#he was meant to be the warrior and the charmer

[snakerdoodlle]

Should’ve been a rockstar, but he didn’t have the money for a guitar (Kilorn)

Should’ve been a politician, but he never had a proper education (Cal)

Should’ve been a father, but he never even made it to his twenties (Maven)

Oh I’m gonna be sick

[midnightsun-if]

DEMO — Chapter One: Part One [34K Words] — 11/12/23

FAQ || PINTEREST || SPOTIFY || DISCORD

Aurelian Academy, the pinnacle of evolution within the supernatural world; the first landmark to be erected after the Dark Ages— the time when supernatural races still lived within the shadows of the mortal world.

You’ve been prepared to go for your entire life— all one hundred years of it. Being the youngest child of a ruling vampire clan didn’t give you much choice in the matter. Going to Aurelian meant taking the next big step in your immortal life regardless.

Will you be able to prove yourself to your parents? To your siblings? Will you be able to uncover the mysteries that surround the ancient school?

Or will everything vanish as the midnight sun approaches?

Create your character. Customize your name, potential nickname, gender (male/female/non-binary), sexuality, appearance, and hobbies. (Note: The MC is a Vampire and is 100 Years Old.)

Choose from 3 Classes— Charmer, Shadow-Kin, or Warrior.

How does your character feel about humans? Are they simply ants that you don’t bother with? Potential allies? An intriguing conundrum?

Do you enjoy the modern world? Or do you miss the simplicity of the past?

Romance 1 of 8 potential romances.

Explore Aurelian Academy and uncover the secrets that litter the ancient halls. Just make sure you don’t miss class while doing so.

Koda Kingston — [He/Him] — Bear-Shifter — He’s a mass of muscle and warmth, eyes filled with good humor and overall joy. Might not have a lot going on upstairs, but he’s definitely got the spirit. [Male MCs Only]

Scarlett Voltaire — [She/Her] — Vampire — Cold as ice, ruthless to any that oppose her, with a flair of heated contempt at the people who annoy her, Scarlett is the middle child to the oldest ruling family within the vampiric race. [Female MCs Only]

Cyrus/Cyra Aurelia — [He/Him or She/Her] — Phoenix — Heir to the Eclipse Throne; they’re the eldest child of House Aurelia, Founders of Aurelian Academy. They’re the pinnacle of what an heir should be: dutiful, strong-willed, and loyal above all else.

Quinn Grant — [He/Him or She/Her] — Wolf-Shifter — An individual that’s been whispered about within the halls of your home; a prospected mate in the event that both your warring families wish to unite. Now that you’re meeting them, you may be able to see if that’ll ever become a reality.

Caden Randall — [He/Him or She/Her] — Phantom — Appearing on a random night five years before, they’re not exactly what someone comes to expect when thinking about a phantom: scared of their own shadow, fretful, and a complete neat freak. They’re tasked with ensuring your stay at Aurelian Academy goes smoothly.

Sloane Addams — [He/Him or She/Her] — Wolf-Shifter — A wolf-shifter without a pack, disgraced in the deepest way possible, they don’t seem to be that overjoyed at the prospect of attending Aurelian Academy, but that doesn’t mean they’re not set on proving themself and finding a pack once more.

Blake Herrera — [He/Him or She/Her] — Demon-Hybrid — Your best friend (and potential FWB). With a flirtatious air, a rebellious spirit, and an affinity at finding trouble, they’re a demon that takes a bit to get used to.

Reginald/Regina Presley — [He/Him or She/Her] — Human — A scholarship student to Aurelian Academy; the first of many that may be attending. With a thirst for knowledge, along with a devil-may-care attitude, they’ll try their best to fit in. Of course, that’s easier said than done. As they’re the first human to ever be admitted as a student.

PINTEREST (OTHER) || MALE ROS FCS || FEMALE ROS FC || FAMILY FCS || ROS SKIN TONES

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Act 4 Prologue (Matias Asbrink)

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies.

At the same time, in Acroite.

Large snowflakes fluttered down like flower petals, painting the traditional stone-built streets white.

The main street, illuminated by street lamps, was bustling with crowds of people. However, there were no troublemakers here, no drunken shouts or fights like in other countries.

In this country, governed by the strictest laws on the continent, those who disturb the peace are quickly apprehended and held accountable for their crimes.

Yet amidst the orderly and well-maintained streets, there was a corner where women gathered unnaturally.

Woman 1: “Please join me at the lovely party I’m having tonight.”

Woman 2: “That’s not fair. Please also come to my party.”

Woman 3: “Where are you off to at this hour? If you’re interested, would you like to join me for dinner?”

Matias: “I have work to attend to. Please excuse me.”

Slipping smoothly out of the midst of the women, with his golden hair gathering the twilight’s glow and snow-shadowed eyes tinged with melancholy, was Matias, the guardian of Acroite’s law.

Though his appearance and demeanor were stern, there was an alluring aura about him that made the women gaze at him dreamily.

Matias: “Haah.”

With a sigh, he casually brushed back his smooth blond hair, eliciting another round of cheers from the women behind him.

A colleague, a judge, then playfully tapped his back as he swiftly walked away to escape their intense stares.

Lars: “Quite the charmer, as always, huh? Matias.”

Pushing up his round glasses, the man smiled teasingly at Matias, and his expression changed to a more relaxed one.

Matias: “Lars, if you saw that, you could’ve helped me.”

Matias: “You know I struggle with women.”

Lars: "I know, but having too many admirers is honestly a problem I envy. I wish I could trade places with you."

Matias: "You wish you could trade places with me? Did you see those women? They had the eyes of warriors determined to annihilate their enemies."

Lars: "I think they were all beauties, though."

Matias: "Whether they're beautiful or not doesn't matter. The only woman I need is my soulmate."

Matias: "She doesn't need to dote on me or stare at me like those women. All she needs to do is wish me luck, fix my tie, give me a kiss, and wave goodbye before I head to work."

Lars: "Yeah, yeah, I get it. I've heard about your embarrassing fantasies more than a hundred times, Matias."

Lars: "Are you alright, though?"

Matias: "I've been saying it since earlier, but I'm not okay. You have to back me up next time."

Lars: "I meant about the trial. The defendant this time is your friend, right?"

Matias: "Ah, yeah. We were roommates for a while back in the Royal Academy. We enlisted together and served in the same unit."

Lars: "You were close then."

Matias: "He was a good guy. Cheerful, smart, and quick-witted. He was good with women too, effortlessly handling situations like earlier."

Lars: "I see. Matias, about that..."

Matias' snow-shadow-colored eyes gaze straight at his colleague, looking somewhat uneasy.

Matias: "It's fine."

Matias: "I'm a man of the Asbrink family."

The Royal Court, which determines the nation’s justice, was filled with a solemn atmosphere tonight.

The defendant and his defense attorney, the government officials prosecuting his crimes, and numerous citizens in the gallery all watched with bated breath as the five judges, especially the guardian of the law, sat atop the judicial platform.

Matias: “I’ll now deliver the verdict on the suspicion of unauthorized leakage of classified Acroite military information.”

Matias: “Defendant, step forward.”

The defendant stepped onto the witness stand.

Though looking severely worn out, his eyes, fixed on the guardian of the law, held a faint glimmer of hope.

It was well known among some circles that the defendant had a friendship with the guardian.

As everyone sought to interpret the meaning behind the intersecting gazes, the sound of the gavel resounded.

Matias: “Death penalty.”

After delivering the merciless verdict, the courtroom fell into a brief silence before erupting into chaos.

Defendant: “Matias, are you really going to kill me!? Me, who ate, slept, and fought alongside you? We're friends, aren't we!?”

Defendant: “You can’t do this!”

While the defendant cried out in despair, Matias appeared entirely unaffected.

Matias: “That does not excuse your crime.”

Defendant: “Isn’t a death sentence too heavy for a single mistake?”

Matias: "The law is justice. If you are a citizen of Acroite, obedience is absolute."

Matias: "All you can do is comply with the verdict that has been passed down."

With a detached voice, Matias continued to gaze directly at the collapsing defendant, seemingly in despair.

Matias: "The execution will be carried out in five days, at noon."

Defendant: "M-Matias..."

As the defendant was taken away, Matias watched them with his snow-shadow-colored eyes.

To dispel the murmurs, he struck the gavel twice.

Matias: "This concludes the session."

As the people left the courtroom in silence, he stood alone.

It was unusual for him to stay in the courtroom after it had adjourned, without a clear reason.

Walking to the spot where the defendant had collapsed during the trial, he gently touched the witness stand with his fingers.

Though his snow-shadowed eyes flickered slightly, he murmured with the same emotionless voice as during the trial.

Matias: "I did the right thing."

Matias: "I'm Matias, the next king of Acroite, a proud man of the esteemed Asbrink family."

Matias: "Until all evil is condemned, I cannot afford to stop."

☆ Ikepri Masterlist

[land-of-the-loch]

ALLEGIANCES (2) LOWER RANK

(the final installment! Character expanse under the cut.)

COOT

A lead warrior, she joined with her partner Parsley after finding out she was pregnant. Parsley knew they couldn’t stay with their house folk anymore due to lack of food and the fear of being separated from their kits, and needed community. Coot knew it was only a matter of time before something happened, and so she and Parsley took all they could and left. Ever since she’s taken up in the colony she’s proven herself as a formidable strategist and warrior, being Crows first in command and successor to the deputy position. With the loss of her partner, she is in shambles. Though strong willed; She will make sure their daughter knows her father.

RAIN

An old Molly, she’s joined with her daughter Fog after being a wandering soul her whole life. Her bones are weary and she feels herself slowing down, and doesn’t want her daughter to be lonelier as she is. Although a grizzled soul, she is kind and loving to her peers. She can fit through plenty nooks and crannies, which have proven helpful in the colonies travels whenever someone has gotten buried or something is high up. She keeps the boys and kittens busy with her tales, so her groupmates can talk serious matters. Though not a fighter, hunter or healer, she has proven invaluable in morale and support.

FOG

She’s quiet, and rather eerie compared to her friendly clanmates. She’s stoic but once she has something to stick by she puts the entirety of herself into it. These include rules, wanting to make sure her friends and family are the safest they can be. Though seemingly nothing but a living wall, she’s taken up the skill of her mothers words and often tells the kittens and Crow tales from before. Including their struggles, which she especially drills into the children to make sure they’re wary and cautious. Raven is often the most receptive of these stories, and helps Crane teach him survival skills.

MISTLETOE

Though not a Queen, she’s often found in the kittens den. She is a primary caretaker alongside Rain and any nursing mothers. She’s also quite independent, despite joining the group. She helps Coot come up with plans, though is more of a “good cop” to Coots harsh demeanor. She chose to leave her previous groups on her own terms, including her twolegs. She’s a wandering spirit, and clashes with Fog often; as she believes some rules are meant to be broken. She’s decided to stay for now, as she’s grown quite attached to the kids and is intrigued by Trouts “prophecies”.

SHADOW & MONKEY

Littermates found by Crane and Raven, they are considered family by most of the group. Shadow is the more curious one, ready to challenge the norm and new things. Though quiet, he’s firm to whatever beliefs a little kitten is able to have. This is in contrast to Monkey, who’s more reserved and often goes off on her own. She has this urge for something more, and hates being cooped up with Mistletoe. Monkey is the only one that wonders about their mother, and is tired of moving.

