#full plots would require so much and i am trying to get a law degree folks

[creativencity]

Lee Jeno: tutor!au

Synopsis: Tutor!reader finally agrees to watch Jock!Jeno play. Part 3.

Rating: General. Still very fluffy.

Part 1 Part 2

[self-loving-vampire]

Ultima V: Warriors of Destiny (1988)

Summary

Ultima 5 is what you could call Ultima 4′s edgier but “cooler” sibling. The gameplay has gained in complexity, dialogue has been greatly expanded, and the ground-breaking system of virtues and morality from the previous game has been twisted by the tyrannical Lord Blackthorn following the disappearance of Lord British.

Ultima 5 also introduces more of a day/night cycle to the proceedings with the introduction of NPC schedules, enabling a level of world simulation that was very new at the time of release. It goes on to make good use of this system by casting the player in the role of an outlaw fighting against the new government, meeting with members of the resistance in the shadows, and going around the martial law that has been imposed.

Freedom

Just like in Ultima 4, you are dropped into an open world right from the beginning, and your tools to explore the world have been expanded. 

The inclusion of more complex systems also enhance the feeling of being able to interact with the world with less barriers, as there is now furniture you can use, barrels you can search, etc.

Like with Ultima 4, there is only one way to win and a list of absolutely required steps that must be taken to reach that victory, but the order in which these steps can be taken is rather flexible, allowing players to create more of a personal narrative as they follow clues they picked up on wherever their instincts or whims took them first.

It is worth noting that there are actually some optional quests dungeons this time around, which is always nice.

Character Creation/Customization

While it is very nice that you can import your character from Ultima 4 into this game, I would say that this aspect of the game has taken a step back in a sense even as it has made progress in other ways.

The eight classes of the previous games have been reduced to four: The standard Fighter/Mage/Rogue Bard trio plus the Avatar class the main character belongs to, which is an all-rounder. As before, there is not really any customization beyond equipment either.

However, the positive of this is that equipment has been greatly expanded from the previous game. While in Ultima 4 you were limited to merely choosing your character’s weapon and armor set from a very short list, Ultima 5 not only enlarges the list but also allows for equipping multiple armor parts (such as a helm or amulet) while also providing a secondary hand slot.

What this means is that two-handed weapons now also give you a trade-off between their big damage and the option to use a shield in your other hand, or even dual-wield.

This greater variety of equipment allows a greater degree of specialization for your party members, though by modern standards this still isn’t much. The supremacy of ranged weapons also continues here, as magic axes are undoubtedly what you should be equipping everyone with later in the game, and now that class does not restrict equipment every single one of your party members will end up in plate with a magic axe.

Story/Setting

This is, in my opinions, one of the most interesting things about the game. Ultima 5 takes all of the virtues from the former game and turns a corrupted form of them into the law.

The game is pretty explicit about this too. Early in the game, in the town closest to the shack you start in, you can find a man in the stocks together with his son. The man is being punished for failing to donate enough of his income to charity as the Law of Sacrifice demands, while his son (who is barely breathing at this point) is being tortured for not reporting his father to the authorities.

Throughout your travels, you meet many kinds of people. From victims, to resistance fighters, to supporters of the regime and everything in between. Throughout your interactions with these groups you will have to discern who can be trusted (generally easier than it should be since the bad guys tend to be meaner or even cartoonishly evil at times) and learn how to fight Lord Blackthorn and the Shadowlords who corrupted him.

The Shadowlords are, incidentally, the part of the story that I don’t quite enjoy. Fantasy is full of one-dimensional ancient evils and dark overlords. By making the events of the game the result of an unambiguously malevolent supernatural force rather than human failings of the type that are not uncommon in real life, the game makes those events feel more distant and less complex.

This very series already has had plenty of “Defeat this one evil force and everything will be fine” plots. They are generally devoid of the moral complexity that the series is now aiming to explore and I want to know what this game would have looked like without the Shadowlords.

Fortunately, however, this effect is not too pronounced. Blackthorn remains a misguided man with good intentions. He admires you a lot, actually, and seeks avatarhood himself. He has such a positive view of the virtues that he sought to enforce them by law.

(Then again, his actual plans for the shrines make this apparent idolization feel dishonest, or at least inconsistent.)

And there is a real type of authoritarianism that functions a lot like this. Even on this site there are many who would be in favor of things like surveillance, police brutality, and harsher punishments. Even on this site there’s a whole lot of people who seek to punish others over stupid things like shipping the wrong fictional characters.

The people I grew up with even went as far as yearning for a dictator who would unleash death squads to execute all the “bad” people. This is a wish that I still see in many people, even those who grew up outside of the circumstances of my country of birth.

This is not an error that humans need supernatural corruption to fall into.

Other than that, I find the dark twist on the existing setting from the previous game to make for a spicier world to explore. 

This is also the section where I should point out that Ultima 5 introduces a rather large and dangerous “Underworld” map that is easy to get lost in. While it is mostly barren, you do have to visit various parts of it as part of the main quest, and I just find the concept of a massive dark world beneath the earth to be a super interesting one (I mean, I have even run D&D campaigns based primarily in the Underdark).

I kinda wish there was more to it other than some items and a companion to collect. Something like a town would have been interesting.

Immersion

This is one area where the jump from Ultima 4 to Ultima 5 was massive thanks to the day/night cycles, NPC schedules, expanded dialogue, and even the addition of words of power to the magic system.

But the best thing I can say about it is really that it calls on you to actually roleplay and engage in the world as if you were actually there, at least to a degree, and it does so through a combination of atmosphere and gameplay.

You will not only want to be careful with your words when talking to certain people to avoid being reported to the regime, but you can also learn the resistance password and use it to get help and information from other members.

While these systems are all still pretty rough here, they still come together well enough to make this a lot more immersive than the average JRPG.

One thing that does feel really off is that the guards are not only superhumanly tough but you also lose karma for attacking them. They also behave strangely in that even though you are a wanted outlaw they don’t actually hunt you on sight, only trying to arrest or kill you if you refuse to pay tribute (as if they didn’t recognize you or your companions at all). This despite wanted posters.

So there’s definitely some rough aspects to the crime system in this game.

Gameplay

Massive improvements have been made in this area, and I don’t just mean the above-mentioned expansion of items and the addition of NPC schedules.

For one, enemies now drop things other than gold, such as food and armor pieces. The magic system has also been improved so that you can now mix multiples of a spell at once instead of having to do it manually every single time.

Additionally, spells are now cast using a consistent language of magic composed of several words of power, which you can chain together to produce effects.

But I would say that the single most significant improvement in the gameplay is the simple fact that most NPCs now have significantly more keywords that they react to in dialogue, including many that do not come up through normal conversation with them. The system is still not perfect, but you can have more of a conversation with characters now and switch from topic to topic relatively easily.

In terms of combat, you can attack diagonally now (only monsters could do that in Ultima 4) and random overworld encounters are much easier to avoid now, cutting down on what eventually starts to feel kind of like padding in the previous game (but see below).

Despite the fact that the material rewards from combat have been increased and items are much cheaper now, Ultima 5 is actually significantly more difficult than Ultima 4. Not only do you have less health, enemies also seem to do more damage.

Dragons and daemons in particular are a nightmare, as they can summon more daemons (who can posses party members) and are extremely durable. A single dragon is a very tough challenge for an unprepared mid-level party, and even after giving most characters magic axes they still prove tough to take down while also being extremely damaging. Trying to fight multiple ones at once without blowing powerful spells or glass swords is costly at best and foolish at worst. Dragons are best thought of as boss-level enemies probably.

I am pleased to report that the dungeon crawling is better in many significant ways. Not only are the graphics more pleasant and immersive but also fully cleared rooms no longer respawn endlessly the moment you step out of them (in fact, they may not respawn at all).

It is not all positive however. The descend and ascend spells seem to be nearly useless this time around and the spell to instantly exit a dungeon is gone entirely. This can make getting out of the underworld such a pain at times that you might even prefer to literally kill yourself in-game and lose some XP instead of doing that. Fortunately you can now dig up and bury moon stones, so you can create moongates down there to quickly escape that way.

There is one problem in terms of balance though. While obtaining gear is significantly less of a problem now due to many enemies dropping tons of torches, gems, and keys, your experience will lag far behind your itemization and your quest progress. This means that to actually reach the 8th level and unlock all of the ultimate spells you will need to either explore all the dungeons thoroughly while focusing XP on one character, or otherwise just grind a lot.

Enemies just don’t give enough XP for a smooth progression otherwise. This would have been solved entirely by making significant main quest events (such as finding the artifacts of Lord British or destroying the Shadowlords) grant experience, but no such luck.

This makes for a strange endgame where you’ll have so much money that you run out of worthwhile things to spend it on while at the same time still feeling forced to grind out enemies, even if you imported your Ultima 4 character for an XP boost.

You do want to have access to these 8th-level spells too, as the final dungeon can be brutal without them or items that replicate their effects.

Adding to the experience issue is the fact that you can’t level up at will in this game. You have to camp and hope that an apparition of Lord British will appear and level you up (if you have enough experience). He does not always show up, and as far as I can tell he does not appear at all if you sleep on a bed or camp inside a dungeon. It has to be out in the wild in the overworld (and possibly also in the underworld).

I wish leveling up was just not tied to him at all.

Aesthetics

As is often the case for this series, the game looks and sounds really good for its age. The jump from Ultima 4 is particularly notable, as the level of detail is on a whole other level, particularly within the dungeons.

As with the previous game, the aesthetic core of the Ultima series (after the first trilogy) lies in the virtues. While there is still a karma system involved, it is much simpler than having to maximize eight different virtues. The karma system determines how much XP you lose on death and how much shops charge you, encouraging players to behave (or at least atone for their misbehavior).

But the biggest impact on the feel of the game is the above-mentioned corruption and tyranny affecting the land. Some of my favorite moments were early on, when I was just starting to get involved with the resistance and investigating what was happening around the overworld.

That said, I think that if the guards did actually recognize you on sight and hounded you more aggressively after spotting you the atmosphere could be even better (assuming they were balanced a bit better).

I think some of the music some versions of the game have is quite good too.

Accessibility

This game manages to up the complexity from Ultima 4 while not being any harder to play. Chances are that if you’re importing your Ultima 4 character you will need only a little bit of adaptation to do fine in Ultima 5.

As before, you will need to take many notes throughout the game. More so than in Ultima 4 due to the greater size and density of content. However, if you played Ultima 4 and took notes for it, this is somewhat alleviated. The mantras for the shrines remain the same, and the world’s geography should be mostly familiar (though there have been changes there as well).

You will also still need to consult the manuals and map frequently, at least early on.

The difficulty has also increased dramatically. You will likely end the game with about 200-ish HP rather than 800 and every enemy is much more deadly. Both the early game and the final dungeon will challenge the improvident.

For these reasons, the game is not that easy for newcomers to pick up but I would not call it obscure or complex.

Conclusion

I would say that the positives definitely outweigh the negatives on this one. The story and setting are interesting even if I don’t agree with all of the decisions made in crafting it, and the rest of the game is usually tolerable at worst. Nothing nearly as annoying as Ultima 4′s Reaper and Balron sleep spam (in fact, a plot-relevant item you can find renders Reapers pretty much helpless).

My primary complaint about the game is that the balance is poor. You will end the game loaded with all the items you could ever want while struggling to reach level 8 with even a single character even after doing nearly everything you need to do before the final dungeon.

I know there is a remake of this game made using Dungeon Siege, which I have not played. I think this is a good thing and I’d hope that it fixes some of these issues, but even apart from that I wish there were games that set out to achieve the core concept of this game.

What I am talking about is an open world RPG in which you play an outlaw who must hide from the state and meet other rebels in the darkness, but with complex and mechanically-competent systems to enable all the interesting possibilities this should enable.

I do not assign numerical ratings to games with these reviews, but I can definitely say that I liked Ultima 5 better than Ultima 4. I think it is worth trying even today despite the late game grind.

