#forsaken pet // hound

[tojicide]

OBSESSED. ☆ SYLUS QIN.

📰 extra, extra! why is your bodyguard so obsessed with you? girl, you wanna know...

warnings. nsfw, smut, mdni. porn with plot. fem!reader, popstar!reader, bodyguard!sylus. established romantic history (very brief). pet names. semi-public. fingering, oral (fem!receiving), cowgirl, unprotected p in v. wc. 4.6k

an. reused the header and a bit of the plot from an aaron hotchner fanfic i wrote on wattpad in like… 2021??? tweaked most of the details obvs but ig i was born as a bodyguard au lover

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Your bodyguard was such a buzzkill.

Dragging you out of every party you make an appearance at, replacing your shots with water once he believes you’ve had one too many, watching you like a hawk no matter where you are or who you’re with...

You despise those who have an inability to have fun, so as far as you’re concerned, Sylus is the devil reincarnated. You aren’t exactly shy about your opinions on him either, and perhaps in hindsight, that is exactly why he was currently pacing through the party you’re in attendance of to try and ruin your night yet again.

(Ruin your night or… do his job? Hell if you care about the logistics of it all. Two sides of the same coin, you think.)

His protective nature only grew more intense ever since the two of you shared a kiss before a concert of yours that left your lipstick smeared over your face like there was no tomorrow…

And what did that asshole do? Nothing. It was in his nature to make your life miserable after all. Sylus let you walk out in front of your thousands of fans, makeup messy and appearance disheveled all from his mouth on yours alone.

And boy, did the tabloids have a time with that one… Who was the culprit? A new fling of yours? Fiancé? Possible baby daddy? Each and every news outlet had some uniquely wrong to say. Can’t a girl have a makeout session with her bodyguard in peace?

Unfortunately for you, the paparazzi have been hounding you ever since that day, itching to get the 4-1-1 on your love life.

And ever since, you haven’t given many people the time of day—including Sylus. Tonight, you’ve managed to stay two steps ahead of your dear bodyguard and evade eventual capture for just a bit longer. You’re currently surrounded by a few of your friends, socialites and actors alike.

Your lips seem to flap freely when you have a few drinks in you, but tonight, you’re sober but even more talkative than ever. Your chosen topic of conversation? Your overbearing and stupidly handsome bodyguard, of course.

Too lost in your story, waving your arms around to your theatrical pleasure, you hardly noticed the way your friends’ faces paled to a ghostly shade of white, their eyes nearly bulging out of their heads and their lips parted as if they had something to say but… couldn’t.

All the while, you were too busy blowing off the  steam that you’d acquired from your last encounter with the forsaken bodyguard. “…And I was like, why are you so obsessed with me?”

As fate would have it, you hear a throat clear behind you followed by an annoyed huff that you’ve grown to know like the back of your hand. You spin around, already wearing a scowl.

“Obsessed with you, hm?” Sylus says, his voice low and seemingly dangerous, though your utter distaste for the man rids him of his intimidation. “You’re quite self important. I could never live in a world where I’d fall at the feet of an egotistical popstar.”

You roll your eyes at that. Who does he think he is? Everyone loves you—all except for the disgustingly handsome man standing in front of you.

“Mm… well, you can always die an untimely death and never have to work for me again,” you reply, giving him the most passive aggressive smile known to man. “Hopefully that gives you an ounce of hope.”

“It does,” he replies, returning the same expression that you gave him.

It’s borderline infuriating how undisturbed Sylus was. No, it is infuriating. No matter how many insults you chucked his way, he never cracked. (And the one time he did, it led to the two of you playing tonsil tennis in your dressing room...)

You shake your head, huffing in utter annoyance. You then hold your wrists up for display, cocking your head to the side as you give him a mock puppy dog expression. “Sooo… are you here to take me away, Officer Buzzkill?”

Sylus merely blinks in response to your taunting, taking a firm grasp on one of your wrists before he tugs you through the sea of partygoers. He laces your fingers together, squeezing tight as to not lose hold of you.

“Must you always make things so difficult?” he asks, keeping his eyes ahead.

You shrug your shoulders. “More or less.”

“More or less?” he echoes, glancing over his shoulder to properly look at you. “I suggest you try a different style of communication, sweetness. Your clipped attitude will get you nowhere.”

“Oh? But it’s gotten me so far already…” you trail off, glancing at his lips for a few agonizingly long seconds before a smirk tugs on the corner of your mouth. “In fact, I think it can get me even further.”

Sylus’s jaw tenses, his eyes slipping shut as he tears his gaze away from you. He can’t handle the way you’re looking at him—so unbelievably beautiful with those siren eyes of yours, the mere sight of you already stirring something unwanted within him.

He turns around to continue leading you through the crowd without a reply. You begin to glance around yourself, attempting to plot your brilliant escape.

“Don’t,” he flatly states, his iron grip tightening on your hand.

“Why not?” you ask, your voice holding a strong tone of defiance.

Sylus gives your hand one solid tug before you’re standing in front of him, his free hand pressing onto the small of your back as he keeps you pressed to his chest. “If you haven’t noticed, you brat, I will always chase you. I’ll find you just the same.”

You almost deflate under his intense gaze, his deep red eyes piercing through your own. It wasn’t often that Sylus manhandled you, but when he did, it made you feel… different. Intrigued, maybe.

“How touching,” you deadpan, “but you still get on my nerves.”

Sylus clicks his tongue. “Tch. Oh, I’m sorry… when have I ever cared about what you think?”

“Never,” you say with a dramatic sigh. “You know… if you hate me so much, you should just quit on me.”

Sylus rolls his eyes, his red irises drawing you in like no other. “I don’t… hate you. You should be rather thankful that I don’t, because I’m doubtful that anyone else would want this job of mine—you’re quite the handful.”

“Mm, I’m only saying,” you murmur with a shrug, giving his hand a harsh squeeze as if the roughness of your grasp would make him let go, but he, of course, does not. “You don’t need this job, and yet, here you are.”

He raises a brow. “What do you mean by that?”

You smile, the same shit-eating grin that he has grown to be all too familiar with. “Give me your wallet.”

Sylus huffs, his broad shoulders deflating as he fishes his black leather wallet from his back pocket and hands it over to you. You take it with ease, slipping your hand from his as you crack it open.

You slip his Black Card from the sleeve, proving that he truly didn’t need the job for any monetary gain. And then, a triumphant smile graces your lips as you pull out none other than a Polaroid photo taken of you—backstage at your concert just before the kiss you two shared.

“Ooh… what’s this?” you ask, raising your eyebrows.

Sylus reaches forward to try and snatch the tiny photo from you, but you are far too quick. “What are you revealing exactly? That you were secretly snooping in my wallet prior to now?”

“Yes,” you admit without hesitation, “and that you’re secretly rich and in love with me. Does that make us even?”

His jaw sets, his piercing gaze set on yours. He works to snatch the photo from you, tucking his belongings back into his wallet before he slips it into his pocket. “No. Maybe if you were less of a pain, we could be even.”

You wiggle your eyebrows in suggestion. “You’re not denying being in love with me, dear bodyguard of mine.”

Sylus gives you a deadpan expression. “Must you always be so self righteous? God forbid I am proud of you and your success.”

The genuine nature of his words set you back a step, your brows knitting together and your lips parting. If Sylus noticed the shift of your expression, he didn’t mention it. Thankfully. His cold fingers lace with yours once more, continuing the stride towards the exit of the party.

“Rather than putting on this show of yours, you truly should be thanking me for saving your reputation,” he quietly adds, his hand now curled around your waist as you approach the exit. “There is a swarm of paparazzi outside who are desperate to get their grimy hands on a picture of their beloved popstar doing something remotely scandalous.”

(And if Sylus knows anything about you, it’s that you love scandals. According to you, they ‘make life worth living’. Tch. Diva.)

You chuckle. “Aww, you care!”

“Do I care, or is it my job to look after you?” he asks, plucking his sunglasses from his pocket to place them on your face, shielding your eyes from the rapid camera flashes of the paparazzi. “Public intoxication numerous times a week is not a very good look for you, sweetie. Incredibly frowned upon.”

Your jaw sets as you listen to his words. While they are undeniably true, you don’t have any plans for admitting that—not now or in the near future.

“Making out with my bodyguard is frowned upon as well, but you didn’t seem to be complaining about that bit,” you say under your breath.

Your voice was low enough that your weighted words were almost drowned out by the booming music of the party and by the chatter of the photographers you’re about to be engulfed in. Almost. 

Sylus flashes you a glare. “You shouldn’t mumble. I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”

“You heard me,” you state.

He did hear you, that was exactly the problem. It was no coincidence that the two of you haven’t spoken much since your very intense lip lock. You’ve been avoiding each other, evading the invisible string that connects the two of you like both an electric current and a noose.

The tension between the two of you was tangible, palpable even—you could practically taste it just as well as you could still taste his lips on your own. It was intoxicating, imprinting, searing.

It managed to distract you from the flashing lights of the cameramen who were swarming you, capturing flick after flick of you being led through the crowd.

You chew on the inside of your cheek. “You know, you can help me out with all of this,” you murmur, gesturing towards the paparazzi. “My publicist came up with an idea that will get them off my back for a while. Give them the answers they need and… whatnot.”

“Yeah?” he asks, glancing your way. “Do tell.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, tuning out all of the chattering paparazzi who are currently surrounding you. “Be my impromptu mystery man for the cameras. I’ll give you anything you want in return, I swear it.”

Sylus hums, the sound omitting a deep rumble into the air. “Anything I want? My, my, sweets, you’ve made me an offer I cannot refuse.”

You huff, grasping onto the collar of his jacket as you pull him into you. “Just go with it.”

“Just go with wh— mmph!” Sylus’s words were muffled by your lips slotting against his in a searing kiss, his hands instinctively finding their home on the curve of your hips.

The kiss was… tame. It was supposed to be, after all. It was merely for the cameras, a way for you to put an answer to the questions that have been flooding your inbox and left your name circulating in the news for days on end.

But when Sylus’s tongue brushes against your bottom lip, you slightly pull away, muttering a faint, “Sylus, what’re you…” before he pulls you right back in, his large hand now resting on your cheek.

“If you’re going to use me like a whore at your disposal, I’d suggest you let me enjoy myself and taste you properly,” he says into your mouth, his hand shifting to tangle in your hair as he tilts you to his liking, your tongues meeting in with gentle swipes. “See? I knew you could do better than that.”

True to his suggestion, you kissed him like there was no tomorrow, your hands fisting his shirt in your palms as your lips moved in tandem with his. Lipstick and paparazzi long forgotten, you find yourself getting lost in the moment, a soft whimper leaving your mouth as his hands give your hips a firm squeeze.

The moment he hears that sweet, impossibly faint sound of your pleasure, he knows that he’s in for it now. That’ll do it for him.

He abruptly pulls away, clasping his hand onto yours as he continues pulling you through the now stunned crowd of paparazzi. Sporting an erection and your lipstick smeared on his lips makes no difference to Sylus—if anything, he enjoys the world knowing that he has the hots for the woman who he has sworn to protect.

Sylus helps you into the passenger seat of your black SUV, closing the door behind you before making his way to the driver’s seat. He peels off, driving with intention through the streets of the city.

It was now evident to you that he was driving the SUV in pursuit of his favorite lookout spot, one that overlooks the bustling city from a distance. Sylus had taken you there once before as per your request to ‘stay out a bit later’. Nothing happened then, but you have an inclination that your luck has changed.

“I know what I want from you,” he states, placing a hand on your thigh.

How did he already manage to figure out what he wants in return for helping you? A raise? A car? The blood of his enemies? You’re intrigued, raising a brow. “You do?”

“I do,” he confirms without missing a beat. “Get into the backseat.”

A gasp leaves your kiss swollen lips as you mull over the utter implications of his words. It didn’t take a genius to understand them, but you were… surprised to say the least. “I think you’re overstepping your boundaries, Mr. Qin.”

In a literal sense, sure he was. But if the two of you were going to judge based on what you two want, he absolutely wasn’t—you both knew that.

He chuckles, the sound low yet infuriatingly sexy. His hand slips beneath your skirt, his middle finger brushing along the damp spot of your panties. “Your body seems to disagree with you, ma’am.”

And if you weren’t already wet before, hearing him call you ma’am was more than enough to do it for you. “Shut up,” you grumble.

“You can make me,” he suggests, setting the vehicle into park before giving your thigh a few pats. He nods his head towards the backseat. “Go on.”

Without hesitation, you kick your heels off and crawl into the back of the vehicle, thumping down on the seat with a sharp sigh. Sylus follows you within the blink of an eye, his knees settling on the spacious floor of the car.

“What’re you…” you ask, though your eyebrows raise as the pieces of the puzzle click together in your mind. “Oh.”

“Yes, oh,” he repeats, his warm hands rubbing your knees as he spreads your legs apart, his lips finding the tender skin of your inner thigh. “You know… you truly should be resting for your show tomorrow evening.”

“Should I?” You bite on your bottom lip as he leans forward, nosing at your clothed pussy with a muffled moan of his own. He inhales deeply, the scent of your arousal driving him to the brink of insanity.

“You should,” he answers, pressing an open mouthed kiss on your cunt through the fabric of your panties. “You should stop talking too. You need to rest your voice just as much.”

You swallow hard, whimpering ever so softly as his fingers hook beneath the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs to give himself access to your glistening core.

His eyes are set on your heat, his cool hands hiking your thighs over his shoulders. He rests his cheek on the warmth of your inner thigh, glancing up at you. “Because believe me, sweetie, the things that I want to do to you will not be in favor of that beautiful voice of yours.”

“Oh?” you ask, titling your head. “What will they be in favor of?”

He grins, wicked and devilishly handsome. “I’m glad you asked, because there’s someone else I’ve been wanting to hear from.”

Before you have the chance to reply, he’s already got his face delving deep between your legs, the filthy sounds of squelches and slurping filling the otherwise silent car.