ASPHODEL

An old man, he joined with Daffodil with hopes of settling in his old age with his best friend. Though they haven’t settled yet, he wouldn’t leave everyone now. He’s set on staying and actually likes the more secure adventure. Daffodil wanted to leave at first, but the two could never separate. He’s an optimistic old fool, and quite the charmer! He’s seen so many things, and wouldn’t change it for the world. He hopes his last stop will be with more friends than he’s ever had.

CORMORANT

A quiet young man, he’s mostly unspeaking as Fog is. A best friend to Raven, he’s surprisingly a kindhearted soul. He’s a great listener, and doesn’t mind his clanmates talking to him for ages. For this reason he’s grown to be knowledgeable, and continues to learn more from his best friend Raven. With Crowflower as his mentor, he’s become quite the fighter and swimmer. As far as Raven knows, he used to be a Waverider as Trout was; so maybe he was always able to swim. He’s not very outward about his goals or reasons, but he hopes to have a home again. In the beauty of the water.

DAFFODIL

A cranky old coot, he was a Waverider for a long time before coming across Asphodel in his youth; and they went off without a hitch. He’s more stubborn than he was in his youth, and he firmly believe that attitude has kept them alive. A great fighter and adept swimmer, he’s done the bulk of the fighting for the duo. Plenty of scars are hidden beneath his raggedy fur, and takes pride in them. He and Fog are often the enforcers, though Daff is moreso a judgemental old grandpa talking to his grandkid. Though rough, he firmly believes in Trout; and despite initial doubts, he’d like to see this through.

[sky-kiss]

It's-a me, shahs! Could we have more soft (and kinda spicy) Raphael where he pops up at Tav's place all in bloody armor and she gives him a bath. Steamy things could ensue or not. Up to you how to conclude it. We must have him in a tub again!

A/N: Still condemned to the shadow realm, I see. It’s ok. I still love you, buddy.  Sorry this is short, I’m heading out again lol.

_______

R x T: Could you bleed out on the tile? Just not on the rug.

_______

Tav has her cottage, safely tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Raphael has his war. Their paths should no longer intersect. And for the better part of a decade, they don’t. 

But one night, he comes knocking at her door, this handsome ghost of hers, and it’s instinct to let him inside. He says next to nothing, doesn’t ask about her health or life, just regards this ‘hovel’ (his words) she calls home. He leaves as suddenly as he arrives, the air stinking of his perfume, and Tav dizzy with questions. 

It becomes a running theme: Raphael manifests without explanation or invitation. Tav, happy to play hostess. Some nights, they share wine. Others they speak. Mostly, they share silence. 

Tonight, he comes to her in a flurry of smoke and brimstone. She’s never seen him in anything besides his doublet. Raphael is resplendent in his hell dusk armor, a warrior king, helmet tucked under his arm. His hair is slick with ash, sweat, and blood. The same smeared across his chest plate. Worry twists in her gut. 

“Raphael…” she stops before touching him, fingers curling into a fist. 

“Are we concerned, little mouse?” He purrs, taking a step towards her. It’s rare for him to arrive in his proper form. It dominates the cottage’s limited space. He’s far too tall and has to duck his head to keep his horns and wings from brushing against the ceiling. Raphael flicks something from his pauldron. “Charming as I find it, allow me to allay these fears: I am unharmed.” 

“You’re a mess.” 

“And you were a picture of cleanliness when you roamed the Sword Coast.” 

She holds up her hands for peace, laughing. “Hackles down, devil. I meant no offense.” Tav holds out her hand. “You’ll have to bathe if you’re going to stay. I won’t have you tracking blood through my home.”

Tav watches the mixture flicker across his face. A part of him wants to argue and delights in riling her. But he nods his head, exhaustion winning out. She runs the bath and finds a spare change of clothing she’s started keeping on hand for just these occasions. When she returns to the washroom, he’s already there and waiting. And nude. 

Tav stares at him. Raphael has shifted back into his human form. He wouldn’t fit in the tub otherwise. Blood and dust still coat his skin. Tav chews the inside of her cheek, cataloging the flex of muscle in his back and arms. He’s lovely, truly. Broad-shouldered, a thick torso trailing down to narrow hips and well-muscled thighs.

Raphael turns enough to smirk in profile. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you it’s rude to stare?” 

“Just this once, I think she’d understand.” 

“Charmer. But why stare? Is it not better to take?” 

She blinks at him. “Pardon?” 

“There’s room for two. Join me. Bathe me.” He holds a hand out to her. 

Her gaze rakes over him again, and she makes her choice. She leads his hands to the ties of her bodice, kicking the door to the washroom shut behind them. 

[roseaesynstylae]

Star Wars: Republic Commando: Hard Contact, Chapter 2

"Clone personnel have free will, even if they do follow orders. If they couldn't think for themselves, we'd be better off with droids -- and they're a lot cheaper, too. They have to be able to respond to situations we can't imagine. Will that change them in ways we can't predict? Perhaps. But they have to be mentally equipped to win wars. Now thaw these men out. They have a job to do.

-- Jedi Master Arligan Zey, intelligence officer"

I'm going to add any of these...I'm not sure what these extracts at the beginning of the chapters are properly called, but I'll add them whenever they're interesting.

Zey's comment about the clones reminds me of the line from Andor. "We're cheaper than droids, and easier to replace." The difference here is that while clones are more expensive and harder to replace than droids, they're superior.

And yes, Master Zey, it did change them in unexpected ways.

"It didn't feel so bad to be revived after stasis. He was still a commando. They hadn't reconditioned. That meant -- that meant he'd performed to expected standards at Geonosis. He'd done well. He felt positive."

The implication that "under-performing" clones are brainwashed, at best, is one of the Traviss's additions that I genuinely like, emphasizing the cold detachment of the Kaminoans before they become prominent in the series. It's also just a terrifying idea.

"Darman was careful not to stare -- even though any eye movement was disguised by his helmet -- because Jedi knew things without having to see. His instructors had told him so. Jedi were omniscient, omnipotent, and to be obeyed at all times."

And here we see the official beginning of the Jedi-Bashing count. It's subtler here, but it keeps popping up in ways that are unmistakable in the context of the series' attitude toward the Jedi Order. In multiple cases, such as this one, lines that wouldn't make me bat an eye in a different book, (or more accurately, a different author), but make me grit my teeth here.

The way this specific paragraph is written is very similar to how I'd write a passage from the POV of a character who thinks the antagonist is a good person, or is brainwashed, but I want to make it clear what's really going on. Only in this case, it isn't portraying, say, a Sith cult, but the Jedi Order, which is devoted to helping others, enforcing justice, and studying the Force.

Jedi-Bashing: 1

"'This is your unit of four, then? A squad?' He seemed to be recalling a hurried lesson. 'Almost like a family?'"

This might be a stretch, but I'm not cutting this series an iota of slack when it comes to the Jedi Order. The implication here seems to be "Oh look, the Jedi have no idea what a family is! It's so unnatural and wrong, not like the good, wholesome Mandalorians!" Am I being petty? Maybe. Does Kal Skirata ranting about baby-stealers get really fucking old really fucking fast? Definitely.

Jedi-Bashing: 2

"'My squad called me Atin," the wounded commando said.

Niner glanced at Fi but said nothing. Atin was Mandalorian for 'stubborn.'"

Okay, this bit is just funny.

"Darman -- a soldier able to withstand every privation in the field, and whose greatest fear was to whither from age rather than die in combat -- felt inexplicably uncomfortable at the idea of a Jedi having failings."

Jedi-Bashing: 3

"Etain was neither a natural warrior nor a great charmer, but she was aware of her talent for spotting opportunities. It made up for a lot."

In this book, at least, I really like Etain. She's a good audience surrogate and her headspace is easier to get into than the other three narrators.

Jedi-Bashing: 3

Di'kut Count: 1

Main Post

[slugdragoon]

Devlog #7 - Shephard and Lumberman enemies + new Necromancer animation, summons flee, and new status effects!

Alright, I'm really excited about this one, it's a big one!

The biggest part of my week was finishing three animations for enemy types in the game. These are the third, fourth, and fifth animations I've even done (first two being the Snake and Sheep summons), and I feel myself getting better each time.

the Necromancer - I've had an idle blocked out for this guy in solid colours for a while, he's been in my other devlogs, but finally buckled down and did the shading and colouring. I'm thinking to give him a Skeleton or Zombie summon, which may be my next animation, as I have a matching status effect for them nearly worked out.

the Shepherd - Next, and this is my most recent work - the Shepherd. This idea came from the Sheep summon, who I introduced as a summon which could put you to sleep. I needed status-inflicting summons, thus the Sheep. I thought a Shepherd with the ability to summon Sheep and a passive ability to keep your summons around longer (shepherding them around) that you can inherit onto any summoning class would be perfect. And I'm happy to say, both of those abilities are implemented, making the Shepherd my most complete enemy type to date!

the Lumberman - I did this animation before the Shepherd, and I may rework it later on, because musculature is f-ing hard man, but I had an idea for physical attacks to, in contrast to magic skills, be more used for a variety of tactical targeting scenarios, each with advantages and drawbacks that make sense for the implied weapon type. I thought up a Cleave (not implemented yet) ability that's meant to evoke a Guts-like (Berserk) warrior who cuts down many enemies at once, but applies a big penalty on the user when an armoured foe is caught up in it. It works for an axe, so I made an enemy whose "thing" is that they're an axe man, so started with a lumberjack. I started with a normal human skin tone, but my animation blocking was temporarily green, and I liked copper-y armour and weapons for him, so I tried making him look like oxidized copper as well. I though the idea for a metal man who chops down trees was pretty cool, and here we are!

New status effects - I also designed three new status effect icons for inflictions I have planed. I showed the Sleep and Poison ones last time, and a version of those effect is in the game (I added green to the Poison icon).

The new effects are Blindness, Charm, and Fear. Only Fear is partly implemented so far. The plan for Charm is probably typical. Have allies attack each other or heal the charmer. For Blindness, I like the idea of forcing a random target more than lowering accuracy (maybe a mix of a little lower accuracy, but also randomizing your target making it a risk to hit an enemy that could retaliate against you, I feel that could make some interesting encounters).

As for Fear, that is partly implemented. Fear causes your summoned minions to flee, and I'm toying with the idea of having it block or cancel some kinds of buffs (can't raise your Attack Power if your party member doesn't feel brave enough to attack, that sort of thing). I want to give the summoned minions a protective effect so that you need way do sift through them to land meaningful attacks.

Minions have to be able to flee, so I made it so that they can (complete with an animation). They also now flee at the end of battle, which the Shepherd's passive ability stops (it will eventually be a percentage chance to flee).

In addition, while character's with swords and arrows might go directly for the summoner, I added another new Smash ability (imagine warhammers, clubs, etc.) that hits both the enemy itself and causes some if it's minions to scatter, thinning the herd.

I have some other changes to assets and the code, but that was already a lot! This really felt like one where, at least a small number of more complete ideas fit together really well!

[smallraindrops-blog]

That pyrrhus fic was insane I am begging you for another one 🙏 you write the walking red flag so we’ll

A Line in a Song

Male!reader x Pyrrhus

Summary: Maybe Pyrrhus isn’t the only one with anger issues.

