#since frenzy sometimes seems like she prefers to heal

[vespertine-legacy]

So I did finally get the steam client running. Had an interesting issue where the game kept opening windowed instead of full screen, with everything else stretched to a weird unusable resolution. Had to go into the app data and delete a file to remedy that. Then had some issues getting my GUI profiles properly copied over (and still need to do some interface tweaking, because the resolution on my new computer is different from my old one).

But I had the graphics turned up above potato and loaded into Mek-sha and didn’t lag? And we did Watchdog and I could actually see the mechanics happening in real time instead of like two full seconds after they happened?

[siennahrobek]

7:48 p.m. standard time

When Alpha-17 got a direct call from his old general, Obi-Wan Kenobi, he wasn’t entirely sure what to think. He hadn’t really talked with his old general for quite some time, not for any significant length of time at least. Their goodbyes after Rattatak had been brief and quiet, especially considering neither could speak well at that point. He had to go back to the front and Alpha-17 was ordered back to Kamino. He wasn’t completely benched, he would heal for the most part, enough, but someone preferred he didn’t stay out in battle.

He was sure General Kenobi needed something, but he hadn’t expected the call to contain what it did.

But now that the first call was ended with General Kenobi’s conviction-filled and firm statement – ‘with my life. And now, with my family’s lives as well’ – that proceeded his question of trust, he had a whole new layer of thoughts and even more now, feelings. Because, for whatever reason, this had changed everything.

Alphas weren’t supposed to have feelings, even less so than the other clone troopers. They were some of the first generally successful batches, although a bit more violent, impulsive and independent for the Kaminoan’s tastes. His class, although generally fine with the Jedi, had more of a strict loyalty to the Republic rather than the Generals they served under. Not that it often mattered, virtually no Alpha clones served directly under jedi in a commander, captain or similar capacity, they were better with reconnaissance and specialized missions.

At least, except Alpha-17. He had first met the Jedi, specifically General Shaak Ti, who had been stationed on Kamino at the time, and General Kenobi with his annoying little padawan, Skywalker, when there was a Separatist invasion of the planet and the cloning facilities. They had fought back the droids and even saved a few Tubies’ lives in the process.

Alpha-17 did not know exactly what he did to get Kenobi’s attention but the next thing he knew, the General was bringing him along to other missions. He didn’t think he officially had a rank at the time, but Kenobi seemed just fine with letting him have authority over the troops, stepping in as some sort of leadership figure.

General Kenobi had been surprisingly efficient, though Alpha-17 never had a shortage of things to complain about. His lack of a helmet was one of them, although the General at least had the sense to have some armor on his person, which he silently appreciated. Alpha-17 had learned a lot from General Kenobi at the time. If there was anything anyone wanted to know about the Jedi, he was open with answering any questions. Troopers became rather fond of him and even comfortable, as he treated them well. Apparently the jedi had encouraged some types of creativity and even names, which Alpha-17 found a bit odd but somehow, it almost seemed to help casualties, although he couldn’t be certain of the correlation.

He learned a lot about Kenobi specifically as well. The General would answer most questions if they were small and harmless about himself, such as his love for tea, likes and dislikes, hobbies and opinions. But if it came to something deeper and more personal, he was a master at redirecting the conversation without anyone being the wiser. No wonder he was called the Negotiator.

That didn’t stop Alpha-17 from learning the man through his actions and expressions. Somethings Alpha-17 had learned he hadn’t even asked.

By the time Kenobi had requested him to accompany him and Skywalker to another mission, this time to Jabiim, Alpha-17 probably would have taken out any politician on planet that gave him trouble. Would not have been that hard; Alpha-17 didn’t care much for politicians.

But after that place, when he and his general were captured and thought to be dead, and taken to Rattatak, Alpha-17 learned more about not only the Jedi and their culture through observation, but about the inner workings of his General as well.

He couldn’t forget their time on Rattatak, tortured and hopeless.

Nor could he forget how even though he probably should have, Kenobi never let him go. Alpha-17 was almost disappointed when he got reassigned and transferred back to Kamino. He wasn’t sure who did it, perhaps someone higher up thinking he was a liability, but after spending several weeks in a bacta tank, he was sent back to his home world to train soldiers alongside General Shaak Ti, stationed there. His training regimen was a bit brutal, but he could now safely say he had trained some of the best commanders and command class troops that had come out of Kamino. He was promoted to Captain, and he let his cadets have open names, encouraged it really, which, like the troops he saw in the Jedi’s command, helped their efficiency. So perhaps not a coincidence.

Training cadets, sometimes alongside General Shaak Ti, was not so bad, although he couldn’t say that he really cared for the weather anymore. The General was respectful and good, and she treated all the clones well, they had started to refer to themselves as brothers. One of his command class cadets showed even more certain promise and Alpha-17 found himself attempting to pull a few strings to help him get sent out to General Kenobi’s command. Cody would do well with him.

And he did. Alpha-17 had heard of their successes.

But learning what General Kenobi had said, that Cody had attacked him, that seemed ridiculous. Alpha-17 knew Commander Cody, he had trained him. He knew the commander was rather fond of his General; it seemed rather unrealistic. But hearing the General go on about choice and loyalty and then even going further to say he suspected an attack – an attack on the elderly, injured and children – that had unexpectedly rubbed Alpha-17 the wrong way. At the mention of escape, suddenly the alpha clone knew exactly what he was going to do. The statement that the General had brought to him, about trusting him with his family’s lives, just solidified it. Because wasn’t that exactly what Alpha-17 had been doing since the war started? Trusting others with the lives of his family?

It took him a long time to see his brothers as such.

Turning the call off, Alpha-17 spun on his heel and marched out. He was known for his steadfast loyalty to duty for the Republic. He and his brothers were bred for this.

The Kaminoans would never see it coming.

Captain Alpha-17 went straight to Commander Colt and explained the situation. Colt worked with General Shaak Ti much more than Alpha-17 did but respected her just as much. Liked her a whole lot more, he was sure.

“Are you certain of this?”

“Look, I trained Cody personally. He would never attack his General, no matter what,” Alpha-17 insisted. “I have no doubt they are right about the chips. And if so, that means whoever planned for us, also planned for us to turn against and kill the Jedi. And you don’t want to kill the Jedi, do you?”

Colt’s eyes hardened. “No.”

After that, Colt was quickly on board, and they made a plan to investigate the chips.

And then Alpha-17 told him about his other idea.

That took a bit more convincing, although it became much easier once he had explained in more depth to Commander Colt about the danger General Shaak Ti would be facing and was probably currently facing. Alpha-17 didn’t have all the answers, but he wasn’t stupid; he knew this was not going to end well for the Jedi or his brothers.

Then Colt got on board.

The next few hours were a frenzy of explaining, recruiting and bit of sleuthing, although that was more on Commander Colt’s part. Alpha-17 preferred a bit more of a brute force approach. With a team on the investigation and experimentation of the chips that were in their heads, Alpha-17 and Commander Colt, along with a few other clone leaders, gathered together, rather discreetly and implemented Alpha-17’s other plan.

A mutiny.

With the organization and teamwork of the clones – even the ones that had not yet passed all their tests and training – it was almost too easy to take over Tipoca City and surrounding facilities. Even if the Kaminoans had a fail safe for their product, the troopers moved too quickly and had too much surprise on them for those to do anything about it. Alpha-17 couldn’t say that he felt bad that a few died in the assault, but most of them ended up surviving. All Kaminoans, nat-born officers and bounty hunter trainers were locked away as Alpha-17 continued with his plan.

General Kenobi had only mentioned the possibility of the Jedi having to escape and evacuate Coruscant.

But he knew, and Alpha-17 knew, that was going to happen, one way or another.

And Alpha-17 would be ready for it.

Nearby fleets and ships – none had Jedi attachments – had been quickly called back to Kamino, where their ships were taken over, non-clones were brought to locked rooms and the ships immediately began to be retrofitted.

Alpha-17 knew the Sith were no joke. He had learned plenty from General Kenobi’s tidbits of history lessons. Learned plenty from even a simple dark sider like Ventress. And if the Sith had enough power to try and eradicate the Jedi, they would do so, and the Jedi would be forced to flee.

He would not be a brainwashed slave to whatever government would replace the Republic. None of the brothers would.

If the Jedi would have them (Alpha-17 had no doubt that they would; they were sentimental like that) they would also flee to whatever corner of the Galaxy their compatriots decided to run to. He couldn’t imagine many objecting to it.

The Jedi hadn’t started their evacuation quite yet, but the clones had.

Not everyone knew what was going on, but something was happening. Machines were packed up, sometimes piece by piece, and sent up into the destroyers. Babies that hadn’t been decanted yet, followed soon after the machines that kept them alive and safe were assembled as well. Walls from both inside the ships as well as the facilities below were torn out to reinforce the ships. The smartest of them worked out the quickest and best ways for longer term habitation.

Everything was nonstop and most realized the sense of urgency in the air.

Medical teams found the chips and quickly realized what they were for. No one was happy. A few slicers had been recruited and they had found a list of commands, nearly all of which chilled the troopers to the core. Anything from destroying their comms to destroying the Jedi to destroying themselves. One thing was for sure, they had to get them out. They quickly found a few ways of neutralizing the chips, although none of those ways were fast enough. A compound could be injected into the brain – very carefully – to destroy the chip but that was still very time consuming. Surgeries were also a choice, but there were few medical droids and specialists on Kamino to assist. Alpha-17 couldn’t yet take the time to have everyone have surgeries yet. They needed to be ready to escape. One of the medical personnel and a slicer had found an electronic pulse that temporarily nullified the chips from getting orders, but it only lasted a few hours. Neither were sure if multiple uses would bring about brain damage. It was a work in progress.

It wasn’t long when Commander Colt pulled him aside into a communications tower. They had cut off anything that wasn’t coming from the Jedi or specific ones they were waiting for, but things could still come in through other forms. They watched as a stream of a Senate meeting had commenced.

“I think you should see this,” one of the troopers at the desk said, grimly.

The Chancellor was in a dark cloak, a large hood over his head and obscuring his face. His voice had started off rather slow and gravelly but ended with a loud announcement. “The Jedi Rebellion has been foiled. Any remaining Jedi will be hunted down and defeated.”

Commander Colt and Alpha-17 looked at one another.

“The attempt on my life has left me scarred and deformed but I assure you, my resolve has never been stronger,” the Chancellor continued. “In order to ensure the security and continuing stability the republic will be reorganized into the first Galactic Empire for a safe and securer society!”

Commander Colt turned off as the speakers boomed with thunderous applause from the senate. He let out a sigh. “If the Jedi are not already dead, they will have to flee the planet.”

“General Kenobi mentioned having to evacuate,” Alpha-17 nodded. “Once the battle at the Temple is over, they will. Those who survive will run, and we will be ready for them when they do.”

Colt just glanced at him. “You plan to help them?”

“The Republic is gone. I was not raised to serve an Empire. You saw that command list. The Sith and the Empire will use us in ways the Jedi never would even dream of. There is a command to kill our brothers, ourselves.”

“That is why you started the mutiny,” Colt realized. “Because General Kenobi called you and mentioned a possible evacuation. And the Sith.”

“The Sith kill and destroy,” Alpha-17 growled. “We will no longer die for them.”

It was barely a half an hour after that when Kenobi contacted them again.

He looked weary, pained, and exhausted.

Alpha-17 wondered who he had to fight. It was probably a personal one.

Those were the worst and hardest kind.

The clone hadn’t cleaned himself up from the skirmishes he was involved in, one of the bounty hunters had gotten in a bit of a lucky shot. He was no longer bleeding but the cut on his head was still there, close to his facial scars. When Kenobi expressed concern, Alpha-17 could not contain his grin. The fights he had been in had been great.

There were a few other commanders in the room while Alpha-17 and Commander Colt spoke with Kenobi, listening as the Jedi explained the attack on the Temple, questions about the chips and their plan to evacuate the planet to flee. Colt didn’t tell him any specifics about the list of possible orders.

Colt and Alpha-17 looked at each other knowingly. Alpha-17 smirked when he explained the loophole in their duty. The Republic may have been first and the Jedi second, but the Republic was no more; they had no real loyalty to it. Especially with Kenobi’s talk of the Sith, Alpha-17 knew this was the right choice. The Sith were brainwashing the troopers. That would not stand.

Kenobi had offered a place with the Jedi for all of them. It wasn’t much; many of them had died and they would be on the run, but Alpha-17 knew the Empire wouldn’t like any of this, not what Colt and Alpha-17 were doing.

The clones had grinned, this certain kind, uncharacteristic for them.

It made Kenobi curious.

Colt had explained what they were doing, the mutiny they had already pulled off and the preparations that they were in the middle of. Alpha-17 watched his expressions, a myriad of ones that he couldn’t quite identify over the holo call. Perhaps if they were in person. There was plenty of confusion and surprise but also some relief, gratefulness and contentment. What Colt and Alpha-17 had done wasn’t what Kenobi was expecting but Alpha-17 was fairly certain he was glad that the clones wanted to go with them.

They were stuck with each other now, by choice, and both parties seemed rather alright about that.

[jaceation]

Reposting this with their bios now! This is Diaz and Nycto, reincarnations of the characters Dusk and Dawn from that short I did a while ago (link at the end of the post). Their bio is after the undercut, @unu-nunu-art​ hope ya don’t mind I used the post of your bois Faith and Frenzy as reference <3

Consider them, like Dusk and Dawn, free for you to use so long as you CREDIT ME 😁

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Name: Diaz (he/him) Occupation: Guardian of Positive Energy in the Multiverse Age: ??? Height: 152 cm / 5ft Sexual Orientation: Books. Or anyone that flirts with him- Likes: Learning, cafes, marshmallows, tea, making others smile/laugh, technology Dislikes: Feeling neutral, being alone, toxic or complicated people, messes Abilities: Diaz feels the positive energy within those around him, reaching even to a few of the nearest universes to wherever he is at the time. The more positive energy, the more magic he has. He can heal someone even from near death, including himself unconsciously. He can use his powers to 'protect' someone's soul from illness, this will effectively pause whatever state they are in so an illness won't kill them. He can speak telepathically and read others minds if he so wishes. He summon extendable tendril like limbs that glow, useful for helping carrying many things at once, lifting large objects, getting to high places, providing light and of course whacking threats away. He also learned to form this magic into a sort of gun that shoots pellet like bullets- it is impossible to die from any wound they cause, but that if close enough in range they will do more than sting. His presence emits a calming aura, which he can magnify to a single individual to help them through a hard time if he focuses.