“Oh, I— mmh, you didn’t answer my… my question,” you stammer out between breathy moans, your head tilting back on the headrest as your eyes flutter shut.

Sylus smiles into your pussy, pointing his tongue to accentuate the squelching noises that your heat was making, entirely wet and dripping for him.

“Can you not hear her?”

Never in your life did you think that having a man on his knees talking to your cunt would be this arousing, but… you’re fucking soaked.

“I-I can,” you gasp, cracking your eyes open to look down at him. “Fuck, you can talk to her in fifty languages for all I care, holy shit.”

He quietly chuckles, the sound sending a spark of vibrations onto your already sensitive clit. Your thighs tense, aching to close on him, but he keeps them spread with his strong hands on your thighs.

Your lips part as a string of breathy sounds leave you, beautiful moans and needy whimpers alike—all of which play as music to Sylus’s ears. It was nice to know that your mouth was good for more than just singing and bickering at him…

Teeth nibbling into your bottom lip, you glance down at him, only to be met with the most crazed eyes known to mankind. So disheveled, your slick leaking down his chin while his tongue delves into your heat like a man starved. He looks like he’s in his own pussy drunk heaven.

When you feel his pointed tongue begin to curve and lick in ways it hadn’t before, you do your best to follow his movements.

S-Y-L-U-S he spells on your puffy cunt with his writing tool of choice—none other than his stupidly talented tongue.

“You’re so—”

“Shh,” he cuts you off, his voice more like a husky whisper now. His pupils were dilated to the size of saucers, sucking on your clit before releasing it with a harsh pop.

Filthy sounds fill the air, your own breathy moans spilling from your swollen lips in tandem with the messy sucks of Sylus’s lips on your cunt. Not to mention, your girl truly was loud.

“Singing so beautifully for me,” he rasps, his eyes flitting up to watch your blissful expression. Lidded eyes, parted lips, flushed skin—an absolute wet dream of his come to life.

You bite your lip, hardly focused on the words coming out of his mouth. “Mmh, what…?”

“Quiet, sweets,” he repeats, hooking his hands even tighter around your thighs as he gives your heat a few more harsh licks. “I told you I was talking to her, didn’t I?”

It doesn’t take much longer for your legs to begin to tremble, your body writhing in his grasp as he sets you any way but loose. Your hips buck up, your core grinding against his wet muscle as you chase your release.

Sylus was more than eager to give it to you, redoubling his efforts while locking his hands over your legs to keep you steady enough for him to pleasure you effectively. The warmth pooling in your belly was far too much, far more intense than anything you had ever experienced before.

“Mmh, I… I’m coming,” you warn through an airy whine.

And when you do, Sylus swoops in even more greedily than before, his flat tongue lapping at your honeyed release. There was no way he would ever be able to go without tasting you like this now that he has. Fuck, he’s such a goner.

As you come down from your high, you grin with a few pants. “Look at you, falling at the feet of your ‘egotistical popstar’—mmph!”

Sylus plunges two fingers into your mouth to shut you up, rising to plant himself onto the seat beside you. “That’s hardly an insult to me anymore, my dear. I know what I am.”

He pulls his spit slick fingers from your mouth, bringing them to your pussy as he gently circles your sensitive clit. His free hand guides you through the motion of straddling his lap. With a simple nod of his head, he gestures for you to lift your shirt up, and you do.

“And what’s that?” you ask, watching as he leans forward to mouth at your breasts through the fabric of your bra.

“I’ve already told you,” he murmurs, bringing his free hand to his belt to free his cock from the confines of his pants. “A whore at your disposal.”

“I knew it,” you chuckle, though the sweet sound is interrupted by a breathy moan that he coaxes out of you once he slides his fat cockhead along your folds.

He clicks his tongue, tilting his head to the side. “Are you not going to reciprocate my affection?” he teases, grasping tightly onto your hips. “Or do I have to work a bit harder for it, ma’am?”

Your knees would have certainly buckled if they weren’t firmly planted on the leather seats of the SUV. Who would have thought that you had a thing for white-haired bodyguards who call you ‘ma’am’?

Sylus raises a brow, a cocky smirk tugging on his lips. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?”

You feel your face heating up more and more the longer you look him in the eyes, shifting your hips so that the tip of his cock finally meets your entrance. “Just… shut up and put it in.”

“How demanding,” he hums, smirking ever so slightly as he uses his grasp on you to make one sharp snap of his hips, burying balls deep inside of your heat. “But as you wish, pretty.”

You cry out immediately, the burn of the stretch fading into unfolding pleasure. Eyes locked on each other’s, breaths mingling with ease, skin slicked with sweat, it was…

“Perfect,” he whispers, smoothing his hands along your hips before one reaches up to cup your cheek. He pulls you into a deep, searing kiss. “So, so perfect.”

Your movements are timid at first, you were merely testing the waters that had yet to be explored. His cock stuffed you full, his tip kissing your deepest points with ease, earning a muffled whimper from your mouth that his lips swallowed up eagerly.

Sylus begins to help you move a bit quicker, rocking your hips forward in smooth rolls, earning moans from the both of you that seemed to come straight from your guts.

“Give it to me how you like it, baby,” he encourages, both of his hands planting firmly on your waist. “Use my cock however you need it, sweets, it’s yours.”

His words have your clit pulsating around his thick shaft, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you begin to work up a pace of your own that has your heart beating wildly.

“I always… fuck—I always knew you were obsessed with me,” you jest, your grin stretching wide.

Sylus hums, the sound low and deep, his iron grip on your hips helping you maintain the intensity of your movements whenever your muscles beg for a break. “Yeah? Needed me to be buried inside of you to have that bit of confirmation?”

You nod with a smile, hands wrapping around his neck as you plant your forehead against his. He smiles too, a breathy moan leaving his mouth as you circle your hips in a way that has him seeing stars.

“Fuck yeah, I’m obsessed with you,” he admits without a semblance of shame, tilting his head back on the headrest.

Already feeling your second orgasm approaching, you bury your face in his neck, inhaling the scent of his cologne and sweat that made a musk that was so beautifully Sylus. His hands smooth over your backside, giving your ass a squeeze.

“Tch, let me see that pretty face,” he demands, nudging you with his shoulder so that you were sitting up once more. “You look so beautiful like this.”

You struggle to form a sentence, bouncing unabashedly on his cock, skin slapping together in an erratic pattern that spurred you even further. A string of whimpers and whines leave your puffy lips. Though your reply lacked words, it perfectly communicated what you wanted to say.

“Oh, I know it, baby,” he rasps, tilting his head back again as his eyes slip shut. “Pussy’s addictive—shit, I’m obsessed with her too.”

You begin to lose yourself all together, reduced to nothing more than a blissed out woman riding her bodyguard’s cock. “Sylus, I… mmh, I’m gonna cum.”

He nods in understanding, smoothing his hand through your hair as he brings you in for another kiss. It’s all teeth and tongue, messy and drooling in the most beautiful way possible.

“Gonna come inside you if you keep riding me like this, baby,” he warns, pulling back to look you in the eyes.

You feel his cock twitch inside of you, as if it were confirming his words. You don’t do this often, contrary to popular belief, but you are on the pill. Luckily. “Please do.”

Sylus pants through a smile, licking his lips as he guides you through a few more fleshed out grinds on his lap. “Huh… you really are something special.”

A deep groan leaves his mouth as he dips his head, grip tightening on your waist as you ride him through your shared orgasm. You aren’t sure where yours ended and his began, or if you had gotten the order wrong entirely. All you know is that in that moment, the two of you became one.

Panting, your hand plants on the fogged up window of the vehicle, leaving your handprint in its wake. Sylus lets out a breathy chuckle, raising his own shaking hand to the window.

You watch through lidded eyes as he draws a tiny heart, writing his and your first initials inside of it with a little + in the middle. How cute.

Sylus then turns to face you again, bringing his hand to your cheek. You nuzzle into his palm, placing a kiss on his skin. “I have something to admit.”

He nods his head a single time, beckoning you to continue. “What is it?”

You give him a wry smile. “My publicist never gave me the idea for that publicity stunt.”

“…I figured that much, sweetie.”

note. bodyguard!sylus, my glorious king… ok i lowkey hate this but it holds no purpose saving up space in my drafts so :D pls interact if you enjoyed, rbs are greatly appreciated <3 thank you for readingggg !!!

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[necrobob]

Oh. People actually saw this. Whoops.

I suppose I should explain the story behind my Wardoggo. This happened in the Forsaken expansion, and the area no longer exists(in the current game)

Just gonna copy/paste something from back then:

(isn't he adorable?)

"there was a bug in a mission that let you save a war hound being forced to fight in an pit fight. he wouldn’t become aggressive toward you if you killed the enemy attacking him after he had been hurt, but before taking any damage from you. but that meant you couldn’t continue the mission. The war hound would just wander around the arena. Sometimes he’d lie down and take a nap. but the next phase of the mission wouldn’t begin until he died. It would have been so great to fight through the rest of the mission with that wardoggo, to free him from the traffickers. Then find him a good home. Maybe as a guard for The Spider. Or even better, in the Tower. But instead of rescuing the poor doggo from being used for a blood-sport, you have to put it down. 😭 Well, some day I’ll make my own warhound , and you WILL be able to pet him!"

Goddamn it. I almost feel like I could try and finish my Cabal Warbeast sculpture.

😔

Stupid therapy. Stupid sunlight. Stupid encouraging friends. 😛

[thecloudsofficalreborn]

Broken Reality...

*A yellow beam blasted up into the sky a few familiar people were coming out...*

Event: B̴͖̽R̸̢̘̼̈́Ŏ̶͙͛̌K̶̰̖̝̎E̷͊͜N̶̟̈́̊͋ ̷̼̣͓̌́̓R̵̤̗̃͊E̶̳̥̅̾A̶̢̪͖͐͝L̷͍̪͊͝Ḯ̷̼͛T̸̗͕̗͌Ý̵̹ͅ

[moonsdancer]

Mel & pets headcanons

My new favourite headcanon for Mel & her pets is that she had a draken-hound.

What are draken-hounds?

A distant relative of dragons, Draken-hounds are a species of wingless, wolf-sized carnivores that lair in the mountains to the north of the Noxian capital. They are vicious pack hunters, and much favored in Noxus as war-beasts, guard creatures, herding animals, and expensive (albeit dangerous) pets. To own one or more drake-hounds is a visible symbol of wealth and power.

I mean, come on. Forget kittens and dogs, I demand a distant relative of dragons for thee Mel Medarda and nothing less.

While I think the Medarda Clan lives further south of Noxus Prime, they probably do have a manse of some kind nearer the capital. Mel found her draken-hound, Sarryx, as barely more than a pup. She was the only one of her litter to survive a hunting party, and somehow blundered her way across brutal steppes to land in the woods surrounding the Medarda home. Young Mel found her and they were inseparable ever since. Sarryx is a rare golden-furred hound, with flecks of red and black in her mane.

When she was banished, she was told that she had to leave Sarryx behind or the pet would be slaughtered. She therefore had no choice but to do so. But Ellora's intelligence reports indicate that the night after she left, Sarryx also disappeared and no one knew what happened to her. And every few months there have been stories from people in the hills just north of Piltover of some kind of demonic hell-hound Wolf-forsaken creature that runs around and howls at night. No one's ever been able to find the beast despite hunting parties being formed to deal with it.

Once a draken-hound chooses a master, it will only ever allow Death to separate them.

[acatpersonapparently]

Jemtoria Angel AU: Part 1

i.

Victoria hits earth crying for heaven. Wings crumpling like soda cans smashed under a child’s foot, Victoria meets earth with cruel impact. Victoria picks up her halo and puts it back on like someone will look down and see the mistake they made and bring her back home.

Her halo rests crooked and the white of the winter around her feels like a taunt.

ii.

Victoria loses her halo somewhere between a gas station and a cafe, long after her feet were raw and bleeding from walking. It slips off her head and rolls into a sewer grate. She stares at the metal bars between her and her divinity for hours before moving on (That’s what all her brothers and sisters always pointed out about the squirming humans writhing across the earth, their ability to carry on past tragedy)

She curls up under a tree in the park and waits for nature to whisper her a bedtime lullaby. The trees are silent and the flowers turn their back on her, every blade of grass turning away from the sinner/the once-angel/the silly mortal with an aching heart. There is nobody to look her way and no miracle to save her. So, Victoria cries out her loneliness under starlight, her tears boiling on her cheeks and dissipating into steam. So, this is what being alone means, Victoria thinks, having always been apart of the holy We. She reaches for the stars and they don't change the way they shine, not even a wink. So, this is being forsaken

iii.

Her feathers fall out in burning clumps: primaries, secondaries, coverts. Each handful telling her louder and louder about how the skies are now forbidden to her. Her pinions fall out, weeping blood., during a snowstorm. She stretches out the skeletal limbs they leave behind and Victoria can’t believe how small she feels without the glory of her wings on her back.

Victoria is trying to remember the sound of her family singing glory on high when she wanders into a bar. The chorus of voices sing to her loneliness and draw her in. She sits at the bar, worrying a feather and its fading holy between her hands.

Are you okay? Someone asks her. She thinks something wrong in her smile scares him away.

You’re in pain. Someone else tells her. Victoria supposes they’re right. They guide her into the pub's dilapidated bathroom. Her body burns as they gently begin washing the blood and half-smouldering ash from her skin, leaving the sink full of filthy brown water. She swears she can see Raphael’s silhouette around her stranger as they wrap her hands just like him when she was just a child trying to dance with supernovas or trying to hold white dwarfs in her hands to take home to her family.

Why? Victoria asks, mortal tongue twisting her jaw when she speaks.

Because you need kindness and I have some to spare. A large coat is dropped onto Victoria's shoulders. She wraps it tightly around herself and calls it a hug.

iv.