Warnings: TOXIC, implied sex, violence, Pyrrhus, no beta

Notes: I don't think he is a very good influence. Nor you on him.

This will probably be the last bit I write for Pyrrhus for a while. Thanks for waiting so long. Enjoy!

(Part one)

~

The scales gleamed like jewels in the dimming light, the golden hour softening the whole world but all you saw was the spectacle hood of the cobra swaying side by side to the music.

You weren’t alone, your mother clung to your shoulders, ready to yank you away if the snake so much turned its head.

You hoped it would. You wanted to see those impossibly black and gold eyes. Utterly inhuman therefore perfection itself.

Then, as if the cobra heard had your wish somehow, it twisted around in a speed that would rival lighting as it rose up high. Fangs revealed themselves in a pink maw, the forked tongue black. The crowd around cried out in horror, scattering and you resisted your mother’s tugging.

When the others ran, you stood your ground, staring in fascination, lips parted by a worshipful gasp. 

Those black eyes stared down at you, the snake charmer’s song still playing. It danced and swayed like a wildflower. 

Quietly, you began to follow along.

~

“That one song. Hum it for me again.” Pyrrhus ordered, his nails dragging along your skin in a slow mockery of a lover's thoughtful caress. The drag of his nails created a sharp, pleasant burn.

You thought of the snake again. The way it danced for the music, how it obeyed just to hear it again. You thought of the snake charmer, his frail body swaying along with the snake in a shared dance.

A dance where no one touched, only the melody to convey everything from a master’s ownership to a lover’s kiss to the rage of betrayal by family.

You shifted, letting Pyrrhus rest his head on your chest. Your hand tangled into his locks, the room dim enough to make it look like rivulets of blood. He sighed, as if he was actually at peace. 

The wounds on his back along with his arms and legs, the pale light that filled the dim space, told you that he wasn’t.

With the thoughts of jewels and warm, golden honey and the cold gleam of a snake's eyes, you began to hum.

~

What was the most amusing thing to come from meeting Pyrrhus were the other shades that tried to challenge him. What for, you didn’t know. It wasn't like titles meant anything down here. 

That didn’t stop them though.

Sleep deprived and chained didn’t diminish Pyrrhus’ fighting powerness. If anything, you suspect it made him meaner. 

It had only taken moments for Pyrrhus to claim his newest victim. Quick as a cobra and twice as mean, he pinned the man with his knee on the other shade’s throat. His thumbs digging into his victim’s eyes. His mouth twisted in a cruel grin, the whites of his eyes wide. 

You sighed in quiet admiration.

The rattle of Pyrrhus’ chain was quiet under the shade’s begging. You wrinkled your nose in distaste. No pointing in fearing death now. 

Your eyes darted toward the small crowd that was gathering around. 

They had made the wise decision to not interfere.

Chain wrapped around the shade’ head, slowly crushing his skull as Pyrrhus tightened it. The other shade, some fallen warrior, was kicking up such a fuss that you were surprised one of the fury sisters hadn't shown up yet. 

Then you smelled smoke.

You frowned when you realized the needle between your fingers was beginning to crumble. Flames were licking up your tapestry, and you weren’t sad to see the atrocious thing go, when the other shade died in a burst of light.

Pyrrhus breathed in a slow, uneven rhythm. He rolled his neck with a huff. Then he stood up, his eyes narrowed as he scanned the group. You could imagine the fire in them, so cold that it burns.

“Well?” He snapped toward the crowd. “Who else wants to die again?”

No one responded, wary eyes on the beautiful snake that danced before them. 

“Cowards. Every last one of you. Now fuck off.” Pyrrhus spat at the ground and turned his ruined back toward them.

Just like that, the crowd quickly broke apart. Pyrrhus had been known to change his mind on whim.

You waited until you knew the last shade was gone before going toward him. Brilliant blue eyes snapped toward you, locking on to you like you were his next meal. 

Later with deep bite marks in your skin and a bottom lip split open, you were back at your tapestry. What wouldn’t you give for a single colorful tread?

Pyrrhus wasn’t moving but he wasn’t sleeping either. He existed in some half state. Occasionally you would glance over, lingering on his marked back. 

Whoever created that bed of nightmare wasn’t an artist. Pyrrhus’ smooth back was a perfect canvas once. It was a waste of beautiful, golden skin. 

Quiet, even footsteps reached your ears. Megaera the Fury. She was the only one who walked like a soldier.

You didn’t look up at her, sure that she was here for Pyrrhus once more. Only she paused right in front of you. Slowly, you lifted your gaze and met her cat-like stare. 

“Lady Megaera.” You smiled like she was a welcome guest in your home. Pyrrhus twisted around, watching you and her both with narrow eyes. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

Megarea lifted an unimpressed eyebrow. “You are a lucky one, you wretched shade. Your family had decided to give you a chance for repentance. Beg for their forgiveness and you shall be free from this pit of nightmares.”

Your smile dropped.

For a long moment, you couldn’t breathe. The needle snapped in your hold.

Hands grabbing at your shoulders, tears streaming down screaming faces, smoke and flames licked at your skin. Threads - every single one gleamed like polished stone- tightened- strangling-

“They… want me to beg for their forgiveness?” Your voice came out in a cracked whisper. Megarea, cool as always, only nodded. Her hand rested on her deadly whip.

Then you laughed. It was a harsh, ugly sound. “No. No no no.” 

With a speed you didn’t know you had, you stood and yanked the half done tapestry - always, always half done. It will never know completion- and begin ripping it apart.

“They should be begging me for forgiveness!” You snarled like a rabid dog. And screamed with your full chest. “I should have burned them twice over!”

Megaera nor Pyrrhus said anything as you destroyed your work, the wooden loom, uncaring of the flames that licked up your arms.

You kept going until you couldn’t anymore, screaming until your voice cracked. You slammed a fist on the cold floor, panting. Gray ash and black soot covered your trembling form.

Megaera’s expression didn’t change from the mask of indifference. If anything you thought you saw a flash of pity. Or disgust. Odd how similar those looks were. 

“Duly noted.” She lifted a cool brow, waiting for you to say something else. 

Then her steps filled the empty space between your harsh panting. You scoffed, exhaustion keeping you from watching her leave. 

How dare they? 

A low whistle caught your attention. Your head snapped up and you glared harshly at Pyrrhus. His red locks, combed smooth by your fingers earlier, spilled over his broad shoulders as he leaned closer from his spot.

The gorgeous bastard whistled again.

“I am not a fucking dog.” You snarled, baring your teeth at him. Your nails dug into the piles of ash. Pyrrhus’ everblue eyes never wavered as he lifted a hand and snapped his fingers at you. He whistled again.

“Come here.” He ordered impatiently. 

“Fuck off!” You stood, your hands curled into ashy fists. Rage burned in your soul. You felt like you could take him on and win, even though you never been in a single fight in your life. 

The idea was laughable. You against an experienced warrior, one that was sired by Achilles himself. You truly were a fool.

That didn’t stop you from storming over to him, looming over the warrior as if you could scare him. Pyrrhus tilted his head back, watching you thoughtfully.

“I didn’t realize you could get angry.” Pyrrhus remarked, scratching at his jaw. “It suits you.”

You stared. 

Pyrrhus grinned, a flash of dangerous white. “Should they ever cross our path, I will provide the oil. We will make sure their screams could be heard across the underworld, even the living shall be haunted by their misery.”

“Oh.” You whispered. 

He was a monster. You didn’t think he loved you, not really. You were sure that he couldn’t love like a normal person could. There was something in him that was too alien, too cold to be truly human. 

But there was something that made Pyrrhus want to keep you like a prize. An artwork to hang on the wall with each detail to be picked apart and studied. 

And to admire and to protect.

Maybe that would be enough.

[violettduchess]

This is a little out of the box but I'd like to request a sexy yoga/ stretching AU with Leon that ends with the implication of sex (since you don't write smut 😚)

A/N: This is a modern AU where Leon is, as anon requested, a yoga instructor. It may start out more like a crack fic but I had to somehow establish how/why he is what he is. Enjoy, anon!!

Fluff/Spice and cruise ships!

Word count: 1326

It was dark out on the deck of The Sea Rose. And cold. The massive cruise ship cut silently through the dark ocean waters, a behemoth illuminated by the wan light of a crescent moon. The outer lights, spaced evenly along each deck, dotted the sides of the ship like the bioluminescent dots of an alien deep sea creature.

Leon had said he wanted to clear his head, work some things out before coming to bed. Your honeymoon should be a joyous occasion. You had been looking forward to it almost more than the wedding, but the tension with his brothers over the fate of the Rhodolite Wellness Center weighed heavily on his mind. The Obsidian Corporation was looking to buy out the complex that Leon and his brothers had been running together. Jin, the personal trainer. Yves, in charge of the spa. Nokto the masseuse. Chevalier who was never there but ran the accounts. Rio, always chipper at the front desk. They were all suffering. Legal issues and red tape were tightening themselves around the boys like serpents, squeezing the will to fight out of them, exhausting them. All thanks to the head of Obsidian Corp., that snake charmer, Mr. Gilbert. The man in the expensive black suit and eyepatch had made it his life’s mission to destroy them, at any cost and it was wreaking havoc on Leon and his peace of mind.

You didn’t know exactly what he meant with “clear his head” until you rounded the corner and found him. Despite the chill, he was shirtless, in only his favorite black sweatpants, feet bare. Your gaze was immediately drawn to his wedding band, a tiny golden beacon that seemed to shine far brighter than the ship’s lighting should allow. Seeing it flooded your heart with warmth. You had really done it. Even though it was only a few days ago, the whole wedding already felt like a remembered dream, blurred images and feelings, a watercolor across your mind, soft and beautiful. Something you know you will spend a long time reflecting on, little details emerging from the fog each time you do.

You watched as he moved through the motions of different poses, transitioning from one to another fluidly, a water dancer in a warrior’s body. Starlight painted his skin, fighting with the artificial lights of the boat over just who could highlight his body better. You could see the flex of every muscle, every line of definition as he moved slowly, a paragon of control, unaware of you. You felt that warmth in your heart overflow, splash over the brim and gather in your stomach. He was beautiful. And he was your husband. Til death do you part.

Stepping out from the shadow, you cleared your throat, a smile crossing your lips when he paused, his face lighting up at the sight of you.

“Hello wife”, he said with that open, sweet smile you loved so much. 

“Hello husband.” Was using those words corny as hell? Yes. Did you care? Not one bit. “That looked great.” You came up next to him, a hand on the cold metal railing. Below, the water was lapping gently at the side of the ship, dark waves topped with pale crests of moonlight.

He ran a hand through his dark hair, eternally untameable by any brush or comb that dared try. Not even Jin’s extra strength hair gel stood a chance against the Dompteur coif. “I needed to gather my thoughts.” He looked at you, his expression softening with affection. You entered his life and love came along with you, braiding the strings of your hearts together with threads of happiness and loyalty and peace. He cleared his throat. “Want me to take you through a few transitions?”

You flashed him a smile. He was a phenomenal teacher and it always felt like a privilege to get one-on-one instruction from the center’s most popular yoga instructor. 

“Sure,” you said, reaching up to tighten your ponytail.