[angelbabylu]

Something Wicked // LH

pairing: witch!oc x vampire!luke

word count: 5k

warnings: smut, fluff, magical stuff 

notes: this is the most self indulgent thing i’ve ever done. it is comprised of a few different elements: first i got the idea for this from this book series about a witch falling in love with a vampire. on top of that, i’ve always been obsessed with higher education for supernatural creatures (like hogwarts but as a university) and i decided to add some of that element to this fic as well. next, there are a few allusions to Macbeth and Les Miserables in this because i really enjoyed how they fit with the story line. and finally, Luke is french in this?? bec i thought it would be hot & also i loved the idea of him being made a vampire during the french revolution. this fic ended up being mostly character and world building and then smut lol but i may revisit this universe again with some actual plot at a later date. 

title: from Macbeth 

:: ::

It was almost 9 pm when the wind began to pick up outside Margo’s half-opened window. It usually wouldn’t have bothered her–she loved the ominous rustle of the trees and the way the wind’s magic made her feel as if she could fly. But tonight, it was whipping jet black hair into a frenzy in front of her face, making it almost impossible to read the book of potion ingredients that sat in front of her. At first, she had tried tucking the offending strands behind one ear, then another. When the hair tie she used to secure it into a curly knot atop her head broke, she groaned in frustration, her head slamming on the desk with a dull thud.

“Alright you fucking mop,” Margo growled to her curls. “I’ll close the window.”

She was surprised to find the rest of her room dark when she moved away from the incandescent lamp that lived on her desk. The enchanted item had slowly increased in brightness as the sun had given way to its rival, assuring that Margo’s studies weren’t bothered by such trivialities as not having enough light to read.

It took only five long strides for Margo to cross her room, but in that time her mind had moved from the conveniences of being a modern witch back to the potions test she was going to take the next day. Mutely, she recited the four fundamental potion bases and what effects they could help achieve. She was on the third when a bright flash of lightning pulled her from her thoughts and stilled her hand on the window sill.

That explained the way her hair was behaving, at least. There was a thunderstorm brewing, and her hair’s natural propensity to disobey increased whenever electricity stirred in the air. She closed the window and went back to her desk; she had more important things to worry about. By the time the deep roll of thunder disturbed the air, she was tucked back in her chair, nose buried in her book.  

Margo didn’t look up again until her senses drove her to do so. There was a slight tingling in her thumb–a witches sixth sense that told her another being was coming her way. Eventually, she didn’t need any of her preternatural senses–the loud clacking of heels against old wood floors announced the arrival easily enough.

Mildly annoyed, Margo sat back. It was too much to ask for more than a few hours to herself–especially when her sisters were involved. She had barely taken a full breath before the door to her room was slammed opened revealing Serena, dressed in what had to be her most revealing outfit all year. The leopard print skirt was tight and short, struggling to fully cover the entirety of her ass. The top–well Margo wasn’t sure if she could call it a top. It was more a flimsy piece of mesh and two strips of fabric to cover her breasts. But if anyone could pull it off, it was Serena. It was not just her amazon like appearance that made this possible, but also the obvious confidence that rolled of her and the way she commanded attention as soon as she entered a room.

Much like she did now.

But Margo had known Serena too long to be intimidated by her.

Raising an eyebrow tauntingly, Margo asked, “Trying to catch an incubus?”

The sharp sound of Serena’s heels was the only response as Serena moved deeper into the room to sit on Margo’s bed. The bed was raised to allow space for storage underneath. Often times, Margo found herself leaping just to get on to it, but Serena was tall enough that she could sit down without a struggle.

Finally, Serena met her eyes again. “Not everyone has a hot vampire boyfriend drooling over them, Mar. I definitely wouldn’t mind an incubus.”

And there it was. The reason why Margo had thrown herself so wholeheartedly into her studies that night.

A warmth started to spread on her cheeks and to the tips of her hair as she blushed. “Shut up,” she grumbled, hating the way just the mention of his name sent her pulse skyrocketing.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Serena said as she played with one of the many earrings up and down her lobe. “Maybe you should invite him to the party tonight.”

Margo rolled her eyes and ignored the girl on her bed in favor of her text. “I’m not going to the party tonight, Serena. I already told you that.”

“Oh for Circe’s sake, Margo.” Serena’s voice was colored with annoyance. “Just come to the party. Live a little.”

Margo kept her eyes focused on the page in front of her. Under Fire Potions, she began reading the uses – poison, hallucinogens, mind-alterations, etc. Serena got increasingly agitated behind her, but Margo continued to ignore her.

When Serena grumbled, “Margo?” Margo finally gave her the response she had been looking for.

“I said I am not coming.” Margo gestured wildly to the mess of notebooks, sticky notes, and highlighters strewn across her desk–though this was not the only reason she would be missing out on the festivities.

Margo had other plans come the witching hour. She tried not to let her face betray that fact, knowing that Serena would not take lightly to her ditching her party for a boy.

“You’ve been studying all night. Take a break and come celebrate with us.”

Margo had argued with Serena enough to know that a simple no might not suffice. Instead, she uncapped a highlighter and grumbled, “Serena, if you don’t leave me alone I’m going to hex you green for the next 24 hours. Then, neither of us will be able to enjoy the party.”

Such use of magic on school grounds was, of course, strictly forbidden. But Margo would happily risk probation for the few minutes of blissful quiet it would bring. Luckily, no one had to hex anyone. Serena accepted her defeat and left Margo’s room, muttering, “Your loss.”

Margo and Serena were both students at the University of the Arcana. They were the world’s worst kept secret. The things that mortal beings feared most were real and living among them, though not with as much horrific tendency towards the cruel as mortals liked to believe. Or, at least, no more so than the mortals themselves. Witches, vampires, demons, shapeshifters–they were human just like everyone else, just a different subclass of humans.

Part of the human experience, unfortunately, was going to a university and getting a degree. Here, Margo studied horticultural magic. It was a degree with which, as her mom liked to remind her, she could go on to become a pharmacist. That was not her plan. She wanted to own a greenhouse someday–maybe do some rudimental medicinal remedies for people in her community. She often dreamed of this simple life on a countryside somewhere.

For now, she was forced to live on a campus large enough to be a country of its own. Not only that but the sorority Gamma Nu with which she had pledged required her to live with twenty-nine other student witches. As much as she hated it–it was a campus requirement. No student witch was allowed on campus without pledging to a coven. That, unfortunately, meant that her sorority sisters never gave her a moment of peace.

Serena had only left Margo’s room for twenty minutes before the heavy bass of some modern hip-hop song began shaking her room.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Margo yelled to no one in particular. The tips of her fingers began to spark blue as she itched to hex someone. It seemed that her sisters couldn’t be bothered to cast a privacy spell on their party, thus subjecting Margo to the loud, rhythmic thumping that would make studying impossible.  

Regretfully, she was terrible at noise redirection spells. Any attempts to soundproof her room would end in disaster. Her plans for the night, to study and retain all that she could before he came, we’re steadily being foiled by distractions at every turn.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to steer her mind to a different route. She just needed to change locations. If she trudged around disgruntled enough, the house would recognize her need, and provide her with a solution. The house was sentient, as all witch abodes were. Something about the excess magic in the air caused them to develop a mind of their own. Sometimes, it was more harm than good, as the house had been known to get rid of entire rooms when it was in a mood. But, just as often, it had been known to give a witch exactly what she was looking for.

Holding out hope, Margo packed up her belongings and slipped out of her room.

“Okay house,” she said pleadingly, hoping it could hear her over the thundering of the music and the storm outside. “Show me someplace quiet I can study.”

For a minute, the only thing she saw was a little black ball of fur that dashed past her feet, following the music downstairs. Witches didn’t have familiars per se, but that never stopped her sisters from ironically adopting every black cat they came across.

“House?” she asked impatiently. A door banged open down the hall.

“Thank you,” She whispered, making her way to the door. It led to the library, which was one story down on the eastern wing, but the laws of physical space did not much apply there.

She couldn’t bring herself to fully step inside, however. This was obviously one of the house’s jokes.

The library was soundproof, that much Margo did know. But it was also haunted by two loud, gossipy ghosts.

“Oh dear,” a larger woman said from her position knitting by the library’s fireplace. If not from the way she was tinted silver and slightly translucent, one might not have known she was undead. “Elizabeth, come see! The studious one did not get invited to the party.”

From somewhere on the banister of the second floor came a tinny laugh. “Well, that’s no surprise to me!” Elizabeth responded. “Look at the way she dressed.”

Margo resisted the urge to pull at her old sweatpants and the UA sweatshirt she wore. “Shut up,” she grumbled. Before shutting the door, she added, “I was invited by the way! I didn’t want to go.”

She ignored Elizabeth’s pointed, “What kind of girl doesn’t want to go to a party?” The sound of which lingered until much after Margo had closed the door.

The house rumbled underneath her, making it clear it was laughing.

“House!” she snapped, annoyed at his antics. Another door appeared in front of her in that instant. This time, she did step inside it. It was the abandoned potions laboratory she hadn’t known existed. A quick survey of the place revealed it was in the basement. Which, happily, seemed to be enchanted, for all the noise of the party disappeared as soon as she closed the door.

It was perfect.

Margo toiled over the cauldron in the laboratory for hours, using whatever preserved ingredients she could find to build practice potions. Having always been a tactical learner, this made the art of potion making so much more accessible to her. The fire underneath the cauldron burned hot, causing her to shed her sweater for the loose grey tank underneath. Eventually, she piled her hair up and away from her face, to avoid the way the steam had caused it to stick to her cheeks and the back of her neck. The ingredients were old school–more animal than plant-based, as she preferred to work with. But Margo made it work nonetheless. 

                    Eye of newt.

                    Toe of frog.

                    Wool of Bat.

                    Tongue of Dog.

Round and round the boiling pot she went, throwing in the ancient ingredients and murmuring incantations, learning the form way better than any text could teach her. She was so lost in the art of it all, she was sure nothing could pull her out.

Then the witching hour came, and a sharp prickling sensation in Margo’s thumbs told her that someone was looking for her. Or something. It was much bigger and much more powerful than Serena–it sent her witch’s sense haywire. She knew just who was it was. She had been waiting for him all night. For a moment, she debated going up to the party, finding him, and dragging him back down to the basement. But, there was a spell she knew, old and powerful, that would bring any creature to her in an instant. Of course, with ancient magicks, there was always a chance of attracting unwanted, much more dangerous attention.

Sighing, she lifted up a quick prayer to Hecate, then said, “Fuck it.”

Turning away from the cauldron, she recited the old but powerful spell.

By the pricking of my thumb, Something wicked this way comes. Open, locks, Whoever knocks.

She closed her eyes for a breath, and when she opened it, he appeared in front of her like an apparition. At first, he was nothing more than a blur of black and silver. He had entered the room at full vampiric speed, and her eyes had to take a moment to adjust, to register what she was seeing.

Her heart began pounding in her chest, not unlike the rhythmic thumping of the bass she had heard earlier. Run, her instincts told her, recognizing that there was a predator, much larger and much deadlier than her in the room. She tried to calm the pounding she could now feel in her throat, with a breath. It came out shuddering.

Now that her eyes were fully adjusted, she could see the way his pupils dilated, no doubt at the sound of the rush of blood through her veins. As he advanced on her, she took a few steps back. Eventually, she was stopped by the edge of the table next to where the cauldron still bubbled over.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

Vampires were at the top of the human food chain. Because of that, everything about them was designed to draw prey in. Luke was no different. The way he talked was an aphrodisiac, the smallest hint of an old French accent rolling off his tongue lasciviously, drawing a longing from her core. She felt the moment her body realized that she was in no immediate danger, and her heart started hammering for an entirely different reason.

“I know,” she responded, trying to sound cavalier. It was why she had thrown herself so wholeheartedly into her studies that night. At some point in the afternoon, she had received a text. It was just five words, yet it had made her toes curl with desire. Witching hour. I’ll find you. The modern monster’s equivalent of a booty call. Margo, not one to betray her studies for a man, had spent all afternoon with her nose buried in a book. Now that he was right in front of her, she was confident enough in what she had learned that she had no trouble stepping away from the cauldron for the night.

Instead of getting closer to her as her whole body ached for, Luke moved to survey in the room. In turn, she surveyed him. His movements were cat-like, each motion deliberate and graceful. The white, silk shirt he wore was unbuttoned halfway down and tucked into a pair of black leather pants. A peek at the smooth expanse of his chest made Margo yearn to reach out and touch, but she stayed backed up against the table, allowing him to walk the layout of the lab.

“Pilar said you were somewhere studying,” He referenced her housemate easily as he walked around the room almost aimlessly, first glancing into the still bubbling cauldron, then the ingredients that lined the shelf. Ungraciously, she felt jealousy rise to the surface, sending pinpricks of magic down her spine. Margo was well aware of Luke and Pilar’s brief tryst a few months before, and in moments like these, when her senses were bridled by lust, she couldn’t help the primal instincts of possessiveness.

