You don’t want me to get hurt or die. You don’t want me to see what you have to face.” She told him. “But believe it or not, I care about you. It’s hard not to when you see what kind of person would throw himself into a suicidal mission to save others like you do.”
She looked up at him then, gray eyes locking to his black. “I tended your wounds. I made sure you lived. Don’t ask me again to let you go alone and let all of my hard work go to waste. Please.”
Morgen snorted derisively and set the canteen down. “All your hard work?” he muttered gruffly, not thinking that perhaps his words would be hurtful. “You think you’re the first person to say that to me? To patch me up and warn me not to “waste all the hard work” they did for me? I didn’t ask for you to do it, or to care, or to wake me up from the cryo-hellhole!”
His voice never rose above a normal tone but it was harsh and scratchy. His jaw clenched and unclenched several times before he continued.
“I--am grateful,” he said, stilted, unused to expressing gratitude, especially when he was so irritated at the moment. “That you... woke me from the cryo-sleep. If you hadn’t they’d never have a chance--”
They’re probably all dead. They’re probably dead, and I’ll die trying to avenge them. His chest felt tight at the sensation of loss--this wasn’t something he’d felt for such a long time. The only place he’d ever called home, and the people there that he’d cared for--all gone. What do I have to look forward to, after all, if I did survive and they’re all dead? There’s nothing left for me anymore... Maybe dying there wouldn’t be so bad after all.
There was pain in his black eyes he couldn’t mask as those thoughts settled into his mind. But he wouldn’t voice any of that to Meryl. It would only make her feel more justified.
“All those people who--just like you--patched me up, and thought keeping an eye on me would help somehow,” he choked out a sarcastic laugh. “They died. I couldn’t protect them from trying to protect me. I stopped letting people follow me when it became obvious they’d die needlessly.”
It wasn’t quite the truth, many of those people he’d left in the care of contacts he could trust until he was far enough away they couldn’t follow or find him. Morgen hoped that many of them were still alive and safe out there, somewhere. But using them this way helped him hopefully persuade Meryl to remain here. He couldn’t tie her up or knock her out this far away from civilization. If he did die, she’d surely be bad off, left here like that.
One more thing.. maybe she’d fall for it. Just... maybe..
“And if I do make it out of there, I need someone who’s not injured to be there to put me back together again.” It was a thinly veiled suggestion, it sounded weak even in his own ears, but Morgen had to try it.
Empathic Contact | Closed
It was impossible to stop the desperate hope from filling him up. He wanted the stranger to be the real deal. The thought of having someone to talk to about his struggles was so seductive that he very nearly let his guard down.
But then he pulled himself together, choking down the hope in a bitter, violent move. Trusting strangers was dangerous. It was so unlikely that he was honest. Besides, Tsuzuki was always there for him. He was not lacking anything. If he wanted to talk about what it felt like to be an empath, he was sure Tsuzuki would listen, even if he might not understand.
“What do you mean?”
Mostly he wanted to run. This stranger was talking about things that should never be spoken about. It had to be a trick. Fortunately for the both of them, his natural curiousity got the better of him.
Nicholas felt Hisoka’s hope rise with a twist in his gut. The man’s heart leapt into his throat and hammered hard. He understood that hope so much it was painful just considering the idea that he’d deceive someone like this. He was silently and wholeheartedly glad that deception was very much not a part of this.
He waited until his racing heart calmed before trying to speak. He didn’t want his voice to betray his feelings here. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized the irony of wanting to hide his nerves when talking of such things as the gifts they both possessed.
“The only reason I knew you were even here, in this place among all the people... was because I could... Ah. Feel your m-mind--Your emotions? Your emotional aura feels very different than the people around us.” In spite of his attempt at sounding calm, Nicholas found himself stuttering and struggling for the right words to say to describe to Hisoka what he meant.
“You feel them, too, don’t you? E-emotions, I mean. Like people thinking out loud all the time and... someone so upset it makes you want to cry-- o-or their anger or excitement so strong you feel like you’re drowning on it...”
The man stopped suddenly, feeling sheepish and swallowed hard. He must sound absolutely crazy saying all that. He looked up from his hands laced in front of him to see whether Hisoka was running away from him or not; or perhaps staring at him like he was crazy. Nicholas realized with a little panic that even if this young man was gifted, that didn’t necessarily mean they had the same gift.
Nicholas pulled on his shields tightly, afraid to know what the other must be feeling or thinking after he spoke. He also didn’t want to influence the boy at that moment with his own feelings of hope and anxiety.