He smiled, golden eyes bright with pride and excitement, as he reached out, helping you into the first position. It was simply standing, reaching your arms above your head and touching your palms. Mountain pose.

“Stretch up as tall as you can,” he said, voice low. His hands ran up your arms, supposedly to make sure they were straight enough. You felt something at a low heat start fanning out inside as his fingers danced along the inside of your elbow and forearms.

“That’s it,” he murmured before walking behind you. One large hand held your wrists lightly, the other wrapped around you, pressing itself against your stomach. The heat inside burned brighter. There was a tangible shift in the air, in the way his hands touched you. This was no longer instructive but something else, something incendiary. 

“Breathe." He spoke softly, his voice right by your ear.

You felt your heart beginning to race, as if it could escape the incalescence rising inside you. Stretching was supposed to be relaxing and right now….you were feeling anything but. Your breath shook as you tried to draw it into your lungs.

“Good, very good,” he practically purred. You were burning now, white hot.

He reached out again to adjust you, taking your arms in his hands and moving them until they were stretched out wide. “And now the hips.” His voice was smooth as whiskey, tempting as sin, meandrous in the way it wrapped around you. His hands held onto your hips, pivoting you until one leg was stretched out. He moved his other hand to your thigh, fingers deft and sure, pressing until you bent under his touch. Your muscles trembled.

“How’m I doing?” you asked through a throat as arid as the desert. He walked around to look at you from the front. It was his eyes that held you captive. There was no mistaking the gleam in them. Something bright and eager. Your blood felt white hot as it roared through your veins.

“Perfect,” he said as he stepped forward. You expected him to pull you toward him, to kiss you in that way he had, a lion taking his fill of his prize.

He didn’t. Instead he reached forward, pulling you out of warrior pose to place both your hands on the ship's metal railing, the cold a sharp and jarring contrast to your heated skin. Your gaze was met with an endless expanse of dark water, melding into a night sky, bedecked in glowing stars.

“Leon?” What was he thinking? Why hadn't he kissed you?

Then you felt his arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you against the hard planes of his body. His lips on the nape of your neck sent sparks cascading in a rush through you, a waterfall of embers. 

“You just hold on,” he breathed against your skin. His hand was lazily making its way down your spine, a mathematician fingering an abacus, the other holding onto your waist, steadying you.

“Leon," you gasped, turning your head only to have him gently push it back. He wanted your eyes on the water and the sky, on something uralt and primal, matching the need he's fed in you, a firestorm of anticipation and want. 

“We’re out in the open…” Your words were weak, mere smoke, no substance to them at all. You couldn't stop this even if you wanted to. And you didn't want to.

He knew. You could feel his leonine grin against the side of your neck, his teeth scraping your skin lightly. “Everyone else is in bed, sweet wife. Nothing here but the ocean and sky…."

He kissed you even as his hands ran down your sides, trailing fire in their wake. At your hips, his fingers slid into the waistband of your pants.

"Now", he whispered in your ear, sweet and smoldering, "Hold on tight to that railing and don’t turn around. No matter what I do.”

*

@aquagirl1978 @atelier-maroron @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @queen-dahlia @rhodolitesroseforclavis @somekidnamedkai @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @redheadkittys

[genshin-scenarios]

With an Adeptus!Reader...

A/N: Warning for spoilers of their backstories and Liyue's archon quest!

Characters: Zhongli, Xiao, Venti

Considering the hardships you went through before becoming an adeptus, Zhongli didn’t want to tie you to him with a contract; Liyue wasn’t in need of new warriors, and he was no longer leading the nation as Morax. Immortality erodes the spirit and memory, and with time comes a loneliness that can be hard to bear - thus Zhongli approached you with concern when he found out about your change.

What he hadn’t expected was for you to greet him with a smile and lighthearted conversation (it’s something he infinitely admires you for, really). Zhongli answers your questions pertaining his experience as an adeptus patiently, observing your reactions and body language to try and gauge if you're alright.

...You were a bit nervous about this transition though, and so Zhongli gives you a soft smile and places a reassuring hand on yours. Whenever you need him, don’t hesitate to reach out. He'd be more than willing to support you and listen when you have something to get off your chest. As both an experienced adeptus and friend, he’d like to be someone you can rely on. 

The talk ends with you finally dropping your strong front and laying in his arms (it’s not as if he couldn’t see right through you anyways, though Zhongli knew better than to poke at it while you were coming to terms with becoming an adeptus.) 

You still joked around even even as he was running his fingers through your hair (a calming motion), so at least that told him that you were fine. Zhongli can't help but chuckle when you point out that you match with him a little now, with your extra appendages/markings on your skin.

“You’d already brought light into my life when you were mortal.” Zhongli would remind you. “I will never lose sight of how our story began, nor take the rest of the time we have for granted.”

You’d laugh fondly, regarding him with a gentle gaze. “I thought you wanted to end this on a light note?”

“What could be lighter than the happiness you give me?”

Oh? “In that case, I’d have to thank you as well for painting my days in gold. Not just as Morax, but Zhongli as well.”

You’ve fought by Xiao’s side so many times that he could trace your movements as if they were his own. You weren’t from his generation of yakshas, but your purpose and combat prowess was something that he could comfortably rely on. He was proud to be able to say that you were comrades (and friends, and maybe a little bit more - Xiao was always cute when you teased him about that)

Like Madam Ping, you’ve opted to live amongst mortals to understand how to better support them in other ways. It’s quite a curious life you live, playing as a citizen by day and leaving for ‘work’ whenever needed, departing with a mysterious smile when asked about it.

Neither side of you was more ‘real’ than the other; as a citizen it was relaxing to indulge in mortal pastimes and learn to cook (regardless if you were very good at it), while traversing the land you love as an adeptus felt freeing, and battles always did give you a sense of purpose as it was something you’ve done for so long.

Though it’s always more fun when you can share the weight of a fight with Xiao - it’s nice how neither of you have to hold back in fear of hurting each other, and you share a familiar understanding that surpasses friendship, carefully built over time together.

Since he's so used to your presence, it sometimes surprises other people how casually he interacts with you (or even knows your habits/quirks), but you enjoy that little privilege that comes with your relationship. After all, once you've bonded on the battlefield for centuries, it's hard to call the other an acquaintance, right? It's not like it isn't mutual either~

“Hey, don’t forget that you can call my name too.” You nudged Xiao. “I’d never be late to a friend in need.”

He eyed the almond tofu that you’d abandoned for the sake of talking. “And have to argue about food with you after every patrol?”

“I said I’d cook!” You huffed. “You’re just stubborn. Eat more almond tofu and your muscles will become as soft as one.”

Xiao swiped your bowl from you, earning a yelp of protest. He wore the slightest of smirks as he finished it. “You said you wanted ‘real’ food. We can order more from downstairs.”

The first time he met you, Venti was only vaguely aware of you being an adeptus. He was visiting Liyue to have a drink with Morax but got a little lost (or so he said). He learn later that you were indeed in allegiance with the Geo Archon, though your contract was looser than the others as it was to look after Liyue’s people in general (the methods would be however you saw fit, and evolved as they did.)

“What a shame… You really signed your free time off to serve that blockhead, huh?” While you knew he was joking, you’d always wondered what he meant when he said it was a shame… You sometimes ponder this as you’re reminded of him, be it through the greeting of a breeze or singing of the birds.

Sometimes you’d visit Mondstadt during a mission, after which you would be invited by a certain bard to stay a bit longer, be it for some food or to catch the sight of the sunset from a different nation (Venti was always good at finding reasons to spend time together)

After Morax stepped down, Venti came to Liyue to check on you - he was aware of how the adepti respected and cherished his old friend, and offered his company as comfort. He’d sing, play the lyre or flute, or whatever that made you feel better. While he may joke about it, he really does admire your dedication to Liyue.

You laughed as a familiar pair of arms wrapped around your shoulders from behind. Venti’s greeting was cheerful as ever as your name rolled off his tongue. No matter how many times this has happened, it never stopped your heart from skipping. 

“Aren’t you ever worried we’d fall over when you jump on me like that?” You turned to look at him.

“Well, I know my brave warrior is strong enough to catch me!” Venti winked. “And if not, the wind will save us!”

Always a charmer, huh? You’re reminded of a past conversation as he took your hand and started leading you away, telling you something about the Windblume preparations for this year.

‘Sometimes I wish we could stay like this forever.’

‘In that case, might we form a little contract for ourselves? I’ll promise you my forever if you do the same.'

[marahuyos]

how they kiss: genshin boys

*:･ﾟ✧ nothing much, just me describing how diluc, kaeya, childe and zhongli kiss. this piece is mostly just me trying to practice how to write kisses.

tw: slight suggestive themes, swearing, character story spoilers for childe, zhongli

✧ Diluc Ragnvindr

• A tentative flame-you don’t know whether it would spark and rise up in flames or die out in smoke, leaving nothing but a charred mess. That’s how Diluc is. You know he wasn’t good at this and he’s both thankful that you’re patient enough and annoyed that he couldn’t even muster a single kiss. At the start of your relationship, he is like a flame on a matchstick during a snowstorm. He burns but with how cold the world is, he fights to survive. With you, you are the closed space that blocks the harsh snow. You are the hands that cradle his flame ever so gently. He may be the one with the Pyro Vision but you warm his cold heart.

• His lips are slightly chapped but you’ll be lucky when you catch them moist, tasting of wine when Diluc taste tests new wines. When you do catch him with wine-flavored lips, you would press your lips against his with an excited grin on your mouth. With your sudden kiss, Diluc had to open his mouth to emit a gasp as you took the chance to slip your tongue inside his mouth. The taste of wine was stronger, your tongue slowly gliding over his own just to taste the sinful beverage. Your hands would grasp his shoulders, massaging the muscle that’s been way too tense. You think that you have surprised him from your impromptu kiss but Diluc is just as passionate as you are.

• Reaching around your back, he pushed you closer to him, chests bumping against each other as he began gaining control. He tilts your head, his ruby eyes staring at your surprised ones. He parts for a chance to breathe before diving back in to claim your lips again. The wine he tasted was still present on his lips but, combined with your taste, he was already getting drunk on the flavor. His nose nearly brushes against your cheek as he hears you mewl from his sudden outburst. His hands roam around your back, leaving warm tingles across your skin despite the layers of clothes. Before you two part for the next breath of air, he whispers into your lips how cheeky you are, his breathless voice making you swoon.

“You truly test my patience, love. Don’t think that I will back down once I’m through with you.”

✧ Kaeya Alberich

• As much as he’s cold to the touch, being a Cryo user and all, he is rather like the freshly fallen snow on a winter’s morning. Yes, it may bite your skin (also doesn’t help that Kaeya is a biter) but it also leaves you tingling after the cold shock response. That’s how he leaves you after kisses: shivering but wanting more as he chuckles on how cute and needy you are for him.

• He’s a charmer so it’s not an uncommon sight to see him with pampered skin and well-taken care of hair. So, as such, you bet that his lips are just as soft and plump (like his chest) because he always seeks out the best lip care. You’re jealous of the way his lips just shine naturally and how pouty they are every time he speaks. Your jealousy became a weapon for him, as he would always go beyond your personal space, making sure his lips are the focus as he smirks. And if that didn’t make you want to wipe the smug smirk off of his face, there was probably more teasing remarks that Kaeya would’ve used. You taste mint and hints of berry when you kissed his lips, swallowing in the chuckle that he emitted. His hand reaches around the back of your head as he tilts your head, deepening the kiss as he teases your lips.