The stranger shows her eggs and bacon, early the next morning. She watches them watch her, waiting for her to eat. She's a splatter painting of purpling and yellowing bruises under dim fluorescent lighting.

Listen, if you’re in trouble, I can call someone. If someone is hurting you at home or anything, I’m sure I know someone who can help

I fell

I’ve heard that before

I fell and I have no home

Oh

Victoria digs into the food in front of her like it will fill the yawning emptiness that seems to be steadily growing inside her.

(Victoria flees the stranger's house that night, stealing as much clothes as it takes to feel warm and a pack of bacon)

v.

Victoria moves, humanity hounding her and moving ever closer. She pets a dog, scalds her hands on hot water, runs through fields of tall grass that make her legs itch. She stares back at the people who stare at her when she walks down the street. She breaks into churches to steal from the offering plate (because the money is kind of meant for her anyways) and tears out pages from the hymnals in the pews.

She doesn’t make friends, or even talk really. The memory of heaven and its hosts make it hard to look at these little people and see them as anything more than the afterimages of something greater and much more divine.

Victoria picks up scraps of other people and stitches them into her own version of human. She copies the way the woman in the nice blazer waves, the fashion the old man with smile lines opens doors for others, the delicate manner that the woman with soft brown curls blows on her tea. She wanders the streets feeling like an imposter, lips still cracking when she tries to smile.

She looks for Uriel's flaming sword and the gate to salvation but heaven left no scent for her to track. Victoria learns the way that man with the stubble on his chin blasphemies, the man with yellow teeth curses someone out on his phone, the woman on the street corner who yells about the end times and her open defiance of God.

(When Victoria gives up on finding the Garden, she breaks into another church. She steals from the offering plate and tears up hymns. She stares at the statue of a man on the cross until something in her, gnawing and feral with humanity, decides she should tear it down. She destroys her Father's house, smashing pews and pouring out holy water. She curses him until her voice is raw and all she has left is nonsensical wailing. She leaves her Father's house, forsaking him the same way he did her.)

vi.

Victoria decides home is a town in the middle of nowhere where snow never falls. The people here are gentle and keep to themselves and that suits Victoria just fine. She grows a garden which is nothing like her Father’s, filling the spaces between flowers with the bones of roadkill she finds on the side of the highway when she wanders at night. The boys of the town come to her with wounded birds. Every single one is taken in without a word said between them. Their rapid little heartbeats singing into her palms when she takes them in. She mends their wings and whispers to them about her memories of being skybound and magnificent. She calls it purpose and living. She names their wings love and hope and keeps the feathers they leave for her close by. The ones who never stretch their wings wide again stay with her and they thank her by filling her garden with song.

(Victoria cries for the first time in a long time when she steps outside and they greet her with a rising chorus drenched in sunshine)

One of the boys, cradling a nightingale in his muddy hands under the pink-orange sky of dawn, staring at her with tears dripping off his chin and snot smeared across his cheeks, appears on her doorstep. You’ll help her? Please, you gotta help her.

Victoria smiles, cupping her hands around his, She just needs a little kindness. Don’t worry, I have plenty to spare.

[ao3feed-izuku-midoriya]

Fairytale of the Void

Fairytale of the Void by DooBeDooWa

In his first year of middle school, Midoriya Izuku inadvertently saves the Hero Killer in an act of compassion. To rectify his mistake, Izuku does his best for his beloved heroes, hunting down their killer with nothing more than his wits and determination.

In the bleak void of society's shadow, a tiny light draws in the wretched and forsaken, threatening to extinguish its gentle glow.

Words: 1632, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: Gen

Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Akaguro Chizome | Stain, Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Midoriya Inko, Original Characters, Bakugou Katsuki, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Shinsou Hitoshi, League of Villains, Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko, Inui Ryou | Hound Dog, anyone else will be added later when I remember

Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Pre-Canon, Vigilante Midoriya Izuku, Quirkless Midoriya Izuku, Quirkless Discrimination, Midoriya Izuku Has One for All Quirk, The Adventures of Middle School Izuku and his Pet Serial Killer, Angst and Humor, more angst than humor but it's there sometimes

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26658625

[acquisitive-adventurers]

randomly specific wow food headcannons 1/???

<3

night elves are omnivores, careful in their balancing of meals. they tend to eat the basic minimum of meat per meal to get the vitamins/protein needed, supplementing with vegetables (and, when Highborne, magicks). when certain animal populations got too numerous and would be detrimental to ecosystems, they’d eat more meat -- otherwise, they are very careful hunters, working to keep everything in balance.

(usually, those that are inland will eat more meat than those on islands/near coasts, and those that are near some body of water will eat more fish/seafood in general. sometimes, there have been night elves hunting overpopulated seals/walruses that are causing issues to boats or other wildlife.)

sometimes, fancy-shmancy night elves will add a twinge of magick to make moon-inspired foods sparkle (and more so under the night sky lol, which is why they have a ton of picnics in the middle of the night).

...

Pandaren will eat literally anything. they’re the best taste-testers and have the most sensitive noses in all of Azeroth (with worgen right behind; some druids can have really really sensitive noses too, but they’re kinda kind of on a case-by-case basis.). some Pandaren can smell when food/drink has been tampered with, even if they can’t tell with what substance. they’re the most neutral when it comes to either faction, and it’s best to have these people as your cooks (because their local food is amazing, and they have the best taste-based memory and can cook nearly anything if they’ve eaten it enough times before).

having a Pandaren ask for a recipe or ask questions about a dish you’ve cooked is the highest compliment in their social culture; being given a recipe that could compliment your food is equally as flattering.

food = friendship/love.

...

forsaken are the worst with food handling and preparation in general, but are also super sensitive to foods that have been tampered with. as their bodies are magick-laced magick corpses made with science teetering into the magical realm, they’re not really afraid of eating anything that maybe/is most definitely poisonous. those that work with poisons/death magicks regularly can probably even tell what is being used. (always have a forsaken in your group, for more reasons than being taste testers.)

they can also tell if livestock/pets will die soon, and (ranging on their expertise/how long they’ve been a forsaken) usually be able to explain why. they tend to be pretty gentle with the creatures nearest death, as many can still remember how painful, confusing, and horrifying it was for them to die.

(forsaken running senior mount/pet homes, anyone???? no worries if an elderly elemental-type throws a hissy fit and an appendage gets caught in the crossfire, it can be replaced; poisonous animals can’t kill something already dead; tusk/claw-bearing creatures can rip out your guts but nOt YoUr LoVe FoR tHeM)

...

in the same light, death knights can basically do the same thing, but their senses can be so muted that those that have the best chances at noticing tampered food would be unholy, blood, then (if you’re lucky) frost. (unholy can detect death magicks best, blood can detect poisons best, and frost can tell the basics that it’s been tampered with.)

certain death knights may have better physical/intuitive senses, so take this with a grain of salt. it’s different for everyone. some still eat, some don’t; they don’t need that kind of nourishment anymore.

(but they’re definitely afflicted by cursed/highly enchanted armor, weapons, and items. they’ll be a bloodhound if they Don’t Feel Something Is Right; they’re the best to have as shopkeepers/thrift store personnel/inventory takers because they Just Know sometimes.)

...

a demon hunter will generally continue eating as they would have before they infused demons into their soul, but will tend to eat whatever the demons want, too. sometimes they’ll just find themselves eating meats bone and all, sometimes raw, and be like “oops guess the hounds wanted something lol.” other times, they’ll actively seek out certain cravings (red meats, something gamey, sweets, magick-infused foods, etc) when different demons are demanding nourishment.

they’re awful at telling if something’s been tampered with unless they ingest it and then a thought pops up like Oh That Was Bad. they then proceed to complain for a week., but you can bet they’ll probably do it again at some point; they’re like puppies or cats that constantly eat the plant in the kitchen that don’t realize it could make them sick. stupid but loveable.

...

orcs are pretty similar to night elves in the way they’ll carefully regulate certain animal populations, but their diets change depending on their clan and their environment: those in Nagrand have a more Elvish-styled diet (mostly veggies, but healthy amounts of meats), while the orcs in Frostfire Ridge will eat mostly meats; Tanaan Jungle and Shadowmoon Valley (and those living in Zangramarsh in Outland) will have more fish-based diets; Gorgrond-living orcs surprisingly eat more vegetables than meats, but it’s more of culling the Living Plants Attacking Us rather than that they want to; those that live in Talador basically meld all of these together.

[trahearnetrash]

1, 3, 15, and 17 for Alaritheis, Luaineach, and Saesol?

1. Love

✴Alaritheis feels very intensely. They can be quite suspicious of people, but they really are deeply in love with life and the cosmos in general. It oozes out when they’re just taking a walk, feeling the sun, seeing a bird, saving a bug. They’re all smiles then, no matter how dark everything is otherwise. This is what makes Al themselves, keeps them going, makes them protect any living thing that needs protection: love, and believing in others’ ability to feel it too.

✴Luaineach isn’t too interested in romance. Not that he’s rejecting the possibility, but love isn’t really one of the things he identifies with - or showing emotion in general. He’s not incapable of feeling it, but very unlikely to show it, at least for as long as he believes in intellect and rationality over feelings. To Luaineach, vulnerability is shameful, and love makes you even more vulnerable than any other emotion.

✴Saesol has heard the word “love” over and over so many times from Raelric lamenting his forsaken affairs that it’s starting to feel like a hollow concept to her from time to time - romantic love, at least. That disillusion is usually mended by just seeing Laranthir, whom she has a huge crush on - and she admires how much he believes in love, and all those four letters stand for.

3. Hopes

✴Saesol in her private life outside of being a tactician is great at getting her hopes up, too great, perhaps. Whether she’s crushing on someone, playing dice or just thinking about whether the sun will shine tomorrow, she tends to secretly assume the best has to happen. It doesn’t couple well with her pessimism and anxiety and produces unrealistic expectations for herself and others that often result in disappointment and feelings of being betrayed by the world.

✴Alaritheis and hope have had a rough past in the anet-canon timeline. They once had Sae’s romantic worldview, but it died with Trahearne. Still, they keep getting up every morning to risk their life in order to save whatever there is left to save at this point, even when they’re miserable and tired of existence. Whether to keep this last, tiny but enormously important shred of hope is not a choice for them, it never has been.

✴Luaineach believes that hope is the best way to get yourself killed. Rather than hoping for this or that, analyse a situation and figure out your odds. If they are very clearly stacked in your favor, continue, if not, move on, figuratively or literally. But who knows - there may yet be hope for him.

15. Hands

✴Luaineach spends a fair amount of time with his hands somewhere in his field of view, and although he usually wears gloves, he keeps them clean and groomed at all times (i magine sylvari have bark instead of fingernails). He doesn’t actually like touching things with his bare hands at all, and when he really, really has to, he will spend his last water ration on washing them immediately afterwards.

✴Saesol’s hands are the first thing to overheat when an emotion becomes overwhelming, which has been the end of more than one book. Since she’s a warmaster-rank tactician, though, the Vigil library can’t exactly just ban her. In any case, she’s accidently burnt other people’s hands as well, which makes her very ashamed. She tried wearing gloves, but they just melted and became what they are now - at least, with their oozing lava, they’re good for punching, and when push literally comes to shove, Sae is not above that.

✴Alaritheis finds hands to be both beautiful and informative. How people hold them, what movements they display can help tremendously in reading others, a skill that’s become vital to Al as the Commander. While she dislikes being touched herself (unles she views you as family) to the point of experiencing physical pain from so much as something grazing her shoulder, she likes using this sensitivity to explore, with her hands, and the same respect for boundaries she would like others to have with her. Dragging her fingertips over the page of a book, examining a cool rock or piece of wood, petting a cat or cradling a butterfly that got lost indoors - touch helps Al connect to the world around her on a personal level. (Needless to say, she’s always loved to play with Trahearne’s hands or just run hers through his hair, or his cheek.)

17. Scars

✴Luaineach’s scars are mostly on his hands and knees. The knee ones he owes to the sniper position he spends so much time in even kneepads can’t entirely protect him from the occasional wound when he dodges in this stance. The hand and lower arm ones, well. He won’t tell you that. (It’s petting stray cats and not knowing how to pet them without violating their privacy.) And then there’s the one time an old stone floor gave in under his weight during a Priory mission and broke his right leg so badly the bone went through his skin - that left a mark, too.

✴Saesol’s limbs are largely covered in bark, having burnt and then scarred when she fell into lava as a sapling, during a dare. She only survived that accident by courtesy of her elementalist magic. Most of the skin on her torso, ears and neck as well as her upper thighs has healed to the point of being more or less normally sensitive, but anywhere else, including her face, she can barely feel anything. It sucks, of course, and doesn’t help her confidence, but she takes a little pride in being quite pain resistant around the barky areas. You could stab her wrist and she’d burn your face without beating an eye.

✴Alaritheis has a few significant scars at this point, and a bunch of insignificant ones she doesn’t even keep track of anymore. The most prominent ones are the very large cleft that runs diagonally across her torso with burnt skin all around it, left by the lethal wound that Balthazar’s sword tore. She also has two patches of burnt skin above and below her left knee, as well as two craters in her calf of the same leg. Both sets of wounds are courtesy of Balthazar’s hounds. Ever since those, Al has become even more of a cat person (though she still likes dogs.)Actually, I’ve been working on a piece that features some of Al’s scars, so stay tuned for that!

Oh god I wrote a whole damn lot, didn’t I?,, Thank you so much for letting me rant, aaaa

[rachelrogers11]

Six Sentence Sunday

Ok so this is more than six sentences. Just a little excerpt from one of my many SanSan stories in progress that I'm still hiding in my SanSan closet...I may muster the guts to share them fully sometime

So here goes...

Just as he’d threatened, he showed up early next morning before she could leave the house. She could practically taste the beat of her heart in her dry mouth when the door rattled with his pounding knock. Her brothers had already left for work and school, Robb working with the new security firm in town and he’d had an early shift, leaving just after sunrise while Bran and Rickon had left for school a few minutes before. It was just her and Mom alone at the house and Robb had bid her to keep the door locked.