“Potions test.” She responded. Then, because she couldn’t quite put the thought out of her mind, she added, “Pilar needs to mind her own business.”

She was proud of herself when the words didn’t come out sounding shaky or hoarse.

“She’s worried about you, ma chérie. All you do is study.”

Margo tramped down her envy and reminded herself that she hadn’t spent all day studying just so she and Luke could fight about his over-friendliness with his ex. Instead, she tried to focus on nudging Luke’s eyes back to her with a suggestive comment. “I’m not studying right now.”

At her goading, Luke finally gave her the attention she craved. He turned to look at her, his smirk dangerous and promising.

“I prove to be an adequate distraction, no?”

She didn’t see him move. Rather, one moment, he was across the room with a jar of dragon scales in his hand, and somehow, in that same instant, the jar was back on the shelf, and he was next to her, tucking an escaped curl behind her ear.

Immediately, she heaved her chest up to him.

The way he tutted was almost regretful as he traced the line of a barely visible scar, one that he had left on her chest less than 24 hours before. “Oh, ma chérie. You’re already addicted to my touch. I can hear how your blood sings for me.”

Bowing his head, he gently brought his lips to the scar that rested just above the swell of her bosom. “Are you ever,” he paused slightly as if choosing his next word carefully. “Scared of this?”

Scared of this. Scared of them. Historically, witches and vampires did not come together for anything more than sex and political alliances. But, there was something deeper between Luke and Margo. The memory of how indignant she had felt when Serena mentioned her hot vampire boyfriend rose to the surface. Even now she had a hard time with the state of their relationship-how quickly she had come to fall in love with her predator. He often reminded her of the power that he held over her and how her sense of self-preservation became nonexistent whenever he was around.

Luke nipped at her skin lightly, not enough to draw blood. It wrenched her from her thoughts and into that moment with him. When her heart stuttered, he stared up at her, a wolfish grin playing on his face. In moments like these, they both regressed to their animalistic impulses, running on deep, primal instincts left over from their ancestors.

“You forget, Hemmings, that I’m powerful too,” Margo muttered a quick incantation, and this time, the speed with which Luke moved was not due to his vampiric abilities, but rather the invisible bands of wind that twisted around him, pulling him off her, and restraining his wrist. His attempts to burst free of his magical binding was futile. He pulled at his invisible restraints and bared his teeth in warning to her.

The animal inside him did not like to be tied up.

She ignored the way her blood roared in her ears, focusing only on the fact that if it sounded loud to her, it would be deafening for Luke.

Reaching out to the potions table, Margo grabbed a knife she had been using earlier, wiping any traces of ingredients from it with a quick, cleansing water spell. Then, she held it up to her breast. Both her and Luke tracked the way the cool blade as it came to rest against her skin. The grey tank top, as unattractive as Elizabeth’s ghost would find it, did the job of sparking Luke’s interest. She wore no bra underneath, so it hung low on her ample bosom and was thin enough that her nipples all but poked through.

She pierced the skin right where Luke had scarred her before. In response, Luke’s pupils dilated further until his blue eyes were almost completely black, and his breath began to get ragged. Now, it was her turn to smirk.

“I might be addicted to your touch,” she purred. “But you’re addicted to my taste.”

Luke impossibly broke free of her binds and had his hands gripping at her sides in a second. He buried his face in her neck, not going for her blood until he got express permission to do so.

“Can I?” His voice was rough and riddled with want. She nodded once, and Luke dropped his mouth to her heart vein and started to drink deeply.

Nothing that Margo had experienced in her 21 years of life was as erotic as a vampire drinking from her chest. In popular culture, vampires drank from their lover’s neck. That was too impersonal of an action, Luke had informed her. Vampires drank from a mortal’s necks when they planned to drain them and leave them for dead. There was something much more sacred about their relationship, something that made the idea of taking blood from that public place repugnant to him.

As he sucked deeper on Margo’s chest, a shiver of lust set inside her aflame. She could feel herself grow wet from the pull of blood out of her and into him. It was an aphrodisiac, and she was powerless against the feeling it brought. From the way Luke flexed his fingers at her side, she could tell he was just as affected by it as she was. He pulled away to thrust his erection against her.

“Wanna drink while I’m inside you,” he begged.

She didn’t trust her voice not to come out in a ragged plea, so she nodded mutely, already reaching for the hem of her shirt to pull it over her head. Luke hoisted her up unto the table she had barely noticed digging into her back. Instead of returning to the wound on her chest, already closed from the healing properties in his saliva, Luke went for her nipples, sucking on one as he rolled the other between his forefinger and thumb.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered almost reverentially.

He started on a path downwards, kissing her stomach, licking into the dip of her belly button. “You know,” he began as he knelt in front of her, fingers already poised to remove her sweatpants. “Since the change, I’ve questioned my belief in a higher power. But when I do this with you, I know He’s real. Nothing else but an omnipotent deity could have created an angel as beautiful as you.”

Margo bit her lip. Having spent some time with the romantic era poets of the mid-1800s, Luke was prone to outbursts like these in the midst of sex. Margo liked to tease him about it.

“I’m no angel,” she retorted a slight quirk of her lips. “I’ll be right there in hell with you, Luke Hemmings. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

Luke took a moment to respond, choosing instead to remove her sweatpants and panties. Then, he placed a few chaste kisses to the inside of either thigh, letting his scruff rub lightly against her teasingly. Margo’s hand shot out, running through his hair a few times, before trying to lead him to her folds.

Instead, he chose that moment to respond to her earlier comment. It was always like this with them. Push and pull. Two opposing tides of want, dragging their sex in different directions. “You are too intoxicating. The devil will try to steal you from me.”

Luke brought his mouth back to her stomach, lapping at the salt of her skin. He nibbled slightly, causing her to release a shuddering breath.

“The devil can’t have me,” she cried between gasps. “I belong to you.”

That was just the motivation the vampire needed. “And I to you,” he growled. It was a guttural sound coming from deep within. In the next moment, he brought his tongue to her, pressing it against her clit.

He spent his time worshiping her folds, before adding one finger inside her. Margo’s legs fell open wider in response, inviting more.

“How does every inch of you taste so good?” He asked in another bought of reverence. Margo’s only response was a cry of euphoria as Luke’s fingers scissored in and out of her, drawing immeasurable pleasure. For a few moments, she basked in the sensation of a lover taking his time to reduce her to cries and shudders. When she came the first time, she was so lost in this sensation, she wasn’t cognizant of the little sparks of magic flittering off her, falling to the tables and the floor.

It was not until Luke muttered, “Shit,” that she opened her eyes to see smoke rising from a hole burnt into the hardwood floor.

“Fuck,” she cursed, still panting. “My bad.”

They glanced at each other for a brief moment, taken by the heat of each other. Then, they devolved into laughter. This wasn’t the first time Margo had burnt something in the midst of their passion, and it wouldn’t be her last.

Luke stood and picked her up amid their laughter. In response, she wrapped her legs around his waist and peppered her face with kisses. “Take us back to your room,” he begged. He raised one foot in the basement of the old house as Margo whispered her incantation, and when he put it down, they were back in her second-floor room.

“God, I love magic,” He breathed, depositing her on her bed.

“Me too,” she responded, and with a wink, all his clothes disappeared. Luke was unconcerned with their dematerialization, knowing from experience he would find them neatly folded at the foot of her bed the next morning.

Crawling on top of her, he slotted their mouths together in a motion they had done so often it became ritual. They spent a few blissful moments, rubbing unbidden against each other. But Luke was impatient. Soon, he was pinning both her wrists above her head with one large hand and entering her slowly.

At first, his thrusts were slow, deliberate, as he got used to the feeling of being inside her. Then, when his movements started to become more erratic, Margo bared her chest to him, knowing exactly what he wanted. His teeth pierced the scarred flesh easily, and he moaned at the first drop of blood that made contacts with his lips.

He released his hold on her hands then, so his were available to wrap his hand around her throat, grip at her side and play with her clit or nipple as he saw fit. The animal in both of them moved about in unrestrained movements as they devolved into hands, teeth, and hips. He drank until it felt like the open wound in her chest was somehow connected to her pussy, each deep suck causing her walls to contract.

She groaned, one hand in his hair, the other in the sheets. It was heaven for her, but for him, it was even better. Curious, Margo had once asked what it felt like to make love to her and feed from her at the same time. He said it felt like being burned alive in the best way possible. Passion consumed every inch of him, setting him aflame.

When he pulled back from her chest, they were both seconds away from climaxing. Immediately, he brought one finger to her clit, playing with it as he thrust inside her. She came, and he followed. This time, a soft glow of light radiated off her in pulses, matching the pulses of her orgasm. Her magical reactions to him were getting stronger.

She turned her attention to the man now draped atop of her, breathing in deeply, taking in the heady scent of the room.

“Smell something you like?” she teased, knowing he liked the smell of them tangled together in the room. Luke loved being unable to smell where he ended and she began.

“Yeah,” he breathed in response, still visibly affected by Margo’s blood. Margo laid there a few minutes running her hand through his hair, waiting for him to come down from the high she had caused.

When Luke was back to himself again, he flipped them, so she was lying atop him. With a quick incantation, Margo brought the blanket gently over their shoulders. Peacefully, they settled in for the night.

“I love you, mon cœur,” Luke uttered the sentiment first.

Margo repeated it.

“Wake me up at 8?” She wanted to get some last minutes revisions done before her test at 10 and one of the best things about having a vampire boyfriend? He didn’t need sleep, so she had a personal alarm. Margo thought the kiss he placed atop her head was an affirmative and a goodnight all in one. He had one more thing to say.

“Le suprême bonheur de la vie, c'est la conviction qu'on est aimé; aimé pour soi-même, disons mieux, aimé malgré soi-même.”

The supreme happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved; loved for ourselves, or rather in spite of ourselves.

It was a quote from his late friend, Victor Hugo. In moments of reminiscing, Luke thought back to the time he’d spent with the author and poet. He had told her once that he never believed he would find the happiness Hugo spoke about. But he found it with her.

She squeezed his side gently, a silent admittance that she loved him as well. 

:: ::

Part 2: Man or Beast

end notes: shout out to anyone who recognizes the names margo, serena & pilar who are elle’s sorority sisters from legally blonde the musical lmao. let me know what you think! love yall!

tag list: @5sosnsfw / @bloodmoonashton / @lukescaboose / @5sex-of-summa / @deviantnines / @halcyonnhood / @gh0st-0f-y0u-95 / @aspiringwildfire / @cal-pal-cuddles / @hotmessmichael / @hereforlukescruff/ @softforcal / @ohhmuke / @fratcalum / @calumamongmen / @ashtonandcalslefthand / @asht0ns-world / @colorful-queen-of-the-roses / @heavenlydrarry / @slowlyelectronictragedy / @myemptywallets / @pagesuponstpages / @fallfrxmgrace / @thefireisgone / @michaelorwhat / @dammitbands / @sugarcoated-pain / @sublimehood / @cal-puddies / @singt0mecalum / @irwinkitten / @myloverboyash

[asocier]

interaction guide for emile! 

last edited: april 6th, 2021

          emile ... my sweet baby boy. he’s an extremely friendly muse all around, and while he seems like he’d crumple at the first sign of danger, emile has surprisingly good fight or flight instincts. there’s a part of him that can work well under pressure, so when the world literally is on fire, emile will unexpectedly take charge and call the shots. of course, that’s when the pressure is really on — for the most part, emile is extremely non-confrontational and is perpetually stuck in a loop of ‘what am i doing with my life?’ as he wakes up everyday to a job he doesn’t care for. he makes the best of things, however, and finds pleasure in the simple things. he especially loves being out in nature, so that’s where he’ll truly be himself. in terms of his love life, he’s trying — that’s all i can really say on the matter. he’d be a good boyfriend, though, once things get serious; my sources have confirmed this. 

          supernatural plots — boy howdy, does emile befriend supernatural beings easily! i’m not sure what it is, but he really has a history of forming meaningful relationships with those who aren’t human, and it might just stem from the fact he thinks they’re incredibly interesting so long as, you know, they aren’t trying to kill him. so throw your magical girls, your aliens, your monsters, your non-human muses at emile because boy howdy is he down for the shenanigans and the adventure that comes alone with befriending these muses. he will absolutely literally be so fascinated by them and not give them grief if they’re nice to him !!! if they try to kill him, boy howdy will he be ready to run for his life because emile is already scared of everything and now he gotta run to save his ass. 