• Remember when I said that he’s a biter? He would always nibble on your lips if the cold wasn’t enough for you. First, it was small kisses on your bottom lip then his teeth gently nibbling on it. He takes his time, making sure your lips are swollen before kissing you fully and letting the cold in your mouth. His one eye is open to see your closed ones, which clearly meant you were enjoying it. He chuckles against your lips before running his tongue along the roof of your mouth before parting away, a trail of spittle connecting your lips. His eye shined with wildly when he sees your dazed look.

“Clocking out already? We’ve only just begun, darling.”

✧ Childe/Tartaglia/Ajax

• There’s three ways on how Childe kisses-and it all really depends on who you’re talking to. In his years as a Harbinger and in his time wandering the Abyss with his teacher, the young man has garnered many a façade. He doesn’t just hand out his love for free-you must brave through his storm that he brewed for himself, the capsizing waves that swallows anything in its path. Only then will you see the eye of the storm and see Ajax.

• As Childe, you literally get what you hear. Childe’s kisses is, well, childish. Quick little pecks on your lips when he’s in a hurry, a loud, obnoxious kiss on your cheek, or him rubbing his nose softly against yours-all of those things are Childe. You can’t really tell if he was ever serious at all when he smirks playfully at your flushed face. As Tartaglia, this is the storm that you need to brave. He is a Harbinger for a reason and his kisses are just as ruthless. Overbearing, domineering, he makes sure that everything you see is only him. His lips glide over to yours before sinking his teeth on your lip until it’s swollen. His tongue would push in, teeth nearly clacking against each other as his hands grip your skin to the point of painful. As a warrior, he dominates, he conquers, and you were no exception.

• But as Ajax, sweet sweet Ajax, he’s none of those things. He lets go of Foul Legacy, he lets go of his weapons-in front of you, it is merely a young lad who grew up too fast too soon. He is the still waters, easily disturbed by any force, so you take his face between your hands as you initiated the kiss. First it was small pecks, then a pleasant plant of the lips against his before whispering against his lips that he is your home. What sounded like a choked cry died in his throat, as his own hands clutched your hips shakily as he draws you closer. His lips are surprisingly smooth, either from the Hydro Vision he’d been using or he’s taken heed to his older sister’s skincare. There was no danger, no tension, no ulterior motive each stroke of tongue you two share. Here, he is finally himself.

“I don’t know what god would give me someone like yourself, babe... But I’m grateful that you’re here.”

✧ Zhongli

• Morax, Rex Lapis, Vago Mundo... many names, many lives, many loves. Zhongli had such a long life of war, love, and everything that no one should’ve ever experienced. He is as long-standing as the earth (haha), never faltering, even with so much weathering. He should be as long-standing, there was no room for cracks, even as a mortal man. Yet, he seems like he didn’t know that you’ve already made several cracks across his heart and weathering him down to a man who is in love.

• His kisses are secure. Vanilla maybe, but you know that Zhongli is being a gentleman. With a hand under your chin to tilt up your face towards his, his thumb smoothly glides over your bottom lip before planting his lips against yours. He moves his lips against yours slowly, giving small pecks along the way, before diving back in. His other hand smoothly glides over your back before settling on your waist, pulling you closer. Meanwhile, your hands would softly tug at his ponytail, making the gentleman shiver as he gives a warning pinch to your waist for being cheeky.

• But there are times when that gentlemanly face breaks through. Most of the time it may be Venti getting him drunk. In this moment, he remembers that he was a ruthless god who formed this land from his own hands. He is the god of contracts and if you wanted it rougher, then he expects to hold your end of the bargain. Excuse my sudden twist, but I am a firm fuckin believer of dragon Zhongli and ya’ll can pry his elongated, forked tongue swiping across your lips before slithering inside your mouth off of my cold dead hands. His fangs threatening to bleed your lips... unless you wanted it, then who is he to oblige? His clawed fingers poking holes through your clothes as more skin is accessible to his scaly hands. There is no escaping this contract.

“My treasure, you created this contract. Now you must abide to the conditions.”

[mominousrex]

Our Worn Out Souls

Mando / f!Reader

Warnings: NONE (Eventual NSFW in later chapters)

Summary: A simple cobbler/bootmaker in the Outer Rim, you had met The Mandalorian in your shop just before his life was turned upside down by the little foundling.

When you last saw him, you both knew there was much unsaid and even more unresolved. Your relationship never really began which meant it also never really ended.

But now, he returns to you with no ship, no foundling, and a very, very worn-out soul.

Chapter 1: Lost and Foundlings

Your body begrudgingly registers the morning as your eyes blink open. Your mind is a bit slower to catch up, so you take your time before getting out of bed. The shop is not your responsibility today. Even Mos Eisley's best bootmaker needs a day off now and then. It's your first day off in months, and you have earned the right to spend it how you damn pleased.

When you finally do roll out of bed, it's only to head to the fresher. You can jump back under the covers as soon as you're done. It's glorious having nothing to do, orders filled, and enough money to pay someone else to work a shift.

Stepping out of your bedroom and into the hallway, you lazily rub your eyes while trying to tame your hair. Suddenly— you jump in panic and scream a whelp of terror at the unexpected shock of beskar armor that stands before you.

Oh shit. What's he doing here?

"Stars alive! You scared the shit out of me!"

The Mandalorian you once knew so well had returned unannounced. You knew he was capable of stealth, but he had never done anything like this to you before. All the heartbreak and confusion of what had happened between you two those years ago vanished when that soft low voice poured out of his modulator like dark honey as he spoke,

"I'm sorry. I needed a place to stay and—"

He's covered head to toe, but by his posture, he looks awful because he sounds dejected, lost, even hopeless.

"Nevermind, I should go." he confessed and turned to leave.

"No, no it's alright. I just didn't expect you, or anyone for that matter. Let me get decent, okay. I'm in my nightgown, for cryin' out loud."

Ducking back into your room, still half asleep, you don't even realize you mutter under your breath, "I don't even have underwear on."

"I can hear you, you know?"

"Did I say that out loud?"

"You did."

A levity in his voice flips your stomach. Stars, it had been too long. Not that you even knew what you were to each other, but he still had the ability to fluster you and make you lose your guard. Shouldn't you be angry? Why are you so...calm, happy even?

You attempt to puzzle over this unexpected situation as you rummage through your drawer to grab underwear, then yank your bra and some leggings from a chair in your room. Opting to change in your tiny closet, you check the cracked door of your bedroom to make sure he can't see, then slip on your clothes.

You sneak a quick glance in the mirror on the closet door,

Woof. Well, I've certainly looked better.

"Hey! I haven't seen you in months. What…what do you mean you need a place to stay? What happened?"

"My ship was destroyed. The kid…I had to— I'm going to go. This was a mistake. I'm sorry if I scared you."

The last time you saw him was a year ago. The brawny silent bounty hunter had—a foundling. You were shocked, to say the least, but enamored by his affection for the little green charmer. It was a sight to behold. The deadly armored warrior and his fuzzy bundle of joy. You didn't get any time alone for him to explain where he had been, why he hadn't contacted you. He was just there one day and gone the next. It was as though each time you saw him, the two of you were so content to be near each other, you never wanted to address what more could have been.

And now, here he was. He had no foundling, no ship, and apparently, nowhere to go. But, for some reason, he did come to you.

"Din?"

He stopped his stride to your door when he heard you say his name. He hesitated before his eventual turn,

You approached a few steps gently toward his intimidating presence. You would not let him leave like this. Not when it was so evident that something was wrong with him. You quietly pleaded to him,

"Ni liser gaa'tayl gar. Nayc ba'slanar. Please, Din. Stay."

Then, to your shock, Din's gloved hands reach up, and you hear the click-click-hiss as he removes his helmet in front of you.

And there before you was the first time you saw the face of the man you loved as tears slowly fell from his tired eyes.

The first time you saw him two years ago, he had come into your shop to get his boots resoled.

"Good afternoon, what can I help you with?" Your eyes were more focused on fixing the grip tape on your favorite mallet when you had greeted your potential customer. But then you heard the modulator and looked up.

"I was told you were the best bootmaker in the Outer Rim."

You slid the mallet into the large pocket of your small apron and adjusted your coveralls straps.

"Is that so, Mandalorian?"

"Yes."

For a heavy moment, you stared at his helmet to continue. His blank, beskar expression and broad chest were unmoved. It seemed as though he was flustered, maybe? You hopped off the back work table and stood at the counter. You roll up your sleeves and fix your hair back with a fastener. Well, if this guy isn't going to say something, you will.

"And? Is that why you came into my shop? To let me know what people say about me?"

"I need a repair for my boots. Can you do that?"

"I don't usually do repairs on shoes or items I haven't made." You leaned forward anyway and peek over the counter to look down at his boots,

"Step back, let me see what you got there. Maybe I can help."

Mando took a few steps back and stood awkwardly as your gaze focused on his footwear. You checked in with his helmet and gave him a look of pity as you shook your head.

"Goodness, Mandalorian. So, the ammo holsters on your calf armor need tightening, but it's better to replace them actually, with new leather. I can do that as well as fix up your boots."

You waited for him to respond. Nothing. You continued.

"See, tactical ankle boots like yours are great for comfort, more agility, but this make? The soles on those get worn pretty easily. Your outer sole should've been replaced months ago. I'm sure your feet have been cramping at night, plus I bet your ankles are barking at you the morning after you've had to chase down some idiot that tried to run from you, am I right?

"That's accurate."

"You're a funny one," you quipped.

He cocked his helmet at your comment because no one has ever called The Mandalorian funny. He was deadly, strategic, a loner, a wraith that invokes fear in the hearts of the galaxy's most dangerous and wanted criminals...and you just called him funny.

As the last customer of the day, you decide to lock up, but let him stay as you considered the job.

The deep tone of his modulated, soft-spoken voice was calming, a balm to your wounded heart. You knew you were blushing, nervous, and had no idea what was causing this in your usual guarded and shy demeanor. This Mandalorian's presence gave you a feeling that was both familiar but dangerously new at the same time.

"I need them done as soon as possible. I have a job and need to leave before the suns rise. If I pay extra, can you do it?"

"Extra? Speed job like this is gonna cost ya, no matter where you go."

"I'm good for the credits. Set a reasonable price and I'll pay. But can you do it in time or not?"

You had the time, it wouldn't take long, and you could definitely use the credits. Besides, something about this bounty hunter was making you…flirtatious? When was the last time you did that?!

Why kriffing not. This will be over in done within no time. Credits in the cache.

"As I said before, I don't usually repair boots or anything that I haven't made, but I will make an exception…for a fellow Mandalorian."

You winked and gave him a cheeky grin as you walked around from behind the counter.

"I'm sorry?" He was clearly stunned by your statement.

You decided to keep yourself from getting flustered by busying your hands with organizing the container of assorted tools and leather swatches that needed to be brought into the back of the shop.

"Well, I haven't worn a helmet or armor in years, decades maybe. You'll have to forgive my lapse in tradition as you can plainly see my face. My clan did initially keep the old ways."