She had been expecting Old Nan to show up to stay with Mom who slept late into the early afternoon. Sansa missed the jubilant, capable, organized mother she’d had before father’s incarceration.

The door rattled in its frame again. This violent knock surely wasn’t Old Nan who had moved with them from their opulent family mansion in the cream of the city to the murky dredges of this old town. She spied his immense shadow shifting restlessly beyond the fogged up glass of the door panel.

She started again when his rasping voice resounded through the thin door. “Sansa! I know you’re in there!”

In the small back yard of the old house, Dane, Robb’s huge wolfhound, was barking up a storm in his kennel where Robb usually left him during the day, and Sansa had a thought so wicked she was at once wholly ashamed.

But more than that, she wanted this big brute of a man to leave her alone.

With clammy hands and a hot pounding pulse, Sansa sneaked out the back door and went straight to the kennel where Dane was barking in a frothing frenzy, the boards of the kennel shaking with his agitation. Rob had had him since he was a pup just as she’d had Lady, her own wolfhound who’d died before they moved here. Sansa still couldn't bear to think of her untimely death. The screech of tires as the fraud squad approached, Lady bounding away from her straight into the path of the oncoming vehicle…lying there broken in a pool of her own blood as they took father away...

She shuddered, shaking the memories away. The man pounded again at the door and Sansa feared her mother would wake from all the commotion with Dane barking so ferociously. Determined to see her plan through, she hastened to release Dane from the kennel, making sure to secure a firm grip around his collar. Swallowing her trepidation, she brought Dane to heel with a few whispers. The large hound had always had a soft spot for her.

When the great wolfhound ceased tugging at her, she led him towards the front of the house.

She’d just emerged before the front porch when the man immediately turned even though she’d gotten Dane to be quiet and she herself had barely made a sound.

He met her gaze with harsh eyes as unrelenting as the rocky dark brown mountains that rose to the West.

Sansa forced herself not to look away from the simmering anger she saw on his face. “I told you, sir, I’m not going anywhere with you. You may think me a stupid little girl but you can’t make me go with you.”

Beside her, Dane growled low in his throat, canine gaze fixed on the giant man.

He glanced at the great wolfhound at her side, tilting his head in a decidedly familiar manner. She realized it was the same gesture Dane would make.

The man’s dark eyes flicked back to her, holding a piercing glint that threatened to shatter her sturdy resolve.

He smiled.

It was a smile just as harsh as the look in his eyes, a mirthless, cruel twist of lips beneath the thick stubble of his beard. Unbidden the memory arose of how his beard had felt against the tender skin of her chin, rough and warm, as he’d kissed her when they’d been tangled up in his bed....

Sansa swallowed as he straightened to his full daunting height and began walking down the stairs towards her. Encased in black combat boots, the man’s huge feet made the wooden steps creak.

The whine of the wood under his heavy footfalls sounded ominous in the still morning air, a ticking alarm that signaled danger with each step that brought him closer.

“What would a little doll like you know about handling such a great beast.” the man murmured. He was no longer looking at her but staring at Dane with a focus that unsettled her. The wolfhound shifted on his huge paws, lowering his shaggy head to pin the approaching man with an unfriendly glare.

When he continued to take slow steps towards them, Sansa felt the first twinge of true unease. “Please sir, stay back! I-I just want you to leave. Don’t come any closer! He’ll bite you, I swear!”

I won’t let Dane hurt him, she told herself. He just needs to leave.

But to her growing horror, the man paid her no heed. Before she could command Dane to sit still, he always listened to her, the man was already within lunging distance and to her shock, he lowered himself to his knees and reached out a large hand towards the growling wolfhound.

Breath caught in her throat, she watched as Dane went completely still as the man’s hand descended on his shaggy head and then after a few tense seconds, Dane, their wild wolfhound who never allowed anyone but Robb and herself to pet him, sat back on his great haunches and further lowered his head into the man’s touch as he scratched behind the wolfhound’s twitching ear.

Even crouching before her and the fierce wolfhound, he was still massive. Sansa looked on in disbelief as Dane purred into the man’s hand.

She found it surreal to hear the low noises he made in the back of his throat as he crooned to the wolfhound that had seemed about to tear at his throat mere moments ago.

As Dane nosed and licked at his long, thick fingers, the man slowly raised his head and looked at her.

“It’s a bit of a gamble, little girl, to use one beast to scare away another.”

“How-what did you-how did you get him to like you?”

“My grandfather was a kennel-master, I grew up with all manner of dogs. They make better companions than their human counterparts most times. I’ve probably cared for dogs since before you were even born, girl.”

The man petted the wolfhound for a few more moments then rising to his feet he insisted on helping her secure Dane again.

Sansa had forgotten how much he towered over her when they stood close. She stumbled back a few steps, flustered to realize how near he was. Dane moved his great shaggy head towards her, nuzzling her low belly before turning back with a furiously wagging tail for more of the giant man’s touch.

Betrayer, Sansa thought with exasperation as she stared at how Dane nuzzled the man’s hand again.

They took Dane back to his kennel and with every step Sansa was uncomfortably aware of the man’s proximity at her back. She watched, part amazed, part resentful how he managed to easily secure Dane in his spacious kennel. Robb had managed to ferret it from their family home before the Feds came to seize everything.

She made sure to check that Dane was indeed secured and then turned around to find him standing close behind her again. Her head reached just to his chest and his scent reached out to her, swirling about her amidst the cramped, tiny backyard with its muddy tufts of grass. He smelled of some masculine cologne but beneath that she could scent the smell of his skin this time without the taint of liquor like she had that night.

“Excuse me, sir,” she mumbled trying to move past him.

He raised his large hands to her arms and she froze, eyes darting everywhere but at the hot, heavy feel of his gaze.

His grip on her however was light, gentle even.

“My name’s Sandor, girl. Sandor Clegane.”

Immediate heat flamed her face. She didn’t want to think of how she’d shared such startling, unexpected intimacy with this stranger, never even knowing his name…

“How did you find out where I lived?”

“Your aunt Lysa. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell her about our…incident.”

Sansa grew even more discomfited as an awkward silence stretched between them. He slowly moved his hands from her arms.

“I’ve made the doctor’s appointment. Don’t look at me like that girl, it’s for your own bluidy good. This won’t take long.” The man, Sandor, gestured back at the old rickety house. “Before you know it, you’ll be back to your pretty mansion.”

Sansa flinched. He could not know how cruel his words sounded to her, for Sansa longed for the family home she’d lost, when father was there, when mother was well, when she had a united family.

The giant man named Sandor, the man she couldn’t get out of her mind since that god-forsaken night, seemed to see the shame and longing on her face, she had never been able to hide what she was feeling, emotions painted bright on her face as Robb always said.

“That was a shitty thing for me to say.”

He rubbed a large hand on his shoulder and Sansa averted her eyes, thinking again of how he had used his powerful body within hers…

“Are you that afraid of doctors, girl? Or is it just me you’re afraid of?”

“I-I can go to the clinic in town. I don’t want to inconvenience you. You don’t need to carry me to your doctor, sir.”

“I told you my name, girl! Or do you just really get off on calling me what a lady of the night would?”

“I’m addressing you, sir, as a polite true lady would. And my name is not girl!”

He smirked down at her. “You think you’re a true little lady, eh? Well, girl, ladies mean something different to me. And they were once innocent little dolls too.”

His grin disappeared. “Matter of fact, it’s polite little ladies like you who get men into trouble. Going about prim and proper but just as hungry as any honest working whore…”

With a cry of indignation, Sansa made to push past him but he was a sturdy wall even more unavoidable than the steel gates she’d left behind in Winterfell. He caught her against his chest which had become an impenetrable barrier.

“Fuck, girl. Sansa. I’m-…” he let out a heavy breath. “I’m bluidy sorry, alright! Fuck, dammit. This isn’t any easier for me. I didn’t plan on this happening. It was a gods-honest mistake! And I’ve got to deal with it. And so must you. I won’t rest until I make sure that I haven’t fucking ruined your life!”

She stilled against him. “You mean you- we- you-I mean to say, you want me to get tested…”

“For fucks sake, I’m bluidy clean. I always make sure of that. We can confirm that as well at the doctor. But I didn’t use any protection with you.” A dark blush coloured his unscarred cheek. “I’m not usually so drunk and usually use further protection. You weren’t on any birth control, were you?”

“N-no.”

He hissed out a sharp breath. “Alright. It’ll be fine, one way or another, I promise you that. The earlier we get you checked out, the better.”

He tilted her chin with long warm fingers so she had to look up at him. “So, you’ll go with me?”

With a sigh of defeat, she numbly nodded her acquiescence.

The back door swung open with a whine, startling them apart.

“SanSan! Are you out back?” It was Old Nan who had finally arrived. She’d probably used her key when Sansa hadn’t answered.

“SanSan?” Sandor inquired with a raised brow.

“It’s her nickname for me,” Sansa murmured, moving hurriedly toward the small, wizened woman who had helped her mother through all the births of her children in Winterfell.

Old Nan had deceptively rheumy eyes that saw much more than people gave her credit for. “And who is this strapping lad?”

Sansa realized that Sandor had followed her to the door. “Um, he’s…an acquaintance.”

Sandor bent to murmur in her ear, “You wound me, little doll.”

She flashed him an irritated look over her shoulder.

“Why, you remind me of those dashing warriors of old, you do, like those great, big men from the far North. Handsome and no doubt as warm as a new winter’s cloak to be sure.”

“You flatter me, miss. Unfortunately, if you got a good look, you’d more like to think of me as a bluidy pile of mangled rags and not some fancy new cloak.”

Sansa stifled the urge to roll her eyes. “You can wait out front, walk around the back. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

“Sansa Sarah Stark! Your mother, bless her ailing heart, would be appalled at your manners!” Old Nan scolded.

“I agree, Nanna,” Sansa replied, using her nickname for her old nurse. “But mother also taught me that ungentlemanly men are not deserving of a lady’s courtesies.”

She abruptly shut the back door in his face and swiftly latched the lock. And had the insane urge to giggle when a deep growl resounded from the other side of the door.

~

[ravensteel]

Interview with Rynov

1. What is your name?

“Rynov Ravensteel”

2. What is your real name?

“Rynov Ravensteel. I hope”

3. Do you know why you were called that?

“I think I’m named after an ancestor of mine. Regardless, men in my family always have R as the first letter of their names”

4. Are you single or taken?

“Taken by work, if that makes sense”

5. Have any abilities or powers?

“The Light is with me and I wield it well enough”

6. Stop being a Mary Sue.

”I’m not Mary, I’m Rynov 7. What’s your eye color?

“Icy Blue.”

8. How about your hair color?

“Black”

9. Have you any family members?

“My parents and...my brother”

10. Oh? What about pets?

“Plenty of ravens, obviously. And a kennel of Alteraci Hounds. They’re all my pets”

11. That’s cool I guess, now tell me about something you don’t like.

���Definitely the Forsaken. And the Blight. And Sylvanas. And the Plague. And Sylvanas”

12. Do you have any hobbies/activities you like doing?

“I enjoy my time spent working in the forges. And fighting in battles. Get to do lots of that nowadays”

13. Ever hurt anyone before?

“Yes. Mentally, Physically. Emotionally. Done it all”

14. Ever… killed anyone before?

"More than I can count. Mostly Orcs and Forsaken. I’ve killed orcs....I’ve put down undead”

15. What kind of animal are you?

“Lion”

16. Name your worst habits.

“I’m pretty oblivious”

17. Do you look up to anyone at all?

"My father”

18. Gay, straight, or bisexual?

"Paladin”

19. Do you go to school?

“Nope. My parents taught me everything I needed to know and if they couldn’t, they found me people who could”

20. Do you ever want to marry and have kids one day?

“Someday”

21. Do you have any fanboys/fangirls?

"Only Lord Winterscar”

22. What are you most afraid of?

"Losing my people. Alterac falling”

23. What do you usually wear?

"Armor. Suits. Depends on where I am”

24. Do you love someone?

“My people”

25. When was the last time you wet yourself?

"With urine? Never”

26. Well, it’s not over yet!

"I can’t tell what that’s supposed to mean”

27. What class are you? (High class, middle class, low class)

"High Class. Being a Lord and all?”

28. How many friends do you have?

"I’d like to think I have a good amount of friends”

29. What are your thoughts on pie?

"Heresy. Doesn’t not deserve to exist. I do enjoy the filling but the crust disgusts me. I spit it out”

30. Favorite drink?

"Water”

31. What’s your favorite place?

“Home”

32. Are you interested in someone?

“King Wrynn. Interested to see what kind of King he will be. I approve so far”

33. What’s your bra cup size and/or how big is your willy?

*EYEBROW WAGGLES*

34. Would you rather swim in the lake or the ocean?

“Lake”

35. What’s your type?

“I seem to have a thing for redheads and gingers”

36. Any fetishes?

“Aren’t those a troll thing?”

37. Seme or uke? Top or Bottom? Dominant or Submissive?

“Animals. I slaughtered them like animals”

38. Camping or indoors?

"Camping when I can. Indoors in the winter”

39. Are you wanting the interview to end?

"Sure”

40. Now it’s over! Tag 3 people I will tag as many as I want.

“Well, that was certainly interesting”

Tagged by: @dardillien-ward 

Tagging: @northrendremembers @gaz-gnarledmane @redeemed-gunslinger @feathersandfoxtails @safrona-shadowsun

[alyssa-ward]

Privacy

Alyssa pauses in front of her door in the hallway of the Blue Recluse.  It’s been two weeks now since she rented the room, not a long term solution, ultimately she’ll need real lodging.  Until then though, it’s becoming a bit more home than she planned.  A quick glance up and down the hallway, ensuring that no one else is about, before carefully squeezing through the door, locking it behind herself, and turning to survey her room.