          family friendly wholesome plots — emile + children is literally one of the best things on this blog. i say this for like two other muses on this blog too but c’mon, emile and kids literally get along so well, how could i not suggest this possibility too in an interaction guide for him? he’s one of best babysitters and would love to interact with young muses, even if they aren’t small children but still quite young. even tween/teenagers might get along with him ( though if they’re going through some angst, he’s gonna be ... a lil awkward )

          nature/camping/plant plots — i mentioned that emile loves being out in nature, and this has long been the case since he was young. i make fun of him by saying he’s like an overgrown boy scout just because he has so much knowledge about the outdoors and camping from years of doing things like hiking. he also has a green thumb; really loves himself a nice plant. so here are some plots where your muse: 

needs a camping/hiking buddy and invites emile ( pre-est relationship most likely )

meets emile at a campsite ( first meeting type of plot ! )

is a camp counselor at a summer camp and emile is your co-counselor/head counselor and yall gotta take care of all these fking kids together for a whole summer 

works at a plant nursery/floral shop and they always see emile come in bc he hoards plants and loves to buy fresh cut flowers, either for himself or his sister, alison bc she loves flowers too 

just ... talks to emile about his plants casually or asks him for advice on why their plant isn’t doing so well 

needs a new trail mix/energy bar recipe and asks emile ( a neighbor? a friend? someone who is also looking at recipe books in a book store? ) if he has any

          art/photography/music plots — like his sister, emile dabbles in a lot of hobbies too and he shares a lot of those with alison. the biggest differences lie in the fact that while alison favors watercolor painting or body art with acrylics, emile prefers sketching with paper/pen and paper. similarly, while alison mainly plays the piano, emile plays the violin. photography is something both siblings share, though emile likes to take pictures of landscaping in addition to portraits. here are some plots where your muse:

needs a photographer for their *insert special event here* and hires emile 

needs a violinist for their *insert fancy event here that requires live music* and hire emile

asks emile for violin lessons 

wants to play pictionary with emile and that’s how they learn that emile can draw really well

          “what even is emile’s romantic life” plots —  my boy really tries to fall in love, okay. he tries, but it’s not that easy for him when you take into account how he’s not really out of the closet to a lot of people in his life and how he generally just has terribly luck with romantic relationships in general. this started back in high school, and it really doesn’t do much for his self esteem when it come to dating. it kind of puts dating on the back burner for him, really, especially since he isn’t in the best place in his life at the moment to find a serious relationship, but he still likes to try and go on dates once in a while, and he’s trying to learn to embrace the fact he isn’t straight. so here are some plots where your muse: 

bothers emile a lot about why he doesn’t have a girlfriend and plays matchmaker/tries to teach him how to talk to girls because that’s what you think the problem is 

gets set up on a blind date with emile and it either goes really well, or it goes really badly. plot twist: you two used to know each other somehow ( high school, community college, work before one of yall left the office, camp a while back, ect ). 

plays a supportive role in helping emile discover his sexuality ( can be in high school or afterwards ). your muse can either be super helpful or super intrusive and it makes emile suffer but, you know, your muse has good intentions. this “help” can be your muse sharing their experiences with emile, taking him out to lgtbq+ spaces to help him embrace this side of his identity, assuring emile that it’s not wrong to like the same sex, ect. they could also just take a balls to the wall crazy approach if that’s more their style, up to your tbh

          miscellaneous plots — here are some more random ideas in case you’re feeling stuck still! i’d like to remind everyone that my wishlist tag is always a great place to look too if you aren’t feeling what’s in the guide. i hope that the guide gives you an idea at least as to how you might approach a muse and what plots work well for them!

your muse offers to find emile a better job because they can tell he’s not loving his current job, so they offer him a helping hand. similarly, your muse offers to help emile go back to school because they wants to see emile succeed and be happy doing something in a field he actually cares about.  

office plots — your muse works at the same law firm as emile and shares an office space with him. please talk to him because emile needs a friend at work to make his job more enjoyable :’) 

high school plots — emile does have a high school verse like most of my other muses do. the bulk of what happens in high school involves emile discovering he’s not straight and being bullied for it for nate and cedric. on top of that, he’s witnessing his sister go through a really bad relationship, but with how secretive she is with things, it’s hard for him to intervene. there’s a lot of avenue for serious plots in this verse, but as with alison, lighthearted high school plots can also happen with emile! teenagers aren’t just full of angst, after all. sometimes we just need some shenanigans.

community college plots — instead of university, emile attends community college for a couple years to obtain his associates so that he can work as a legal assistant. he works odd jobs to keep himself afloat, and for the most part, he’s just vibing. 

werewolf verse plots —a post explaining the basics of this verse can be found here! in this verse, emile is considered a beta and spent his whole life practically raising his sister, alison. growing up, the siblings did not belong to a stable pack, and as such, they pretty much spent most of their life kind of living how they wanted. emile in this verse is just vibing, too. he’s not looking for a mate or for drama, he’s just trying to make sure his sister doesn’t get herself into trouble.           i’d like to re-emphasize that this is not a true omegaverse even though i do categorize muses as alphas, omegas, or betas, mention bonding between werewolves, nesting, heat/rut, and the use of suppressants to control the severity of heat. the description of these topics, however, are very tame as the focus of this verse is not unhealthy power imbalances or plotless smut. this verse exists bc werewolves are cool, and also because the idea of bonding between partners is where i find the most interest since true bonding really embodies the “to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until parted by death” sentiment in marriage vows except even to a more serious degree. so yeah — werewolves. have your werewolf meet mine. it’ll be fun. 

[paladin-andric]

Blackheart, Chapter 30: The Black Dragon

In the midst of a peaceful, sunny day, a guard sat in a verdant green field, staring vacantly off into the distance.

The man was wearing a simple set of commoner’s clothes. On top of his shirt, he wore a tabard with the crest of Jherin on it.

Jherin, a fledgling town full of craftsmen and laborers, was still finding its footing, being quite a young town with a short history. It was in the countryside and fairly remote, being in the fairly undeveloped Southeast. The only largely developed place around was Palethorn, and at the moment…

The guard tapped his foot as he took a swig from his bottle of ale. The scruffy-looking man wasn’t supposed to be drinking on duty, but as several members of the guard had been skipping shifts, leaving early, and slacking off, he had been burdened with so many other men’s jobs that he couldn’t be bothered to care anymore.

He scratched as his rough stubble, still in the process of growing into a beard. The town was so peaceful. Crime was nonexistent. The rolling hills outside of town were quiet and serene. Even his superiors didn’t seem to care anymore, and staring up at the fluffy white clouds and bright blue sky above...he could hardly blame them.

It was the perfect day for relaxing. He leaned back until he was flat on his back, watching the clouds on this comfortable hill as the breeze cooled him. He could feel his eyelids grow heavy, and soon enough he was lying in the grass, eyes shut and hands on the back of his head.

In that moment, he felt no stress, no worries or even the slights inklings of negative thoughts or feelings. For a brief moment...life was wonderful.

The sound of violent winds broke him from his short-lived serenity. He opened one of his eyes, staring up into the sky again. Nothing. The strong sounds of whipping winds continued. Suspicious now, he sat up, taking a moment to wipe the dirt off of his tabard.

He looked off into the fields, confused. The sounds of violent winds continued, now accompanied by strange noises he’d never heard before. He realized if the winds were picking up enough to make those noises, he should be able to at least feel it…

He continued pondering this until he realized it had suddenly gotten much darker. A brief moment of confusion was followed by grim realization as he found that it hadn’t gotten darker; there was something above him casting a massive shadow.

Slowly, he lifted his head to the sky. The man’s eyes widened as he saw, directly over him, the underbelly of a dragon.

For a moment, he thought that maybe he’d gone insane. Maybe his imagination was running mad with those cloud shapes.

After a second passed, the dragon flew by him and then whirled around to face him before beginning to descend.

With the beast’s wings flapping over him, now he understood where the noises were coming from. His clothes whipped about as he nearly flipped over from the sheer force of the winds.

Not that any of that was on his mind. His thoughts were a searing whiteness, sheer shock and terror rendering him unable to move or even think.

A real life dragon, descending upon him. He couldn’t even appreciate just how terrifying it was at the moment, his mind still shut down from the shock of the scene.

The dragon landed on the grassy field, directly in front of him and facing his direction. The beast had green scales and sharp, blue eyes. Its wings folded up on its back as the monster gazed at him.

His own gaze was far different. The man’s eyes were as wide as plates, and his mouth ached from how agape it was in its horror. He was frozen, lying on the ground with his hands against the earth, limbs stiff.

“You,” the monster spoke, its voice deep and booming, “I have come to bring word.”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the guard recovered from his blank, though this only allowed him to comprehend just how deadly this situation was.

The beast’s massive maw, full of razor sharp teeth that could eviscerate him in mere moments was so close. He could nearly reach out and touch the dragon...if it wished, with only a fraction of a moment’s effort, he would be dead.

Yet it was...talking. So absorbed in his own terror, the man completely missed the words it spoke.

“Are you listening?” the dragon asked, sounding a touch curious...or perhaps concerned.

At last, the guard gathered enough courage to force out a word. “D-don’t…”

“I am a friend, human. You are in no danger.”

The monster’s voice was...surprisingly gentle. The man found a bit more of his courage, but still terror filled him.

“Y-you, you c-can’t...be here,” he managed, pointing a twitching finger at the dragon, “Y-you’re...banned!”

Basilrin resisted the urge to grin and tell the man to enforce the law if he cared about it so much. He opted instead for a softer approach.

“I bring urgent word from the City of Palethorn. Your help is required.”

Nothing. The man continued gawking.

“I am aiding the king’s men. We seek outside help. Can you bring fresh bodies to reinforce us?”

Still nothing.

“Please, we must hurry. The demons are plotting the destruction of Geralthin! You must help the others!”

The poor man was shaking like a leaf. After that burst of confidence, it seemed he couldn’t muster anymore willpower. Basilrin huffed lightly as he puzzled over what to try next. It seemed he had no choice but to slow down and calm the human down.

This man was clearly terrified by him. He had to reassure him.

“Perhaps you could answer something else...what is your name? Could you tell me that?”

The man hesitated before finally forcing an answer out.

“G-Gregory,” he squeaked.

“I see. It is a pleasure to meet you, Gregory. I am Basilrin.”

Gregory swallowed hard, still shaking.

“Sir Gregory...the City of Palethorn...you know of the crisis, correct? You have heard?”

The dragon was speaking slowly and softly, as if talking with a child. The man nodded.

“Y-yes.”

“I have come from there. The effort to retake the city has begun. It is his majesty’s will that I send word to all towns and cities in the area to raise the banners, immediately. You must gather all guards, soldiers, veterans and mercenaries in your town and send them to Palethorn. Can you do that, friend? Can you tell them the order?”

“T-the king ordered it?”

Basilrin nodded. “Palethorn is HIS city, after all! Yes, he wishes the levies raised and sent there. It is absolutely crucial to the recovery of the city, as well as the continued existence of Geralthin. If we do not stop them there, they will spill out into the kingdom, and soon enough, your people will be next...”

Gregory nodded, shakily getting to his feet and snatching his club. “O-okay! Okay, I’m going! We’ll be there!”

He bolted away from the beast, sprinting with such fervor that Basilrin was left impressed at the man’s dedication...or fear. The dragon grinned and called out as the human fled.

“Thank you, Gregory! All will know of your part in the defense of the kingdom!”

These events repeated themselves over the course of the day, with varying degrees of confrontation and success. For hours, Basilrin flew from town to town, rallying support for Palethorn to anyone who would listen. Some fled in terror. Some didn’t believe him. A few even attacked him, though thankfully with mundane weapons, which bounced off his scales harmlessly.

There was panic, there was terror, and occasionally, curiosity. Thankfully, even those who attacked eventually were forced to hear his call to action. A particularly stubborn folk was carefully picked up in between two claws and forced to listen to him speak at length, dangling helplessly in the air in the meanwhile.

Soon enough, Basilrin found himself getting further and further Northwest, moving away from the border city of Palethorn and into the heartlands of Geralthin.

The towns became cities. The crowds became more and more unruly as the dragon attempted to address them. Still, he persisted, making sure everyone had heard of the need to send reinforcements to Palethorn. As Alexander commanded, he resorted to falsehoods when they grew defiant or hesitant.

He had told many that he was there on the king’s authority, and that his majesty ordered their immediate presence at Palethorn. Alexander was in command of the “army”, and they were reinforcing his own troops, who had suffered heavy losses.