"You're, you're Mandalorian?" His responses reveal the befuddled shock in his previously measured, steady tone.

"I was a foundling. They said I was born on…Ah…what was it, Ag Veeta? Something like that. Maker, this was so long ago." You locked up the front door and the register and grabbed the container of odds and ends. Then signaled for him to follow you to the back workroom.

"Aq Vettina," he stated quietly as you swooshed past him.

"Yes, that was it! So you heard of it?" You plopped the container on the large work table in the center of the room. The various machines and contraptions that fit on the table were a chaotic arrangement that only made sense to you. It followed the sequences and routines of your craft the way you favored.

He gave no response. You shrugged his blank reactions off and nervously continued as he stood just in the doorway of the back work area.

"Well, anyway, I don't remember anything about my home planet. I was only an infant when I was rescued."

The bounty hunter stood like a statue, frozen with no response. Here you were rambling your life story to him, and all he wanted was his boots repaired. It had just been a long time since you had connected with another Mandalorian.

"Why…did you…abandon your creed?"

Oh. He's one of those Mandalorians. Great.

"Well, I never really had the chance to take the creed, ner burc'ya. I know, I know, my pronunciation is terrible now, I'm afraid."

"It sounded okay."

"Okay? Yikes. A resounding approval."

"I still don't understand why you didn't have a chance. What does that mean?"

"See, the clan that rescued me was quite troubled and they split in leadership when I was very young. So, I went one way with those that took me and the other half of my clan went another way. Our now smaller clan, we lived on Mandalore during the rule of Maul, then Bo Katan but…those were dark times, you know?"

"I do. I was on Concord Dawn with Clan Vizsla."

"Clan Vizsla? I see. Well, you must be a very good bounty hunter. Strong traditions, tough warriors in Clan Vizsla."

"I was also a foundling…I—"

"You were? Look at us! The foundlings who found each other. Sorry, I interrupted you."

"It's alright."

A moment hung where you just smiled at him. He stood there, his helmet slightly tilted, and you noticed him hook his thumb in his belt. Did he seem…nervous? Maybe he needed to be somewhere else.

"Um…look, I'll get to work on your boots. Have a seat there to take them off. If you need to go, I can loan you a pair. There's a cantina—"

"I'd like to stay. May I watch you work?"

He removed his ion rifle and sat down on the worn leather loveseat against the wall.

"Oh. Sure. I usually like the quiet when I work, but something tells me you won't be that distracting. It might be kind of boring, though."

Then he began to disarm the calves of both legs and arrange a neat pile on the side table. Next, he started taking off his boots, still giving no verbal response.

As he stood up to walk over and hand you his boots. You walked over to meet him halfway. Yup, still no response from him. Mother of banthas, he barely says anything, but when he does, you can't get yourself to shut up.

"Well, okay, then."

Stars, everything really looks like a mess back here.

"This shop is yours?"

You now began to bring down your tools from your main workbench. Falling into your regular routine of arranging the shoe trees, your anvils, and pulling down your other needed tools as you spoke,

"Yes, it's all mine. I'd say about ten years now. Tattooine is not the greatest or safest, but it's one of the cheapest! Customers will come from anywhere if the work is good. And, yes, I do great work. I spent time in a lot of different systems over the years, but thankfully, I was able to keep improving my trade. You know, I originally learned leatherwork as a little one...from my clan mothers."

"Is that so?"

"Clan Rakryn had many generations of men and women who worked in the royal armory, before the pacification, of course.

"Of course. Hmm...I don't think I've ever heard of Clan Rakryn," he admitted.

"Well, that's because it doesn't exist anymore. It hasn't for a long time. By the way, bounty hunter, about my creed? I never took it because my battle and weapon training had only just begun when Gar Saxon aligned with the Empire. And well, Clan Rakryn, or what was left of it, was not willing to submit to that kind of control from a foreign power. It was shameful what Saxon did. The Empire. Good riddance.”

A small chuckle crackled out of his modulator.

“Our attempted escape, though, was a failure, to say the least. Many of my loved ones died. Only a few of us survived, all children. Over time, we just…we all went our separate ways. I've had to make my own way since then."

"I'm sorry that happened to you. I didn't mean to insult you by asking before."

"I know. You didn't insult me. I rarely talk about this with anyone who...understands. You know, even though it feels like a lifetime ago, all that I learned as a Mandalorian may have been the very thing that gave me the strength to let it go and survive. I sincerely wanted to be a real Mandalorian. I feel ridiculous saying this now," you leaned in to give him a loud whisper, "but, honestly, I just wanted to be a mother of warriors, you know? I'd have my own clan of my children and foundlings. A little girl's dream; it's silly.”

"It's not. You shouldn't call yourself silly for wanting that."

"Well, the years have all but gone by. Pretty sure that starship has definitely flown."

Now the energy between you two felt painfully awkward. You had definitely said too much. He was definitely being too polite.

"How about I get started?"

"Alright."

"Alright, he says. Well, let's fix these boots of yours and get you on your way."

You turned toward your workbench, and then he asked one last question,

"You don't have any droids in your shop?"

"Oh. Yeah, no. I don't like droids. I guess I prefer to do things myself."

"Hmm. That's good."

You arched your eyebrows at his statement. Delighted that he seemed to understand.

He sat and watched you as you worked, never saying a word. His gaze never leaves you, though. You are aware of it but make no effort to stop or initiate a conversation. You really preferred silence when you worked anyway.

Well, "silence" wasn't really the word for it. You just preferred no conversation.

Instead, you preferred, no, you loved the sounds of your work that would fill the room. You conducted a symphony of effort and purpose with each shoe, boot, saddle, bandolier, or harness that was made or repaired. These were the sounds that soothed your thoughts and focused your concentration.

You quickly get lost in rhythmic patterns of your cutting press, buffer belt, stitch machines, the tapping of your mallet hammering along. Or the softer, swift brushstrokes of bonding agent or leather conditioner.

And if all the noise and racket of your work carrying on didn't bother the bounty hunter (who was either sleeping or staring at you), he was welcome to stay and watch for as long as he wanted.

Chapter 2: First Encounters (😈NSFW, under🔞DNI😈)

[love-thefruityfour]

If you want to he a fierce warrior Eddie, then I suggest Viking braids - you can't get more fierce than that. And if you want me to touch you more you just have to ask.

Steve, you are such a charmer. It totally works by the way.

Don't say it like that Robin. To me you are already perfect just the way you are 💜

I can't promise I will stop her if she will convince me - I am known amongst friends and family as the nosiest person ever. But maybe a kiss will help me contain myself and her.

E.M.

I am the viking warrior, coming to take what’s mine. I like the sound of that. Then maybe you could be my viking queen.

S.H.

I aim to please. Just leave you window open if your parents are home and you can braid my hair all night if you want to. (That wasn’t meant to sound dirty. Does it? Does it sound dirty?)

R.B.

I’ve never been perfect at anything before! This feels like a lot of pressure, but I appreciate it anyway

N.W. :

I guess I know a thing or two about being nosy. Papers wouldn’t be written if I didn’t

And a kiss huh? I guess it’s a small price to pay for keeping you guys out of my stuff!

[thejuleselliot]

the Flaws of ‘Wonder Woman: 1984′

Fair warning: I’m gonna go longform on this one. If you want to read an essay dissecting the failures of this movie, read on. If not...

...

I wanted it to be great.

After suffering various delays over the years, I was as excited as anyone else to see it. Unfortunately, when I eventually did, I was disappointed.

The film’s many problems essentially boil down to only one: it can’t pick a side. Steve Trevor is Diana’s soulmate, or he isn’t. Barbara Minerva is Diana’s friend, or she isn’t. And, most glaringly, Maxwell Lord is either a good guy... or he just isn’t. The filmmakers themselves don’t seem to know, but they expect you, the audience, to. None of this is played out skillfully, or with a hint of nuance.

It could be argued that the majority of 1984′s problems lie with Lord. While almost every commercial or promotion for the film portrayed Wiig’s Cheetah as the film’s villain, it’s obvious upon first viewing that Pascal has spades more screen time. But the fact is, Lord is never given enough opportunity to become a menacing villain because the film never bothers to take the time to paint an accurate portrait. The first time he’s really introduced to the audience is through the eyes of Wiig’s Barbara Minerva. The meeting is awkward, even cringe-worthy. You’re meant to find him charming, yet you don’t. This is an absolute failing within the script.

When creating a villain, a screenwriter needs to make a choice: the monster you fear, or the monster you love. In the Dark Knight, Heath Ledger’s Joker inevitably fits into the former category. Through the film, he not only murders Bruce Wayne’s girlfriend, he is shown to be completely unhinged on several occasions. The audience never questions for a minute that he will do anything and everything to create havoc in Gotham City. So, here, we not only have a defined personality, we have a motive.

For the latter, let’s look to Tom Hiddleston’s Loki in the first Avengers film. Loki is the charmer. Intense, but beguiling. The characters - and, by extension, the audience - is drawn in. Therefore, when he does do evil, it catches you off-guard. When he shouts, you listen.

The character of Maxwell Lord never gives you that chance. He’s been compared to the 80′s personality of Donald Trump, which is a apt description. The one issue of this, however, is that Jenkins chooses to give Lord a different dimension - that of a caring father. She can’t seem to commit to one side of the character. Is he a monster, or isn’t he? By the finale, you’re expected to believe that by reversing his actions, he’s proven what side of morality he’s on. However, without defining the limits of that morality early on, the audience lacks a personal connection to the character. A better version of the script would have eliminated the son entirely and committed entirely to a Trumpian parody, or eliminated the Trump-ishness and depicted a struggling, good-hearted businessman who allows power to corrupt him and ultimately chooses the right side in the end. Without defining clearer character boundaries, the audience is never given a chance to care what he does next.

Cheetah belies another narrative issue entirely. While Lord is complicated to the point of confusion, the script can’t seem to discern a motive for self-styled superhero Barbara Minerva. Her own introduction shows her being stepped over (literally) by coworkers at Diana’s work, the Smithsonian museum. Her supervisor can’t remember her name. Sounds bad, right?

However. It’s worth noting that we quickly learn that Barbara has started there only one week earlier. Yes, it’s pretty rude to be ignored or forgotten by your coworkers. But it’s not as if she has known them for years and still been treated this way. I wouldn’t expect a coworker or superior to have my name locked-in on week one. Barbara has started a new job, and the film never bothers to tell us what her old job was or where she's been since college. (We also learn, most upsettingly, that she has a series of impressive degrees - something we are merely told, not shown. With the exception of one scene in which she researches for Diana, she’s completely terrible at her job, and Diana constantly steps in to do it for her.) We’re meant to believe that it was simply fate that brought her to Diana, and to the path she is set on.

Quickly, Barbara proves herself to be a kind, if vaguely frenetic soul. That alone is enough potential for a lovable, Luna Lovegood-type character. However, by consistently ensuring that she is the most obnoxious person in the room, it’s difficult to gain audience sympathy. Early on, she’s attacked by a man while walking home, before quickly being saved by Diana. This kindness is forgotten, once she has successfully made Diana the villain in her mind.