In a very short time, it has become very very Alyssa.  That’s a bit of a risk really, in a rented room.  She’s already asked the staff to stay out of it, to avoid cleaning it, she’ll deal with all of those things.  There’s a bed of course, and a chest of drawers.  A rod hanging in one corner from which hang her library of fine dresses.  A writing desk piled high already with books, a mix of her own, and ones found at shops of various repute here in the city.

She casts hands into the air, whispering words as she enters the room, her eyes going green, palms flickering with washes of felfire as she conjures, bringing her protectors, her servants, into this plane of existence.  A faint smouldering smell in the room as rings of green light on the floor in predrawn sigils done in chalk on the wood grain.  One by one her imps come to her, each of the six circles drawn on the floor bringing another.  Her other demons she doesn’t need at the moment.

“Val, how’s the ring coming?”  She kneels down to inspect one of the imps, and it holds up a slim silver band with a diamond, neatly and carefully cut in the setting.  “Here, give it here.”  Alyssa holds out her hand impatiently and the imp sets the piece of jewelry in her palm.  A nudge of glasses, pulling them loose form her hair to settle on her nose again and she carefully inspects the ring up close, going over it for any sort of flaw.

“Good enough Val, you’re dismissed.”  A wave of her hand, and the imp with a squeal of frustration is cast back into the Twisting Nether.  The process repeats, going between her minions, checking over their work, seeing what they’ve made for her.  It’s not that she’s not really a jeweler, she is, she makes her own pieces.  It’s just, when one has extra help and limited time, it makes sense to put to use those who can.  She hardly needs their protection or firepower here in Stormwind.  Much though people warn her about parts of town, it’s no match for scrapping with the Forsaken day in and out at the border of Gilneas’ ruins.

She steps over to the window, pushing open the shutters, letting fresh air into the room, and the scent brought on from the summoning of her pets cast out, before moving to seat herself at the desk.  A long wooden box sits there, nearly the length of the desk itself, half buried beneath books.  They’re quickly pushed away, and she carefully opens the box, revealing a soft velvet lining inside, and in a neat row, small faintly glowing purple jewels.  Each of them has a small label below it, and she reaches to pluck one from the box, one labeled:

Ferdinand Mayers; Forsaken; Silverpine Forest; April 5

A flashback.  Alyssa stands over a crumpled figure, all bones and odd angles.  Her hair blowing back from the force of the magic in her hands before her.  A chain of sickly green running from her palms to the Forsaken creature’s chest.  At either side of the young redheaded woman, her two fel hounds sit, one gnawing away at a femur pulled from the man’s body.  The other nuzzling against her leg.  “Tell me your name.”

“No please, I don’t want to tell you anything, just finish it,” pale and drawn skin, bones sticking through, the scent of death, it’s hard to even remember he was ever human.  Alyssa doesn’t try.

“Tell me your name and this will end, I’ll let you live, you can be worth something.”  The Gilnean’s voice comes sharply.

The man looks confused, his face twisted in agony, finally he relents, “Ferdinand.  Ferdinand Mayers.”  He gasps out.  He starts to say more, but there’s nothing left.  A sharp twist of Alyssa’s hands, she jerks them together, ripping his soul free from his body.  The green energy wrangles what’s left of his essence, and drags it down between her palms, pressed together before coming out as a small purple jewel. 

“Good boys, let’s go home.”  She pats one of the Fel hounds before turning to stride back into the woods, back towards Hillsbrad and her cabin, the two red skinned creatures of razor and fire padding along at her side.

Alyssa closes the wooden box, holding Ferdinand’s soul gem up to the light, studying it through her glasses.  “Right then Mister Mayers.  Let’s see if we can’t make you worth something.”  She gently taps the surface of the gem, seeing the glow in it shift and twist.  “Kept my word, at least.”

[halcyon-wra-blog]

Operation: Endgame

“Alright boys.. this is it.” Volran's voice crackled through the comms, barely audible over the choppy waves and clanking, metallic gears of their transports. “We all know our orders. If we fail here today, our Crusade won't live long enough to regret it. Stick to the plan, follow your Captain's' orders, and you just might make it out of this alive. Teach these Forsaken a lesson they won't forget, Halcyon, and may the Light be with you.” With that, the comm clicked off.. and they were on their own, waiting in their bulky, armored, gnomish transport ships for landfall. With every churning wave, the ship “jumped,” its gears and cogs whirring and whining to compensate, water lapping over the lip of the vessel's raised metal flanks, sloshing down into the crew pit below. It was an uncomfortable, compact mess, with soldiers packed like sardines rather than warriors.. but perhaps that was the point. After all, their transport was just one of two dozen, and-

“-KA-BOOM!-”

A cannon shot rang out from behind them. Just one of the few several hundred – no, thousand? - they'd heard that day from their fleet, hammering into the towering walls of the Forsaken coastal fortifications, providing cover, both in the form of large smoke clouds and heavy shelling, for the transports to head inland.

At least, that was the hope. Before they'd even escaped the shadow of the Halcyon's fleet, the cannon fire had been matched with a second thunderous cry: The Forsaken's artillery. The Undead had more than just the small blight “grenades” they'd used on the Kingfish. They had cannonballs fit to bursting with blight, and for every shell the Halcyon threw at their sea wall, they fired two towards the transports. Some of them tried to escape, but they only succeeded in drowning themselves with their heavy armor. By the time they neared the beach, their two dozen transports had been trimmed down to a light seventeen.

Their transports jerked, bucked, and stopped at the shore. Outside their sardine cans, the guttural, vitriolic spat of Gutterspeak roared over the din of cannon fire. The Forsaken were preparing themselves. Horses whinnied, dogs barked and snapped.. and then.. silence. A sickly, still silence that seemed to go on for an eternity. This, perhaps, was what some might call “The Soldier's Minute,” where time all but stops and coalesces at once in one euphoric cacophony. Their last minute sane; whole; alive. After their loading ramp opened.. there was nothing but death.

The craft's pilot stood up, toying with his communicator, “T-Minus, five..” he counted, “Four… Three.. two.. one.” With the tug of a lever, their door janked, clanked, groaned, and released itself from its holdings. It flew down into the beach below, clouds of sand rising high into the air, revealing the absolute nightmare that awaited them: A battle line of Forsaken Dread Guards, dressed in royal red, replete with plague hounds and warhorses, ready to meet the invaders head on. Scores of barbed wire and entrenched pikes stabbed towards the transports, and short, quick fix defensive walls loomed near the back.

Their pilot turned towards them, gesticulating wildly towards the open bay ramp, “Go! Go! G-!” An arrow, shot from an archer behind the walls, landed squarely in the pilot's neck, his breath catching in his throat, blood already staining his white armor. He staggered, slumped, spasmed, and fell dead on their transport's floor. But there was no time for sentimentality. Already, the battle cries from the other transports rose like a hymn, the sounds of boots, paws, hooves and wings rising to meet the song of cannon shot. To either side of this concerted Hellhole, the battlements and towers of the Forsaken's sea wall rose high along the craggy Hillsbrad cliffs, the plague cannons still firing relentlessly at the fleet, just off the coast.

Arrows went wide, pinging far into the hillside as Forsaken were bashed in their fetid heads by Holy Hammers. Undead gurgled and fell into the sand as magic blasted through them, rotten gore and decayed ichor splattering across the beach. As their guts and entrails smattered the beach, Forsaken sinew turned into catalysts for explosions that rocked the entire seaboard, sand flying in chunks in every direction. An overzealous Crusader stepped forwards, and at a moment's notice, his armored form was nothing but paste, at least five of his fellows joining him in the afterlife.

A shrill cry rang out over the hills. Then came a snapping, a howling, and from behind the Forsaken line a horde of rancid plague hounds sprang out, skittering and pawing their way through the barbed fences, arrow shot and mines. They scampered, mouths slavering hungrily, and descended upon the Halcyon like a wave. They bit with cruel intent, their teeth lined with bile and etched with blight. They bit, ripped and tore, eliciting pleading screams and terrified cries from the more unlucky Crusaders.

The Forsaken assault was relentless. Wave after wave of hounds lashed out from behind the wall, the mounted dread guards all too content to wait the conflict out and let the living exhaust themselves on their pets. Overhead, the Forsaken engineers kept dutifully loading their cannons with blight bombs, their shots thundering out into the evening sky. Yet, the plague hounds were overzealous in their work, and they had accidentally triggered at least a quarter of the Forsaken mines in their charge.

The hills were covered in Undead flying and rolling down it in droves, tumbling down to the base in craggy heaps. At the top, two death guards holding tight to plaguehound leashes, were there to greet them. The dogs snapped, barked, and finally, the death guards simply let them fly. They bore down on the Halcyon, jumping and chomping at plate like it was aluminum foil. They thrashed, their necks jerking side to side, wrestling like they were in a death spiral.

Just as the Forsaken charged, a giant ball of Light flew headlong at their cannon. It shot through the air with a burning light, hissing, fizzing, sparking like a Fourth of July firework. It screeched headlong into the cannon, hitting it square with a thunderous "BOOM!" that rivaled any of their ship's cannon shots. The metal apparatus bent, groaned, and sloughed off the battlements, tumbling in a giant pile into the choppy seas below. The death guards were blown far and away, screaming as they were rocketed into the aether.

A cannon lost, the Forsaken rallied, their plague hounds retreated at their masters' whistles, scampering back behind the defensive walls. The mounted Death Guards took up their positions, blades drawn, shields ready for a charge.. and another ear piercing screech rang out across the hills, the very air taking on an icy mist, the Halcyon Crusaders' breath going cold.

The line of royal deathguards tightened, forming an inhuman wall in front of the archer line as the Halcyon's ragged line of crusaders charged towards them. Arrows nocked, bow strings drew back, "Ready!" A high, silky voice called over the din. It wasn't gutterspeak. Thalassian? "Aim!" A pause, waiting until their prey had run -right- into their line of fire. There was a glint of red, furious eyes, shrouded by a black hood. A dark ranger! "LOOSE!" With a twang, a snap, a clap, a volley of tight-knit, white feathered arrows sprang towards the oncoming charge.

"READY!" The voice called again, only to be drowned out by the clash of steel on steel. The battle had been joined, just in front of their line. The royal red of the dead guards' cloaks rising like a tide to meet the white of the Halcyon, sword against sword, axe against axe. The hounds converged, sensing weakened prey.

The death guards on top of the hill stepped forward to meet a crew of soldiers, their blades drawn.. and quickly lost to the ground as their heads fell from their shoulders from the onslaught of Halcyon soldiers. The engineers about the cannon gave each other terrified looks, and without a second thought, both rose their hands up in surrender. The cannon was silent.

"BANG!" "BANG!" "BANG!" "CLANG!" The cannon snapped, groaned, cracked and bent under a soldier’s merciless assault. By the time he was done with it, it indeed looked more like a smouldering, singed soda can than anything that could ever have been used for artillery. "Whoever did that is getting a damn -MEDAL,-" Volran's labored voice crackled over the comms, resisting the urge to let out a cheering laugh. "Excellent work, boys! -Excellent!- Reinforcements are coming in hot. I repeat: reinforcements are coming in!" And almost on cue, should any of the Halcyon look behind them, they might spy the armada of skiffs departing the motherships, trundling through the ocean towards their landing site.

A shrill scream rang out across the hills, crackling directly into the Halcyon's ears. The comm abruptly went silent, and from beyond a far hill, on some other beach along the coastline, the terrified, roaring screams of an entire regiment of the Halcyon's best and brightest rising to meet the screech. The chilly mist around the valley grew. The shrill, shuddering cry over the hills reached a crescendo, a trio of ghastly, flying revanents rounded on them. They were robed all in black, tattered robes, each clutching a scythe in hand. They swooped low, their mangled, scarecrow-esque faces contorting into wide, hungry maws as they sighted their next targets.

The death guards staggered, their lines breaking. They folded inwards, the onslaught of the Halcyon and their reinforcements all too much for them to bear. They fell in droves, regal armor clattering in dusty heaps in the sand. Archers shrieked, their arrows flying in disorganized waves as undead monstrosities ate their fill of rotten flesh. It was a slaughter, and a slaughter the Halcyon were winning.

From the pits of her fallen comrades, the dark ranger leapt up, her bowstring snapping in rapidfire patterns, neat, feathered pinpricks embedding themselves in the foreheads of those unsuspecting. She landed with a roll, interjecting herself into the sea of Crusaders, her bow discarded in lieu of two sharp cutlasses. They sang a siren's song, snapping side to side, slicing, chopping, cutting through the thinly-chained necks of crusaders before they could even reckon what had come. And not only that, but those three monstrous revenants were bearing down on them from behind.

With one voice, they let out an ear piercing roar, burning, icy breath blasting from their gaping maws, coating the back lines of the Halcyon's forces. Soldiers froze solid where they stood, looking more like popsicles than soldiers. The revenants were merciless, their shrill, freezing cries rattling across the valley, turning sand to crystalline silica, bodies into frigid cadavers, and soldiers into statues. One by one, the Dark Ranger followed up on each of their conquests, her cutlasses slicing clean through frozen flesh, coagulated blood oozing from every cut. Wait.. how was she not freezing? There, around her neck! A bright, orange glowing orb clanged against her leather armor, bouncing free from her cloak with every pirouette, every twist.

Finally, their freezing breath over with, the revenants descended to flank the Ranger, their scythes in hand, dead, empty eyes staring at their handiwork. With one body, one mind, they marched forwards, hands gripping about their scythes. Scythes rose and fell, chopping through the remaining cadre of Crusaders, harvesting them like wheat. The revenant on the left made its slow, careful march forwards. Its scythe raised, and with one cruel, downward swing, it acted to snuff the faint heartbeat out of those in his wake permanently.