Finally, he came to the largest city of them all. The city at the center of Geralthin. The trade hub of the known world. The city along the great River Invicta.

Genmere, the Capital City. The center of government, and the seat of the monarch.

Below him, the city was pulsing with life. So many people were walking about the streets that from the sky it seemed more a constantly shifting pile of sand than a crowd of people. As he passed however, the atmosphere quickly changed.

He could hear screaming as he was spotted and soon enough the entire city was in pandemonium. The marvelous city of stone and ivory was in an uproar, hundreds of cries echoing through the skies as bells began to ring.

They had sounded the alarms, bells ringing all throughout the city. Of course, dragons were to be destroyed on sight. The remote villages and towns he had encountered along the way were full of commoners, farmers and laborers. They had militiamen with clubs and spears. There was no way for them to offer any resistance, and so it was easy to sit down and talk with them.

With this powerhouse of a city, full of riches and occupied by powerful, important people, they might offer a challenge...even danger.

The dragon could see the castle in the distance. Upon the top of a large hill outside the city, the king himself resided. The seat of all power in the kingdom. The spirit of the nation itself.

A brilliant idea struck him. He could tell the king Alexander needed help! If he explained the knight’s plan, surely that would secure the support they needed!

With his mind made up, Basilrin flew forward, heading towards the great castle atop the hill. Of course, while it was built to ward off unwanted visitors, its defenses weren’t exactly built with dragons in mind.

He was nearly there, and in just a few moments, all his troubles would-

The violent sound of a firing mechanism broke his train of thought. The green dragon barely had a moment process what was happening before a massive stake, the size of a great tree, narrowly whizzed past him.

He adjusted his sight and stared carefully at the castle in front of him. On the walls, two oversized ballistas were in emplacements along the sides of the forward defenses, peeking over the wall, and currently aiming up at him.

Well...perhaps the defenses aren’t ENTIRELY built without dragons in mind…

There was one more ballista. The dragon kept his eyes locked on it as got closer and closer, never letting it out of his vision for a moment. It was loaded and spun to follow him as he approached, ready to fire at a moment’s notice…

Basilrin had never been more prepared for something in his life. When the ballista fired, and that resounding crack rang out, the dragon spun and whirled to the side, the massive bolt flying harmlessly off into the sky.

Hope that thing doesn’t hit anybody…

Now upon the castle, the dragon flew over the walls and landed in the courtyard. The rich green field, full of gorgeous flowers, lovely stone pathways and a magnificent fountain was a sight to behold. Basilrin didn’t have time to appreciate it at the moment though, first…

He turned back to the walls, and already soldiers were hurrying to get into firing lines, turning to face him and readying bows.

“Hold your fire!” the dragon cried, “I am not here in ill will! I bring word for the king!”

That caused a moment of confusion among the men on the walls, who half-lowered their weapons and gave both him and one another confused looks.

“I come from Palethorn! His plan has succeeded but we need reinforcements! Please, I must have an audience!”

There was a lengthy standoff between the group of men and the dragon. For a moment, he thought they might fire, but a voice from behind him made him reconsider that.

“Dragon!”

He slowly turned. Behind him, there were even more bowmen. Archers and crossbowmen, all around him, all pointing their weapons at him…

Before them all a figure in armor stepped forward. It was different from Alexander’s. His helmet was different, shaped like a bucket rather than a visored helmet. His armor was covered by a coat bearing royal insignias. He had a wide, swathed cape on top of it all. A knight, perhaps, but quite unlike the one he knew.

“You should never have come.”

“The fate of the world hangs in the balance!” Basilrin retorted, “His men need help to seal the portal!”

The knight was silent for a moment. With that helmet, he couldn’t read the man’s expression. A shame, for he wondered if his words fell on deaf ears.

The knight turned back and murmured to one of the men behind him. The man nodded and bolted off, hurrying back to the palace. The knight turned back and looked up at the dragon.

“You will remain motionless and obey any order given. If you resist, you will not live to rue it. Do you understand?”

“...very well.”

The tension was thick. As they stood waiting in silence, the archers grew anxious, and the dragon quickly became restless. Ah, perhaps if I am friendly enough, they will calm down…

“Who are you?” the green dragon probed.

“Silence.” Cold and dismissive. Just his luck. “I was only curious…”

“I said silence. Your presence is not welcome.”

“I come in the spirit of peace and reconciliation, friend!” the dragon offered happily, “My name is Basilrin, what is yours?”

“If you do not silence yourself, you will be destroyed!”

“Simply trying to lighten the mood.” Basilrin offered the man a large grin. “I am on your side, I promise! I simply wish to know you better, as I have with others. The knight you sent to Palethorn is simply exemplary, so courageous and kind! A true testament to humanity’s spirit.”

“This is your last warning. You utter a single word, and I give the order to destroy you.”

Basilrin tilted his head, giving the knight a bewildered look. “Goodness, a bit extreme, is that not?”

“Alright, that’s it!” the man held his hand up before swinging it down. “FIRE!”

The sounds of arrows and bolts loosing rang out all through the courtyard. At first, Basilrin felt a palpable degree of fear...and then, he could feel them.

Small, funny feelings all over his body. He looked down to see arrows and bolts smacking into his scales before snapping and falling to the ground harmlessly. Not an ounce of pain, but more the feeling of soft taps all over him.

He waited it out, soldiers all around him firing and hitting their targets until the area fell silent again. The men stood in awe as the great beast stood, unharmed.

Basilrin frowned at the knight. “That was quite rude of you.”

The man stumbled backwards before shakily pointing at the beast. “Fire again!”

The soldiers hesitantly loaded their crossbows and took aim, firing once more.

Basilrin sighed as the next volley hit him, once again feeling nearly nothing.

“I must say, I am not impressed.”

“K-keep! Firing!”

The unending volley of bolts and arrows continued, still pinging harmlessly off the dragons scales. With no real danger presented to him, perhaps…

“Well, I come from the City of Palethorn,” he explained through the ranged fire, “I lived in the caves underneath the park! My family was there, too! The demons, they...I…do not wish to talk of that, actually.”

The firing continued, as did his explanation. “Well, your knight saved me, my father as well! I am grateful for that. It has really awoken me to the love and kindness your people are capable of. I know that once this is over, we can set aside our differences and live in peace and harmony…”

The dragon watched as a few of the soldiers stopped firing. Whether they were won over or confused by the dragon, or they knew it was no use attacking him was unclear. Either way, the volleys grew weaker each time.

“...still going, are you? Well, I suppose there are many things I could speak of. I never knew my true father. I thought I did, but recently my father revealed to me that he found me as a whelp, helpless and starving, and took me home with him. I could hardly believe-”

“Captain Harold?!”

The crowd paused as an especially well dressed man stormed down the pathway to them, looking absolutely livid.

“What the HELL do you think you’re doing?!”

The knight turned and quickly stepped backwards, appearing truly afraid despite his visage being hidden away. “Y-your highness! I was just-”

“Just ruining EVERYTHING! Get back, all of you! Damn fools!”

The soldiers broke their firing lines, dispersing and backing away as the man marched up to the dragon. He was well dressed, more so than the dragon had ever personally seen. He wore a light circlet on his head as well.

He appeared to be royalty, but he couldn’t be the king...he was quite young, and didn’t match the descriptions. While Basilrin had never seen the king, several cityfolk back at Palethorn had used quite...colorful language to describe him. Among them were insults thrown at his elderly appearance, as well as his age in general.

The young man looked up at the dragon, seeming to hold no fear at the beasts presence. Not a single person Basilrin had encountered in his journey to rally support had lacked all fear. Some hid it well, or courageously overcame their fears, but they all treated the dragon with caution, or at the very least a healthy dose of respect.

This man though, he looked like he hadn’t known fear a day in his life. Perhaps he had met dragons before…?

“What is your business here?”

“Well...I am here to call for aid. Are you in charge here?”

The man performed a short bow. “I am Prince William, heir of the Kingdom of Geralthin. No, I am not in charge, but...I hold certain power.”

“I am Basilrin, a resident of Palethorn! I have come to rally the army! The knight you have sent needs your help! He and I have worked to slay the beast that was preventing your entry to the city! With a professional force assaulting the demons, we can pierce their defenses and dispel the fog, saving all of Geralthin, and even Deaco and the rest of the world itself!”

William put his hands on his hips as he pondered the request. “Ah, that knight...he really made it? And he even prepared everything for us?”

“Correct! The civilians have been evacuated and the gateway reclaimed! All we need is some backup to fight our way to the Blackheart, the source of the demonic scourge! The final battle is at hand!”

The prince broke into a smile. “This is perfect! All that hard work paid off. I can tell you I’ll pledge my troops, but...I can’t promise father’s support.”

The dragon frowned. “Well, why ever not?”

“Fiend!”

The voice called out from behind the crowd. All turned to see the one that was swiftly approaching, William grimacing as he did so.

“Well...why don’t you ask him yourself?”

It was him. The King of Geralthin. The white haired, lightly bearded man was making an entrance similar to his son’s, a furious look in his eyes, though this time directed at Basilrin.

He wore a silver circlet, not exactly common with kings, but perhaps he felt the crown was uncomfortable?

“You have a lot of nerve coming to MY domain, beast!” he marched past the crowd of guards and glared at the dragon, teeth bared.

Basilrin decided on a drastic course of action. He bowed his head deeply, as one would do to signal their submission to their betters.

“Your majesty,” he spoke lowly, “I have come to report on the state of Palethorn.”

In a way, it was a power move, an ultimatum. While it signaled his submission to the human, something many dragons deemed worse than death, it would also undermine any attempts by the king to humiliate him or bring him into line. After all, what example could he make of someone already obedient?

That was the plan, anyway. In truth, it didn’t seem to do much.

“Hah! What a weak-willed fiend! So craven that you kneel at the first sign of power.”

“Sir, I-”

“Silence!” Salign ordered, “You should be executed for daring to step out of the city, beast!”

“My king, I wish to-”

“Your wishes do not concern me! You will be punished most severely, gutless one. A dragon without a spine...how strange! Perhaps we could get you to beg than, hmm?”

William stiffened up. “Father, he’s come to ask for help-”

“Help?! Help!” Salign laughed. “Why on earth would I spare a moment’s thought to a treacherous little wretch like him?! Dragons...the arrogance, the evil and lowly ways they follow...you should have died in that city!”

Basilrin frowned. “I have been helping you! I have done battle with the demons to save Palethorn! They...I lost...my family. I have sacrificed much for you! I am not some fiend! My name is Basilrin, and I am a friend to your people!”

“A shame you didn’t die with them.”

Basilrin reeled back in shock, his sharp teeth showing as he grimaced. “How dare you disrespect their memories and sacrifices…”

“Father!” William snarled, “What’s wrong with you?!”

“He should be killed for trespassing! Death! He deserves death!”

“He’s on OUR side!” the prince shouted.

The dragon’s blue eyes narrowed. “Perhaps brother was not so far off…”

“Guards! Kill him! I want him dead! I want them all DEAD! Do you hear-”

“NO!”

This voice was different. It was deep. Booming. Mighty. The voice of no mere human. It was…

Basilrin turned to see another dragon flying towards them. This one struck even him with awe. The beast was larger than him, much so. This was an older, more powerful and experienced dragon.

How many centuries had she lived? What was her intention in this meeting? What was-

It hit him. The banners. The banners carrying the national flag. A deep red background with a black dragon in the center.

This was Gira. The one who granted the monarchs their long lives, great health and sound wisdom throughout the kingdom’s history. The one who was immortalized as the very symbol of the nation. The one who saw the kingdom through its darkest hours.

Even Basilrin, a dragon himself, could feel himself quiver ever so slightly as she landed atop the walls, her massive form looming over the entire courtyard. Her eyes carried fierce resolve, and unshakable purpose.

“Enough is enough, King Salign.”

“You!” the king snarled. He appeared even more furious than he had at Basilrin, confusing the young dragon. Wasn’t she his advisor?

“Lady Gira!” William’s stance shifted. “What’s this about?”

“I have overheard everything. This cannot stand! Let the young one speak, he carries word of matters most grave.”

“Gira…” Basilrin stared at the older dragon, feeling near-breathless.

“Crawl back to your hole!” Salign ordered, “This is none of your business!”

“Yes it IS!” the behemoth roared. Her voice shook the earth as she cried, the sound of fury and regret long suppressed. Everyone was stricken silent at her wrath.

