❝ let's make a night you won't remember ❞

[porks]

Need help with a voice test or want to play anything at all with me? Just consult my muselist and put the name of the character you want to play with in the subject line. If there's a particular scenario you want to play out, feel free to stick that in the comment as well and I'll see what I can do. Picture prompts highly encouraged! This also works as a way to hit me up OOC-ly for any plotting. If you prefer that I make an individual entry (private or not) for our interaction, please feel free to say so here as well. I'm open to most things so come at me. :) For smutty stuff, I also have an open smut post.

Comments

[largehearted]

[ Alexander is a brash nobleman from the lands afar, having borne himself across the oceans to…investigate the wealth of foreign lands, as it were. He cares not for anyone who might suspect his motives—indeed, he makes it plain enough to whoever would deign to ask him.

If they can take him seriously enough, anyway. He’s accepted into Tyrell lands as a guest—perhaps an amusing foreign courtesy, if they can afford it. He doesn’t care for the whispers behind his back all the same, as he spends his days strolling about the gardens under the sunlight and teaching a few of the younger knights some useful pointers on battle tactics.

But mostly he watches and listens, even as he partakes of the lesser forms of entertainment that might even earn him the ire of many of the more discerning highborn populating the area, but he doesn’t care either. He drinks and whores around and occasionally engages in gambling for the sheer thrill of it, but when he’s not indulging his baser instincts he chats up whomever he meets with an astounding frankness unfitting of. Well. Any decent folk, really.

He always thinks he’s above that. ]

Ho there, Lady! I see you’re not with Red, today. Did she reject your advances at last? [ SO CHEERFUL ABOUT THIS. ]

marg + au + catholic school girls

[angelskills]

[ Sometimes, the days at school began to blend together. Class after class, uniforms that were always the same (so neat and pristine) and the same old of the other girls looking at her with curiosity or detachment. Who cared of she was meant for some great role in their religious faith? Most of the girls only cared about finding boys to have sex with or clothes, both things that escaped Colette's notice when she had other more pressing things to care about, like memorizing scripture and showing only her best face to the nuns and other student body.

It's after hours that she's sitting in the temple, crouched over a bible resting on her lap while her hair flows down around past her shoulders, with only candlelight and the setting sun catching on glass stained windows. There had been… some sort of party tonight, joint with the boys from the brother school for men, but she had decided not to attend. She'd never done well with large crowds of people despite having been raised to placate them -- keep demure, hands on your lap, listen to what everyone has to say, don't have a temper because your duty is to them, not to yourself.

It was easier being alone, sometimes.

Looking up, she stared at the faces so high above her, so heavenly and forgiving. While she held her faith close to her heart, she couldn't help but to want… more, to live like some of the other girls did, even though her family and the school both would disapprove. ]

What should I do?

[ With hands folded on top of the book, she looked up, golden ringlets cascading down her back. Trapped. That was how she felt. Each day it was getting harder to smile, so she practiced in front of the mirror, so no one would ever know what might dwell behind her friendly facade. ]

[wolfpupintheherd]

[You put a lot of people from a lot of different timelines in one place and you're going to get people who screw things up. Who fuck shit up. It's a boat, a ship, whatever you want to call it and Grant Ward has been taken...back.

Taken back to a time when he could have been saved.

Taken back to a time when he could have been helped.

Never mind that he's found himself eight years old and confused as hell mostly because of the interactions that he's had over the past few days. There was a girl who called herself Skye who had an older asian woman with her, and an older man who had been very concerned about her. Then she'd yelled at him because they said he was the bad guy.

That was it. They were all adults and he grew up to be a bad guy. Just like mother said he would ("You rotten little shit, you'll never amount to anything!") Just like father, ("...Christian? ah. Yes Grant.") She'd practically screamed it at him, "I get superpowers and a family and you get nothing."

That was when both of them had come back out and looked at him, reached for him - but he wasn't having any of it. That explained the guns, that explained the fact that he didn't have any books or toys. Only a bad guy wouldn't have books.

(point of fact Ward had books, several paperbacks, they were simply stored under his bed for easy access as opposed to revealing them to the world at large.)

Everyone else is bonding with people, sharing moments and being held and he... he at least has moose, a worn looking thing with floppy antlers missing an eye. No Thomas, at last he was back to being the baby of the family.

With no family to take care of him.

Was this what being the bad guy was like?

He's sure, sure, absolutely sure that the old man and the asian lady aren't going to find him here in the garden on the ship so he curls up underneath the blanket he dragged from his room, opens the one book he knows (Robinson Curosoe) and tries to picture his gramsie reading it to him to no avail.

There's no gramsie here. There's nothing, there's just those cold hard guns and that mean little girl (bitch. That's what she was a dumb stupid bitch) and being the bad guy.

I don't want to be the bad guy but they said he would be so what choice did he have?

Sitting in the garden he wrapped the blanket over his head, inhaling the grass and began to cry. No loud angry sobbing like that little girl. A ward cried in quiet. If he was loud mother was apt to investigate. so he sniffled, letting out occasional sobs as he hid from the world.]