Strangely, the film never really tells us why she goes after Diana so viciously. Outside of a power struggle, one from which Diana has nothing to gain, they have no disagreements, with exception of Diana’s generic, disinterested distrust in Barbara’s quickly-discarded love interest, Maxwell Lord. The Lord/Minerva subplot never really goes anywhere, burning brightly in snippets of the film’s first thirty minutes and largely disappearing for the next two hours. Jenkins decides not to treat Barbara as a woman manipulated, instead making her in charge of her own actions.

There would be merit in this, if it didn’t remove any or all motivation from Minerva’s story. Later in, Barbara seethes and makes several inane statements about being ‘special’ like Diana (during a battle, no less) and the film clumsily tries to assign this as her character motivation. At the end of the film, Barbara is electrically shocked in a way that would kill most people. The last shot shows her sitting on what appears to be a cliff, looking out at almost-Wakandan sunset, boldly copying one of Black Panther’s iconic final shots.

Another issue with Barbara stands with the film’s issues with character perspective. In the first film, almost every scene, with the exception of those with the villains, takes place from Diana’s point of view. This doesn’t work as well when employed in WW84. For one, unlike the first, the film is unable to choose a perspective. The first major scene set in the 80′s takes place in the eyes of a group of thieves who are never seen or heard from again. (We assume Lord hired them... this is never clearly stated?)

By doing this, the film suffers. Sometimes it chooses to focus on Diana’s rich and grieving state, still deeply affected from the loss of Steve Trevor. And when it does, it expects you to care. However, by choosing to focus almost equally on the emotional state of Lord and Minerva, it takes valuable screen time away from the woman with her name in the title. And all that time spent sympathizing with the villains is left wasted when the viewer struggles to find a reason to love them, and the film never tells you why.

The character assassination of Steve Trevor is its own failing. By removing him from his time, he is removed completely from his own motivations. He exists only to be a kind of spiritual guardian to Diana. He had not been brought to life by the film’s MacGuffin, it would have made little difference to his overall effect. Steve and Diana get a few moments, but they’re clumsily written and badly paced. By the end, Steve and Diana do part, and you’re left wondering why the script bothered to bring him back in the first place.

Then, Diana herself. The film opens with a woefully, painfully dull Olympic-style obstacle course, showing a eight-year-old Diana attempt to win. While doing so, she cheats, which causes her to be held back by her aunt, Antiope (R.I.P.). You hope this disappointing sequence will lead to a satisfying conclusion later on, but the only thing I could garner is that they were attempting to make a clumsy comparison to Diana’s eventual choice to leave Steve Trevor behind. (A bit of a reach. I know...)

Diana never gets much of an opportunity to be herself in this film. She performs several rescues, the first of which involves a long, intense eye-contact filled scene with a little girl.

(Who, in case you were wondering, does not come back or prove to be important later. A more discerning screenwriter would’ve had this child be Maxwell’s son, but... I digress.)

(There’s another grievance, there, and I’m going to take the opportunity to air it: this overstuffed, yet completely airheaded film takes time to tell us the backstory of a great Amazonian warrior. Do we ever meet this warrior? No.

No, we don’t - unless you count a post-credits scene where she is portrayed by Lynda Carter, who for some reason, could not be bothered to help Diana out when all of this mayhem was afoot. The part of this that annoys me most of all is that the entire backstory is created simply for the sake of justifying Diana’s new, golden eagle-wing armor, which could have otherwise been explained with four little words: ‘I took up metalworking.’”)

In conclusion...

agh.

[thedyingtimelady]

The Protectors

Chapter 3  Warning: Mild explicit scene Lilian and I had a great time in town. We were shopping, talking, laughing and now sitting in a café, drinking a hot cup of delicious tea. Lilian excused herself to go to the bathroom. She wasn’t gone for seconds, someone sat down on her chair. I looked up from my magazine, what I hold in my hand, as I saw Four in his eyes. I was surprised to see him. Naturally, he would follow me around, when I was outside of the mansion, but it was surprising, that he showed himself in public. “Why are you here?”, I asked him, putting the magazine in one of the shopping bags. Four grabbed my hand, pulling me to the small corridor, what leads to the bathrooms and pushed me against the wall. Then he kissed me. Shortly, I felt his tongue in my mouth and my body shocked but started to tingle in the same time. I grabbed his long coat and kissed him back, whimper in the kiss. Four broke the kiss after a while and began to kiss my neck. “N-No Four. S-Stop! We are in public! I don’t want that. Stop, please!”, I was shivering and pulled his hair, so he moved his head back and looked me in my eyes. “It´s been two weeks! Do you really believe, that one of us, especially me, could wait another second without you? Why do you have move around this shady town, going shopping with a friend of yours? You should had stayed in the office!”, he growled, going down on his knees and pressing his face in my belly. I blushed, when I felt his warm breath on my skin, but I cleared my head and looked seriously. “No. I am not here for your entertainment and I have an own life. I know, you missing me, but all of this is so wrong. I really want to know, what is going on with you guys. Why are you so crazy about me? Why did you bring me to this giant mansion? And why…”, my face turned slowly red and I felt shy. “Why do you want me so much? Like kissing me… and… stuff. I mean… You can´t share me! I´m not…” Four cut my words, kissing me roughly. “Oh Babe, I am not sharing you.”, he said with a calm voice, stroking my chin. Then he let me go, disappeared, like he was never here. I still felt his presents. He was watching me. I returned to my place, waiting for Lilian coming back from the restroom and back to the big mansion, taking our stuff to the residential district. Later, Lilian had the late shift, I was walking around the Mansion, just spending some alone time. In the evening, they would be a party in Six-Area, what means, there will be a lot of fun. Dancer, Musician and a mountain of food. Six makes the best parties and all three months, he was allowed to do the biggest Party ever. The bar and the big music hall of Two where connected with a movable wall. So, when the Party was going to start, the wall was being open and everyone could dance around. The Musician and Dancer would stay on the Stage and the party rocks until dawn.   I was walking around the corner and run against someone. Before I hit the ground, this someone grabbed my arm and pulled to into his arms. The sense of soap and men mixed together and as I looked up; I saw eight smiling at me. “My love. You should watch where you going. We don’t want you to get hurt, right?”, he strokes my cheek softly, as he watched me closely. The long, brown locks surrounded his face, making him look soft and charming. He was in his “Charmer-Mode” Something was wrong with eight. When he wore the wig and his black suit (sometimes, it was a Victorian outfit), he walked around like on clouds, being soft and charming all day. But he turned to his “Warrior- Mode”, he becomes nervous, harsher but cheekier and more adventurous. Then he would rip off his wig and wore more wilder clothes, like a leather jacket and boots. Maybe he has a split personality, but his changed happened in seconds. Sometimes, you couldn’t really tell, when he would change again. “I´m sorry. I will watch better next time Eight.”, I smiled at him. He smiled back, giving my cheek a soft kiss and holding my hand. When I was with him, it was like, we were a couple. It was almost natural getting kisses from him. It was different with him as like the others. The only one, who could have a similar cautious like eight would be two. This charming, hobo looking men made my heart melt every time I met him. He just knows, what to say and what do to, to make me do what he wanted. When I was frustrated or didn’t want to do some tasks, he only needed some gesture and words and I would run around the whole mansion to finish my job. Eight kissed my hand, still smiling at me. “I would love to spend some time with you, if you want.”, he said with his soft voice. I nodded, still holding his hand and walked around with him through the mansion. “The party will be soon. I really hope I could take you out there, before you have to do your “duty”.”, eight looked at me, as we turn left, entering the big locker room. I had an own room with a lot of clothes. I always told everybody, that I didn’t want many clothes. At the more if they are expensive. But do you really think, they would listen to me? Never! Now Eight was looking for a nice outfit for me, while I was looking out of the window. I saw Three walking through the inner yard, definitely taking a short cut to his lab. Without really realizing it, I open the window and shouted, waving at him. “THREE!” He looked up, seeing me and grinning over his whole face. “Hello My Darling! Look how beautiful you are today! I don’t have time to chat my dear, but we see us later on the party!”, he said loudly, waved at me a last time and disappeared behind a door. I closed the window and smiled lightly. Such a sweet man. Everyone is so sweet to me. Do I really deserve it? Fingers caress my shoulder softly, so I turned around and looked directly at eights eyes. He kissed me gently. I couldn’t push him away. Again. This man knew how to make me jump, if they want to. With soft kisses, sweet words and hot touches, they burned in my mind. Something was behind this all, but every time when I was close to get the riddles answer, a new barrier of words, touches and kisses would block me, pulling me back into the darkness of unknown. I broke the kiss, blushing and looking shyly away from eight. I heard a chuckle and turned back to him; a sparkle was lighting his eyes. “You are just too adorable. Who could ever resist you?”, he asked, without really wanting an answer. My cheek turned even more red with his kind words and I shook my head. “Just give me the stupid dress!”, with a frustrated tone in my voice, I walked to the changing room and put on the dress. I didn’t really like “The Duty”. My duty was, when a certain highpoint was on the party, I should focus only on the guys, “the Protectors”. Ever protector would have a dance with me, drinking and chatting, giving affections. It wasn’t like, I would hate it. It was just… unpleasant. Everyone on the party could see it. Sometimes, people would stare at me, while I was walking to every guy and holding hands with them. But the most awkward thing was, when I had spent time with One. One was a special man. He wanted me to light up his new cigar, giving him a drink and let me sit on his lap. He wouldn’t do anything else, maybe sometimes rubbing my back. And that was it. Nothing more. It was pretty awkward and when the party ended, I properly falling asleep in his arms and wake up the next day in my bed. “Does the dress fit you my love?”, Eights voice pulled me back from my thoughts and I looked at the door. “Yes! It’s perfect!” Yes, it really was. I wore a beautiful dark blue dress, with a lot of silver rhinestones, building a more beautiful pattern. I was in love with that dress. Eight came in, staring at me. “Wow. Just… You are a goddess. Really. I can’t believe it”, he blinked, watching me carefully, while coming closer to me. “It was made for you. There’s no other option.”     I smiled at him, giggling as he took my hand and kissed it. “Such a charmer, aren’t we?”, I tilted my head a bit and watching him. Then he pulled me softly closer to himself and gave me another kiss. “let’s go” The Bar was breaking full. There were people at the bar, chatting, drinking, people on the dancefloor, dancing. And naturally in the corners are the people, who love to make out. I was wandering with Eight around, dance a bit with him and having fun, as the music changed and the doors of the music halls got open. Seven men came inside, the last one was One, with a cigar in his mouth, looking around the big hall. Everyone else in their black suits where standing around, watching closer to ever detail in this room. It must be save… for me. Ever thread would be eliminated. One spotted me and grin softly, blow the cigar smoke in the air. “The Party can begin!”, he shouted and the music started again. Everyone was having fun. But these words meant something else, only I understood. It was time for my “duty”. This time, it wasn’t really that bad. I was dancing with eight, drinking with seven, flirting with six. He started to kiss me, pushing me against the wall. My legs began to be weak and I was grabbing his coat, so I wouldn’t fall to the ground. He was kissing my neck, as he marbled something. “I wish… I could take you to my room” My first memory with the protectors was, that I sat in One´s office, patched up. I couldn’t remember why I was hurt and where I came from. But I felt save, even when eight guys were standing around me. “I will not explain any details, but we want you. You are ours and we are yours. When you need something, anything, just come to one of us.”, One leaned to me, putting his hands on the armrest of my chair. “The most important rule here is, that we will NOT having intimate intercourse with you. We will be kissing and touching you, but not more. Before you aren’t ready, nothing will happen, so you don’t need to be worry about everything, okay dear?” They kept the promise. I was making out sometimes with one of them. (Or more, they with me and I let them, because I can’t stop it, even it is maybe wrong, but I really don’t know, it feels so right) They would be touching me softly, but didn’t go far. “You can’t and you know it. The boss would kill you”, I whispered, while stroking his hair. Six laughed against my neck. “He wouldn’t, he would lose three men and he didn’t want that.”, he said, keeping kissing my neck. I didn’t understand what that meant, but my mind was somewhere else now, so I wasn’t thinking about it anymore. When I was with Five, he told me to be careful, when this Ainley Master would appear again. Four wanted me to feed him with jelly babies. Three and Two where fighting, while I sat between them. I sighed. I really hoped to have a romantic time with three, while cuddling with Two, but something must happen. I was taking a last sip on my drink, kissing both on the cheek goodbye, then walked to the bar and get a drink for One. Now people stare more intense. One was the oldest, but nobody understands, how handsome he was. My legs would melt, when he touches me there. People laugh to talk about older men and younger women. They want to spread rumours, talking about, how weird it is, seeing two people like that together. I hated that. They didn’t know anything about us, judging us because of our appearance. I took the lighter and lighted up One´s Cigar, handing him the drink. Then I sat on his lap, as always and looking around at the party. “Do you like it?”, One asked, while blowing some smoke in a different direction. “Its great. But its still so full. I hate crowds, it makes me panic. But with you on my side, I can do it.”, I smiled at him. He began to rub my back again, watching me and taking a sip of his drink. Then One took my face with a soft hand and pulled me closer, starting to kiss me. I froze for a moment, then kissing him back. It was very rare, that One was kissing me. Other then the others, he wouldn’t touch me a lot. He was more distance to me. Kissing me here at the party was something huge, that’s why I felt the stares inside my back. “I will tell you, why I kiss you not so often”, he said quietly to me, like he heard my thoughts. “I won´t try to talk around it, but I am obsessed with you and when I am too close to you, I can´t take the promise for serious anymore.”, his rough voice was in my ear, giving me shivers over my whole body. He wants me. I could feel it. “Why you don’t just take me?”, Before I could stop these words, One was staring at me, then kissing me with a lot of passion. I was captured in this feeling, couldn’t run away. He kept kissing me, stroking my body, while I was losing my mind. Suddenly, I realize, that I didn’t hear any chatter anymore, not any music. Nothing. My surrounding was white, my vision was blurry, I only could focus on One. “I can´t just take you. I have to protect you from my desire. It is too strong, my dear. But don’t worry. I won’t let you down.”, his voice filled my head. I couldn’t think. From a moment of the other, my mind was almost blowing up. I felt tense in my body, I was shivering and panting. What was going on? He didn’t do anything, why I feel like, that thousand hands would touch me. My head. My head was spinning. I grabbed Ones jacket, throwing my head back. My vision was still blurry, but I saw the others. What was going on?! Before I blacked out, a climax surprised me and I screamed the only name, what was in my mind right now. “DOCTOR” The sun was shining through the curtains, as I open my eyes slowly. Was happened? I couldn’t really remember. I only knew, that I was kissing One. And I screamed a name. Doctor.Doctor… Who?I don’t know any doctors. I got up, making myself ready, didn’t really think about yesterday. Today, I had to work with Seven in the kitchen. And because it was Monday, it would be a quiet day. I picked my uniform, looking a last time around my room, before leaving it.  