Diaz woke up second, having vague memories of a past life where he and Nycto were brother and sister, and the knowledge that he is the Guardian of Positive Energy in the Multiverse. Despite this, he sees his role as a passive one, simply believing he needs to exit to allow balance. His love for learning is strictly skill based, like learning to cook or build things, he has little interest in any sort of 'bigger picture' unless talking about such things makes someone else happy. Diaz is incapable of feeling any negatively charged emotions, though he can feel neutral ones and he is not a fan. Though he strives to make others happy, he is often confused and left stumped by many he tries to help as he can't understand any of what they are feeling. There are few things he is stubborn about: keeping things clean, that negative and neutral emotions are useless and that he needs to 'help' Nycto. He can come off apathetic and inconsiderate sometimes when he isn't paying close attention to his words, though he's learned to more careful approaching others as not to make anyone feel worse since he's wants to make them happy not uncomfortable. The 'lowest' or closest to feeling negative emotions Diaz can get comes off as him looking completely emotionless, this is a rare state that he finds himself in only when under a lot of stress and not surrounded by enough positive energy; Nycto is known for causing this state a handful of times during some of their fights.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Name: Nycto (she/he/they are all acceptable) Occupation: Guardian of Negative Energy in the Multiverse Age: ??? Height: 139 cm / 4'7ft Sexual Orientation: South?? Likes: Nature, quiet, mud, anything minty, animals, others/things that can't or won't talk back Dislikes: ignorantly happy beings, loud noises, crowds, jerks without reasons, could find a reason to dislike almost everyone and everything honestly Abilities: Nycto feels the negative energy within those around them, reaching even to a few of the nearest universes to wherever they are at the time. The more negative energy, the more magic they have. They can infect even the healthiest of beings, though often get sick. They can use their powers to directly damage someone's soul beyond repair, dooming them to either a short life or very painful one. They can speak telepathically and read others minds if they so wishes. They can summon extendable tendril like limbs that glow, useful for strangling, climbing, hitting from a distance and close range, capturing, throwing heavy objects, providing minimal light and shielding from attacks. They are also rather good at surviving in the wilderness, with good gut instincts despite their paranoia, can fall asleep anywhere, remain stealthy for hunting and good at hand to hand combat even without their magic. Their presence emits a tense aura, which they can magnify to a single individual if they so wish or need to cause someone turmoil or stress.

Nycto woke up first, having no memories of what Diaz seems stuck on, and only aware of their role as Guardian of Negative Energy in the Multiverse. They often find themselves overthinking, changing their mind on what to do, how to go about things, just lost and frustrated about things and being reckless and impulsive with their actions. They'll eat whatever junk they can steal, stay away from cities unless they've mentally prepared for it, and prefer just being alone wrapped in a blanket with ice cream complaining to themselves about the world. The genuinely hate their role, and despite understanding the purpose to those emotions and feelings, still hates it. They'd rather the whole multiverse vanish along with them, but of course they had to be immortal. They can be sarcastic at best. At the very least wants Diaz to understand the pain they feel and stop being such an ignorant happy go lucky, clingy jerk that keeps calling them his sister. Will take out there frustration on the nearest deserving being of punishment. They don't care if they're disturbing the balance, if the universe didn't want them doing this, the universe shouldn't have made them. They aren't very good at comforting people as they have no idea how to make someone feel better, and see the best option as 'get ride of anyone that is hurting sad person and leave them alone' as the best option normally. The best they can feel is a neutral feeling close to feeling nothing, though rare they much prefer this and  in this state are rather quiet, calm and shy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Additional Notes:

 At first, Nycto also saw their role as a passive one, even insisting they stay in the spot they first woke up in and avoid interfering at all. Hesitantly, they followed along with Diaz who was too curious and wanted to adventure, trying to keep up but easily being overwhelmed by the very energy they were supposedly to protect the balance of. After learning of how horrible beings can be, and being brushed off by Diaz, they declare to rid the world of all those horrible feelings. On their own they are not the best at upholding this unless surrounded by lots of Negative energy since there base nature is much timid. The negative energy fuels their rage and that’s when they have the energy to do as they declared.

Nycto and Diaz are not related; Diaz vaguely remembers their past lives, in which they were siblings, but this is something he needs to learn to leave behind as the life he remembers is not his anymore

Diaz searches for Nycto in order to try an rekindle a connection that doesn't exit for Nycto

Nycto didn't mind Diaz at first, but his persistence and blatant ignoring of everything Nycto says just sets them off

 Diaz would not understand why Ink keeps vials of emotions that are negative or neutral emotions.

 Nycto would agree with Error's destruction of AU's.

 Either of these two would be difficult to maintain a relationship beyond physical

There are a few emotions I would consider are both negative and positive in a way, though it can be up to your interpretations, and so technically they can both feel these; love, lust, sadness, stress, embarrassment, pride

 I'd consider these neurtal emotions (also can be up to interpretation); confusion, curiosity, focus, dazed, sloth

The link to Dusk and Dawn story (their past lives)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28378980

[capriccio-con-espressione]

N(oona) C(raving) T(endencies)

This is my 3k words of analysis of NCT members who I think are likely to have a noona kink based on the ask. Enjoy!

Disclaimer:

By this I am not saying that other members not mentioned here don't have any possibility to date an older female/enjoys referring to their dommes as noona, it's just like the tendency/preference isn't that clear or obvious in my opinion. Do not send in rude comments just because you disagree though I will appreciate some feedback.

Warning: Sub!Taeyong, Sub!Jungwoo, Sub!Mark, Sub!Xiaojun, Sub!Jaemin, Domme!Reader, Femdom, Noona kink, Degradation, Whipping, Spanking, Pegging, Public humiliation, Role-play, Oral sex, Sex toys, Dry humping, Dildo riding, Mentions of mental health issues/negative emotions

Taeyong

This boi is insufferably kinky and subby

In Baby Don't Like It he stated he likes it rough

In Whiplash he literally emphasized again how much of a painslut he is

And his ideal type is “Someone who can teach me, lead me, and make up for my flaws.”

To conclude this, Tyongie may be craving for a strong, mature female's guidance when he's lost and insecure, a noona domme who can heal all the anxiety, stress and inner guilt he's been through by her ruthless discipline, plus, the age hierarchy implied in the title will allow him to sink into his headspace even more.

He's such a sucker for this torment that, with one stern look from you, he will automatically strip naked and ready himself in the humiliating positions assigned by you before without any spoken command, and obediently waits for the first slap/whip while trembling in both anticipation and thrill

I can totally picture him begging his noona for more punishment, though already red, sore and sobbing

"...Ahhh noona I'm sorry... *sniffles* please punish me more for being a bad, ill-mannered boy...don't stop mmmff-"

However, that being said, if that noona domme is actually younger than him, he may be down for the added humiliation due to the role reversal

Imagine that younger domme dismissively orders him to call her "noona" in public, and commands him to use honorifics to speak to her, the exact type and wording that make him sound humbled…

He will be turned on by that while people around you shoot puzzled gazes toward you as they wonder why the hierarchy dynamics aren’t in the right place, making Taeyong feel embarrassed as well as aroused

By the way, some role-plays can be added to spice up your sex lives as well, e.g. CEO x employee, professor x student, guard x prisoner, to name a few, as long as you are in power and makes sure to beat the naughtiness and disobedience out of him

Though being intensely kinky during the session, aftercare for this precious boy has to be really fulfilling as well

So you have to be able to play an attentive caring role just like a noona (a little bit maternal figure as well, I have to admit)

Make sure the process is all intimate and brimming with praises, reassuring the broken figure that the "bad boy" is "forgiven" to thoroughly sew up his wounds

Bubble bath, scented candles with calming aroma, sensual massage with essential oils of his favorite scent and texture, or having some good quality snacks while cuddling, are all good options for aftercare because all of them can reinforce the idea that he’s “worthy” of anyone’s love and attention due to the physical contact and interactions allowed in them 

So steamy and sensual that if done correctly, Taeyong may be in the mood for another round of vanilla sex to get an extra gratifying orgasm again

Jungwoo

A clingy little pup that will follow you around and will cutely pout when not given enough attention or skinship

Loves to be babied and taken care of, so he would love the accompany of a sweet caring noona to make him feel at ease (borderline mommy kink as well)

Remember that Valentine's Day Facetime vid where he just referred to the viewer insert as "noona"? That probably implied his preference for an older female figure

Will do anything to please you since he's very love-starved and doesn't want you to feel uncared for because he knows too well how much that sucks, he will shower you with the same amount of affection he expects from you as well

Anxious and always worries about if he's still "needed", so that's why he will opt for a perspicacious noona to counsel him for his delicate soul to rely on, and shower him with the adequate amount of love then pamper him 

Melts at cute pet names such as pup, angel, prince, little fairy, snoopy or any endearing terms because they make intimacy upgrade to another level

May act a bit playful or even borderline bratty from time to time, mainly to spice things up and get some sexy punishment to release his excess nervousness

But hardcore stuff definitely isn't for him, since the soft boy can't tolerate much pain. 

Light impact play on his erogenous zones is fine, but he enjoys the feelings of vulnerability and exposure more rather than the pain itself

The type to let out loud moans even when just getting his underwear peeled down because the instant when the air hits his flesh is a huge turn-on for him, so much to the extent he is yearning to beg you to fuck him just from getting naked

Very sensitive, literally gasps, squirms and grinds every time when you caress or slap his sweet zones and will beg you to stop though you know he's enjoying it too much

Will repeat your title like a mantra as if it's the only thing that can keep him sane

Be wailing like "Hnnngh noona pretty pleeaase stop spanking me ahhh noona no I'll be a good boy pleaseee it stings noona I'm sorryyy hahhh" but the way how his hips rock against your lap will betray his words, giving you more reason to torture him

Loves being pegged and used, or getting his all possible sensitive spots stimulated and stuffed at once because he just lusts after every inch of his body being thoroughly pleasured inside-out, and drown in the depths of overstimulation and hedonistic ecstasy to feel completely loved and secured

Edging is really suitable for this delicate boy because of the enhanced experience after prolonged denial, which makes the orgasm more earth-shattering than ever

Though he will be a teary puddle and begs you to end the ordeal, the uncertainty and feebleness associated with edging will turn his mind into a soaring frenzy state even more, enabling him to release all his pent-up frustrations and negativity while finally allowed to empty his balls

Likely to get emotional and will hold on to you very tight during post-climax aftercare due to the intense sensation that just washed through his mind and body, feeling extra fragile and really needs to be thoroughly cared for

Petting his head, kissing his tears away with "I love you"s constantly coming out of your lips is a must, as he drifts to sleep like a fallen angel nestled in his safe space, which is the warm spot between your chest and your arms

Mark

An easily flustered mess when it comes to straightforward proactive girls 

Having left his family and devoted himself to the industry at such a tender age, he may want to be the more passive, dependent one in a relationship to make up for his lost adolescence

So he's probably looking for someone who he can rely on and takes the initiative in bed, while all he has to do is to close his eyes and enjoy himself

When he finds you, to whom he trusts enough to pour his doubts and perplexion about life, and is always guaranteed to receive some really thoughtful response, he sees you as someone very valuable.

But more than that, you are a woman who seems to have endless fuel of passion, the exact type with whom Mark can replenish his strength when he got engulfed by the abyss of stress

Also, you are notably witty with words that sometimes aids his lyric writing process, but that means he can never win against you in any friendly bickers as well, especially when you cite some of his lyrics to roast him that renders him speechless.

Yet somehow, he gets hooked to the feeling of being a powerless flustered bundle in front of you

Gradually it develops into dirty imagination of you manipulating him into a mindless mess

And you are exactly the burning blaze that will scorch his body with vehement desires, make him so depraved yet still internally demand more

Never did he realize that being obedient for a noona figure will feel this good until he met you, his ideal match

You will guide him how to touch himself properly like a big sis, then demonstrate it yourself followed by some edging, as he whimpers at the sense of loss every time his build-up is ruined, pleading you with those big puppy eyes

And when you get to peg him, he will love the feeling that he's completely owned by you, getting his ass spanked while fucked also serves as a good reminder of who he belongs to

Doesn't talk much during sex to indulge fully. Expect some incoherent moans and weak chants of your title from him instead

But the boy also knows how to reciprocate when he's ordered to. He knows how to work that rapper tongue too well even if his brain is not fully functioning

His tongue can do wonders to your folds and is guaranteed to perform great with your strap in his mouth, looking up at you with those pretty doe eyes all the time to see if you like how he's doing

Will probably require some time and space for himself to just chill and cool down during aftercare instead of being very clingy, all you need to do is to make sure he’s comfy, or place a glass of drink he likes beside him while he’s organizing his thoughts or doing anything that fits his mood. 

No extra words or skinship is needed at this moment because based on your understanding and observations of him, he’ll be fully recharged when you decide he is most of the time

Xiaojun

A sensitive, sentimental bub that ponders a lot about lots of things

Passionate about music, and perhaps some classic literature or philosophy

So he may want his partner to share the same interests so he can love the way she wanna talk even more

Likely to crumble for a woman who’s sophisticated, cultured and speaks in a refined manner, and is often willing to discuss some profound matters with him, to the extent sometimes Xiaojun cannot keep up easily and may feel a bit flustered, but is secretly admiring her wits deep down while she’s patiently explaining some new art concepts or ideas to him

Hence, when he finds you, who is capable of playing that role and opening up new worlds to him, he is not only delighted but also excited and intrigued, anticipating every chance to talk to you more but when he finally seizes the opportunity, he will appear to smile shyly, avoiding your gaze all the time but whenever he slightly peeks at you, his eyes will be glittering with dreamy haze of enchantment

Because to him, knowledgeable women seem to have boundless potential that makes them distinctively mysterious as well as alluring, and he’s all about succumbing to that vast endearing wilderness, with you being the compass controlling his every move (lowkey sapiosexual I guess)

The fact that you are the embodiment of versatility, artistic grace, and mellow charisma, yet all cordial to him just like a jiě jie (noona in Mandarin) next door will flutter his heart as he falls for you even more

So once you finally end up in bed, he will be very enthralled and eager to please, and will literally subserviently worship every inch of your body as if you are a Goddess while complimenting you all the time

Yet not long after he will be amazed by another fact about you, that is, you are the definition of the saying “Sweet in the streets, freak in the sheets”

Xiaojun will soon find himself restrained while bent in compromising positions, with toys he never imagined a sweet person like you will ever own torturing his body and lust-crazed soul, as you whisper nasty degrading things to him, skewing and corrupting some classic literary works during the process, which makes him intoxicated in another sinfully imaginative aspect of your mind

Since he’s a sucker for anything about you, neglect play is a perfect way to torment him. 