The center revenant stepped forwards, spindly, boney fingers wrapped about its scythe, and trudged forwards. Unlike its brethren, it made no move to slice her or cleave. Instead, its ghastly, haunted maw opened wide, wider than any jaw would allow, and the beginnings of a concerted gust of frost coiled about its charred and cracked lips.

The revenant on the right turned, marching forwards with its brothers, dead eyes locked forward. It descended, scythe raising.. and then, from the inside out, its icy exterior went golden. Its eyes flashed, mouth agape as it let out a low, shuddering vibrato roar that rose up to a tenor, then a falsetto, until the creature practically -POPPED- from a Light overload cast by one of the Halcyon’s Knight-Captains.

The ranger yowled, recoiling away from the pain of the Light inflicted by the Halcyon’s Paladins. She scampered away, rolling her shoulder, shaking the pain off. Her red eyes flicked from the Halcyon to the revenants, then back again. "I let you get away once, pigs. I'm not about to make the same mistake twice." She dashed away, her light footfalls padding against the sand.. only to feel the flat end of a blade slap against her ankles.

Her arms threw out in front of her, her entire body sailing forwards with an 'Uhnf!' of effort, and she landed face first in the blood soaked sand, staggering, trying to regain her balance. She rolled hurriedly up onto her back, red eyes blazing furiously at the offending paladin and runic knight. With a snarl that showed teeth, she leapt up to her feet, drawing her swords once more, spinning, pirouetting, one slicing toward the rune-knight, another towards the Paladin.

"When will you humans LEARN?" She snarled, her legs kicking out, attempting to bash against plate, "This is our home, not yours! NEVER yours!"

The revenant on the right was violently shunted, sending the gigantic beast staggering to the left. They stumbled, colliding with one another, their frozen breath cracking against one another, snap-freezing them together. They were trapped. They couldn't move! They..! ACORN! In unison their heads looked up, and saw the small, teensy tiny little thing fall between them. Within the span of two seconds, the haunting creatures had been replaced by a giant oaken tree, their wizened, craggy faces jutting out from the bark, their scythes sticking out at odd angles.

The ranger let out a huffing a breath as soldiers charged into her, sending her sprawling onto the ground.. and then again, just as she'd tried to regain her composure, another came to knock her down. Swords went flying in either direction, arms going wide to either side, her body "puff"ing into the soft sand beneath her. Swords, bird pecks, punches, nails.. it was all she could do to bring up her arms to try and ward off the blows.

She felt a sword descend upon her neck, driving clean through her pendant.. and straight into her heart. Then slowly, almost peacefully, her arms fell to her side, no longer even deigning to resist. Instead, her red eyes gazed peacefully up at the paladin, druid, crusader and she smiled.

"We.. will.. never.. surrender," she blurbed, congealed, black blood oozing from her lips. "We will fight you.. wherever is needed. We will.. kill you.. we will.. never.. give up.. our homes.." Gingerly, sickly, her left hand reached to the pendant, which began to crack and splinter around the sword, glowing a bright, rich amber color.

"Glory to the Forsaken.. Glory.. to.. Sylvanas.." Her eyes widened with manic glee, and the pendant began to let out a soft chiming. The light growing more and more intense, the noise ringing in their ears. "We will.. never.. be.. slaves-" The pendant blasted the ranger to smithereens, and, hopefully for her, might just take some of them with her. Yet, the Halcyon prevailed. They had won. They now had their foothold in Hillsbrad, and it was only a matter of time before they expanded further inland.

[darionrennard]

Darion Rennard

Basics

NAME: Darion Rennard

AGE: 32

BIRTHDAY: August 5th

RACE: Afflicted Gilnean

GENDER: Male

MARITAL STATUS:  Single

Physical Appearance

HAIR: Raven Black

EYES:  Dark green/human, Glowing green/worgen. 

HEIGHT: 6'2″ 

BUILD: Wiry, thin. 

DISTINGUISHING MARKS: Fel runes and markings along his chest and arms.

COMMON ACCESSORIES: Signet ring of a hound surrounded by green flame. 

FACIAL LIKENESS: Pete Steele

Personal

PROFESSION: Former spell weaver. Now undertermined. 

HOBBIES: Likes to read and expand his library. 

LANGUAGES: Common, demonic. 

RESIDENCE: Duskwood (Exact location undisclosed.) 

BIRTHPLACE: A well kept manor near Stormglen Village.

RELIGION: None

PATRON DEITY: None

FEARS:  Very little, all was already taken from him by the forsaken and the feral worgen on that fateful night. 

Relationships

SPOUSE: None

Children: None

PARENTS: Lord Aleister Rennard, and Lady Kimberly Rennard. (Deceased) 

SIBLINGS: None. 

OTHER RELATIVES: Dead

ACQUAINTANCES/FRIENDS: Mirantia, Lady Anelise Holt. 

PETS: None. 

Traits

•extroverted / introverted / in between

.•disorganized / organized / in between.

•close-minded / open minded / in between

•calm / anxious / in between.

•disagreeable / agreeable / in between

•cautious / reckless / in between

•patient/ impatient / in between.

•outspoken / reserved / in between.

•leader / follower / in between.

•empathetic / unempathic / in between

* optimistic / pessimistic / in between.

•traditional / modern / in between

•hard-working / lazy / in between.

•cultured / un-cultured / in between.

* loyal / disloyal / unknown / in between.

* faithful / unfaithful / unknown / in between

Additional Information

SMOKING HABIT:  never /sometimes / frequently / to excess.

DRUGS: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

ALCOHOL: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

[thecastcompany]

The Writing Prompt given to the Cast Company was....

What was your childhood like? What was Azeroth or your Planet like when you were a child? Share a nice childhood story with us.

Here is the stories of: Lora, Rak'kaba, Zaneryne, Vida, Selth, Sam, Lyla and Maddi

Lora reaches up to adjust the dark red hat on her head, "Vol'dun wasn't great, but I had big sister there! At least...when I was little I did. A story?" She pulls down on her hat, almost covering her whole head with the brim. "Well, there was this one time our caravan stopped near some ruined building or something. The adults said we were gonna stop there for a few day and asked Nika and me to go find supplies and food and stuff! So Nika had a great idea to go explore all the buildings! Of course I wanted to follow my big sister on a big adventure! So we set out and started digging around the rocks and stuff." She seems to lean forward a bit as the memory of the story makes her more and more excited.

"Anyway, I didn't really find much but Nika found this, like, door or something. Me being much smaller, I could fit into the crack in the door, so Nika stood watch while I climbed through! When I got inside, there were these stairs that led underground so I followed them. When I got to the bottom, it was...amazing! All kinds of crazy paintings and broken pottery and stuff! I never found out what anything in there meant but there were these holes in the ceiling that shined light on all the walls and stuff!" Her tail begins to move erratically behind her as she continues to describe the walls in exhausting detail.

"Anyway, we didn't find anything useful, but I think Nika just didn't tell anyone what I had found and just said the place was empty. Maybe someday I can try to find that spot.." Her voice trails off as she starts talking in her native tongue about who knows what for a while...

click, click, click A singular, weathered talon taps against a table. It fills the silence, but leaves the interviewer wondering if they are speaking to a Mercenary. . .or a Bird of Prey. The bird in question hums, the talon finally pulling away from the table. "Hrm. Childhood? I do quite like talking about myself.  I will enlighten you on how I became a Solar Priest. Hrah! No questions, only listen." Rak'kaba begins to pace the room, making wild hand gestures as they speak. "As a hatchling, our Elders decide our fates. However, we can also decide ourselves. So I did whatever was necessary. Like tossing the flightless ones over the Spires." It's hard to tell what sort of emotions are expressed with the bird, but one thing is for sure - they think it's hilarious. "As a hatchling I excelled in the arts of Solar energy, I can make Night into Day with just myself and a particular ritual. Hrm, yes, I suppose I learned it to throw off the competition mainly. The Elders were impressed by my talents at such a young age. Hrm, you are impressed by my talents, correct? You should be. I am very important." The Arakkoa continues to speak for quite literally hours on end about themselves, making sure the interviewer understands just how important they are and not so much about the home they were exiled from.

Zaneryne smiles slightly to this question, "Well as all noble children of the Sun our lives were filled with schedules, schedules and more schedules....sure I grew up with a silver-spoon in my mouth, and had a lot of stuff to do, like school, mage training, this or that, but it was still a good life. I don't really know what the rest of Azeroth was like, I just knew what Quel'thalas was like. It was a golden palace of silver and golds and the finest of stones, everyday felt like a fairy tale and that you were the Princess of the city...but my most cherish childhood memory was.....a picnic we went too....it was my mom, me, my sister Zainstra and our father, we all day sat in the sun and ate cakes and sandwiches and chased geese and had some chase us back, and it was not until night when we made a fire and my parents told us the story of how they met and fell in love and had smores together, and my father was so particular about not having chocolate of anything smudge his face cause appearance was EVERYTHING!" flutters her eyes before rolling them.

She giggles a little, "He had the smallest smudge of chocolate here..." taps the left corner of her mouth, "my mother pointed it out by kissing it and saying he tasted sweet, he quickly went to wipe it away and this started a huge food fight, my mother smearing her smore into his face, and then me joining in, Zainstra at first was a little afraid to join in, but the tickle monster, aka my mother dragged her in and smear chocolate on her and we left the park looking a mess."

From Vida:

"Alright strap in, this is a story from like 20 years ago!" She said as she sighed nostagically. "So before I got into modeling and all that mess, I had a talent for tinkerin!  I mean at the time I could build a whole bunch of fun things!  I build a dancin robot, a music box, and explosive!"  She said as she laughed "the noise and sight were fun to watch!"  She said as she got comfortable in her seat.

"So at the time my old man and my ma lived in Dun Morogh.  My dad had this job he had hated working for this gnomes corporation.....I mean yeah he made a lot of money, but he had zero fun doing his job!" She said passionately.

"My ma didn't care about his happiness cause she was out spendin his money!  Man I wish she would die already!!!!" She said as she snapped before calling down.  "Anyways!"  She said happily

"So my dad took me to work for bring ya kid to work day and showed me some of the stuff they were workin on, and thats when I saw it!"  She said with excitement. "In my dads bosses office they showed a device powered on pure mana!  The goal of it was to help mages power interdimensional portals or somethin...who cares!" She said as she leaned closer.  "So when no one was lookin I decided to sneak back in and well....ya know play around with it!

"My daddys boss had a whole lot of cool things to tinker with, So I started really goin to town!" She said as she raised her goggles up " and after a hour later, my greatest creation was active!"  She said proudly.

"Daddy and everyone were lookin for me but when they found me my daddys boss flipped out!"  She laughed "like he saw what I made and panicked calling all law enforcement and nearly evacuatin the city we were living in!"  She said as she busted out laughing "apparently I made a dirty mana bomb that was SUPER unstable!" She said as she fell out of her chair from laughing "can you imagin it!?  Me making a dirty mana bomb!?  Man I was a stupid kid!  If I were more mature it wouldn't  had been dirty!" She said as she still laughed as she got back up.

"Anyway, they were able to defuse and everythin, dad was proud of me, ma was pissed and my dad lost his job.....oh as we were banned from ever enterin that city again!"  She said as she snickered

"Whats funny is that a shit ton of years later no one would be able to enter that city!  I mean I may have almost blew up gnomergan, but atleast I didn't irradiated the hell out of it!" She laughed

Selth

The forsaken man smiles as he pets his rather massive stitched abomination hound. "Ah, Lordearon, used to be so nice back then, less volitale plague, more green and normal mind you." The man tosses the hound a snack of a leg that still looks a big bloody, it appears to be an entire bear's hindleg. "I grew up on a farm, I spent many days helping gather crops, herding sheep, occasionally riding with my father to sell at the market, truly it was a better time."

The forsaken man smiles at his hound a moment, patting the head of the beast laying next to him chewing on the bone of the leg. "It was around my fourteenth birthday my father gave me Cerberon, an early birthday present, I loved him as much as I still do! He was always just an adventurous pup, and grew into a very strong dog, why he once helped me move a small tree that had fallen in the road on the way to the market." He frowns a moment as the next distinct memory comes to mind. "Then the scourge came..." he snaps out of it. "Apologies, a story best saved for another time I think."

Sam

Sam growls, getting in the interviewers face, baring his night elven fangs, "Drop it..." Sam storms out of the room leaving a young night elven woman behind looking apologetic. Lorianda Moonfury sighs, "I am sorry about my father's reaction. His childhood is a very sore subject, one he rarely even confides to me about." The young woman smiles, "Still, he is a wonderful father, he took me in after my family was killed by the Scourge and gave me a wonderful childhood."

Lori smiles fondly, "I remember one year around this time, though he was still stuck in his cat form he put on a beard and red suit and played Greatfather Winter for me. I believe it was the year after he adopted me and I was still suffering from the heartache of losing my family. He did everything in his power to make me smile and laugh, the man he is right now I don't recognize. I still see flashes of that wonderful father, but they are buried behind whatever mask he is wearing right now. Please do not think badly of him."

Lyla

Lyla sat back and sighed “Honestly most of our childhood was amazing. Full of love, and compassion, and family. My brothers were always picking on me, always. I sort of grew used to it and now that all of them but Teav have sort of given up I miss them picking on me. It was full of laughter and pouting. We did tons of farm work, and learned what working hard meant. We were responsible for the animals and crops but I learned the value of hard work.

