Bad Habits!

Sometimes suffering is just suffering. It doesn’t make you stronger. It doesn’t build character. It only hurts.

Kate Jacobs (via quotemadness)

This could be fun!

Send me a ❣ and I'll gauge my character's attraction to yours at this point in time

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ | Sexual Attraction ✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ | Romantic Attraction ✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ | Crushing ✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ | Squishing ✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ | Sensual Attraction ✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ | Aesthetic Attraction

Low ✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦ High

Hover over the names for explanations.

sorry theres not a single person on this website id pay to follow idc if we’ve been mutuals for six years, if you put up a paywall we’re done

Dream Journal 11

((Quickly scrawled on the top of the page in atrocious handwriting is what seems like notes Anafenza has taken during a very rushed research session…))

Vignesang house accused heresy – consorting with dragons     unnatural abbilities  no transformation allowed?  What mean?? House leader – mistress vignesang – tried at witchdrop   body not found – assumed guilty of heresy.  Rest of house now servants subsumed within Dzamael    

   Ishgard is full of records. While most literature concerning heretics and their stories were burned or just didn’t exist thanks to the War, records of trials and judgements?  Plenty.

Mistress Vignesang was tried on grounds of heresy shortly after one of Nidhogg’s raids on Ishgard some hundred years ago.  The woman had been seen on the top of her roof, screaming at the attacking dragons, within a maelstrom-like aura of darkness.  She was tried at Witchdrop – meaning they hurled her off a cliff.  If she lived, she’d have been considered guilty and struck down; if she died, she couldn’t have been in league with the dragons, and so would have enjoyed Halone’s blessing of pardon in death.

Seriously?  Who believes this shite??

They never found her body at the bottom, so it was assumed she transformed into some kind of beast and escaped.  Because of her guilt, the house was torn apart; surviving family members became servants to one of the great houses, Dzamael.  After that, no more record of the name exists.  Nothing outside of that judgement exists, either; whatever history the house had, it was destroyed.

No one at house Dzamael would speak to us.  We couldn’t even get past the door guard    Given our appearance, I’m sure we were immediately met with distrust despite the dragonsong war being done     Any hope of speaking with any descendents is a lost cause for now.

 Another dream – Again, the light-covered field.  More of the child-like laughter and calling those words again  Aenc Tyr   The sky was a ablaze with light, but there was no warmth from a sun.  It was not unpeaceful, and I awoke with the dawn feeling rested, but I write this to just continue to keep record for my own benefit.  I still do not hear the song the others hear, but even my own song – the vignesang’s song, for surely it was HER’S – has grown more faint.

We return to the tower tomorrow.  I don’t know about kiratai, but I should be glad to be away from this freezing hell

Posting again, but do people like doing these? I can stop if no one wants to see it

BREAKFAST CHAT:

FOR EVERY NUMBER OF FOOD THEY RECEIVE, THEY HAVE TO TALK ABOUT THE FOLLOWING TOPICS:

SEND ‘🥞’, THEY HAVE TO TALK ABOUT SOMETHING ABOUT THEIR LIFE. IF THE EMOJI CANNOT BE SEEN, SEND ‘Pancakes’.

SEND ‘🥓’, THEY HAVE TO TALK ABOUT SOMEONE IN THEIR FAMILY. IF THE EMOJI CANNOT BE SEEN, SEND ‘Bacon’.

SEND ‘☕️’, THEY HAVE TO TALK ABOUT SOMETHING THAT KEEPS THEM GOING AND LIVING. IF THE EMOJI CANNOT BE SEEN, SEND ‘Coffee’.

SEND ‘🍳’, THEY HAVE TO TALK ABOUT SOMEONE WHO INSPIRES THEM. IF THE EMOJI CANNOT BE SEEN, SEND ‘Fried Egg’.

SEND ‘🥘’, THEY HAVE TO TALK ABOUT A GROUP OF PEOPLE THEY WANT TO BE AROUND WITH OR ASPIRE TO BE WITH. IF THE EMOJI CANNOT BE SEEN, SEND ‘Hotpot’.

SEND ‘🍎’, THEY HAVE TO TALK ABOUT SOMEONE THEY LOVE/CARE ABOUT/IN LOVE WITH. IF THE EMOJI CANNOT BE SEEN, SEND ‘Apple’

For Multimuses: Please Specify Muse(s).