Chain him up and place a toy on him, which can be either a vibrator or a prostate massager, before leaving him untouched, and watch him writhe and moan helplessly in unsatisfied heat, with his distinctive brows furrowed, eyes glossy with plead and need, a beautiful image perfect to be ruined

Open to lots of kinks since you are able to make them gratifying and mind-blowing every time as he becomes closer to your ideal notion of subby boy toy with every progress

Will still remain a blushy mess when ordered to beg or admit something humiliating even after getting fucked multiple times, though he likes it so much 

Something simple and lewd like “jiě jie please come in and fuck my slutty hole” “My pathetic dick only exists to be ravished by jiě jie” works well for him as he finally climaxes

This precious pretty boy is not all passive when receiving aftercare. Instead, he will sensually plant kisses all over your body while telling you how good you made him feel and how deeply he loves you

Melts and buries his face into the crook of your neck or sheets later on when you say the same back to him and praise him for taking you so well

Few moments of silent bliss will pass between you before you guide him back to reality again 

Jaemin

Another little painslut that wishes to be tamed and roughed up

His tolerance of pain may not be as high as Taeyong, but he likes the humiliation as much as the older does

Being an idol is stressful and suppressing, so he desperately needs to find some release through some pleasurable pain for the endorphin rush

Preferably receiving it from a noona-like figure who definitely knows what she’s doing, and again the hierarchy from her title will enable him to feel floaty and more deserving of the punishment

He’s the type to be horny really often and does barely anything to hide it, qualifying him as a very communicative, responsive and expressive sub

So he acts up all flirty and bratty in front of females who he deems as potential targets, to evaluate who’s probably sadistic enough to cater to his needs judging from their reactions, and of course, your dismissive attitude and sharp chastisement on his behavior intrigue him

Then he will make a further approach to gain your attention, from unsolicited winks and aegyo to cheesy pick-up lines, even going as far as some skinship that you are smart enough to know how intentional it is, all screaming brat demeanor that gets you irritated and riled up

Once he finally successfully gets you to bare his bottom and bend him over your lap, he’s a mesmerized moaning mess while enjoying basking in your tauntingly degrading words, admitting he’s noona’s dimwitted slut even before you ask him that

But of course, a sound spanking is still not enough to quench his submissive needs, he will literally shamelessly beg for more

In a provocative way

He will blatantly seduce you, from inappropriately touching you to straight-up humping you until you lose it to punish him for being obnoxiously needy, tying him up and dishing out toys or other implements that can deliver even more intense pain

At first, he will feign reluctance by pouting or complaining how much it hurts even though it’s still far from what he is able to take, in order to infuriate you and provoke more out of what you can give him

Being insatiable as he is, after some pain inflicted on him, he will reveal his true masochistic self and directly asks you to punish him harder just like Taeyong will do, but Jaemin’s self-degradation will be much more hardcore and a bit creative

“Noona please do it harder! Ahh- I’ve been badder than that! Make your naughty indecent-minded whore cum just by paddling me because I’m that pathetic mmmff-”

When you are dicking him down, he will beg you to destroy his hole and be really graphic about it, making his intentions of wanting you to abuse him like a fucktoy utterly clear to drive you wilder, with that iconic blissful smile plastered on his pretty features

He will be obsessed with your powerful strength while ramming into him so much that he will masturbate by riding a dildo while moaning loud enough for you to take notice and break into the room

After you are pissed that he’s playing with himself without your permission, he will be all like “But I missed noona’s big mighty cock so much that I can’t wait hnnnghh noona please come punish my horny hole and make it so swollen and sore that it won’t whore up ever again pleeaaseeeee”

You will definitely be so sexually active and satisfied with him as your sub because of his neediness and salacious talk to ignite your dominant desires

Even though he enjoys getting fucked all over to earn some revival to his work-drained soul, and appears to recover really quickly after orgasms, even capable of engaging in some playful conversations with you, it’s still likely for him to feel hollow and internally worn out due to the drastic neurochemical change but he won’t make it obvious

So you will need to be really observant and keep reassuring him for his well-being because all the excessive stress he’s been struggling through that makes him this submissive is stemmed from his desperate needs for praise and recognition

That’s also one of the reasons why I think he will be into a noona domme because approval from superiors is relatively more rewarding

But with proper aftercare, he’ll stay hooked to you and continue to pleasure both himself and you with matching kinky desires

[harlot-of-oblivion]

🤠OC Questionnaire: Beretta🤠

a.k.a. Cowgirl Vampire Reader from the Tales of Miss Fortune series

Full name

Blythe Bale

Preferred name/nickname

Beretta

Generally referred to as

BB, Miss Fortune 

Appearance

FACECLAIM: Here’s a portrait I made using Artbreeder:

(but @i-write-fanfics-to-procrastinate​ photoshopped her green eye!)

SEX: Female.

HEIGHT: 5’7 

WEIGHT: A little hefty due to all the muscle.

BUILD: Toned and muscular thanks to years of fighting wars and winning battles.

HAIR: Long, course, and auburn brown. Her hair comes down past her shoulders. She usually wears it down but sometimes has it in a loose braid with her ever present gambler hat on her head.

SKIN: Brown. Smooth and hard but cool to the touch ever since her Embrace.

EYES: She has heterochromia iridis: her left is russet brown while her right eye is forest green. They always seem to sparkle with mischief and her green eye, also known as her “evil eye”, glows whenever the Beast stirs inside her. Short black eyelashes.

MOUTH: Small mouth with plump lips. Slightly crooked teeth that are perfectly white teeth with very prominent canines that can retract when not feeding. 

NOSE: Small and rounded with a wide bridge and small nostrils.

HANDS: Small hands with medium nails that can extend into razor sharp claws at will. They used to be rough with callouses before her Embrace, but now they’re incredibly smooth and just a little soft.

FEET: Small with wide insoles and short toes. She doesn’t trim her toenails since they’ll just grow back the next night. 

SCARS: She had a scar across her nose when she was alive, but it quickly healed and faded away after her Embrace.

CLOTHES: Her entire wardrobe just screams cowgirl: boot cut jeans, tons of Western style shirts, large belt buckle, long leather jackets, and a few gambler hats. 

OTHER FEATURES: She has vampiric fangs and just an overall air of otherworldliness that everyone notices on a subconscious level.

OTHER NOTABLE FEATURES: To be determined. 

Speech

VOICECLAIM: To be determined.

ACCENT: She speaks with a very thick Southern drawl. 

VERBAL TICS: She has a tendency to use “tsk” a lot when she’s annoyed.

LANGUAGE: She’s fluent in English, Spanish, Gaelic, French, German, Russian, Japanese, and Vietnamese along with some dead languages her Dame taught her.

ARTICULATION: She’s not the most eloquent when it comes to explaining things clearly, and she tends to go on storytelling tangents sometimes.

EDUCATION: She doesn’t use any long and fancy words since it’s more fun to cram a lot of words when she’s running her mouth off.

LAUGHTER: She has two types of laughter: joyful howling and malicious cackling. Her joyful laugh is loud and proud; it’s what you’re most likely to hear if you stay on her good side. Her malicious cackling sounds like death itself; only those who’ve earned her scorn hear its chilling timbre.

GRUMP: Not very often except for when she’s annoyed, letting out a few agitated hisses when she’s hungry. 

BREATHING: She’ll let out the occasional humph and tends to sniff the air whenever she’s tracking by scent despite not needing to breathe.

Mannerisms

FACE: She has a very expressive face but knows how to hide her true feelings behind a disarming grin.

HANDS: She gestures a lot with her hands, especially when she’s welding guns since that always catches people off guard.

LEGS/FEET: She taps her feet and jiggles her leg as if she’s listening to some long forgotten song in her head.

EMOTIONAL OUTBURSTS: She’s prone to emotional outbursts whenever she’s on the verge of hunger or enters a fear frenzy. Lots of hissing, growling, and deathly screeching whenever this happens. But she also yips, yells, and yowls along with whatever mood strikes her at that moment.

HABITS: She randomly bursts into song whenever the mood strikes her, and she fiddles with her guns and whittling knife when she’s occupied with her thoughts. She also tips her hat a lot whenever she introduces herself or just as a general gesture of good will.

POSTURE: She tends to slump over a bit while standing, but she'll stand straight and steady whenever she’s shooting her guns.

WALKING POSTURE: She has a very distinctive swagger to her step that exudes casual confidence.

SITTING POSTURE: She crosses her legs and slouches in her seat.

PERSONAL SPACE: She doesn’t have much of a personal bubble, but has no problem letting someone know they’re not welcome within her space. She respects other people’s personal spaces, but has no problems getting into someone’s face when threatened.

SPACIAL AWARENESS: Her keen vampiric senses pick up even the most miniscule details, so she’s rarely taken by surprise.

OTHER: She likes to share very old Western sayings whenever the mood strikes her.

Health

DIET: Blood...mostly human blood, but she’s acquired a taste for demonic hybrid blood recently. She refuses to drink blood from the elderly, children, mages, and abhorrent mortals.

SLEEP: She doesn’t really sleep anymore...more like falling into a state of repose before the first crack of dawn. And she simply animates as soon as the sun dips below the horizon. She doesn’t have dreams while in this state per se; memories of past death and misfortune flash before her eyes repeatedly in the form of dreams. 

EXERCISE: Not much since her muscles will never develop further than what they were when she died. And she can just buff herself with her blood if she needs a boost in strength and speed.

ACTIVITY: She’s a hard worker but tends to laze around until the very last second before getting to work. She only pushes herself past exhaustion if the task is of great importance.

CLEANLINESS: She bathes regularly, especially after certain bloody activities. She prefers a quick shower over soaking in the bath.

ODOUR: She faintly smells of leather, desert rose, and freshly dug earth. 

MEDICINAL DRUGS: No.

NARCOTICS: No.

ADDICTIONS: Besides blood and death? No.

ILLNESS: Besides being a vampire? No.

INJURIES: No.

PARASITES: No.

OTHER: She must have blood every day or else risk succumbing to a hunger frenzy. In this state, she doesn’t care about keeping a low profile and she’ll feed without much thought about anyone’s safety. The only way to bring her out of this state is either waiting it out until she’s well fed, knocking her unconscious, or bestowing Final Death.

Personal

INTROVERT/EXTROVERT: Oh she’s an extrovert through and through! She doesn’t go out of her way to go unnoticed unlike most of her kind; the cowboy boots and gambler hat stay on no matter what! Loud and proud is her personal motto and anyone nearby will hear and see that for themselves.

OPTIMIST/PESSIMIST: She’s a little bit of both; she always hopes for the best but knows that misfortune rears its ugly from time to time.

GENDER: Female.

SEXUALITY: She’s attracted to both men and women so long as they’re outgoing and have a good sense of humor. She prefers women more often than not but she’s had a few relationships with men in the past. And she’s not adverse to other supernatural beings even if it’s taboo within vampire society. She despises anyone who uses magic to manipulate others and will most likely dispose of them before they inflict even more suffering upon the world. 

ROMANTIC: She’s not one for romance but won’t shy away from it either. And she enjoys romantic gestures though she’d never admit it out loud. She was married once before when she was alive but doesn’t plan on remarrying in her new life...and more children are off the table since she’s clinically dead. 

MEMORY: She has a pretty good and very accurate memory, but the memories of her mortal life are starting to get a little fuzzy.

PLANNING: She’s more of a “act now, think later” kind of gal. 

PENSIVE: She pretends to not brood over the past, but she’s guilty of reminiscing over old trials and tribulations that lead her to live such a dark life.

INTUITION: She’s honed her intuition over the years but it’s eerily accurate when death and misfortune are involved.

PROBLEM SOLVING: If they can be solved by shooting them to death then sure! But she’s not above asking for help if that doesn’t work.

GOALS: Her main goal in life is following death wherever it takes her and ridding the world of mages, witches, warlocks, and all other wielders of magic. Her short term goals are taking it easy in between and finding more customizations for her guns, Misery and Woe.

INSECURITIES: She doesn't have many insecurities...constantly being the bearer of misfortune takes a toll on her sometimes. But she hides it very well under her mischievous smirks and rowdy posturing. She rarely reveals her true nature unless forced since most mortals do not take very kindly to vampires. 

ACHIEVEMENTS: She’s proud of her outlaw exploits as Miss Fortune and being well traveled even if it’s because her curse demands to dwell near copious amounts of death. 

ANXIETY: Any notion of anyone figuring out her true nature. Fire and holy places make her really anxious. She’s also not fond of seeing children in distress. 

OVERWHELMED: Not feeding enough causes a lot of stress.

SELF-HELP: She doesn’t until it becomes a nuisance. Then, she just tries to deal with it as quickly as possible.

COMFORTS: Hanging out at a bar with good music will always make her happy...even better with the right company to keep her entertained. She also likes to whittle whenever she needs peace and quiet.  

BAD HABITS: Her constant paranoia is kind of like a bad habit.

PHILOSOPHY: She abandoned all her previous beliefs after her death, but she wasn’t really religious to begin with. She does pay proper respect to the Dark Mother of all Lillum whenever possible though.

TRIGGERS: Fire and terrified screams of children. 

The Past

PARENTS/GUARDIANS: She had a very good relationship with her parents growing up; still has fond memories of helping her Ma with the chores and tending the horses with her Pa. Her relationship with the woman who Embraced her is not as warm though; very austere and aloof but she does show her caring side on rare occasions. 

SCHOOL: She was homeschooled at her father’s ranch and she was a very bright kid. 

ADOLESCENCE: It was difficult since her mother died before she could teach her about the changes in her body. And her father tried his best but he usually just let her figure it out on her own. 

LEAVING HOME: She didn’t leave home until her father’s death. It was heartbreaking since she had to sell the ranch in order to provide for her daughter. 

FURTHER EDUCATION: A higher education wasn’t available due to her social status, but she definitely broadened her horizons soon after her death. 

FIRST JOB: Her first job was cooking and cleaning at local inns and bars. It wasn’t the best job nor was it as rewarding as her work on the ranch, but it paid for the roof over her head and food on her table while raising her daughter.

LIFE EVENTS: The birth of her daughter was one of the happiest moments of her life. She was forcefully recruited as a spy by a mage, which led to her eventual Embrace as a vampire. And being drawn to the Russian Revolution led to saving and Embracing a young woman.

WORST DAY OF THEIR LIFE: Her daughter was on the brink of death due to the meddling of a mage.

BEST DAY OF THEIR LIFE: She made a blood bond with her rowdy cowboy.

LESSONS: Those who wield magic bring nothing but trouble and should be dealt with immediately. Sometimes you get and sometimes you get got. If it doesn’t seem worth the effort then it probably isn’t.  

LOOKING BACK: If she could replay her life and do something different, she would try her damnedest to keep her father’s ranch and raise her daughter in peace away from another man’s war. 

Relationships

FAMILY: The only family she had growing up was her Ma and Pa. They made a living for themselves on her father’s ranch raising horses and tending to their own modest farm. She would’ve been an older sister but her mother and baby brother both died during childbirth. 

Her Dame, the woman who Embraced her, is more like a strict tutor than a mother but that suits her fine. She’s much closer with her older “sister” and they traveled together often until going their separate ways. And she’s also close with her own “daughter” even though they bicker a lot about the dumbest things.  

FRIENDSHIPS: It’s hard for her to keep many friends since she travels a lot but she doesn’t mind the occasional company from time to time. Anyone who doesn’t take life too seriously and can let loose is okay in her books. She can’t call anyone who falls under one of the codes of her clan a friend.