I think one of my favorite moments include all the pranks we would play on each other. I gave Teav a box of crickets for Winter’s Veil. He squealed like a little girl. We were all laughing, my mom was in tears. That was also the year we got our horses. Teav and I were given really rare twin horses. The last gift from my mom before she died. I miss Westfall and the way things were, now I just hope to be able to give these two a life as grand as mine. She places her hand on her belly and smiles

Maddi

Maddi smiled “My childhood itself was … entitled. I was an only child, my mother died so my dad made sure I had the world. I had the best dresses, the best teachings, the best training and tutors. My father raised me towards the light, I would say the teachings were more like brainwashing, but it didn’t work. All I wanted to do was fight” She laughed “I would spar with the soldiers at night because they gave me everything I wanted. Even sweets. I was on a strict diet, and schedule. I  had amazing holidays and birthdays and literally got everything I wanted...I remember once I sat down with my dad and he asked what I wanted for my birthday, I told him a sword like his. He refused, so he got me my horse. And I fell in love with him, he was my only friend most of my life. I learned to do handstands on him and everything. He’s getting old now, but I love him. When I went back home after everything, he was still there being loyal. He was injured from many years before and his leg didn’t heal right but we rehabbed him and he only has a small limp now.

[empresstress13]

OC Questions!!!

I was tagged by @dragynfox the wonderful! 

I’ve only talk a very little about any of my OC characters on here because I’m shy about them. The few mentions have been from Dragon Age and since that’s my current obsession it’s what will be appearing here as well! I kind of winged this - sorry if it seems disjointed!  

I’ll go ahead and start at the beginning with 2 of my wardens: Surana and Tabris - both originally inseparable troublemakers of the Denerim Alienage! Surana is my “canon” HoF . . . but I head-canon that Tabris manages to somehow survive everything and they manage to reunite in Denerim.

1. What is your name?

BT: *smiling sweetly* Beatrix Tabris! Bea to my friends and Death to my enemies, think 'bout which category you’d prefer to be in.  

NS: *does not look up from a large tome she’s reading*

2. No seriously, what is your name?

BT: *poking Surana*. . . . Nara. . . . NARA! 

NS: *still not looking up* What, Bea? 

BT: *rolls her eyes, before responding in a sing-song voice* civilized people introduce themselves! 

NS:*turning a page* well, since we’re just a dangerous elvhen mage and an impudent alienage thief then there is no point! 

BT:*snatches the tome before dancing out of NS’s reach* ah-ah-ah~! Be a dear and introduce yourself to our lovely new friends, won’t you?

NS: *raising a brow* well, if my lady of shadows insists! I am Nehnara. Nehnara Surana. *sends a minor shock at Beatrix, who gasps and drops the tome which Nehnara promptly picks up*

BT: Andraste’s flammable ass! Shite, that stings, you friggin’ piss-bucket! 

3. Do you know why you were called that?

NS: Presumably my parents were partial to the name. 

BT: *rubbing her side* since she sucks the joy out of things, her da thought they’d at least put some joy in her name . . . hmmmm, Nehn?

NS: My, my, my! Someone’s picked up some knowledge!

BT: See! Even outside of your fancy-pants circle we sometimes learn things! 

NS: *actually smiling* well . . .you were always a quick study. 

4. Are you single or taken?

BT: *with an innocent expression* Taken? Taken where?

NS: *snorts* Don’t be falsely obtuse. It doesn’t suit you; they would like to know about you and your chantry sister.

BT: You’re the one who introduced us! Besides, wouldn’t you rather speak of your pretty, witty crow?

NS: *smiles coyly* Are you asking for details?

BT: Admit it: you have a soft spot for us sneaky types!

NS: ...Perhaps. 

5. Do you have any abilities or powers?

NS: *cocks head* one could say so. . . . 

BT: HAH! And false Modesty doesn’t suit you! Prodigy of Kinloch Hold! Mage of the Circle! Hero of Ferelden! Commander of the Grey! Arlessa of Amarathi-

NS: That last one has nothing to do with abilities or power-

BT: Now you’re bein’ dull, sparky-fingers, political power totally-

NS: AND FURTHERMORE, considering the average Circle mage I very much doubt that’s much of a title to take pride i-

BT: Aaaaand now we see why false modesty doesn’t suit you, besides all that magic stuff seems plenty powerful to us normal folk. 

NS: “Us normal folk” from the Shadow of Denerim? Spymaster of Amarathine? The Dancing Blade? Slayer of evil shem lordlings who were never taught to keep their hands to themselves? 

6. Stop being a Mary Sue.

BT: Mary what now? 

NS: . . . ? These questions are going from slightly annoying and inconvenient to downright inane. 

7. What is your eye color?

NS: . . . . absolutely INANE. 

BT: *flutters eyelashes* will you write me sonnets to my . . .what is the phrase? Cerulean orbs? 

8. How about your hair color?

NS: *sighs* My eyes are hazel. My hair is auburn. 

BT: She’s a ginger alright!

NS: AUBURN. 

BT: *winks* I’m a brunette. 

9. Have you any family members?

NS: . . . . inane and personal I see. 

BT: *gently placing a hand on Nehnara’s shoulder* It’s not uncommon to lose relatives to bigotry and harsh conditions . . . I’m lucky enough to still have my da and cousins . . . but we’ve all lost someone. 

NS: *glaring* Those who were mine just also happen to all be dead. That enough for you? Move on. 

10. I see… what about pets?

BT: C’mere girl!

NS: *whistles* Phaelan! 

*Two mabari war-hounds and several puppies come bounding towards the interviewer. . .I’d brace myself if I were you.*

NS: My hound imprinted on me during the Blight. Named Phaelan . . .aft. . .after my father. 

BT: *pulling Nehnara into cuddles with the mabari* And this is Blossom; Nara introduced me to her! As well as their pups: Linmi, Tulip, and Duncan!  

11. Tell me about something you don’t like.

NS: *deadpans* Inane questions. And those who ask them.

BT: *her smile suddenly turning sharp* Entitled little pricks. That sort usually finds they have very little good coming to ‘em. *smile returning to normal* Nara also dislikes onions and hot weather! 

NS: I do better with heat than I use to . . . I seem to recall that you dislike tomato juice. Not tomatoes, just the juice.

BT: ‘Cuz it’s gross! 

12. Do you have any hobbies/activities you like doing?

BT: I really enjoy music! Leliana has been teaching me how to play the lute! Oh! And since I’ve left Denerim I’ve taken to collecting and pressing flowers! 

NS: Actually, luckily enough, I do in fact enjoy the study of magic-

BT: And of history, and languages, and science, and politics, an-

NS: Yes, thank you for that insightful clarification. I’ve also been working with Bea on picking up by old slight of hand and lockpicking skills . . . 

BT: And then laughing as your lover fails to pick locks you could open with ease!

13. Ever hurt someone before?

*both start laughing*

14. Ever… killed anyone before?

BT: *still giggling* w. . wait. . . are you seriously asking that?

NS: *smirking and shaking her head* I’m the Warden Commander of Ferelden, and she’s my spymaster in Amarathine. . . what do you think? 

15. What kind of animal are you?

BT: *laughter cuts off abruptly* . . . beggin’ yer pardon; wot? 

NS: *snorts* The dangerous kind.

16. Name one of your worst habits.

BT: She has a tendency to be rude and grouchy. Also, she’s a slob. And she forget’s to eat or sleep! Swear I’m more of a caretaker than a spymaster! 

NS: She’s an obnoxious busybody. Probably why she makes such a good spymaster AND caretaker. Guess I’ll keep her around. 

17. Do you look up to anyone at all?

BT: *points at Nehnara*

NS: *smacks her hand away* Stop that! . . . I suppose we’ve both done relatively well for ourselves besides everything this Maker forsaken world has thrown at us. 

BT: Honestly - and I think we’d both say this - we’ve been lucky enough to have been raised by pretty fantastic people. They had their flaws, but, without them we wouldn’t be who we are today. All respect to Cyrion, Adaia, Misyl, and Phaelan! 

NS: . . . well said. 

18. Sexual orientation?

BT: *winks* All are welcome! . . . well were welcome - rather not piss off Leli! 

NS: Why are you so interested in absolutely ridiculous trivia? I’m more interested in the person’s character than what’s between their legs. 

BT: Yeah, but you seem pretty attached to what’s between Zevran’s-

NS: Indeed. 

19. Do you go to school?

NS: . . . I was educated in Kinloch Hold, if that’s what you mean. Though I gained more knowledge from personal study in the libraries than from my teachers. . . . though to be fair there were several competent instructors.

BT: My mum taught me before she was killed. 

20. Do you ever want to marry and have kids someday?

BT: ooooh! Maybe Leli and I can take in some of the orphans in Amaranthine! Get a big ol’ house, piss-off the shem neighbors-

NS: Your lover is in fact Human as well.

BT: -get a few more dogs and nugs-

NS: The dogs will eat Leliana’s nugs. 

BT: - train them up a bit -

NS: Are you speaking of the dogs, the nugs, or the children?

BT: Be one, big, cozy family! Well loved and protected! 

NS: *snorts* It sounds rather noisy and messy. Terrifying. 

21. What are you most afraid of?

NS: The child, dog, and nug infested house that Bea is apparently planning on inhabiting. 

BT: You faced demons and darkspawn and all manner of nastiness, and you’re telling me your afraid of a lil’ noise and mess? 

NS: From children or animals that you raise? Yes. 

22. What do you usually wear?

BT: Well, I do like a lil’ bit of pretty or shiny here and there, but overall I dress for practicality. Mistress Fancy-mage over here is the one who has a penchant for dressin’ up! 

NS: I do like fine things. I admit it. 

23. Do you love someone?

NS: . . . Did we not already cover this question? I suppose it is possible to be in a relationship without love, but I do in fact care quite deeply for Zevran. It may have taken awhile to sort things between us, but there you are. 

BT: I think you’re gettin’ better at this speakin’ on emotions thing.

NS: Shut it.

BT: I love my Leli very much! *side-hugs Nehnara* and I love this grump like the sister I never had! 

NS: *blushes* ugh. Yes, yes, I care for you too.

BT: Me, her, and Shianni use to create all sorts of mischief! Drove Soris right up the wall!

24. What class are you?

NS: . . . class? As in . . . what sort of mage I am? I’ll admit I’ve dabbled in different fields quite a bit, but I’m particularly skilled at Spirit and Entropy. I’ve also studied the ancient skills of an Arcane Warrior. 

BT: And she can turn into a spider! 

NS: *sighs* Yes. I also picked up some shape-shifting my Morrigan. 

BT: I never did get to really meet that bird. . . heh, bird. Leli’s been trying to teach me some bard skills!

25. How many friends do you have?

BT: Surprisingly lots! Nara tries to be anti-social, but somehow she just attracts them like flies! Guess what they say about vinegar and honey just ain’t true. 

NS: . . . I think you’re definition of “friend” may be off. Someone who you are acquainted with who hasn’t yet tried to kill you is not automatically a “friend”. 

BT: Of course not! You’ve got a very close friend who HAS tried to kill you after all! 

NS: Ugh. Besides we have plenty more enemies.

BT: Keeps things interesting!

26. Thoughts on pie?

BT: Berry filled pies are a bit of a weakness of mine! But Nara here-

NS: Please don’t start.

BT: Nara can put some pies AWAY. Sweet pies, savory pies, pies she just filched from the cart down the street! I grant you I don’t think she’s had to steal pies recently. . . 

NS: No. I haven’t. 

BT: It’s funny, for someone who can forget to eat AT mealtime, you sure do love your food! 

NS: As with clothing and finery - I do enjoy the finer things when it comes to food and drink . . . I’m just not great at time management. 

27. Favorite drink?

NS: Honey wine.

BT: Any wine! 

28. What’s your favorite place?

NS: Not Kinloch Hold. 

BT: pffffft!

NS: . . . I haven’t felt particularly attached to any location in a long time. There are some places I’d like to visit though. 

BT: Gettin’ your parent’s wanderlust are ya? 

29. Would you rather swim in a lake or the ocean?

NS: Lake. 

BT: Ha! Either! 

30. Are you interested in anyone?

NS: How many variations on this will you be asking? 

BT: This one does seem to becoming repetitive? Unless you mean like person of interest? Like under suspicion? There’s a list somewhere . .  . 

31. What’s your bra size?

BT: My what size? 

NS: Bra? . . . . Please ask sensical questions or let’s end this. 

32. Well, what’s your type?

NS: Oh for the love of . . . ! 

BT: Bwhahahahaha! 

33. And what attracts you?

BT: *still laughing* You are really curious, aren’t you? 

NS: *sighs* . . . Fine. Cleverness. Thoughtfulness. Adaptability. Flexibility. 

BT: *smirks* Flexiblity you say?

NS: Shut. It. 

BT: Hahaha! Someone I can have fun with is attractive to me. Someone who is caring as well. 

34. Any fetishes?

NS:Why do I even bother? How is this any of your business? 

BT: Ooooh! Well, Leli and I were just discussing this thing they apparently do in Orlai-

NS: Please don’t. 

BT: And I had a friend who worked at the Pearl who taught me how t-

NS: This is really more than I want to know. Does Cyrion know you were being taught skills from the Pearl? 

BT: Don’t see how that’s Da’s business! 

NS: *rolls eyes* Yes. I have fetishes. I have a very satisfactory sex life. I don’t see how it’s pertinent to this interview however. 

BT: You don’t want to tell us more about Zev’s flexibility?

NS: No. I don’t. 

BT: Hah! As for me, I’ll try almost anything once! Have a hard-limit on physical bondage though . . . 

35. Top or bottom? Dominant or submissive?

BT: *winks* I’m a switch. 

NS: I am not by nature a particularly submissive individual. That holds true in all aspects of my life. 

36. Camping indoor or outdoors?

NS: I believe that I’ve done enough outdoors camping to last a life time. Unfortunately I doubt it will end anytime soon.

BT: Both can be lots of fun in the right company! 

37. Are you wanting the quiz to end?

NS: Quite. If you will excuse us we’re both quite busy individuals. 

BT: *with a final wink and smirk* Catch you later! Don’t do anything that’ll have to knife you for! 