This is why Z isn’t a hero in-game as much versus in outside of game RP...I have no desire to pull those shenanigans with people in game. That said, could be fun to have him step up out of costume in those situations...:P

OOC. Some salt.

Some salt about RP under the cut.

Keep reading

Conflux, Pt. 5

Anafenza stared up at the tree and shivered.  She pulled away from the Commander’s comforting embrace.  “I…I don’t know what else,” she began, shaking her head.

Stormy interrupted.  “You mentioned a curse.  The vines choking out your tree.  They’re red vines, bloodred vines; what is this curse?”

Ana shook her head.  “When I killed her – the other Jessika – I wasn’t in control of myself.  I was under the control of these…other mages that call themselves ‘Nemesis.’  I was trying to parley with them; I didn’t want more of my friends to get hurt, and so I approached them using an amulet of theirs we had confiscated.”

Stormy blinked in disbelief. “Nemesis.”  She shook her head.  “It’s always a Nemesis plot…”

The Commander looked over at her.  “You recognize the name?”

Stormy laughed once, humorless.  “Yeah,” was all she said, and left it at that.

Anafenza continued.  “I just wanted peace…and they rewarded me for my troubles by using magicks to gain control of my mind, convince me the only way to peace was to silence my friends, starting with Lyta.  I was attacking her when Jessika got in my way and I…”  Ana trailed off – they’d heard this part already.  “I was still trying to kill Lyta when Jessika expired; this cloud of dark aether erupted from her body and surrounded me, subduing me and breaking the magicks that were driving me.  I woke up later in the infirmary…I knew what had happened, I was aware of everything.”  She wiped her eyes – she hadn’t noticed she’d started to cry – and continued.  “I woke up with this scar on my body, the same scar Jessika had born.  Her ‘bloodvine,’ as it were.  Since then, I’ve…heard a strange song…I’ve seen her memories…I’ve begun to use strange abilities she could use…and I’d swear I could feel her presence with me.”

The Commander tilted her head.  “What is aether?”

Anafenza nodded towards the tree.  “That dark fog rolling off the tree?  That is aether.  It’s…what everything is made of.  Aether flows through everything, everyone.  It channels to us from the lifestream.”

The older Jessica furrowed her brow.  “That would explain the strange energy readings, then.  This aether, do you have your own signature of it?  A pool of aether that is unique to you?”

Anafenza nodded.  “That’s how I understand it.”

The other woman nodded. “Ana, this strange energy reading everywhere, this ‘aether.’  It is very similar to your own.  That makes sense; you likened the tree to your own life force.”  She pulled out her scanning device, waving it near Ana.  She held it over the girl’s scar; the steady beeping and whistling of the device suddenly increased in frequency.  “And the scar you ‘inherited,’ it’s practically leaking this aether into the chamber.”

Stormy snapped her fingers. “She inherited that bloodvine curse from her world’s Jessika!”

“Exactly.  And with it, it would seem, a very large chunk of that Jessika’s aether pool…which would then help anchor us all to this pocket dimension.”

Anafenza looked stunned. “You mean…I really have had a piece of her with me this entire time?  I thought I was going insane…”

“And it was that piece that allowed you to come here and join us,” Commander St. Peter continued. “Whatever this aether and lifestream are, they must have reached out to similar aetheric signatures and pulled us all together.”

Stormy shook her head. “Like the stars just aligned just right?”

The Commander shrugged. “Maybe?  But now…we know it’s that ambient aether signature that is sustaining this bubble.  Maybe we can use that to lock on to and get out of here…”

“But how do we get out? We’re somewhat limited on the resources available in here,” Stormy pointed out.

“We are, yes.  But I think I know a way.”  She tapped the arrowhead on her chest, and the small brooch chirped.  “St. Peter to Rafale, come in…”

There was static, before the three women began to just barely hear another sound cutting through. “…ter, this…have you…and unread…are you?”

The three women looked at one another, their faces immediately reflecting the same emotion: hope.

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Still for food/gas/bills now.

Looking to offer this type of drawing where your WOL is looking over a ledge.

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