FRIENDS IN NEED: She lends them an ear every now and then but she usually distracts them with a good time drinking at the closet bar. She’ll sometimes offer some strange old sayings that sound like sage advice but otherwise will just let them vent before encouraging them to just drop their worries at the door while they drink their worries away.

NEEDING A FRIEND: She tends to deal with her problems on her own since she doesn’t have any close friends to confide in. The few friends she has made do worry about her often though but her carefree attitude convinces them to not pry into her private affairs. 

ANNOYANCES: She usually deflects from arguments and disagreements with loud and rowdy humor.

ROMANCE: She lays it on thick with the flirting until one of them makes the first move. She looks for someone with good looks and wicked sense of humor...bonus if they tell great tales about their crazy exploits. 

MARITAL PROBLEMS: She tried to be open about any problems with her lover but sometimes the old habit of deflecting with humor crops up. But a good ol’ fashioned fight (depends on her mood if it's verbal or physical) or a few rounds in the bedroom usually loosens her tongue.

ADVERSARIES: Anyone who takes themselves way too seriously.

ENEMIES: Anyone who embodies the very reason why her clan exists is instantly her enemy by default.

STRANGERS: She’s respectful enough to strangers but has no problem telling them to back off if they step on her toes too much.

FUN STUFF: She likes to hangout at bars even though she can’t drink anymore. She also likes to go horseback riding in the middle of the night but doesn’t mind joyriding on a motorcycle either. 

DATING: It doesn’t matter what they’re doing so long as she’s with her lover. She still likes to be wined and dined too...just in a more vampiric sense now. 

BEST FRIEND: Her crow could be counted as her best friend...mostly because she doesn’t have any real friends.

LOVE: Dante, the Legendary Devil Hunter who somehow wrangled her undead heart. 

WORST ENEMY: There currently isn’t anyone who she considers her worst enemy...yet.

RESPECT: Depends on the person. She had no respect for anyone who breaks the codes of her clan and shows no mercy when dealing with them. 

Interactions

MINGLING: She’s quite the mingler and gets along well with others.

COMFORT LEVELS: She’s great at striking up random conversations among strangers and friends. And she has no problem shooing them away with a harsh glare if they make her uncomfortable. 

PHYSICAL: She can be a little touchy-feely from time to time, usually in the form of pats on the back or shoulder. She only shares hugs with people she sees as a good friend. 

GROUPS: She’s comfortable hanging out in a big group since there’s a greater chance for some rowdy fun.

OPENNESS: She’s open to an extent...she won’t talk about anything personal with others unless they prove to be trustworthy. 

GENEROSITY: She usually makes her gifts and only buys treats if she couldn’t find a good piece of wood for whittling. She’d only lend money to a friend if she trusts them to not waste it. And she gets excited when someone buys gifts for her but it always comes with a reminder that they really don’t have to waste their hard earned money on a lazy bitch like her.

JEALOUSY: She’s usually not the jealous type but her dark nature rears its head and sometimes...and a jealous vampire is very dangerous. She usually deals with it by just plain ignoring it while going for a ride in the night.

TEMPER: She can be patient up to a point before getting worked up when it starts to grate on her nerves.

EMPATHY: She’s able to empathize with another person’s feelings since some of her vampiric abilities allows her to read their emotional state. 

AFFECTION: She shows affection by giving one of whittled woodworks with all the charming compliments. She also likes to snuggle and nuzzle their neck with a soft purr if they're really close.

DISTASTE: She’ll outright tell someone she dislikes them to their face. She’s been known to stare at them while using her Evil Eye if she REALLY doesn’t like them. 

ETIQUETTE: She can be very polite in social situations so long as everyone else plays nice, but she has no problem being rude if someone insults her.

RESPONSIBILITY: She’ll begrudgingly admit when she’s wrong and will try to correct it to the best of her abilities.

SELF ESTEEM: She sticks up for herself no matter who’s giving her a hard time. Her Dame taught her to never appear weak in the eyes of men since they always seek to tear down strong women. 

CONFIDENCE: She doesn’t give a damn what others think of her.

HONESTY: She always speaks her mind honestly even if it might upset someone.

LEADER OR FOLLOWER: She’s more of a lone wanderer but has no problem slipping into either roll when the situation calls for it

PARTY TRICKS: She’s real quick with her guns, loves to whittle wood into a work of art in no time flat, and she can also sing surprisingly well.

PRAISE: She loves receiving compliments. 

FAILURES: Her lazy and laid back attitude as well as her boisterous hollering can be a tad annoying to some people.

CRITICISM: She can take criticism so long as it’s helpful with just a little bit of back talk.

INSULTS: It depends on who’s insulting her. She usually just laughs it off before biting back with some of her own insults with her venomous stare.

EMBARRASSMENT: She’s not easily embarrassed but if it does happen, she’ll straight up hide her face with the brim of her gambler hat before making a quick exit.

FLIRTING: She can be real flirty for two reasons: scoring a meal or genuine attraction.

ATTENTION SPAN: She has great concentration and can hold it for an exorbitant amount of time so long as she’s fed beforehand.

SITUATIONS: Some of her vampiric abilities can deal with difficult social situations, but she’d rather just talk it out if possible.

Life

CAREER: She's a wandering mercenary who specializes in neutralizing mages and witches. It’s a well paying job with high risks but she derives joy from it. 

PROMOTION: She’s quite happy with her current position. 

BOSS: She’s her own boss. 

DUTY: She’s a specialized tracker who shoots down bitches. 

TECH: She’s adequate at using modern technology but prefers to not rely on it too much. 

POLITICS: Not very political unless a mage is involved...then she’ll fucking kill them. 

COMBAT SKILLS: She’s an expert with firearms and is very experienced with fighting hand to hand. 

HOME: She doesn’t stay in one place for too long, so she really doesn’t have a home. 

DAILY LIFE: She goes through her day-to-day tasks with her usually laid back attitude. Going out and doing a couple of jobs helps her relieve some stress. 

INDEPENDENCE: Very independent since striking out on her own after selling her father’s ranch.

COOKING: She was a decent cook when she was alive but she hasn’t tried cooking after her death since all food tastes like ashes now. She does have a keen palate for blood though and can tell you all the complex notes hidden within.

BUILDING: She’s great putting together furniture, mending clothes, and just all around basic DIY.

CLEANING: She really doesn’t have a place she calls home, but she would be terrible at keeping up chores if she did.

SHOPPING: She’s not one for shopping sprees, only going to the store when it’s absolutely necessary.

DRIVING: She can drive if she has too but prefers riding on horseback instead. 

FINANCES: She’s financially stable but doesn’t trust banks to keep her well earned funds safe. And she doesn’t really have to worry about paying bills since she has no home.

MARRIAGE: She was married a long time ago for a short time but now she’s single, and she doesn’t plan on getting married again.

KIDS: She had one daughter when she was alive.

PETS: She has a crow named Catha. She also tries to get a horse whenever she’s outside city limits. 

DEPENDANTS: She has a vampiric daughter but she’s old enough to be out on her own.

LAW: Oooooh yes, she’s broken a lot of laws during her time as cowgirl and still continues to do so for various reasons. 

COURT: She’s never been to court. 

PRISON: She’s broken into prison a few times to free some friends but she’s never been an inmate herself.

TRAVELLING: She’s very well traveled but every day is a holiday to her.

MEDICAL: She doesn’t need conventional medical attention anymore thanks to her vampiric nature.

ILLNESS: She has PTSD and suffers from bouts of paranoia.

WORRIES: She worries about her daughter from time to time.

PEACE: She doesn’t mind peace and quiet when she’s in the mood but she prefers the hustle and bustle of people and great music over straight up silence. 

PARTYING: She can never say no to a lively party!

HOBBIES: She likes to whittle wood into intricate pieces of art, usually in the form of lil statues and knick knacks. 

[yilingradishfairy]

The Gusu Lan are said to have an innate connection with music. The Gusu Lan are also said to love deeply – with their whole soul – so deeply that they seem to only be able to fall in love once.  

Lan Wangji knows these rumours.  He also knows the truth, or close to it, as it has been handed down through the generations. Their connection to music runs far deeper than the other sects could dream.  Every Lan heart contains a song, a musical piece that encapsulates the very fiber of their being, and it only comes to life under a specific set of circumstances. The parameters to unlock your heartsong are highly disputed, but the generally accepted condition to fill is … to meet your soulmate.  

—-

For Wangji Week 2020

Day 2 – Music

Hello, I am so excited to contribute my first fic to the MDZS fandom!  Happy Birthday, Lan Wangji!  

A/N: I have no experience or knowledge of how to write a song.  Also, I haven’t read the novel yet, so the timeline of events is based on the Untamed (2019).  The concept of the heartsong was inspired by Attainment, written by Christian Richtown.  

It happened on the first day that cultivators from all sects began to arrive in Gusu.  With the sheer numbers of strangers shoved into close proximity to Lan Wangji, it is not unreasonable to think that he might meet his soulmate then. When he felt the first piece of his heartsong, when the same four notes played themselves for him over and again, he thought surely it could be any of the hundreds of students that had arrived in droves this morning to study the Lan principles.  Lan Wangji carefully combed through the mental list he had compiled of newly arrived students.  Surely it could be any of them, he reasoned.  Or even one who had escorted a student but was not necessarily a student themselves.  

But truly, he knew in his heart when it had happened.  

He knew exactly who had unlocked his heartsong.

When he had first felt the stirrings of a song, he had ignored it.  A man of few words, Lan Wangji preferred to communicate through action or through song. A true Lan, he was well versed in the art of writing songs.  He had written one for every thought he could not voice, for every wish that was too large for words.  So when the notes began to fill his heart, he gave them little thought.  He was too busy silencing this noisy troublemaker who had the audacity to try to enter the Cloud Recesses without his pass.  

But the second time that the notes rose in Lan Wangji’s heart, he had to give them his attention.  For it was the dead of night, there was only one person before him, and it was oh so quiet.  The only sound other than the weak strains of his heart song was the whisper of the night wind … until the troublemaker replaced the peace with the sound of his noisy babble.  

Then, there were the sounds of a fight: swords clanging, fabric rustling, and hearts beating together in an intricate dance. The notes helpfully played themselves along to the rhythm of their struggle.  

Finally, the sound of a jar shattering pierced through the rest of the noise.  Lan Wangji felt he should have been able to savor the victory, but he could not think with all the noise that this recalcitrant pest, his apparent soulmate, had caused.  He put the rowdy student under another silencing spell to cease his chatter, but he could do nothing to drown out the song in his heart.  

---

Lan Wangji had heard that the heartsong was not quick to reveal itself.  A few notes at first meeting, then a few more the next, and a few more the next, and on it goes.  However, given that they sit across the aisle from each other every day during the teaching, Lan Wangji has learned an entire stanza by the end of the month.  This was, of course, exacerbated by the fact that he spent his free time babysitting the nuisance during his punishments in the Library Pavilion, but Lan Wangji could not stopper his curiosity.  Who was this Wei Wuxian, this unpredictable trickster? Who was he truly, that he should be Lan Wangji’s soulmate?  Sometimes, he thought he could understand, thought he saw through his flashy tricks, thought he had glimpsed the heart beneath all his affectations, but this troublemaker always found a way to turn it into a joke, to turn him into a joke.

Once again, Lan Wangji stormed out of the Pavilion. Surely this delinquent cannot be the perfect other half of him, the mate of his soul.  He must be misinterpreting the cues.  After all, the heartsong is an old and mysterious phenomenon that no one truly understood.  He pored through the old family journals, searching for even a mention of the heartsong. He looked into the origins, paramaters, and interpretations of the heartsong, but the ancient texts were decidedly unhelpful.  Each ancestor had wildly contrasting opinions with no basis in fact, while what little conclusive evidence existed was highly disputed.  However, every ancestor seemed to agree that ignoring the call of the heartsong was foolish.  Even the cultivators that had initially shared his doubts of soulmates and heartsongs eventually changed their tune.  

Except for Lan Yi.  She was the only Lan on record to have resisted the mate to her soul and the song in her heart.  However, Lan Yi had mysteriously disappeared sometime after battling her soulmate, and the texts were maddeningly vague as to the circumstances of their dispute or even the identity of her soulmate.  Of course, when Lan Yi shared her story in the Cold Pool, it was all too apparent.  Lan Yi had chosen the call of the Stygian over the call of her heartsong, of her soulmate.  But she failed in her attempts to purify it, as Baoshan Sanren had feared.  Lan Yi’s actions forced her soulmate into seclusion. Plagued by remorse, Lan Yi was too ashamed to face her.  Instead, she devoted the rest of her life to containing that dangerous relic. Alone.  

Lan Yi now entrusted the Stygian metal to him, no, to them, because of course Wei Wuxian was with Lan Wangji at a time like this.  He was always with him; he refused to leave him alone.  His ancestor glanced pointedly at the pair, at the sacred forehead ribbon that tied them together, at the protection Lan Wangji had bestowed upon this foreign cultivator.  Wei Wuxian continued to theorize about the Stygian metal, unaware of the significance of the ribbon wrapped around his wrist, ignorant of what he had truly asked of Lan Wangji.  The Second Jade watched his ancestor come to her own conclusion about the grandstudent of Baoshan Sanren, and she turned again to her descendant. She smiled with approval and a touch of wistfulness.  Do not make the same mistakes I did, her sad smile seemed to say.  Do not let him go.  

Lan Wangji stole a glance at the troublemaker beside him, who had barreled his way into his life and refused to leave.  He moved his gaze to the ribbon between them, thinking of all the things it meant.  And he felt something inside him settle.  This troublemaker beside him was somehow the other half of his soul, something his heart had recognized while his head did not.  He did not know why Wei Wuxian was his soulmate but maybe that was not for him to know.  If destiny knew they should stay side by side, if even Wei Wuxian knew somehow that his place was beside him, Lan Wangji would also stay in his place beside him, and perhaps that would be enough. Frenzied notes surged through his heart, breaking into a poignant crescendo.  His heartsong trilled happily with the new addition, almost as if rewarding him for his decision.  

---

The only time Lan Wangji's heartsong had gone quiet since he had met his soulmate was after the Cloud Recesses was attacked. Or maybe it wasn't that it stopped, but that he was deaf to it.  Grief rose up, clear and cold, and shut off every previous emotion he had pretended not to have.  The desecration of his home, the deaths of his people, and the loss of his brother hurt too acutely.  The grief song he composed was violent and aching and drowned out all other songs in his heart.  