I’m not sure who has done this already, but I’ll tag @thema-sal-shiral, @wardsarefunctioning, @extravagantlies, @fadedforyou, @thranduilsausage, @elfsplaining, @circadian-rhythm, and @love-in-nature. If you’re already done this or don’t have the time feel free to skip! :) 

[babblingbr00k]

Seek Me & You Shall Find Me

Rule 1: Prescribed medications such as: antidepressants, pain medicine, anti-anxiety medicine, sleep medicine were completely banned at ATWH. The only medication that we were allowed to bring in and take were over the counter medication and Prescriptions that were deemed necessary to prevent harm/or death. The theory behind this is our very first commandment. Thou shall have no other Gods before me.

I remember, as the wind blew the moon and the darkness in, being very anxious and over emotional. I cried uncontrollably. I was petrified of night, scared of being awake and alone. I was completely at the mercy of the monsters my 2nd night wanted to inflict. The only thing keeping me from bolting out the door, was the knowledge that I had nowhere to go.

It had now been over a week since I had my last dose of my Effexor, the antidepressant I had been on for 8 years since my brother died. It had also been 2 days since I had had my beta blocker. The medication that kept my heart from beating too fast.

My body was now detoxing from amphetamines, opiates, antidepressants, and a beta blocker. If I were to label my discomfort on a scale of 1-10, 10 being the worst. I was suffering at an unimaginable 67.3234.

I cannot express to you how much I wanted to die.

I stopped praying for the strength to get through this. I was now praying, begging, albeit DEMANDING for God to give me the strength to kill myself.

Like a child, I was clingy to Emma. Where ever she went I was sure to follow. If she were to sit down or stand still for longer than 2.5 seconds, I would force my way into her arms. Her petting, rocking, and cooing…...helped. But I could tell that, after several hours, she was beginning to get annoyed with the lack of personal space I was willing to give her. It wasn't long till I noticed Emma start to withdraw from me. When I would enter into a room, she would leave. She spent the rest of the evening with Kennedy.

Que private pity party of a catastrophic level. Abandoned again!!!

I was still unable to eat without it coming right back up. I was now crossing into the 48 hour mark of being unable to consume and keep anything of nutritional value in my stomach. I remember not being bothered by this. When I stood on the scale in the bathroom that morning, I was shocked when my weight read almost 270 pounds.

Our bodies start to burn excess fat after 2 days without eating. It’s also around this time that our adrenal glands start to pump endorphins into our system. It’s our bodies way of protecting itself from the pain of hunger pains. I remember looking forward to all small bit of relief that was headed my way within the next 24-48 hours.

Nine o'clock came and it was time for our circle of prayer. We all gathered in the middle of the room, formed a circle and held hands. I angrily “passed,” while the rest of the girls prayed. Immediately following prayers I went and climbed into my bed. Emma, who spent the entire day soothing me, wouldn't even look at me. I layed there wide awake, listening to the other girls drift off to sleep, wondering what kind of hell the dark corners of my mind had to offer the insommed.

I’m not sure how long I laid in my bed, twisting and turning, trying to get comfortable.

The only way I can explain how this feels is: imagine laying down, initially being able to lay still and comfortable for 20 seconds or so. But you start to feel a painful tingling sensation in your feet. It’s similar to the painful tingling your arm or your leg experiences when it’s “waking up” after having been deprived of blood flow for a little bit of time. This “tingle” slowly makes its way up your legs, into your back, then your shoulders, and finally into your arms. Movement of your extremities usually eases this feeling. But once you have done your little bedside boogie and start to get comfortable again, the tingling rallies, crawling up your legs once again for another attack against every inch of your body. It’s called Restless leg. Imagine going through this every couple of minutes for 9 hours straight.

I layed there in that little twin bed for hours, listening to the soft breathing of the other girls as they peacefully slept. I twisted and turned, changing positions every couple of minutes in an attempt to ease the Restless Legs. The sheets were that low thread count, so there were little bubbles that irritated my skin.

I found myself an interesting little rhythm.

Stomach….

Right Side….

Back…..

Left Side….

Now reverse….

Left side….

Back…..

Right side…..

Stomach….

Now do the Stanky Leg and the Dab….

I fought, for what seemed like hours. I didn’t care if anyone saw me. Desperate to try ANYTHING, I even attempted the Hands and Knees Down/Butt Up pose that we all resorted to as a child. It didn’t take long for me to abandon said pose. See, with my bowels being in the shape that they were in due to my detoxing, the only thing that this pose accomplished, was a bit of Brook’s Backdoor Homemade Airfreashner.

Abort!!!!!

Back to the ole Four Turn Tango.

Stomach….

Left Side…

Back….

Right Side….

Now reverse..

Right Side….

Back…..

Left Side….

Stomach...

….Now do the Stanky Leg and the Dab….

I HAVE TO GET OUT OF MY BODY!!!

I jumped out of bed and started running in place, jumping up and down. I was at war with my body. Using my hands, I assaulted every inch of my body. Beating my legs, my stomach, my butt, and finally my head. I thought, maybe, I could beat this feeling out of me.

Winded, I stopped to catch my breath. I realized that I had forgotten where I was. I looked around the room and remembered where I was, and that I wasn’t alone. I closely observed each girl as they laid in their own bed, checking to make sure none of them were awake to witness my self inflicted assault to my detoxing body.

I looked down at my bed and felt a wave of hate wash over me. Hate for my bed, hate for my sick body, hate for Phillip for abandoning me, hate for my parents for throwing me away, and hate for God who had forsaken me.

I never wanted to see that bed again. I grabbed my pillow and blanket made my way into the dark living room on the other side of the house.

I threw my pillow and blanket on the full sized couch and introduced myself.

“Couch...I’m Brook….I wanted to introduce myself. I felt it was the polite thing to do. Ya see….I’m about to lay down and try to get comfortable enough to get some sleep. But...the way this night is playing out….I have a feeling things are gonna be getting real freaky.”

I gave my new friend a gentle pat, laid down, and prayed that I would quickly fall into a peaceful sleep.

I started to count….1…..2…..3…..4…………………

It was around the 27 second mark that I felt the tingling in my feet.

..aaaaannnddddd here we go…..

Stomach…..

Left Side….

Back….

Right Side….

Now reverse…..

I now added the beat from Cat Nie Jo to my new nightly routine.

Right Side…..

Back…..

Insert the Nae Nae

Left Side……

I stopped mid Stanky Leg and burst out into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. I laughed so hard that I started to cry. I even wet my only pair of semi clean underwear.

I know what your thinking, but I’m not going crazy. Well, not completely anyway. See if you have the ability to laugh at yourself or have a little bit of fun in a situation that is fucked up….well...you just learned a valuable coping skill my friend. Good Job!!

I calmed down and finally caught my breath.

I was now pissed off at the couch. She could, literally, kiss my ass. I grabbed my pillow and blanket and shuffled over to the Love Seat.

Politely introduce myself to my new freaky furniture friend.

“Let’s get busy…..”

I remember wondering how long those couches had been there and how many asses they had seen through the years.

Moot…..

Well hello racing thoughts, wouldn’t be a party without you. I was wondering when your ass was gonna show up. Come on in and join this Fuck Fest Of Chaostrophic Proportions!

My thoughts bounced around from one random thought to another.

I went from thinking about the couches to thinking about my 1970’s couch that I got free when I moved into my first apartment when I was 21.

Fox Run Apartments.

What was the name of that Disney Cartoon?

Oh yea...Fox and the Hound.

You ain’t nothing but a hound dog….crying all the time…

What time is it? Where’s the damn clock?

It’s almost midnight.

It’s Tuesday. Almost Hump Day.

Why Hump Day? Who had the bright idea to name Wednesday Hump Day.

Maybe he had a standing reservation with his wife every Wednesday. His designated booty day.

Booty...God my booty hurt. 3 days of diarrhea will put serious wear and tear on the badonk-a-donk spout.

Whale spout. They have to come up for air every 15 minutes.

An alligator can hold its breath 30-60 minutes.

Humans risk brain damage after 3.

Brian Love...the little 5 year old boy that was hit by a car. My first Meritorious Service Award. I got to ride in Air Med because the Paramedic needed an extra set of hands. While he worked on little Brian, I had to squeeze the bag once every two seconds. Delivering oxygen into his little lungs.

Before I could make the transition into my next random, racing thought, I was interrupted by a very familiar high pitched squeaking. I didn’t get up immediately.

I wanted to give God a minute. I prayed that He would take him quickly.

"Please, God, spare me from THIS tonight."

I wasn't too keen on becoming a mouse serial killer. But after a minute or so of waiting for God to do his own damn job, I reluctantly got up. I cursed God, yet again, and followed the trail of audible suffering...my broom at the ready.

This time my dude was in the kitchen. I walked in and turned on the bright fluorescent lights. Curse!! Curse!! Curse!! Damn everything and everyone to hell.

Rule 2:Swearing and taking the Lord's name in vain will NOT be tolerated at All The Way House. If you refuse to abide by this rule, you will be expelled from the program and not allowed to return.

I found my next victim glued to a glue trap under the shelving of cooking supplies. Just one guy, he had only just started chewing off one of his paws.

Broom handle down, heart hardened, tears falling, taking aim, prayer for forgiveness, stab, stab, stab, die, die, die!!!

I stood there with him, watching, keeping him company, until the jerking stopped and he was gone.

“Fuck Forgiveness.” I tried to convince myself that putting the mouse out of his misery didn’t bother me.

But the tears falling down my face told me that that statement was a huge lie.

I disposed of the corpse, then stood in the kitchen and continued to cry. My happiness from new clothes long forgotten. I took stock of the collection of knives and debated on whether I should leave my own corpse for the girls to find.

It wasn’t until after I noticed the 8 foot, side by side freezer that I told myself, "I'll think about that tomorrow," (que Scarlett O'Hara.)

I dropped my killing instrument and made my way to the freezer. I stood there, before this gigantic, silvery door to Narnia, and said a quick prayer.

"Please, for the love of all things good, let there be contents within worthy of my sophisticated pallet."

The doors were heavy and I had to pull past the suction. There was no way in hell I would be denied my, "due and proper."

Once I had the doors opened, I could see stacks of fruit, plate lunches for the next day, and.....gallons of ice cream. Well you could have called me Chunk and told me to do the "Truffle shuffle," for all I cared. As far as I was concerned, God put this mountain in front of me, and by God, I would conquer it.

"Screw this," I said out loud. "If I can't stab myself to death, I'll fucking eat myself to death." I grabbed the gallon of strawberry cheesecake bliss, grabbed a ladle and happily resigned myself to eating my way to 300 lbs, diabetes, heart failure, then finally sweet death.

"How does this fit into your 1st Commandment?" I said under my breath.

I closed my eyes and pretended that I was shoveling Opana laced ice cream into my mouth and down my gullet. It was the severe brain freeze and subsequent nausea that made me stop. I threw my gifts from God to the side and ran to the bathroom, shoved my finger down my throat, and gave the porcelain God the contents of my stomach.

Once everything was up and out, I sat back onto the bathroom floor and caught my breath.

Brook? You are working yourself up. You have got to get a grip. The only thing this is doing is making it worse.

I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. On the toilet and walls was an abstract art piece that would have made Picasso proud. The white, pink, and red spew was a beautiful contrast to the faded green wallpaper. In the corner, an unknown, and suspicious brownish smudge made up a smile that went along with my strawberry eyes and nose.

I looked myself. What a waste. I had regurgitation in my hair, on my face, and down the front of my night shirt. I looked down to the floor and saw that I was sitting In a puddle that I had not noticed before. It was the smell drifting up that informed me that I had soiled myself (#1 & #2) during my peritoneal purge.

You can safely assume that I was at my most lowest point. I didn't just hit bottom. If you had had the desire to seek me out and try to find me, I was there, several 100 feet below rock bottom.

I submit

Uncle!!

I give up!

relinquishing,

86'in this shit,

have no fight left,

abdicate,

retreat,

withdraw,

yield,

abandon!!

I’m going to Davy Jones Mother Fucking Locker!!

I WANTED TO DIE!!! Why have you forsaken me God? Why have you abandoned me in my most desperate time of need?

I laid there, on the dirty, sticky bathroom floor, covered in my own piss, shit, and vomit. As much as I wanted to give up, I decided to give God one last call. This was my Hail Mary.

I distinctly remember whispering,"Help."

Then I waited.

And I listened.

………….

It would have been so easy to lay there, continuing to feel sorry for myself. It would have been easy to admit defeat and finish digging my own grave on the tiled floor. All I had to do was pull that dirt in on top of me.

Bury me here. Peace Out Bitches!!

I, soon, felt my body start to relax as I drifted off to sleep. I started to dream. In my dream I heard a voice and felt a presence that I hadn't felt in over 8 years. It was the comforting, yet insistent, voice of my brother , Coleson.

"Come on El Negro! (that’s what he called me) Not here and not like this. Get up!"

It would be amazing if I sat here and told you that it was the voice of my brother that got me off that floor and into the shower. It wasn't. I sprang up and out of my fetal position with an overwhelming need to throw up again. I dry heaved into the toilet as I #1 and #2'd all over myself for the 2nd time. When the gagging was done, I stood up and glanced over at my strawberry smiley face abstract piece.....and told him to go fuck himself.

For some reason I started speaking in first person.

"Brook is better than this."

“Brook doesn't just give up."

"Brook is a warrior and will fight."

“Brook smells like shit and needs to get her ass in the shower."

After my shower, Laying in my bed, before I drifted off into a semi-peaceful sleep, I promised myself, and whoever else was listening, that I was going to see this through. No more talk of killing myself or feeling sorry for myself. I had two feet, and dammit, I was going to stand on them.

Was that actually Coleson? Taking a minute to boss me around from the afterlife? Or was I finally entering the hallucination phase of death?

Well whatever you wanna call it, it worked. I got up, took a shower, put on clean clothes and went back to bed. It's possible that my self conscious created my brothers voice in a moment of self preservation. My brain told me what I wanted to hear, in a voice I was yearning to hear.

I knew that me giving up wasn't an option. If I wanted to live....I would have to fight.