“This is MY kingdom! My BURDEN! You could never understand that, king. You know I have always pledged loyalty to you, but this has gone on too long. No more. No more can I watch this plunge into the abyss!”

The king stared daggers at the black dragon. “You…”

“Half a millennium ago, I swore an oath to Master Godfrey, the First King, the founder of the Kingdom of Geralthin. I promised I would protect the kingdom to my dying breath, that I would guard against any threats without hesitation. Salign...you have turned your back on the kingdom, and its people. Master William was correct...there is something very wrong with you. You have changed, it is true. I cannot abide by potential madness anymore.”

“How DARE you!” Salign screamed, “KILL HER! EVERYONE, KILL HER NOW!”

Basilrin noted with shock that unlike with him, even the most dogged guards seemed to pause and stare at each other in shock at such an order. The horror was written on their faces, clear as day.

“That is an ORDER! FIRE! FIRE NOW!”

No one followed through at first. After some time, the opposite even came to pass. A few men shook their heads in disbelief. A couple of them started backing away.

“What are you doing?! I am your king! Obey your orders!”

A young, shaky man shuddered as he held up the Flag of Geralthin. Speaking erratically, he forced out his words. “I-I can’t hurt Gira. She’s...I’m carrying a flag of her, for God’s sake!”

“I can’t. I won’t,” another soldier muttered.

“That’s more like it!” William bellowed, “Enough of this lunacy!”

“Gira IS Geralthin!” another soldier cried. All around them, the group of guards grew increasingly discontented, and just as it looked like the tides had finally turned...the king broke into a grin.

“Great work, everyone! You passed the test.”

William blinked. “T-test?”

“Yes, indeed!” Salign looked quite smug as he marched up to the green dragon and turned around to address the guards. “Loyalty to your nation, above all else. Isn’t that a good moral to adhere to? You see, it’s important to measure how much a lone figure can bring a nation to ruin. To see you all adhere to protecting Geralthin over a tyrant’s cruelty is grand! Congratulations, you’ve proven yourselves to me!”

Even Gira was staring slack-jawed at the king. Though Basilrin joined her in that, William looked enraged. It was the look of a man who’d seen a criminal get off scot-free.

What of the rebellion? He’d crushed that and killed everyone involved. Were they not protecting Geralthin against tyranny? What of their test?

It had to be an excuse. There was nothing else to it. Though it was disheartening, the tension and anger in the area seemed to have evaporated during the confusion. Perhaps Basilrin could finally fulfil his duty…

“Sir, if I may-”

“You may not,” Salign answered quickly, his smile dropping, “You speak out of line.”

“Sire, please!” Gira begged, “He’s come all the way from Palethorn to offer a report!”

“I don’t care if-”

“Alexander!”

Basilrin knew he’d never get a chance to explain himself without grabbing the king’s attention...and his gamble worked.

The aged king whirled around, eyes locking on the dragon. “What of him?”

“King, I came all this way because he wished me to do so. He desperately needs your support to fulfill his mission!”

“And what of the mission? What support?”

His entire demeanor had shifted in these moments. Despite the apparent cruelty, and the ‘madness’ Gira and William spoke of, it seemed he really did care about saving Palethorn.

“We have located the hive of the demons. There was also a near-immortal demon guarding the gates. It was the one that has killed all the soldiers and adventurers seeking to enter the city. I worked alongside Alexander to destroy it. The path to the city is now clear, and there lies an army of corrupted beasts in between your knight and the demon’s source of power. He requests a detachment of the army so that he might push through to the source and destroy it. All life in Geralthin, and soon, the world, relies on his success.”

Salign nodded. “I see...why didn’t you tell me sooner, you fool?!”

“I tried to! You silenced me, sir!”

The king glared at him. What was Basilrin supposed to say? That’s what happened!

“Captain Harold.”

“Yes, your majesty?” “Raise the banners. We’re going to Palethorn.”

“Yessir.”

Gira smiled at that. “I see. It is time for us to go, than, is it not?”

Basilrin frowned. “Us?”

The black dragon laughed. “Yes, us. What did I say? I swore to protect this kingdom, and protect I shall! I will join the army!”

“Out of the question!” the prince shouted, “It’s too dangerous!”

“Master William-”

“No! We’re NOT losing you! We’re not going to lose the very heart of the nation!”

Gira shot the prince a sly grin. “Indeed, you are not...for I will be victorious.”

With that, she launched herself into the sky, already flying off.

“W-what?!” William began to shout after her at the top of his lungs. “Gira...GIIIIIRRRRRAAAAA! Damn it!”

The prince whirled around and began to sprint back to the castle.

“William! Where the hell are you off to?!” Salign demanded.

“Suiting up! I’m not letting her do something stupid, not on my watch!”

“You’ll never catch up to her!”

“Well, I can still join the army!”

Basilrin tapped his claws on the ground. “Well, perhaps I could catch up to her…?”

The king once again whipped around, glaring at the young dragon. “You had better! If anything happens to her, it’ll be on YOU!”

That is hardly fair…

“Well then...off I go!”

Basilrin hurriedly went after the other dragon, flying back the way he came. He felt a flood of emotions wash over him.

What in the world was that meeting? What was the deal with the hostility. What was up with that king?!

Far off, he could still see the much larger black dragon flying away. He roared out, hoping the signal would catch her attention.

Indeed it did. She slowed down as she turned her head to look at him. He hurried, flapping his wings wildly as he struggled to catch up.

“Wait! Wait a moment!” he shouted over to her. She paused her flight, wings slowly flapping as she waited in place for the younger dragon. Soon enough, he had reached her, and she began moving again. He was sure to fly alongside her as she did so.

Her size was much more pronounced as he flew directly alongside her. The end of his tail only reached the halfway point of her body, and she was both above and below him at the same time. She turned to look at him, and even her eye seemed to swallow him whole in its weight.

“Basilrin, was it?”

“Yes...and you would be Gira…”

“The very same. A pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh, I assure you, the pleasure is all mine.”

Gira cracked a grin as she turned to look at the smaller dragon. “Charmer. You will go far.”

“Gira...everyone back there was...you made them very upset with your...leaving.”

“This may be the first time I have done it in their lives...but this is certainly not my first outing in defense of the kingdom.”

Basilrin frowned. “I see...they were very worried.”

“Their worry is appreciated and understandable...but misplaced.”

There was a lengthy pause as the pair continued their flight back to Palethorn. It was quite some time before Gira spoke again.

“Basilrin...am I so very, very sorry for his majesty’s horrid, venomous words to you and your family.”

The green dragon sighed. “I...I thought that after all we have done for them-”

“We appreciate it. I promise you that.”

“Gira…”

“The king is not in his right state of mind. I am certain of that. William mentioned it and, yes, he is like an entirely different person. He acted so normal for so long...in truth, I worry about him. What could cause such a change in a man? I think he is the victim of something rather than the perpetrator, you know?”

“I do not have the answer,” Basilrin admitted. Gira smiled again.

“I did not ask that of you. I hope to discover that in my own time. For now, however...a greater foe awaits.”

Basilrin could feel a touch of fear and embarrassment as he found the words. “I...cannot express my gratitude. You are an inspiration, the one they tell stories of. It is an honor to fight by your side, Gira of Geralthin.”

“Goodness...such kindness is refreshing! If your conduct is any indication, I can tell the honor will be mine to share in.”

Awe. It wasn’t a sensation Basilrin felt often, but this was one of those few times. To be looking up at such a large, powerful figure that lived up to the legend...he felt like little more than a starstruck child, the very same one who had been told stories of her all those years ago.

“Lady...Gira?”

“Yes?”

“Is it...is it true that you saved the whole kingdom?”

Gira let out a short laugh.

“Well, that depends. Which story did you hear?”

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[fyrapartnersearch]

bloodsport

hello!

My name is Emmy! i'm going to make this fairly short (or at least try to haaA). I am looking for 1-2 new rp partners!

I am currently in uni full time and work 2 part time jobs so please understand this is a hobby for me. My posting speed ranges from once every few days to once every couple of weeks. I am almost always available ooc though, esp through google hangouts.

I am in my early twenties and prefer my partners to be 20+. I love detailed plots and stories; crafting good posts is a huge part of why I love rping. I match/mirror my partner's length and put a high amount of importance on compatibility as writers. Good grammar, punctuation, spelling is A Thing for me. I tend to switch capitalization OOC but as an English minor, when it comes down to posting, I put 110% in.

If you want a partner that's invested in writing together and all the joy that brings, I'm your person! 

what do I write?

I write a few fandoms, but not many. If I’ve got plots listed, they’re the ideas I have, but I’m totally open to yours as well. Stars denote how much I'm craving them. I'll also list the canon characters I write after I list the fandom!

Fallout: New Vegas & 4: Arcade Gannon & Elder Maxson, Paladin Danse - also got a ton of ocs for both ***plot for fallout 4 a: We explore the cut ending to the Brotherhood of Steel questline, wherein the Sole Survivor and Paladin Danse refuse Maxson’s final orders for Danse, and fight for Danse to become the leader of the Brotherhood of Steel. Would likely require you playing Maxson or Danse and me playing the other, with one of us playing the Sole Survivor.  ***plot for fallout 4 b: Your/my oc is a double agent for the Railroad, with the mission to infiltrate the Brotherhood of Steel and send intelligence back to the agents back at home base. Your/my oc becomes unexpectedly attached to elder Maxson through work and circumstance. Eventually, your/my oc must make a choice of where their allegiance lies: within the arms of Arthur or with the faction they are fighting for. (potentially, we could double and do plot a & b at the same time.) 

Mafia 2: Vito Scaletta  *plot for mafia 2: we explore the dynamics of a relationship between Vito and your oc. Your oc could be in a position of great risk- think outside of the mafia, possibly a police officer, prostitute. Some position where power dynamics could be played with. If the pairing is m/m we could also deal with the themes of internalized homophobia and coming to terms with one’s identity. 

Bioshock 1, 2 & Infinite: Brigid Tenbenbaum, Andrew Ryan, Frank Fontaine & Eleanor Lamb, Sofia Lamb & Booker Dewitt 

**Marvel Cinematic Universe: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers - get @ me with your Stony plots (do people still write that??)

***greater Marvel Universe: Logan Howlett, Carol Danvers, Jean Grey  ****random plot: We do a crossover and we ship Sharon Carter/Carol Danvers. I just. Uuugh I have a lot of feelings about them and I have hella muse for these babes. Lemme know if you’re down to give this a shot I will love you forever no word of a lie. 

But honestly where my heart lies is within oc rp. Here are a few plots i have of mine, stars denote how much i’m craving them:

****(m/m) power & politics: My oc is a prestigious state senator, who lives a double life. He is currently in the closet with no intent on leaving it anytime soon. However, a certain someone falls into his life, making him question what he thought he knew for certain. Your oc breaks down the walls my oc has put up and changes him into a softer, better man. However, with an upcoming presidential campaign on the horizon for my oc, the limits of the secret relationship will be pushed and pulled beyond what both parties have ‘signed up for.‘

****(m/m) the guardian: Your oc is a newcomer to the nhl but is quickly making waves- think Connor McDavid style. He’s young and impressive, but mostly, impressionable. He starts to get battered around by both his teammates and opposing teams. After a few hard hits and fowl play within the game that have cost your oc bench and recovery time, the team’s coach calls in reinforcements to boost the team’s morale and serve as a protector to your oc. My oc is a player who hasn’t got the talent part but has got a huge heart. Not to mention… huge hands. Good for makin’ fists. Good for fightin’.  My oc protects your oc during the games, coming to your oc’s aid, picking fights for your oc and protecting him on the ice. As such, the two players grow attached to one another.. perhaps too attached for the captain to be comfortable with. Possibilities for a love triangle and other complications, for sure

***(m/m) too good to be true: Our ocs start out in the whl, both as promising wingers. Their good chemistry is vital to bringing back their team’s success. However, one of our ocs starts to get too attached to the other, and when an nhl draft separates them, one of our ocs is all too eager to cut contact and try to forget. The two excel in their nhl careers without one another, and end up on nhl teams with a history of deep rivalry. Occasionally, the gloves hit the ice, fueled by the tension of unresolved feelings and the pressure of the respective teams to keep up the rivalry. The two are reunited when they are both chosen to play nationally for the same team, and are forced to reconcile what they have both buried so deeply within them. 

***(m/m) big money: These two ocs play for rival teams in the nhl. While their teams have a history of tension, our two ocs take it to the next level. Audiences are more excited to watch these two fight than they are to watch the game itself. There’s a market in the violence between these two, and a reputation to maintain on both ends. If the public found out that these two were secretly seeing one another, their careers would both be over. 