But then, hope bloomed in the snow.  The second he limped into Qishan Wen and heard his soulmate relentlessly calling his name, his heartsong came roaring back at a volume that made him physically wince.  Another entire stanza has been added to the song.  He did his best to ignore it, this time for Wei Ying's sake and not his own.  But allowing Wen Chao to torment Wei Ying was something he simply could not do.  He stepped in front of his soulmate and intercepted Wen Chao’s whip.  But Wei Ying seemed to have it in his mind that he should be the one protecting Lan Wangji.  He insisted that Lan Wangji stand down and willingly went to the dungeons.  He offered him medicines and orchestrated rest stops, even going so far as to offer to carry him on his back.  And for every time Wei Ying approached him during captivity – for every way he tried to protect him – his heartsong added another note.

Finally, cradling his wounded soulmate in the depths of the monster’s cave, Lan Wangji felt his heartsong complete.  As he funneled healing energy into the feverish Wei Ying, praying that he would live, he hummed the newly completed melody to his soulmate, though he had long since passed out.  Lan Wangji’s voice was rusty and uneven from disuse; he is far more comfortable creating music with his fingers.  But Wei Ying had asked.  So Wei Ying received.  

---

Evidently, even a finished heartsong is always changing. The moment he heard of the attack on Yunmeng Jiang, his heart skipped a beat.  His heartsong skipped a note.  The tempo of the melody kicked up and played in a panicked refrain until Lan Wangji could find better news.  When he found Jiang Wanyin, alive but frantically searching for his adopted brother, the notes calmed down and instead turned anxious and dreading.  

Finally, they solved the mystery of the Wen-torturer's identity and Wei Ying's disappearance, and Lan Wangji could breathe again.  But, his heartsong would never be restored to its original form, for it changed again. Chenqing, the dizi that Lan Wangji had never known Wei Ying could play, single-handedly rearranged his entire heartsong ... into a duet.  

During the anxious months without Wei Ying, Lan Wangji had started to play his heartsong to himself on his guqin as a comfort.  But now, he will never be able to fully match all of the notes now.  Not without the assistance of his soulmate.  

Still, during the dark time Wei Ying spent in self-appointed exile at Yiling, the familiar melodies of his heartsong soothed Lan Wangji.  Lan Wangji struggled with what to do.  He wanted to drag Wei Ying to Gusu to be with him.  He wanted to run away to Yiling to be with Wei Ying.  He wanted to charge into Carp Tower and fight every lotus eater that dared to think themselves better than Wei Ying.  But Lan Wangji practiced that acclaimed Lan restraint and did none of these things.  

---

And he regretted it.  Oh, how he regretted his inaction.  While his ancestor had lost her soulmate to her actions, he lost his soulmate to his own inaction.  His brother disagreed, but Lan Wangji could not shake the weight of it from his shoulders.  The moment his soulmate had plummeted off the cliff at Nightless City, and his heart with him, Lan Wangji's heartsong went silent.  The pain, the emptiness, the loneliness of losing the song in his heart, the mate to his soul, almost made him want to give up on living.  Many other Lan cultivators throughout history, after losing their soulmate, met their end tragically.  The Gusu Lan are known to love deeply, but theirs is a tragic kind of love.  A once-in-a-lifetime love that, once lost, always tears them apart.  

A/N: Whoo, I had no idea it would be this long!  I didn’t even mention like every emotional moment that WangXian had before the Bloodbath at Nightless City and how it affected LWJ’s heartsong (there are so many of them, I didn’t even try).  

So I hope you enjoyed the ride!  I’ve got a little bit more to say on this subject, and it happens to coincide with tomorrow’s prompts Loss and Recovery!  If you enjoyed this, please let me know what you thought!

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, CLAUDIA! You’ve been accepted for the role of OTHELLO with a FC change to Chadwick Boseman. Admin Minnie: Claudia. Wow, Claudia. This application won me over. I got extremely excited in a matter of seconds just from your first paragraph alone — just ask the other admins, I can even send you a screenshot of my message: “ok i've read one paragraph and im in luv”. From your clean and precise analysis of his core (”learning that love and terror were not the antithesis of each other but an echo of the hunger that comes with being alive” YOU DID THAT) to the incredibly story you weaved in your para sample... you completely won me over. And so did your Othello. I cannot wait to see your plot points come to life, because I’m positive that you’re going to bring a storm to Verona. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Claudia

Age | 23

Preferred Pronouns | She / Her

Activity Level | 7

Timezone | GMT+11

How did you find the rp? |  I’ve known about DiVerona for a while now but it’s been some time since I was active on the rpc scene. Stumbling upon it again after all this time and seeing Othello open feels a little like serendipity.

Current/Past RP Accounts |  Here and here.

IN CHARACTER

Character | Othello. And if I could please request a faceclaim change to Chadwick Boseman.

What drew you to this character? |

Othello is a study in dichotomies – a man torn between polar extremes. Between savagery and nobility, brutality and kindness, love and war.

His very existence was borne of a war waged between his mother’s warmth and his father’s cruelty. He grew up in a house that felt more like battlefield than home, learning that love and terror were not the antithesis of each other but an echo of the hunger that comes with being alive. He feels everything: deeply, intensely, like an open wound half-healed; it’s his greatest strength and it will be his ultimate downfall. Odin is a man capable of a vast and terrible rage. There’s brutality sunken deep in his marrow, something black and rotten in his birthright, an ancient violence. He feels it in his blood like a beast that’s slept dormant all these years, lying in wait, watchful, preying on his worst instincts. He hears it singing in his veins, can taste it climbing into his throat, when he sees a guilty man’s blood spilled on fresh dirt. He thinks he sees glimpses of his father in the mirror, sometimes, when his mind is adrift and steeped in shadow. His eyes, soulless and quiet, his knuckles blooming with bruises.

Suffice to say, I love this broken, conflicted, contradiction of a man. There’s nothing more compelling than a tragic hero and the thing about Othello is that he has every inkling in him of someone who could so easily be tipped over the edge into monster. I love that discrepancy, I live for that sliver of doubt, the seduction of l’appel du vide and the terrifying realisation that he has everything in him to slip beyond that edge.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

ONE MORE SUCH VICTORY WOULD UTTERLY UNDO ME  |  Odin has survived the maelstrom of scandal and ruin that would have meant a fall from grace and high standing, the destruction of all that he has built for himself. And in doing so, he’s lost the only thing he has every truly loved in this life: Delilah. All of the love and devotion and pleas for understanding could not deny the rage and ruthlessness that came with her infidelity. With the heartbreak of knowing the one person he’d let into the deepest parts of his soul, who’d seen him bare and unstripped of all artifice, had betrayed him. He’s burned all their bridges, performed triage to save his reputation and his pride, but what of the love that still sickens him when he thinks of her and how she’s suffering? He has set fire to all traces of her inside his heart but it isn’t so easy to burn her out of his mind or his dreams. These are the places where man has no dominion. And what of the peace he knows he will never find again without her by his side? What of the treacherous slivers of doubt beginning to eat away at him that till now, he has tried to kill and smother with green-eyed reason? He couldn’t possibly be wrong, could he? He couldn’t have abandoned his happiness and his honour with the one woman who has loved him for all his flaws and vices at the turn of a whispered deception?

AM I MY BROTHER’S KEEPER?  |  Ivan is the closest thing Odin has to family. To blood. Ivan has stood at his side through everything, his left-tenant, his confidante, his greatest source of comfort and familiarity. Call it a blind spot, a weakness, but Ivan has earned his faith and unquestioning trust. It was Ivan who came to him when he first heard of Delilah’s betrayal, and it was Ivan who gave him the strength to do what had to be done. But now he has lost his greatest love, and his brother seems more and more a stranger to him by the day. Ivan has always been smarter, sharper, hungrier, hiscunning forged out of necessity and survival. It is the flicker of doubt, the silhouette of something far more treacherous and unforgivable that stains his dreams like nightshade. He is not a man of halfway, or half-done. Odin absolutely cannot abide the grey area of hesitation. If there is more than speculation to the idea that Ivan has somehow exaggerated, or misconstrued Delilah’s transgression… There’s nothing more dangerous than a man who has nothing left to lose.

WHY ARE YOU FULL OF RAGE? BECAUSE YOU ARE FULL OF GRIEF  |  Despite his well-crafted attempts at appearing to the contrary, Odin walks a finely wired tightrope between chaos and control. His ego is bruised and battered, and his heart is worn thin with humiliation. He was once a man that wore the hearts of Verona’s people on his sleep. Now, a whisper follows him everywhere he goes. A whisper that becomes a murmur, rising and spilling into a crescendo of rumour and disgrace that hounds him day and night. Odin is quicker to anger, more belligerent and unruly, a humming drum beat of shame and dishonour ringing in his ears every time he turns away and pretends not to hear the outrageous lies they spin. And with his beloved gone, cast out of his heart and soul, there is so little left to keep his worst instincts at bay. All it would take is one bad day. One simple push is all it would take to plunge him down the path into darkness. A push, or a drip of well-timed poison in his ear.  

PROMETHEUS’ GAMBIT  |  Before Odin swore himself to the Capulets, he was a man of the people. A hero. A saviour. Someone who fought to protect those who could not protect themselves, who strove to uphold the law and to push for reform when, at times, it failed to protect Verona’s people. Why, then, would such a noble, virtuous man like Odin Bello, choose to fall in with the mob? Odin is idealistic, but pragmatic. War and injustice have taught him that the law is not enough. Verona runs on blood and money, and if that is what it takes to wield the power and influence in this city necessary to do genuine good, then so be it. Becoming a Captain of the Capulets was an act of necessity, and political savvy. He is a man of his word, and therefore loyal to their cause. But if there ever comes a day when he must choose between the Capulets and the life of an innocent, Odin’s sense of justice may cause him to waver.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? |  Absolutely. Preferably in some manner of tragedy and disaster befitting the very embodiment of tragic irony.

IN DEPTH

In-Character Para Sample:

It is always the same dream.

The same endless plunge into nothingness, a black chasm void of any light or air or sound. It could be sinking, or rising, and Odin wouldn’t know the difference between the sky and the ground. Suffocating. Drowning. Either way, it is a slow, and terrible way to go.

The vice around his neck, coiling tight around his throat, tighter with every breath, crushing any frenzied hope of salvation. He scrabbles wildly at the noose (not a rope but smooth, sleek to the touch, and cold), knuckles paling with desperation as his lungs scream. He fights. But the end is always the same. The hand (when did the noose become so clearly defined? Are those fingers?) clenches around his throat, grinding down against his windpipe with unrelenting pressure. It metastasizes – liquefying with the metallic consistency of blood, or perhaps smoke, as it fills his mouth and his lungs and his chest, pouring into his ribcage and filling every fissure and crevice inside of him.

It tastes like death. It tastes like inevitability.

He drowns like this, suspended in time between shadow and purgatory, for what feels like an eternity. And then either his mind snaps, or the dream does, and he’s released, hurtling into reality with the speed of a sniper bullet.

—

He wakes like a dying man drawing his last, shuddering breath.

In his dream state, his sweat-streaked brow tightens with the anticipation of a brush of warm, soft lips. Ah. But she’s gone now, isn’t she? She is gone and he has carved her out of his chest like a pound of flesh he still holds clutched in his bloodied fist. The proof of her betrayal beating in his palm, visceral and raw as a slaughter.

Odin wakes from sleep every morning like he has survived a death. He moves as if his body is exhausted to find itself alive and begrudges him the audacity of enabling the very breath in his lungs. But years of military regimen has been beaten into him like sandstone worn smooth by a millennia of moon and tide. He drags himself out of bed, dresses, makes his bed squared with perfect angles, shaves, slips his gun out from beneath his pillow and into his holster. The barely risen sun casts everything in a dull tinge of faded indigo like day old bruising. He pads through the house, the hollow echo of his footsteps winding down and down the stairs.

A rap of knuckles upon his door splinters his reverie, his attention snaps to the entryway. Sharp. Alert.

It’s Katarina. She swirls through the door, out of uniform but armed to the teeth, gaze chilled as black ice.

“It’s the rat,” she hisses, eyes flashing like chips of steel in the dark.

The word has an affect akin to an electric shock: he’s awake.

“What did he do now?”

Katarina’s gaze narrows in disdain. “What rats are wont to do: lie and squirm and betray.”

“And what’s the word from Sloane? Rafaella?”

“Dispose and send in the cleaner.” Casual murder, discussed just like that. It’s not even seven in the morning yet, a time when normal, human citizens of Verona could be having their first cup of coffee.

“No use disposing of a rat if we can’t get something out of it first,” Odin deliberates. “Catch him for interrogation.”

Katarina snorts indelicately. “Shouldn’t be too hard, the way he’s been hitting The Dark Lady every night like the world is ending.”

The barest smirk toys at the corner of Odin’s mouth. “Maybe he’s not as stupid as we thought then.”

Those that lie to the Capulet Mob are usually exactly as slow-witted as they appear on the surface. Lying and betraying the Capulets is akin to signing one’s own death sentence in blood.

“Oh, I highly doubt that,” Katarina drawls, the syllables velveteen on her tongue.

“Tonight. Nine o’clock in The Orchid Room. You can handle getting him there on a work night?”

“Can I get a Veronesi police officer to slack and indulge their vices at a glorified whorehouse? Please.”

“Alright, then.” Odin gives a small nod, a subtle seal of approval.

“Well, I have to go see a gentleman about an exterminator.”

There is something to be admired in how efficiently a malvivente can get away with murder. The science and precision it takes to orchestrate a killing floor, a crime scene, a clean-up. In many ways, Cosimo Capulet is a virtuoso of his craft, if homicide could be considered an art.

“Have I mentioned how much I hate disappearing bodies from the precinct? Remind me to recommend that we accept external transfers only from now on.”

Katarina flicks him a smile sharp enough to cut through bone. “Here’s hoping third time’s a charm.”

––

The city is restless with fevered boredom. A sinister hush before a summer storm. Odin is alone on patrol this morning; Bellamy has begged off their shift with some falsified story about an elderly neighbour in crisis. In other words, a convincingly tedious tale to spin to cover the tracks of covert Montague business.

Odin doesn’t pry; there will be a time to play his cards and reveal his hand but today is not the day.

A crackling comes on over the radio, a standard 10-62 from dispatch. When he arrives on scene on the very outskirts of south Verona, it’s to an unsettling quiet. He steps out of the car, hand slipping cool over the grip of his gun. He heads round the back of the building, passing soundlessly down the winding cobblestone path that leads to the back entrance. His second cause for concern comes with his discovery that the door has been left unlocked. A push of the frame sends it swinging open. Odin’s hand flexes instinctively, curling tighter around his gun as he moves, barrel-first, into the house. With a slight exhale through his teeth, he raises his fist and hammers it into the peeling wood.

“Polizia,” he cries out. “Is anyone there?”

No answer.

No signs, even, of a breaking and entering.

He releases his fist, and heads cautiously on into the house. He clears one room after the other, swiftly and methodically, finding no signs of forced entry or illicit trespassing. The only remaining room left to scour is on the upper floor facing northward. Odin steps forward and reaches to open the door.