[princessnyria]

( alia bhatt, cis female, she/her ) — here ye, here ye, behold the princess of sunspear, nyria martell. the twenty-four year old is known for being adventurous but has the tendency to be calculating too, which should be expected of the storm of sunspear. ( slender daggers peaking out of the fanned out hem of a vibrant dress, the relishing relief of the first drops of rain after a drought, a quirked brow that goes unnoticed by an enemy who’s already been beaten, the taste of freedom on tongue as you ride towards the setting sun on a sand steed )

BASICS.

full  name:  nyria nymerios martell. title:  princess of dorne. kingdom: dorne. unique title / moniker:  the storm of sunspear. gender:  cis  female. age:  twenty  four. sexuality:  bisexual. abilities:  elemental - rhoynish water magic.

FAMILY.

parents:  prince luras martell  and princess natari martell. siblings: queen dyana targaeryn née martell ( older sister ), prince dariss martell ( older brother ), princess valeria martell née staunton ( sister-in-law ). spouse:  none. children:  none.

FAST FACTS.

she’s definitely a charmer & knows how to turn it on when she wants to.

she adores her sand steed, named cress, takes better care of it than herself.

known for wearing colorful dornish gowns.

she’s vexingly defiant & believes when it comes to those close to her, it’s usually best to practice honesty to the point of bluntness because secrets among people you’re near to can get you killed

while she’s by no means a warrior, her parents did teach her to protect herself so she can hold her own & her father specifically shared with her his love of spears as a weapon

ABOUT.

they say the drought bore down on dorne as one of the longest they’d ever had to weather. that is, until the water broke on her mother’s womb and she was born– her birth was accompanied by a bold storm that rose above sunspear and moved throughout the nation, ending the drought and saving the land from further despair. the baby was named nyria, a shortened derivative of nymeria, an homage to their first princess and the woman who commanded ten thousand ships.

they called her the storm of sunspear and the smallfolk sang praises of an oblivious infant nyria for weeks. they claimed the skies broke with her birth, claimed she was born just to save them from scarcity, that she was glory made flesh - they claimed her for greatness. she became a legend just by being born and she’s never known how to stand in front of a shadow cast so big by happenstance.

she always adored her parents. their weathered eyes winking with vigor and passion when they smiled on her with preciousness, she couldn’t help but be in awe of them both. her mother grew her love of horses and held wisdom and bite in one body. and nyria loved her father especially, always following him around and tugging at his shirt. he loved her in kind, putting a spear in her hand when she was scarcely old enough to grip it all the way and even allowing her to sit beside his throne or on his lap when he was working - it was one of the rare times she could sit still. watching him fight and rule, she thought him the bravest man in all the world.

her valorous nature and adventurous spirit lead her into mischief, even when she was young. her older siblings were twins so nyria was determined to make her own fun, often wandering off. her mother would capture her attention with stories at night and nyria drank them up, relishing in the tales of intrigue and daring, memorizing many by heart.

she lost her parents too young, only being about 12; each year she grows older her remembrance of them grows more and more into absence. she’s managed to fill the emptiness inside with rage. she had always been an excitable girl, and had never much cared for the world outside her beloved dorne. but with her parents taken from her, convinced it was by the targaryen’s, her anger grew. and swelled even higher when she heard her eldest sister had been sold off like some steed to the targaryen’s in the name of “peace” - peace with a destructive empire with maddening rulers ruled by their own madness and greed.

with the death of her parents came the worry for her, the guards being greater and the eyes cutting sharper in her direction. but the way she was treated was not all that changed; nyria changed too. her carefree-nature melted into something more focused. she had to be smarter, like her siblings. she would not wear her emotions across her face like she used to. she would learn to hold her tongue around certain people until she was ready to bite. though she is not great at it, she has grown better through the years, much more calculating. her mind has always been interested in unique military strategies, and she applied that nature with relation to those who were her enemies - and many became her enemy in her mind’s eye with the death of her parents. she no longer knew who she could trust.

now she wears daggers under her dresses, concealed so well that the only time you can truly tell she’s unarmed is when she’s disrobed. now she is learning what it means to find freedom, if not for herself then at least for her people.

as the only eligible child of house martell left for betrothal, her hand was looked upon as advantageous. dorne is different, is allowed certain privileges that other lands are not, dorne is strong and the title of prince, even if it is not a ruling one, is alluring enough that many houses, great and otherwise, attempted to form an alliance through marriage with dorne. but they should’ve looked past her hand and to the anger in her eyes. while many came to vie for her hand, promising plenty to the prince, they did not have what it took to walk among vipers - and a young nyria proved it, placing serpents in their beds, at the feet of their steeds, and sometimes into their minds with doubt-causing whispers. she scared them off and her family was not stupid - they knew what she was doing. but her brother has not seen fit to marry her off yet.

nyria likes her hand unheld and free of a husband. in an attempt at rebellion, in the hopes of keeping her sovereignty longer, she bedded her first love in early adolescence. taking pleasure in her own, she continued her flirtatious trend. and who could resist such a girl, whose tongue can tame vipers when she sees fit but who tears through a room like a hurricane. she beds men and women in kind, though she considers her weakness to be skillful women with an air of danger about them.

it was a few years ago when she got lost traveling. an argument leading her to ride off alone, desperate to get away from the overbearing principles of responsibility. a sand storm found her lost on her own in the desert for days. the heat bore down and the water grew scarce and her anger and frustrating grew, swirling around her and on the second day, half delirious, she laid next to a dry stream as her emotions boiled over. she could scarcely remember the words she whispered to herself as water began to flow back into the stream. she had barely the strength to wet her face and her tongue before she passed out. she was found the next day unconscious next to a free-flowing stream that none could remember being there.

when she awoke back home, she at first tried to convince herself it was a hallucination but she could not ignore the hum in her bones, the difference in…something…or perhaps it had always been there, and she’d never known or chosen to ignore it. she  could not resist the tug towards the library and ancient scrolls on water magic, learning about the rhoynish practice of it. she was particularly interested in how it was able to stop dragons…

now she feels the power crackling inside of her. she cannot do much because she has not managed control. even small acts like attempting to water a plant bring on a flooding of a fountain near her instead. she has told scarcely anyone about it, unsure what to make of it. it kills her to admit it, but she may need help, if she ever wants to make this power useful.

the sadness never goes away, the suffocating pressure of everyone she has lost sitting stiflingly in her chest. she wishes she could be as open as she once was when she was younger but the walls are there now. she questions her capability to love when she already carries so many people in her heart: her parents, her siblings, her people, her land. or when suitors have always said love and marriage and meant power and ownership and control. sometimes she thinks the burning anger inside of her is what is keeping her alive, though she questions if you can live off of fury.

she is leashed chaos, driven by love, emboldened by belief, and made all the more complicated with growing power - not just in the magical sense but also in the way she’s learned to conduct herself politically. her tongue still strikes like a serpent but she waits for it to coil more carefully now.

she is incredibly loyal, loving, and protective of her family, particularly her siblings. growing up, they were all she had. her heart is with dorne and her people. she’s heard the flippant, remarks by those in the other kingdoms about the dornish and their culture and in truth, the talk, and many of them, disgust her. she finds their succession laws foolish, much of their culture barbaric, and their food bland. she is quick to remind everyone that dorne was never conquered by the targaryens, that even fire and blood cannot make the sun bow to it, that in truth, the legacy of the targaryen conquest in dorne is one of failure; dorne only joined the seven kingdoms through marriage. and though it was on dornish terms, nyria’s always thought it a mistake. what do the other kingdoms know of dorne?

WANTED PLOTS & CONNECTIONS.

you can find my post of wanted connections here! please feel free to message me to plot. i prefer tumblr but can do discord as well though i’m not well-versed. and/or like this and i’ll hit you up.