**** (m/m) sugar daddy: My oc is a law student studying in your oc’s country in order to get their degree abroad. They’re from eastern Europe and uh. broke af. They settle into an arrangement with your oc where your oc agrees to ~pay him for his company~ after they meet while my oc does camming online to make ends meet. We could take it anywhere- your oc could whisk mine off his feet and 'save’ him or. Be toxic & trashy and make my oc’s life hell.

Okay and, here are just some general prompts that could be intertwined with the plots above, or could be something we use to springboard into our own rp:

my oc has serious commitment issues. they often go around ‘ghosting’ individuals after 4-5 dates, with little to no explanation of why. your oc falls for mine, and is the first to confront my oc about their shitty habits. 

your oc and my oc were best friends, but they lost touch over a stupid fight they had when they were preteens. they can’t believe that they’re seeing one another in a bar, halfway across the world from where they met. 

your oc and my oc were flames. my oc proposed to yours, but yours turned them down. they never spoke again… until they were sharing a crammed elevator, with my oc being completely intoxicated, and still confessing their feelings for your oc. 

your oc is a huge fan of my oc’s nhl career/political career. your oc wins a contest to meet and have dinner with my oc. while my oc expects a boring night out, my oc is completely surprised by how well they hit it off with your oc. 

my oc, your first oc and your second oc all grew up together. your first oc has always been pining for my oc’s attention, and is thrilled when my oc and your first oc finally get together. they develop a long term relationship, but my oc knows it would devastate your first oc if they told them that they have been seeing your second oc for most of the relationship. 

I recognize that a lot of these focus on the nhl/the lives of professional hockey players- please don’t be worried about hockey knowledge/nhl jargon/whatever else goes through your head! I’m more interested in sport as a realm for drama than i am for following the rulebook and being 100% accurate to life when it comes to hockey. There’s a lot i don’t know and am still needing to learn, myself! If you know a lot, great!! If you don’t, let’s figure things out together! as for general oc ideas, here’s a list:

professor x student

veteran x civillian

cop x criminal 

** OC superheroes (I have a lot of muse for this one!)

street racing, fast-and-furious-esque setting

rival gangs 

** nhl/hockey based (lol obviously)

small town canadiana or americana 

fun, fluffy romance based modern settings

historical setting- preferably, the second world war/1940s-1960s 

light worldbuilding - new to this but wanting to learn

honestly whatever you can pitch to me that isn’t high fantasy :)

I can expand on and work with any of these ideas, these are just like, topics. Whatever i do with you, I promise it’ll be fleshed out, with tons of opportunity for drama. 

how do we get started?

pleaaase send me an email at ehmmywrites@gmail.com ! I will get back to you asap, but please give me some of your thoughts/an idea of why/what you'd like to write with me!

I am also almost always around on google hangouts.

We can sort out the brass tacks there and figure out if we're a good match. :) 

Thanks for your time and I hope I hear from you!

[alternative-eyes]

https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oR9kzhc_WZA/XDeVmBjcu8I/AAAAAAAAkmg/q-ap9Zdvrx8pLq1bNcFD7WQtr9hAOrGOgCLcBGAs/s72-c/Project%2BBlue%2BBook%2BPoster.png

By Kevin Randle A Different Perspective 1-9-19

Jack Webb

     Back in the 1970s, Jack Webb of Dragnet fame created something he called Project UFO. It was based on the files of Project Blue Book and it was difficult to recognize the cases presented. The attitude of the program, if I remember it correctly, was to examine a case that might have been inexplicable and find a rational and reasonable answer before the hour expired. Although I was excited about the show, I was quickly disappointed in the final product. It reeked somewhat, again if I remember correctly, of a debunking operation. This new incarnation, given the snappy tile of Project Blue Book, seems to be at the other end of the spectrum. It suggests a grand conspiracy that involves what most of us believe is the mythical MJ-12, Air Force officers who will go to about any length to prove a case has a terrestrial explanation and a hint of the Men in Black. In other words, it is filled with the paranoia of the UFO field and has very little to do with the reality of the situation as it was then or as it is now. While it is suggested that it is based on the history of Project Blue Book, very little of what I saw was based on that. About the only things that were accurate were the names of some of the people such as Dr. J. Allen Hynek and Project Blue Book. Once beyond the superficial, we plunge headlong into the fantasy that has grown up around UFO investigation. In one scene, a general walks into an office that is reminiscent of Fox Mulder’s FBI office filled with photographs, newspaper clippings and drawings of alien creatures. Since this is the beginning of Hynek’s association with Blue Book (Project Sign actually), some of the material there is out of place. It shouldn’t show up for years. And while I’m in a nitpicking mood, I’ll note that the military customs and courtesies are simply misunderstood. The civilian show runners and directors don’t understand saluting and get it wrong. You have an Air Force captain referring to Hynek as “Doc,” which seemed to be a little disrespectful. And the uniforms seemed to be a combination of Army and Air Force, meaning that elements of Army uniforms showed up on the Air Force uniforms. As I say, nitpicking. The real trouble here is a suggestion that the stories are grounded in reality but I fear it is a reality driven by every paranoid rumor, half-truth and fantasy that has infected the UFO community since the 1940s. I just had a hard time getting beyond all of that. I was hoping for something that had a little more of a documentary atmosphere, not something that was invented for a story that has little to do with the history of Blue Book.

Lt. George Gorman on the left.

In other words, as Jack Webb had done decades ago, we have a show that is “based” on the truth, but that moves into fiction immediately. I was quickly disappointed again. However, this time, I recognized the case that began the tale without having to have the producers tell what it was. The opening sequence and the investigation are wrapped around the October 1, 1948, sighting by Second Lieutenant George Gorman, an Air National Guard pilot, on a routine night flying mission near Fargo, North Dakota.

In the show, he buzzes a football stadium, climbs out and spots something, a glowing ball in the distance. He attempts to intercept, chases it, is apparently hit by it, and open fires on it. Once he lands, he is more than a little crazed by the events and for me, talks gibberish. He is suffering from an acute case of PTSD and eventually ends up in the psycho ward before being given a shot and dragged off. Apparently, the shot will wipe out his short-term memory of the event. Hynek is called in to investigate and walked over to where the plane is being examined. He is stopped by a military guard but Hynek gives him the facts of high-altitude radiation and then is allowed to not only examine the plane but to sit in the cockpit. The guard should be reprimanded because he didn’t know that Hynek was authorized to see the plane and shouldn’t have allowed him close to it. After the captain with Hynek told the guard that Hynek was authorized to examine anything he wanted should the guard allow him to pass. But really, all of this is trivia. If you understand that this is a television drama and not a documentary, that they were not constrained by what really happened, and that they are creating situation to move the plot, then the show is enjoyable. Maybe I nitpick a little too much, but that’s half the fun for me. I am interested in where the show is going and how many elements that have nothing to do with Blue Book will be brought in. I suspect they are going for an X-Files vibe as opposed to an actually historical vibe. For those interested in the facts of this case, I have examined the relevant documents contained in the Blue Book files. Gorman was building his nighttime flight experience at the time. As the program told us, Gorman did, in fact, fly over a football stadium but at 1500 feet, as FAA regulations required. Gorman did see a smaller aircraft about 500 feet below him. (We would later learn that it was flown by Dr. L. N. Cannon with his friend Einar Neilson thought the names are redacted in the actual files.) He then spotted another object that was flying between the Hector Airport Tower and the football field. The tower operator told Gorman that there was only one other private aircraft in the sky. Gorman said that he was going to give chase. Gorman later told the Air Force investigators:

After the initial peel off, I realized the speed of the object was too great to catch in a straight chase, so I proceeded to cut it off in turns. At this time my fighter was under full power. My speed varying between 300 and 400. The object circled to the left, I cut back to the right for a head-on pass. The pass was made at apparently 5000 feet, the object approaching head-on until a collision seemed inevitable. The object veered and passed apparently 500 feet or less over the top above me. I chandelled [a flight maneuver] around still without the object in sight. The object made a 180 degree turn and initiated a pass at me. This time I watched it approach all the way as it started to pull up, I pulled up abruptly trying to ram the object until straight up with me following at apparently 14,000 feet, I stalled out at 14,000 feet with the object apparently 2000 feet above me circling to the left. We made two circles to the left. The object then pulled out away from me and made another head-on pass. At this time the pass started and the object broke off a large distance from me heading over Hector Airport to the northwest at apparently 11,000 feet. I gave a chase circling to the left trying to cut it off until I was 25 miles southeast of Fargo. I was at 14,000 feet, the object at 11,000 when I again gave the aircraft full power… to catch it in a diving turn. The object turned around and made another head-on pass. This time when pulling up, I pulled up also and observed it traveling straight up until I lost it. I then returned to the field and landed.

Although the program suggested that Gorman had fired on the object and that his aircraft had been damaged by it, there is nothing in the Blue Book files to corroborate that. This is artistic license, I suppose, but it is important to note that this was an aspect added to the story. Gorman did say, “I am convinced that there was definite thought behind its maneuvers.” He added:

I am further convinced that the object was governed by the laws of inertia because its acceleration was rapid but not immediate and although it was able to turn fairly tight at considerable speed, it still followed a natural curve. When I attempted to turn with the object I blacked out temporarily due to excessive speed… I do not believe thee are many pilots who could withstand the turn and speed effected by the object, and remain conscious.

There were other witnesses, though they didn’t support all of the statements made by Gorman. One of those was Dr. Cannon and he provided a statement for Air Force investigators. It said:

I was flying and Nielson was using the phone and while circling the Football Field at the A.C. at 1600 feet, the Fargo tower advised us there was a [F]-51 in the air and a few moments later asked who the third plane might be. We had noticed the 51, and when we were over the North side of Hector Field going West a light seemingly on a plane flared above and to the North moving very swiftly toward the West. At first we thought it was the 51 but we then saw the lights of the 51 higher and more over the field. We landed… and then went up to the tower and listened to the calls from the 51 which seemed to be trying to overtake the plane or lighted object which then went southward and over the city. The plane was moving very swiftly, much faster than the 51. Tried to get a better view with a pair of binoculars but couldn’t follow it well enough…

In the tower, L. D. Jensen, said that he had seen the object or light at about 1000 feet in the northwest, pass rapidly over the field, flying in a straight line. He could see no form or shape, even through binoculars, and he could not see the maneuvers of either the F-51 or the object. Officers from Project Sign, the forerunner of Blue Book, arrived from Ohio and interviewed all the witnesses. Eventually, after an investigation that included testing Gorman’s aircraft for radiation [which might have had more to do with the altitude and cosmic radiation rather than alien spacecraft], they concluded that Gorman had engaged in a dogfight with a balloon. Dr. Donald Menzel believed that Jupiter had a role in the dogfight as well. The official answer in the Blue Book files is balloon. Jerry Clark, who is one of the historians of the UFO field, and who might be THE historian of the field, wrote in his UFO Encyclopedia:

Though some knowledgeable students of the UFO phenomenon… have rejected such an explanation for this famous sighting, unlike some Air Force would-be solutions this one seems plausible, particularly in the light of the failure of ground witnesses to confirm the extraordinary performance Gorman ascribed to the object he was pursuing After the Mantell incident [in which another Air Guard pilot was killed chasing what turned out to be a balloon], the Gorman sighting may be the most overrated UFO report in the early history of the phenomenon.

I will note here that Clark is more liberal than I when it comes to UFO sightings and explanations, so his conclusion here carries extra weight. I agree with him. Gorman somehow tangled with a balloon. There is one final point and that concerns the over reaction of the pilot in, dare I say it, the pilot of Project Blue Book. There is no evidence Gorman was completely freaked out over the encounter. True, he had trouble landing the aircraft, but that was the reaction of the encounter. It was not a long-term problem. He remained in the Air Guard and retired as a lieutenant colonel in 1969.

Continue Reading ► See Also: ‘Project Blue Book’ Meets with Mixed Reviews in the UFO Community ‘Project Blue Book’ Is Based on a True UFO Story – Here It Is Project Blue Book - Episode 1 Mangled By 'History' Channel Project Blue Book: Alien-Hunting Agents Seek the Truth About UFOs New UFO Drama Series "Project Blue Book" | VIDEO UFO Scripted Drama, 'Blue Book' To Be Produced By Award Winning Filmmaker, Robert Zemeckis

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[wildermoth-blog]

Worst Case Scenarios

Today in relative workflows Pete brought up the “what if” question. What if it all goes to shit? how’s it going to happen? So I thought I would answer a few of those right now. 