Of all the things Odin could have anticipated finding here, the rat they’ve have been hunting for over a week wouldn’t have made the list. But here, in the center of the room, sprawled on the floorboards like a tableau vivant, is Luca Salvatore. His nose and upper lip are smeared with quicksilver, and there’s powered gold, faintly gleaming, dusted around his collar. Ambrosia and il sangue di Faerie. An ironic harmony of Montague and Capulet – perhaps the only time the two sides have ever known true balance. How bittersweet, Odin muses as he lowers into a crouch to expect the body, he betrayed the Capulets and yet it is Montague poison that helped to seal his death. The foam gathered at the corner of Salvatore’s blue-tinged lips glimmers in the light, specks of chrome and liquid gold catching the sun seeping in from the window. Someone made damn sure they shoved enough fae blood and ambrosia down this man’s throat that he’d never live to draw another breath.

Odin sighs, a muscle tightening in his jaw as he pulls out his phone to send a message: Our rat’s been poisoned.

“Dispatch, 10-45D. I’ve got a body.”

Whatever secrets this man was harbouring, whatever danger or temptation drove him to fuck the Capulets, dying of borderline madness was a mercy.

Fool them once, they’ll kill you twice.

––

The night spirals on an endless loop at the The Dark Lady, time and space wrapped around a mobius strip of warped deception and illegality. The walls always look like freshly painted blood from the shadows of the lowlit stage. Unlike many of his fellow Capulets and officers – men are all the same, honourable or not, noble or not – Odin has never been seduced by the promise of The Dark Lady and her Sparrows. So long as his wife held his heart, he was hers in mind and body and endless soul.

Now, he is unchained. Adrift. But the thought of another woman, in her place, whispering the words she once whispered in his ear, physically sickens him. And perhaps it’s pathetic that the very idea of being unfaithful to his cheating ex-wife is anathema to him. Foolish, ignorant, blindly loyal Odin. That’s him. Besides, his purpose here tonight lies with business, not pleasure. If anyone knows who would have the most probable cause to poison their little rat, it’ll be the illustrious queen of the Sparrows. Of course, she’s kept him waiting. Her word and will is law within the dark walls of this establishment.

From his vantage point at the bar, he sees everything clearly through the haze of lust and debauchery. Men reduced to their base, animal selves, led by beautiful Sparrows with their fingers wrapped around their wallet. Gambling, prostitution, solicitation – technically, being here at all goes against the premise of his very existence as an officer of the law. The Dark Lady is one of the most profitable businesses on Capulet territory for good reason, however. Even if it weren’t for Odin’s interference, Mona has her hands in the pockets of every high-ranking officer within the police force. Or around their throats, with the numbers of untold secrets she has in her gilded arsenal.

He’s close to calling it a night and returning in the morning to reschedule when the piercing shatter of glass cuts through the music and hushed conversation.

“Jesus fuck, now look what you’ve done.”

A Sparrow, one of Mona’s girls, her long scarlet hair spilling loose down her shoulders, gives a soft yelp as she’s yanked from her position in a patron’s lap. Like the bird of her namesake with a broken wing, she’s tugged by the force of the man gripping at her wrist. Hard enough to bruise by the judgement of the man’s sheer height and build.

“Stupid little bitch,” the man hisses venomously, brushing furiously at his pants and the patch of wetness growing from spilled liquor staining the left leg. His grip on her tightens, the effect immediately visible from the lance of pain that flickers across her face, pointed and urgent.

The world goes very quiet, and very still. Odin tenses, every muscle in his body going rigid.

The walls here are red, the little Sparrow’s hair is red – vermillion, the colour of a sunset on fire, Bordeaux wine – and his vision bleeds red.

Odin moves without conscious thought: one moment he is at the bar, and the next his arm is slamming into the man’s gut, crushing the air from his lungs and forcing him to release the Sparrow out of shock. His hand, formed in a knuckled fist, fingers wrapped around thumb and the ring on his fourth finger that he keeps fucking forgetting to take off (or burn, or throw into the river, or melt down into scrap metal), swings forward in a brutal uppercut. It makes contact with a resounding snap of bone and cartilage, blood spraying forth in vivid, violent streaks of red.

“You crazy fucking bastard,” the man howls, staggering on his feet as his hands fly up to clutch at his face. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“There is one and only one rule in this club.” Odin widens his eyes a fraction. “Are you an idiot, or just in the mood to be skinned alive fully conscious?”

The man’s face twists into a snarling contempt. Naturally, he ignores the question entirely. “I know you,” he says, voice low and lascivious, swaying precariously on his feet. “You’re Odin Bello.”

Odin’s mouth flat lines, unimpressed by the drunken display before him.

“The man whose wife has fucked half the city.”

After, the reports will say that the man was found near dead: 6 broken ribs, dozens of broken, fractured bones, internal bleeding, contusions on his chest, arms and face, comatose.

After, they’ll say that Odin Bello lost his mind.

(Have you seen him? He doesn’t look like someone stable.

His wife was cheating on him for months with every member of his precinct, the poor fool. Who could blame him?

Bello’s insane. He’s completely lost it.

Did you hear the man he attacked is in a coma? Who knows, maybe he deserves it. Maybe he was asking for it.

I feel bad for the wife. Good thing she got out while she still could.)

––

After, Mona finds him in the alleyway with a cigarette dangling from his fingers, his hands and arms soaked in blood to the elbow. He smells like the inside of a slaughterhouse, and ash. She stalks over on stiletto heels sharpened to a knife point and slaps a black dossier against his chest. The Dark Lady’s insignia is debossed, an imprint, a shadow of an elegant swirling sigil.

“This isn’t a favour, Bello. I expect repayment in full, and then some.”

Her hand shoots out to grip him by the chin, manicured fingernails digging into his jawline as she drags his face down towards her eye line.

“You pull that shit in my club again and I’m blacklisting you for life.”

Odin shakes her hand free like her touch is nothing but air and straightens, presses the cigarette back to his lips and lets the smoke coil and spiral from his fingertips. Even the smoke tastes of something raw. Like fresh blood, metallic and veined with rust. There are flecks of it clinging to his cheekbones, splattered across his shirt like an abstract impressionist rendering of violence. The afterimage of it seared into the black and white negative of his silhouette. He looks like an old god, covered in the grime and filth of modernity. A bloodied relic of an ancient religion built on the altar of human sacrifice. He inhales, black smoke swirling in his lungs, the faint glow of eyes like ritual fire as he turns to face her.

“Do you think she knows?”

Bewilderment, then disgust as understanding dawns on Mona’s face. “How the fuck would I know, Bello?”

Odin watches her, unblinking, utterly motionless, his gaze deadened and hollowed like the heart of a black hole. A yawning abyss of unending nothingness with no horizon.

Am I only a monster if she knows what I’ve done?

Extras:

ORIGIN: Standing at 6’5” since he was 18 years old, Odin cuts a striking figure. His presence commands gravitas without him ever having to speak a word: a simple nod, a tilt of the chin. Soldiers fall silent when he speaks, higher-ranking officers defer to his cool judgement and lateral insight. He is a man born for leadership, marked for authority and the steady ascent to power. They say that those who deserve power do not want it, and in Odin’s case, at least to begin with, this is true. He enlisted at 18 to find an escape, a lifeline. A pathway to an existence free of his father and the brutal legacy he’d built for him — the only thing his father had ever given him other than his name. It was of little surprise that being primed and honed for war came easily to him. Odin rose swiftly through the ranks, impressing his superiors with his discipline, resolve and relentless potential. If anything, he was a little too disciplined, a little too resolute. Too intense and dead-eyed even when his fellow recruits were pushed to the brink of physical and mental collapse. Odin never seemed to tire, never seemed to even approach a tangible breaking point. He was utterly in his element: consistently ranking first in all his classes and dominating thr basic training activities with his physical advantages. But he was also charismatic, distinctly likeable, and always willing to help and shoulder someone else’s burden if he saw them struggling. As much as the other recruits would have preferred it, he was impossible to hate. At 24, he was promoted early to Lieutenant and led a squad of nine men who were willing to fight and die at his word. Out there, in the desert, they would have walked open-eyed into a minefield if he had given the order. Five years later, he was honourably discharged with the end of his tour. At least, that’s what his official military transcript says. What the transcript doesn’t say is that Odin Bello was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder, chronic insomnia and major depressive disorder following his return. This will do you good, the Lieutenant Colonel had said. You’ve fought this war for long enough but now it’s time for you to go home, to find a little peace for yourself. He returned to the country, battle still burning in his blood and his head full of quiet demons, and immediately left in search of a place that did not feel like a graveyard. So he found, Verona, wartorn, streets red with blood, a monster lurking behind the face of every man, and felt for the first time in a very long time, at home.

HEART: Odin has a great love for animals and small children. When he was young, he would feed what little food he had to the local dogs and strays. They followed him around the streets like a loyal pack of guard dogs and one time even chased off a gang of older children harassing him for non-existent money. Odin was a single child but he often played with the other children in his town and helped to look after the youngest ones when needed. His heart is most visibly softest when he’s around children. To this day, he ensures that a significant portion of his pay – as a law enforcer and Capulet – goes to the local orphanage of Verona. He spends at least one day a week in his time off-duty feeding the stray creatures of Verona – be they beggars, street ruffians or stray dogs.

SOUL: It’s a hypocrisy of the highest order to be an officer of the law, and yet a Capulet. The Capulets are the source of half the rife and warfare in the city, the beating heart of the black market that funnels contraband and weaponry through the illicit networks of the underground. The Capulets liken their legacy to that of Robin Hood, a legendary tale of David defeating Goliath. Now, however, the Capulets are fat and glutted on their gold and wealth. Just as filthy rich and corrupted as the aristocrats they overthrew in the name of liberty and equality. Joining the Capulets was a means to an end for Odin, an opportunity to oversee the inner workings of the Capulet crime family, and to use it for his own quiet purposes. A thief that slipped away with the life savings of a dozen families he swindled could be dealt with in shadow and silence. A rapist plaguing the city with no proof to his accusations but the blood and tears of his victims could be found dead in the morning, his throat slit in retribution. A murderer could be caught, and punishment dealt in a manner befitting his crime, not by the corrupt, unjust systems of the court. It does not sit entirely well with the balance of Odin Bello’s soul, that he works for the Capulets and paints his hands in blood for them. But as long as the good he can do outweighs the evil, then he is willing to stretch his soul a little thinner in the name of what must be done.

HAMARTIA: Odin does not do anything in halves. It’s all or nothing with him. He loved his mother with all his heart, and he hates his father with the very same heart. He has never known a middle ground. The love he knows is a double-edged sword – all-consuming, and therefore, destructive. For Odin, there is no other way to love than to give everything of himself until here is nothing left. Even if it means his ruin. He gave everything to Delilah when he swore himself to her – his heart, his name, his soul, his life. He would have ridden into hell for her and beyond, if she had asked. He would have plucked the moon from the sky and given her the stars to light her smile, if she had asked. At the time of her betrayal, he had believe his rage equal to his love. Burning like wildfire from inside of him until it consumed all the good and warmth he had associated with loving her. Grief, he has since realised, outlasts rage. He placed Delilah on a pedestal and made her his god. Casting her out of Eden meant leaving behind a hollowness nothing else could fill. So he clings to the only other person who has ever worn the shape of love in his life – his comrade-in-arms, his brother, Ivan. Ivan, who has never abandoned him or given him cause for pain or doubt. Ivan, who has always understood his rage and darkness, and stands by him in the light nevertheless.

[andy-loves-corgis]

All of The Lights - Ch 4 (TRR AU)

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: well, now just the dysfunctional Rileyx Liam and the awful Liam x Madeleine

Rating: PG

Word count: ~ 3,300

Notes: I’m so sorry and I hated this chapter, that’s all I can say. Thanks, whoever is still here ♥️

WARNING: Read the Prologue! Every chapter has TWO timelines, Before (about a year before the Prologue) and After (two years after the prologue), if you don’t pay attention to that you might get confused!

Fast cars, shooting stars

BEFORE

Drake stretched his fingers absentmindedly, after a week immobilized he decided upon taking the gauze off and though a little sore, they seemed to have healed perfectly.

“What in the seven hells?!”

Liam was horrified, Drake could see by his contorted face looking outside the tinted windows of the limo.

Looking like every bit of a Cordonian Sweetheart, Riley stood in front of the press, half of her chocolate locks now a deep shade of red, some blonde spots seen between the brown and the red, redder than Liam’s livid face.

“I’m telling you, Drake. She has a very unique way of driving me insane” Liam said burying his face in his hands.

“I think it suits her” Drake tried to control the smirk in his lips.

Yes, Riley had her own way of bringing hell to Liam, or basically anyone who crossed her way. He knew she had been stressing over her broken ankle and not being able to care for herself, whether dying her hair herself or painting an entire wall of her home, she would always find a way to express her need of change.

Leaving the limo with a now very composed Liam, Drake spotted another livid individual, Madeleine’s nostrils flared under her perfectly done makeup, of course she would hate to divide the spotlight with Riley.

The press went wild as Liam walked to Riley, pressing a chaste kiss on her cheek, and whispering something on her ear that made her face fall as he turned smiling to the camera.

That’s none of your business

He just walked away from the frenzy of the crowd, who had just spotted Leo, poor guy, Leo was suffering so much he even lost weight, which could be completely related to his drinking habits and whole-night sex with his maids. The future king was doing anything to forget that he would soon to be married to one of those uptight bland women or worse... Madeleine.

On the far corner, next to the boats, Drake found his father’s pupil, looking as tired as someone could be.

“You look like shit, Bastien” Drake laughed, standing beside his only living father figure.

“Every night with Leo takes a week out of my life span” Bastien whispered.

Drake tried unsuccessfully suppress a laugh.

Looking at all the nobles in their exclusive designer clothes gathering around the harbor just to see those girls who never tied a knot in their life, Drake felt glad for living in the invisible sidelines, he always thought that he preferred the snarky comments and side outraged glances than the fake smiles and sugar-coated condescending words.

“I hate those stuff, how to you manage to survive to every one of these things?” Drake sighed as soon as the boats sailed. “It’s just so boring.”

“It’s just work, it’s not every time that we are breathing on some terrorists neck” Bastien simply said. “Sometimes you are in Bósnia-Herzegovina at 04:23 am to pick up a drunk heir to the throne.”

Drake snorted again, excusing himself to get some water.

“No, Liam, YOUR problem is that I didn’t tell you I was going to dye MY hair!” It was undoubtedly Riley’s voice behind the drink station.

“Well, if you wanted so much to look like Olivia, you should’ve dyed it all” Drake could almost picture Liam’s smirk, knowing he’d hit a soft spot.

“EXCUSE ME?!”

Drake cleared his throat and the voices turned to angry whispers, until he heard hard steps towards the Riva, Liam appeared chewing the insides of his cheeks and adjusting the collar of the shirt under his sweater, barely throwing a second glance at Drake.

The commoner made his way to the secluded place where Riley stood leaning on a fence massaging her temples.

He was about to greet her when they heard the cheering voices of the crowd.

“Shit!” Riley exclaimed.

Even though what unfolded in front of him wasn’t anything new, every time Drake saw Riley inhaling deeply before putting the most dazzling smile on her face, he was amazed - saddened to the core, but amazed nonetheless.

“Oh hi!” She said in a cheerful tone, if Drake hadn’t grown up with her, he might have believed she was happy. “Mind to help?”

One of her crutches had fallen to the ground and Drake quickly lowered himself to get it, he noticed her swollen calves and a crease formed in his eyebrows.

“Thanks” she smiled and left walking like with her head held high.

Sometimes he couldn’t understand what it took to be like that, to live like that.

Madeleine won, obviously, as if she hadn’t paid Nick Thompson to sail for her, but in the end, it was all power games during social season.

Imagine a dozen of the most well-crafted women of the kingdom, they were molded since they were able to walk to sit still, look pretty, pour tea and to think like true strategist.

No, Cordonian court wasn’t a complete sexist place, of course as in any patriarchal society men would have the upper hand on the ladder to success, but women were always behind that.

Drake watched as Madeleine hugged Riley while the other suitors clapped, those sweet smiles only hiding their next step.

“Do you like whiskey?” He heard Liam’s voice next to him.

“Was that even supposed to sound like a question?” Drake rose an eyebrow to his best friend.

“Hope McCallan isn’t too cheap for you” Liam’s smirk grew.

“Liam, every time you come up with the whiskey talk it’s because you’re gonna ask me to do something I don’t wanna do... what is it?”

Liam cleared his throat but kept the smirk

“Well, there’s whiskey... in Olivia’s yacht”

The prospect of that night becoming a huge nightmare has shifted to 112%.

“Please...?” Liam gave him a forced smile.

Gathering all the force he still had, Drake just nodded, rubbing his eyes to avoid the scowl.

Well, at least there will be whiskey.

Olivia’s yacht was big enough for a family of four to live comfortably, but oddly enough she gathered her guests on the small deck by the jacuzzi.

The sun was setting and they were a swimming distance from the shore, but the view was still a breathtaking, sipping from his whiskey, Drake noticed that Riley was focused on another view.

By the jacuzzi Liam laughed with Olivia, their elbows touching as they sat side by side in the hot water. To any spectator the scene unfolding would look as friends having a good time together, but to anyone who knew that little love triangle, it was way more than that.

York: I’m about to throw myself in the waters.

He tried not to laugh at the message on his phone, Riley was known for being dramatic, so he casually walked to the jacuzzi, under Kiara’s blushing gaze and Olivia’s scowl.

“Hey” he squatted next to Liam. “I don’t think Riley is feeling well, I’ll take her back okay?”

Liam’s knitted his eyebrows puzzled.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s feeling nauseous” Drake came up with the first excuse he could think of.

“Oh, well...”

“Leighton can take them to the shore, Li” Olivia interjected without looking at Drake.

“See you at the palace” Drake taped Liam’s shoulder, wetting his hand in the process.

He walked between the crowd, their champagne glasses glinting on the fading sun.

“Let’s get out of here, York” he looked at his miserable friend.

“Thank God” she answered grabbing his hand for support.

It was a short way to the shore and they made their way in silence as droplets of sea water splashed on their faces.

Drake helped her hop on his truck and finally felt at ease feeling Riley get comfortable turning the radio on.

Night fell as the black truck made its way through the woods near the palace where a clearing welcome then along with a smirk Riley couldn’t suppress.

“And I thought you were just going to leave me alone in my room to scroll through Twitter” she laughed as he helped her out of the car and proceeded to open the pick up truck bed where some pillows and covers awaited them.

“I got your back, York” he smiled as she got cozy on the pillows and he pulled his guitar.

After a minute of only the soft melody he was playing and the wind hushing on tree leaves she turned to him.

“Sing something”

He gave it a little thought, slowly striking the chords before he decided.

I wanna be drunk when I wake up

On the right side of the wrong bed

And never an excuse I made up

Tell you the truth I hate

What didn't kill me,

It never made me stronger at all

Love will scar your make up

Lips sticks to me, so now I maybe lean back there

I'm sat here wishing I was sober

I know I'll never hold you like I used to

But a house gets cold when you cut the heating

Without you to hold I'll be freezing

Can't rely on my heart to beat in

'Cause you take parts of it every evening

Take words out of my mouth just from breathing

Replace with phrases like 'when you leaving me? '

Should I? Should I?

Maybe I'll get drunk again

I'll be drunk again, I'll be drunk again

To feel a little love

“That’s beautiful... and sad. You should really start playing it somewhere” her small voice filled the silence. “Is it about Erika?”

Drake shrugged.

“I guess it was when I first thought about it”

“You never told me why you two broke up” she propped herself on her elbows.

“It just didn’t work out”

“Well, I never liked her” Riley laughed.

“You never liked any of my girlfriends, York” he threw a pillow at her.

“Hey! I’ll like her when it’s the right one okay?”

“Yeah, now shut up and look up” he adjusted himself next to her.

He heard her soft gasp at the sight of the falling stars, as if she was the same 10-year-old girl he brought there along with his sister and father to see their first meteor shower. He felt her hand grabbing two of his fingers and smiled.

“Make a wish, Walker”

AFTER

The sun wasn’t too high in the sky when he finished shaving, God forbids Madeleine saw a glint of facial hair on anyone at any of her events, not that he minded what she thought, but he rather be invisible at this event.

A cup of coffee and a croissant later, he found himself at the site of the barn raising, it would be so fun watch the nobles having the day to pretend they have any inclination to do hard work. Penelope and Kiara for example were wearing high heels, he betted 5 euros one of them would fall in 5 minutes.

Drake laughed to himself but got pulled out of his thoughts by a loud engine blasted on the road, the feeling of déja vu overcoming him, he knew exactly who loved loud engines drawing the attention to her entrance.

Shit

A white Bugatti stopped at the entrance and for a second, after seeing the frightened face of Hana getting out of the car, he forgot that he was pissed.

Although he remembered on the next second when Riley got out of the driver’s side laughing heartedly, she was wearing a simple plaid shirt, jeans shorts and sneakers, all the flashes were on her, the first press appearance since she was back two weeks ago.

“Lady Riley! Lady Riley!” The press screamed to get her attention. “How does if feel to be back?”

“Amazing!” She smiled, but he saw right through her, she didn’t get any better at hiding her lies and discomfort than she did at 18.

“Lady Riley! How do you describe your style today?”

“Riley York ready to build a barn” Maxwell made his way through the press to hug Riley and Hana.

“Lady Riley! Don Brine here! We see your coming with a new crew, Lady Hana and Lord Maxwell, does this has anything to do with your best friend getting engaged to your ex while you were away?”

Her smile faltered for a second, Drake held his breath without even knowing, across from the press he finally acknowledged Madeleine grabbing Liam’s arms forcefully while the future king didn’t blink watching Riley getting close to them.

“I think I’ll have to set the record straight” she pulled Madeleine’s hand into hers, locking them in an uncomfortable hold. “Liam, Madeleine and I all grew up together, and some people change along the way, some relationships change along the way.”

Riley’s angelic face gave the future monarchs the sweetest smile, Drake could almost touch the longing in Liam’s eyes.

“Liam and Madeleine will rule wisely and will be remembered for generations, and I couldn’t be more than happy for them. i guess that’s all.”

“One more thing Lady York. Ana de Luca for trend. We got an anonymous tip that you were away on a rehab clinic for self harm, what do you have to say about that?”

Drake saw Riley twisting Madeleine’s hand.

“Ana, some people don’t know when to shut up” she smirked and left them under the urges for more words and flashes blinking.

He watched as Liam cleared his throat and gave his speech on the barn raising, completely mechanical as he forced himself not to look over to Riley laughing with her friends.

Drake saw himself standing awkwardly with his hands buried in his pockets until he felt a light touch in his arms.

“It will all happen again, won’t it?” Kiara’s black eyes met his and wandered where Riley was. “She’s a bulldozer Drake, I remember how you were when she left, how Liam was, god, even Penelope...”

“Shall we start?” Liam started gathering everyone, not giving him any time to answer Kiara.

“Kiara and Penelope can help with the hay, Maxwell and Hana can take care of painting the fences and... Drake and Riley will work lifting the wood of the barn walls.” Madeleine smiled proudly at herself and Liam choked.

“It’s too much of manual labor for a Lady, my dear, I’m sure Lady Riley could trade places with Maxwell” Liam pondered.

“No way, it would give my hands blisters!” Maxwell interjected and Riley laughed.

“Don’t be silly dear, Lady Riley spent the last year as a working woman in America.” Madeleine’s fire gaze pierced through Liam’s blue eyes.

“Hey Liam, it’s okay really, I used to do some heavy lifting at work...” Riley finally spoke and Liam’s gaze went from her to Drake.

At that moment Drake understood why Liam didn’t want her inside the barn.

“Told you so..” Kiara whispered beside him.

“I can help you two...”

“No, you can’t!” Madeleine exclaimed more fiercely that she probably intended. “We need to make rounds and pose for pictures dear, it’s our engagement event after all.”

“Then we should go!” A completely anxious Penelope stated, wanting as much as any of them to be excluded from the awkwardness.

Drake sighed and made his way to the structure of the barn without a second glance to Riley. He was preparing the wood when she reached their spot.

“Hey, let me help” she said smiling and reaching for the wood he was carrying, he didn’t reply.

They worked in silence for almost an hour, she didn’t back up from any activity, from carrying heavy buckets of water for the horses, to helping him pulling up the wood.

“We’re still a good team!” She exclaimed after most of the work was done, he stole a glance and her proud look and warm smile, a drop of sweat descending from her neck.

“We’re not a team” he grunted at his relapse.

The smile vanished from her face.

“After everything, how you can say that?”

“After everything, how can YOU say that?” Drake spat turning fully to her. “Why the hell did you come back, Riley? Why didn’t you just disappear and let us live our pathetic lives here?”

“Why didn’t you let me drown, Drake? It would definitely be better than be here now, right?”

Drakes face fell, and suddenly flashes of that fateful afternoon flooded him like the gelid winter see, the white dress plastered on her numb skin, the muttering blue lips, his heart beating so hard in his chest, wanting to trade places with hers, to make her alive again.

He got close to her, closer than he should for the sake of his sanity, he could feel the heat coming from her body as her resolve slowly crumbled and his rage grew.

“Go to hell, Riley. Fuck you!” She shrank at his words, spat so cruelly it made her eyes watery.

Drake suddenly couldn’t breath so he left the almost finished barn to the hired workers to complete, the sun hanging low in the sky only heating his chest more, he wanted to scream, but he refused to be seen by anyone of the court, so, like a coward, he just sneaked out.

The humming sound of his truck engine was the only thing calming him right now, he drove aimlessly for more than an hour until night came and he saw himself somewhere he almost forgot it existed, somewhere he locked in her mind along with every other memory of Riley.

He sat on the empty boot of his truck, opening a can of beer and looking at the sky, as if he was a child, he was desperate for a shooting star so he could ask for everything to be normal again.

The loud engine once again pulled him from his thoughts, the white Bugatti now had several brown spots of dirt on its side, she sat on the hood, no respect for a €4 million car, one more reason he could add to the list for hating her.

“I’m sorry.” She said without looking at him, her tired eyes lost, miles away, in the sky.

Drake looked at the beer in his hands, then back to the sky.

“I shouldn’t have said that today.” He heard her sighing. “I actually never thanked you, so thank you, Drake.”

“For what?” He gave another gulp to his beer.

“For taking me out of the waters, whichever mean it has, you saved my life in more ways than that for years, but that day, that day I only came back breathing because of you.” Her eyes were full of tears once again, eyes pleading to him. “I didn’t come back to screw everything, I just... I miss my best friend, Drake.”

“I just can’t understand why, Riley?” He licked his dry lips, thinking of how to say it. “You gave up on us, you decided to stay, and then... why? You really meant it? You really wanted it?”

He really hoped she said no.

“Yes” Her voice was almost a whisper. “I wanted to die that day.”

“Why?” He tried in vain to keep his emotions under control.

“I don’t know” she dried her cheeks with her sleeves. “ I came back to try and find it out, it’s the only thing holding me back, I need to find out. Then I promise you’ll never hear of me again.”

.

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[17caratfics]

Third Time’s A Charm

This is my (late) Day 3 submission for the Caratober prompt project. This was also supposed to be the first scenario I was working on for this blog but of course nothing goes as planned. Happy October Carats!

           “Hocus pocus,” a low voice sounded in your ear. You jumped up, clutching at the front of your chest and glared at the creature who had suddenly appeared.

           “My god, Seungcheol,” you hissed. “Stop doing that.” The figure in front of you gave you a wry grin as he put his hands up in mock surrender. “It’s high noon. Shouldn’t you be melting by now?”

           Immediately, the smile on his face fell as he took a step closer. “I thought we’ve been through this a million and one times now. Vampires don’t melt when we see the sun. And we don’t sparkle. We only prefer to be at night because it’s easier to feed on our prey.” He said the last few words menacingly low. “And garlic doesn’t scare us either,” he added upon seeing the garlic bulbs you were making appear in your hands. “As a witch, how can you be so ignorant about your fellow mythical creatures? You don’t see me walking around asking why you’re not flying about with a broomstick between your legs.”

           “There’s a difference. We are actually human with special abilities. You, you’re an aberration.”

           The vampire’s ridiculously full lips slid into a pout. “Now that was mean and insensitive. Didn’t they teach you at Hogwarts not to be a bully?”

           Your patience for the annoying blood sucker was running low. “Excuse me. You may have eternity to mill around and do nothing, but I’m on a bit of a time crunch. I need to go.”

           “Why do you dislike me so much?”

           Despite your previous hurry to leave, his words made you pause. Glancing back, you saw that he looked genuinely upset. “I d-don’t,” you stuttered before blushing a deep red. You didn’t owe him an explanation. “Just stop showing up randomly all the time. You’re annoying.” And with that, you quickly walked away.

           The truth was Seungcheol bothered you. But not in the way you made it seem. Yes, he enjoyed teasing you. But, as far as vampires went, he wasn’t so bad. At least he wasn’t out to get your blood. You’ve ran into the darker of his kind and was lucky that magical blood was quite repulsive to them or who knew how you would have ended up. It was less that he annoyed you but that he made you feel things you didn’t enjoy feeling.

           Ever since you opened up your own potions and charms shop, he would constantly loiter in your store, keeping you company late at night when the rest of the world has gone to sleep. He would guise it under the pretense of waiting for his next feed but he never once glanced at the humans who wandered in, some drunk and curious, some just thinking this whole magic shop thing was a hoax. Instead, he’d keep his focus on you in sometimes an unnerving way, but always teasing. Seungcheol had a way of looking at you that made you feel like there was something he knew but you didn’t. And that bothered you.