Starting with what’s already happened this semester: 

A loved one has fallen ill and been admitted to the hospital

2 weeks before the holidays my partner was admitted to the hospital with crippling stomach pain. I’ve written a separate post about this so I won’t go on about it now. 

My living arrangements quickly change causing me to need to move house

Half way into the first week of the holidays my girlfriend was discharged from the hospital. It was a great relief. She still needed care but not such intensive care, and it could be done from home allowing me to work. So I plotted out a week long catch up session over the second week of the holidays. Sunday night before the second week I was told that I should move houses asap as the building I was in was leaky and would soon need renovation. The next day me and my partner had a house lined up, her grandmothers now unoccupied house. An over-run, near unlivable house filled to the brim with furniture, possessions and dust. The garden overcome with weeds. We set out to work, buckets filled and refilled with bleach until surfaces sparkled, old furniture moved out and ours moved in, cupboards full of rotting food emptied and refilled. By midway the second week we had reclaimed a bathroom, bedroom and kitchen. However we had just been piling boxes of unsorted things into the lounge. So we set out to sort them. By the end of the second week of the holidays we had a reclaimed the lounge. 

I didn’t really deal with this. I did sketches and jotted notes in my spare time however my days consisted of waking up at about 10am and moving heavy objects around untill 2 - 4AM the next day. I still have a few weeks to catch up with studio. If this were to happen closer to final hand in I would most likely need to apply for special consideration. 

I am without a personal internet connection 

This was more difficult than I thought it would be. Through all the moving we were trying to get an internet connection set up. Firstly they needed to wire the fibre to our house, which they needed a cherry picker for, which was being used to build things. So a week later we applied for a temporary connection which apparently would take another week and alot more money. We went through with it. After a while we finally we got the email that the internet had been connected. It was not that easy. Hours of being on tech support before they decide a technician is needed. A few days pass and a technician gets to our place to test the house. They test all the ports, no connection. Apparently they had been given the wrong port to connect us. Long story short, almost three weeks of back and forth and finally we have a connection far worse than the one we’re paying for. 

To deal with this, once we had cleared out a bedroom, kitchen and bathroom, every night at about 10 we would drive to the carpark outside the library and use their internet. They only required an unchecked email for 1gb of data. This worked somewhat, and we both managed to get a little work done before it got too late. 

I have fallen ill and been admitted to the hospital

The day before university started I felt a dull pain inside my jaw. I ignored it and went to bed. That morning my jaw could only open to about half it’s usual amount and there was a constant stabbing pain in my through and neck. I hoped it would settle down by the next day. But it got worse, after a sleepless night my jaw had almost locked shut. Again I waited to see what it would to the next day. Another night without sleep I decided enough was enough. By this point my jaw had locked shut so I headed to the hospital to see what they could do. They gave me painkillers, antibiotics and high strength medical grade mouth wash which I was to inject into the back of my jaw every night. Wednesday the next week as I’m writing this, my jaw has almost returned to its full capacity. 

Again, I didn’t really deal with this. I tried to work where I could but the pain killers made it difficult to concentrate. I applied for special consideration in my electives. However I didn’t for my studio project because there is plenty of time to get it done satisfactorily.

Now for other worst case scenarios: 

Extreme injury

I would apply for special consideration and either get compassionate consideration or re-submit my exhibition the next year. 

AUT burns down

Apparently if the establishment is somehow demolished by something like a fire, all current students immediately pass with a degree, so not really the worst case scenario. However even if not the case, majority of my work is conducted from home, so a building fire would not set me back a great deal. 

File loss

I have 2 physical copies and a cloud copy of all important files. It would be an extremely rare scenario for all of these to simultaneously fail. In the event of this happening, I would have to simply roll with the punches. Save what I could and make use of what’s left. For me this wouldn’t be too difficult. I’m creating a concept design so the final outcome will be extremely malleable. I could do a large design sketch and display this. I could create a physical cardboard replica and then use a projector to overlay an image of the features. There are many ways my project could be displayed and so file loss is not a large issue. 

Nation Wide Power Outage

The paper would be delayed by however long the outage was. If all students are unable to work, and all staff are equally unable to work then there wouldn’t be any expectation to get work done. If for some reason there was, I would revert to pen and paper design. 

World War 3

If the government for some reason decides to get involved in war and requires by law that all the healthy men are conscripted well then I suppose the paper doesn’t matter. By the time my service finished I would either be dead or the world would have changed so much, I doubt BCT would still be here. No solution. 

Equipment Faliure

I have a fair amount of equipment to use. A laptop, my partners laptop and my desktop. If all of these were to fail I would use AUT’s equipment. If there were to all fail, I would apply for course related costs and buy a new laptop. If this were to fail I would give up and revert to pen and paper. If all my pens ran out of ink I would buy more. If there was a pen shortage I would use pencil. If there was some extreme disaster that caused all the pencil leads to crack I would use charcoal. If all the charcoal and paper burned in a freak “paper+charcoal” spontaneous combustion accident then I would use my body to act out the experience of my final outcome. 

Utility Failure

If the utilities failed, such as internet, I would use someone else’s. 

Basically: Can I work around it? 

no - Special consideration 

yes - Then do so 

[janiklandre-blog]

Wednesday, March 1, 2017

 Ash Wednesday -   10:35 cloudy, warm, just took long walk and saw that Neptune is no more, another Pilish restaurant closed, on first avenue and 11th street - I loved their garden, their generous servings - no more - a pastry place open since I was born, closed, Lanza closed - I don't think I ever went there - the ethnic places - they are going. Big renovations on PS 122 - an art center - to be made fancy and exxpensive - then passing the theater of the New City I saw an offer for free meditation at St.Mark's church on Thursdays at 8 a.m. - I might check that out - I'm not the only whom Catholic Masses have stopped interesting - one priest talking endlessless about the virginity of Mary and how wonderful it is for women to be vergins - I am against promiscuity, I too am against abortion, a good essay on the op-ed page, saying women deserve better than getting abortions.

Education, education. I just wrote to a wonderful friend about the fight a number of us have been fighting against the pharma industry that would like every last person declared mentally ill - there is no one as far as they are concerned who wouldn't do much better in life with medications - and many of us, myself included, have suffered and do suffer from the ignorance of all the lay shrinks thast abound and ready to diagnose every one as mentally ill and then stop speaking to people - to me! - because I don't have the decency to call myself mentally ill and refuse the wonderful meds that would make me a so much nicer person.

Anger, anger - yes, my anger is directed against the pharma industry - and I should learn to channel my anger directly against them - I try to by writing - and not against all thoser whom the millions they make are "educating" how wonderful and necessary their products are - and how they deserve every because after all they are doing wonderful research and if one pill costs $1000 or more - do find ways to raise the money, that pill will save you. Even Trump in his speech last night that I did end up listening to said something about the overpricing that must stop.

Yes that speech - in German we would say "sich die Haende wund klatschen" - to applaud hard until your hands are sore - I've necver seen so much applause and so many standing ovations - by uneducated people. Yes, they may have Harvard degrees - I myself sadly learned how little I learned getting my Mount Holyoke B.A. in 20 months, my UCLA M.A. straight A's in little over 7 months - finally got halted at Columbia by the fascist Bauke - putting my phd exams off, the failing me, finally passing me and then I got a letter: you did not take middle high German one - of course I had in California - and middle high German two at Columbia where I met Ari Salant - long story - and Gothic - for that course I bought my first bible because those Goth had translated the bible into their language - and all you had to do is get a bible to translate Gothic into Englissh.

Yes, I wasted my young years on obscure German lit, on obscure languages - I wish when I arrived in 1951 I had had the guts to stay with my sweet boyfriend Arno, who truly loved me and I was 19 then and he 22 - no longer a virgin! as required by this priest, Charlie - and just beginning to explore our bodies - in what is now the East Village and then was the lower East Side we could have shared with artists an apartment for 20 dollars a month - Brooklyn College where he was studying - statistics as suggested by his father and he later did use that in his job at the census bureau where he created a division Poverty Statistics, destroyed by Reagan, he got pancreatic cancer and died. His love was sociology and he did get at the New School later close to a Ph.D. - the New School notorious for keeping students forever - his later wife threatened to leave him if he didn't get a job - the census bureau was a summer job, they loved him, offered him full time work - all the perks of a govt job - she suggested he take it - he called me often at government expense and  I remember his mantra: No one to taslk to. He got very involved in the civil rights fight, later in sort of universal church - they had three children - his daughter went to the u of Chicago and married a Boston Irish, I was invited to the wedding, felt odd about going. His middle son, a philosophy student and musician committed suicide after he had died and his older son never married and now lives I velieve in Cambodia. I have remained in touch with his wife who always geneerously hosted me and friends when we came for demos to Washington - didn't want to join his church while he was alive, Unitarian, now the name comes to me - after he died became the pillar of the church - not far from the house that they had bought - in a neighborhood that has become gentrified.

His father - a survivor, his mothere was torn away from him at Auswitz, he was the only child, he was 15, she perished. My mother met his father at was was a "requisitioned hotel" - this was 1947 we lived in Munich - Jews were offered free stays in these hotels in the Alps - he shared a table with my mother - my father had refused to go there - I was extremely lonely then and so was his son - his father came to our house to check me out, approved, said he had a bottle of cooking oil I could pick up at his house - and that is where I met Arno. Both my mother and his father firmly believed young women should remain virgins - believed this should be platonic and my mother called me a whore when I kissed him a year after we had met. I told him I would "go all the way" after I had graduated high school in 1950 - three years after we had met. By then we both were plotting how to get to America - he left in early 1951, I followed him in the fall. I had scored the fancy scholarship - totally unthinkeable to give it up to stay in New York - where he had wonderful and intgeresting friends that I met when I spent vacations with him - firmly convinced that I was the only woman at Mount Holyoke College sleeping with her boyfriend - and in those days virtuous young women did what was called then: everything but. When I met my later husband and was willing "to go all the way" - I shocked him deeply and his mother had given him dire warnings of "lose women" who were out to snatch her trophy by getting pregnant - after the first time he told me he was too tired - and because I had a Mount Holyoke B.A. and he was about to enter his thrird and final year at Harvard law school we were convinced we knew EVERTHING - and we were as dumb as all those people clapping their hands sore last night - all those people who admire the speech Trump gave last night - and putting all of us into terrible danger. More military spending - that will save us. The military believes it.

Oh well. It took me alas many years to begin to understand - Arno's father had bought him a Leica (Arno's father knew how to make money) - perhaps some of the photographs are still in the basement of his house - I've been waiting for somebody to take me - so far no one has - and his widow is also growing old. Arno had gotten a driver's licence before he left Germany. His father would have given us money and we could have set out on a trip across America as the Swiss photographer Frank did who put together a book by the titlle something "of Men" - he had photographed America with the eyes of a European - he did have training in photography - but Arno happily would have taken courses - I began writing voluminously in 1946, I was 13 and we had to leave Prague where I had met in the fall of 1945 Dana, a beautiful Czech women - and as girls that age do, we loved each other - I had told I was Dutch and leaving for Holland - in the park we had played being Partisans and killing Germans - then I wrote to her from Germany that alas I was a German (still stateless until West Germany came into being and passports were issued and I got German passport number 456 - it burned in 2000)  and we began a lively correspondence - one day in 1987 I was in Prague (after 1957 I travelled a lot to Prague, the city I love most) - she reached up and gave me bundled my letters in Czech to her. Much burned in the 2000 fire - all my photographs, as my letters, much of my writing.

Writing was my early passion - alas - only one teacher realized it, Frau Eckstein - her husband had become involved with the art teacher, Frau Eckstein had stomach problems and died on the operating table. She was the only who saw a writer in me. And only in 1958 in Geneva I sat down to write my first two novels - in English - one about my year in Paris, the other about my years with Arno, from 1947 until 1953 - when our so different lives, he in Brooklyn with the poor, I in Massacusetts with the rich - no longer able to find places where we could sleep together - alas my physical interest in him had waned - none of all that did we understand - and while I've read thousands of pages of obscure German literature - never did I learn anything about my body.

Almost all the displaced persons on the boat taking me to America ended up working in factories, many never learning English. Spending life at unviversities and in libraries has been a privilege - I am happy for it - even though it hasn't taken me to this day where I wanted to be - a recognized writer. The clock is ticking - in June I'll be 85.