           “Hello, yoo hoo, anyone home?” You snapped out of your reverie and half expected the deep voice to be Seungcheol again. Instead it was your fellow potions maker and wizard, Soonyoung. “Whoa. Who did you think I was? The disappointment was too real.”

           You blushed and coughed to pretend like he hadn’t been overly perceptive. “No one. You just surprised me. I thought it was a customer.”

           “Ayy,” he gave you a look from behind his heavy stack of books. “Where’s your pale-skinned leech?”

           “He’s not mine,” you muttered, crouching down in front of your cauldron to avoid seeing the overly know-it-all look Soonyoung gave you. It was obvious to you just why you didn’t see Seungcheol. He was clearly offended by your words earlier, and you weren’t about to apologize either. It was so much better, more peaceful, this way.

           The two of you worked in silence, brewing potions for sell, until you heard the bells on the front door ring. Your heart leapt to your throat for a good moment before you peeked outside and saw that it was a very human girl who had wandered in.

           “Geez,” you heard Soonyoung mutter. “I swear if you like him, just use a love potion or something. I don’t even need truth potion to know.”

           You ignored him. You didn’t like Seungcheol. That would just be weird. Yeah, you didn’t age the same as humans, but that didn’t mean you had the time like him to just muck around for all of eternity. You shook your head. Why were you even considering spending forever with him?

           Once the customers left and it was almost closing, Soonyoung grinned apologetically. “Hey, I have a date tonight, so I can’t stay with you. Are you going to get home okay? It’s almost feeding frenzy time for the vampires. They usually don’t target us, but you know, things haven’t been normal lately.”

           You waved a hand. “Don’t worry. It’s not even midnight. You have fun and make sure that you get home safe.” Your colleague grinned and placed an amulet in your hand. “Just carry this around to make me feel better.”

           “You know they aren’t even that repulsed by garlic. It just makes human blood tastes bad.”

           Soonyoung shot you a look. “You need to stop believing everything that leech says. He could just be saying it to get you to lower your defenses.” You knew that he had lost a friend to a vampire hunt a few years past so the constant insults were normal. But you almost felt indignant on Seungcheol’s behalf.

           The walk home was unbearably quiet. A few weeks ago, even in your sleepy community of non-humans trying to blend in, word was around the streets that the vampires were now going after witches. Nobody knew why. It was usually known that magical blood had a hormone that was toxic if ingested in great amounts. Even though there had been wars in the past, for the last two centuries at least, there was a semblance of peace. For this sudden attack to be so targeted was once more breeding prejudiced fervor.

           It was a typical October night. The air was crisp and smelled faintly of crusty leaves, wet from an earlier shower and decaying vegetation that was ready to burrow itself for the winter. You clutched your jacket closer, whispering a small spell to create warmth.

           “Well, well, what do we have here?”

           The voices were suddenly in front of you. “Looks like a witchy-witch.” This was a higher-pitched snicker and came from behind you.

           Your eyes adjusted to the darkness and you saw four figures flanking you on all sides. They took a step in as you stood your ground, trying to ignore the panic that was riding up your throat. The adrenaline rushing through your brain had you almost delirious as a random thought popped into your head. You had no idea why this time of night was called the witching hour when in reality, it was now that you were weakest and the other demons were strongest.

           The vampire in front of you took a loud sniff in the air and grinned, too-sharp fangs sliding past his lips. “Ooooh, I do like the smell of magic running in your veins. They say it’s poison, but it’s really more an addictive drug for those like us.”

           Us. You glanced around and decided you didn’t much want to know what or who this ‘us’ entailed. A hand clamped down on your shoulder and you increased the temperature to burn him. This act of defiance earned you a swift kick to the ribs and you were down on the ground, wheezing.

           “Don’t try your little abracadabra thing with me, girlie. You’re just going to waste your own energy, and then what’s the fun of a prey that doesn’t try to put up a fight?”

           “Or you can pick on someone your own kind, sucker.” You turned in shock at the familiar voice. Seungcheol was glaring at the leader.

           The malicious vampire rolled his eyes. “You know, you’re really out here ruining our fun. Be careful I don’t report you for fraternizing with the enemy.” The other cronies shifted so that they were less focused on you and were staring at Seungcheol.

           “Oh? And you’re the one stirring up the war again. Who do you think will be the one punished?”

           The attack came too suddenly. Suddenly one vampire had you in a chokehold and the other three had descended on Seungcheol. You tried to quell your panic to summon a flame but the tight hold on your throat made it difficult to even think of the incantation. The fight in front of you was intense. There was barely any movement, just flashes and breeze and then you heard a low groan. The two other weaker vampires were already on the ground, their heads already off.

           Seungcheol was on the ground and panting. You saw the malicious leader approach him, with a wooden stake and the sudden alarm had you thinking in clarity. You burst into flames, burning the one demon holding onto you and you flew into the one attacking Seungcheol, knocking him to the ground and knocking the stake out of his hand. You whispered an iridescent bind and the vampire writhed on the ground, unable to break out of it.

           Meanwhile, Seungcheol had gotten to his feet and held the stake to the other’s throat. “I’d kill you but I’d rather have the coven deal with you,” he hissed. He crushed the wood in his hands, careful to avoid getting any splinters in him, and looked at you.

           “Hey, are you okay?”

           You were shaken, still breathing hard but summoning the binds had taken a great deal of energy from you. You were startled to see how pale he looked. There were dark bruises under his eyes and gashes all over his shirt.

           “You’re bleeding,” you whispered.

           He glanced down at himself and grimaced. “It’s fine. It’ll heal quickly. Let me call for backup to take this scum in. You should probably look away though. The other two aren’t pretty to look at.”

           You smiled weakly. “They weren’t much better to begin with.”

           He shook his head, astonished at your ability to be humorous at this time. You saw him whistle something, a strange melody, and then a storm materialized. Stern looking vampires appeared, their eyebrows raised at the scene.

           “A witch?”

           “Yes. They were targeting her. She managed to burn one of them and got this one in a bind.”

           The leader turned to you and blinked once in what you assumed was acknowledgement. “Please inform the head wizard that we will indeed be holding a meeting. It is a shame that a few rogues have disrupted the peace. I will have you escorted to your dwelling while we make sure no humans have been affected or witnessed anything.”

           “I can bring her home,” Seungcheol offered but was silenced with a glare.

           “I need you as witness during the trial.”

           “Please. He’s hurt,” you pled. “Give him time to rest.”

           There was a humorless chuckle. “We heal fast. No need to worry. Jihoon, take the witch home.” A short but fierce looking vampire stepped out from the ranks and jerked his head stiffly, indicating for you to lead the way. You gave Seungcheol one more look but saw that he had already turned away.

           There was silence from his end the next two weeks. The attacks had ceased but you wanted to know what happened with Seungcheol. The Head Wizard had called you in for your testimony and when you tried to inquire about the vampires involved, he had put up a hand. “Unfortunately I have nothing to say.”

           It was near midnight when you heard the familiar chimes ring. You barely looked up. Lately, Soonyoung’s girlfriend had taken to waiting for him to close up. “Oh. Are you just going to ignore a customer now?”

           The familiar voice had you blushing hard before you looked up in surprise. “Seungcheol!”

           He gave a wry grin as he held his arms out. “Hi, didya miss me?”

           It was habit. You scowled and mumbled a no. His face fell and he stepped closer. “Seriously? I saved you from a bunch of witch hunting blood suckers and you can’t even greet me properly with a hi?”

           The steam from the potion you were currently concocting rose into the air and he sniffed. “Oh, it smells like blueberries and cream.” He breathed in deeper and frowned. “Is that mahogany?”

           Your cheeks went bright pink. “W-what do you mean?”

           “Your potion. Don’t you smell it? It sort of smells like you.”

           Soonyoung took this moment to wander over and peer into the contents of the cauldron. With an eyebrow slightly raised at you, he clarified, “That’s a love potion, Leech. It smells different to everyone depending on their person of preference.” He said the last part with a smirk aimed directly at you and you flushed.

           “Oh really?” Seungcheol turned his attention to you, ignoring Soonyoung who had now squeezed by and was greeting his girlfriend. He stared intently at you. “And what do you smell?”

           “N-nothing,” you hated how much you were stuttering.

           His eyes narrowed and he walked closer, so close you could smell the sweet scent he always emits, doubled as you now had the real thing. You could also smell mint and oddly enough, garlic.

           “Do you smell me?” he asked. His eyes held onto yours and then he looked shy. “Or rather, what reminds you of me.”

           The doors chimed and closed again. You saw Soonyoung waggle his fingers at you. You stared at the bubbling lavender liquid and then at Seungcheol. His dark hair was softened by the steam curling and the paleness of skin less noticeable in the dimness of the store.

           “It smells like you,” you mumbled, “and garlic.”

           Seungcheol’s lips quirked into a smile and he groaned. “I swear, no matter how many times I tell you, you’re always going to associate me with that disgusting herb, aren’t you?”

           “Be quiet. I just confessed to you and you’re talking about garlic.”

           He chuckled and bent at the waist to look you properly in the face. “Hmm, magic blood isn’t that bad.”

           Your hand flew to your neck. “Don’t you dare.”

           “I wasn’t going to bite you. I was just thinking that kissing you wouldn’t be an offense to my olfactory system.”

           “Kissing me?!” you squeaked.

           He grinned, showing off one of his fangs. “Yes, silly. That’s what I want to do right now.” He waited for you to close your eyes before chuckling and leaning in to press his lips against yours. The kiss was sweet, and he pulled away lingeringly. “Oh baby, you really put me under your spell,” he murmured, earning him a slap to the arm.

[protegeons]

SEASON ONE :

a  day  before  her  eighteenth  birthday,  and  she  awoke  to  the  detention  centre  in  some  kind  of  frenzy.  she  didn’t  have  time  to  process  what  was  happening  before  a  guard  was  grabbing  her  and  dragging  her  out  of  bed. 

but  allison,  being  allison,  fought  back  against  them.  she  took  down  nearly  three  guards  before  someone  had  the  sense  to  tranq  her.  the  last  thing  she  saw  before  blacking  out  was  the  face  of  the  pig  guard  she’d rescued  the  girl  from.  and  he  was  smiling  wickedly. 

when  she  woke  up  again,  she  was  strapped  into  the  dropship,  hurdling  towards  earth. 

happy  birthday  to  me,  she  thought  as  she  headed  for  what  she  thought  was  her  death. 

but,  though  the  landing  was  rough,  and  they  lost  a  couple  idiots  that  decided  to  take  their  seatbelts  off,  most  of  the  hundred  delinquents  were  shaken  up,  but  fine. 

the  first  time  she  came  face  -  to  -  face  with  clarke  griffin  was  shortly  after  the  landing,  as  they  were  both  checking  wounds  on  whoever  would  let  them.  but  the  murder  daughter  and  the  princess  weren’t  the  most  popular  among  the  teenagers,  so  neither  got  very  far. 

the  two  girls  seemed  thrown  together  often  after  that.  allison  offered  to  go  on  the  recon  trip  to  find  mount  weather  with  clarke  and  finn,  but,  in  the  end,  they  all  agreed  that  it  was  best  to  have  someone  they  could  trust  stay  back  to  keep  an  eye  on  things  at  camp.  so,  she  climbed  a  tree,  perched  herself  on  a  branch,  and  watched  for  any  signs  of  trouble. 

and  trouble  was  not  behind  as  the  rising  tension  between  wells  jaha  and  a  kid  allison  only  knew  then  as  murphy,  finally  came  to  a  head.  a  physical  fight. 

allison  knew  wells,  back  on  the  ark.  back  before  kate  committed  mass  murder  by  fire,  and  everyone  she  knew  suddenly   “forgot”   about  allison’s  existence.  even  wells,  the  nicest  person  allison  knew,  her  first  kiss,  the  one  person  she  thought  wouldn’t  abandon  her.  they  had  even  dated,  tentitvely.   before  kate.  they  reached  the  two  week  mark  in  their  relationship  when  everything  with  kate  happened,  and  wells,  supposedly  succumbing  to  the social  pressure  of  their peers,  never  spoke  two  words  to  her  again. 

so,  even  though  she  knew  she  should’ve  done  something,  stopped  the  fight,  spoke  up  in  protest,  just  sat  bitterly  in  her  tree,  watching  the  scene  unfold.  it  was  kind  of  cathartic. 

and,  as  she  watched,  she  decided  that  she  wasn’t  a  fan  of  the  dropship  stowaway  ---  this  bellamy  guy,  who  seemed  to  be  taking  a  leadership  role  among  the  delinquents.  but  the  way  he  spoke  about   “freedom”   and   “whatever  the  hell  we  want”   was  dangerous.  as  her  father  had  taught  her  from  a  young  age,  every  society  needed  structure.  and,  like  it  or  not,  this  was  now  their  society.  and  they  needed  rules  and  laws  to  keep  everyone  safe. 

she  was  one  of  the  first  people  to  stand  up  and  vocalize  her  support  for  clarke.  she,  like  allison,  knew  that  they  wouldn’t  survive  on   “whatever  the  hell  we  want”   and  they  needed  to  form  some  sort  of  hierarchy,  put  some  laws  in  place. 

allison  was  incredibly  protective  over  jasper  when  they  rescued  him.  she  kind  of  became  his  personal  body  -  guard  while  he  healed.  when  the  tensions  among  the  delinquents  got  too high,  and  allison  worried  one  of  them  would  try  to  kill him,  she  moved  from  her  favourite  spot  in  her  tree  to  perching,  day  and  night,  on  the  latter  to  the  upper  level  of  the  dropship.  no  one  was  getting  up  there  without  the  okay  from  clarke. 

while  she  didn’t  agree  with  them  trying  to  hang  murphy  for  a  crime  he  didn’t  commit   (  though,  she  didn’t  know  this  at  the  time.  she  thought  he  killed  wells,  and  she  wanted  someone  to  pay  for  killing  him.  someone  had  to  pay.   ),   she  never  stood  up  with  clarke  to  try  to  stop  it.  this  is  something  she  regrets  deeply  to  this  very  day. 

allison  was  there  that  night  when  charolette  threw  herself  off  the  cliff,  consumed  by  the  guilt  of  killing  wells  and  the  aftermath  of  her  actions.  she  thought,  personally,  a  council  should  have  been  formed,  but  as  long  as  clarke  was  one  of  the  people  in  charge,  allison  agreed. 

she  mourned  wells  deeply.  deeper  than  she  thought  she  would.  she  spent  countless  nights  at  his  grave,  telling  him  how  sorry  she  was  that  she  didn’t  step  up  for  him  that  day,  during  his  fight  with  the  now  banished  murphy.  she  expressed  her  sorrow  at  the  fact  that  they  never  got  a  chance  to  make  up,  and  that  she  forgave  him.  she  told  him  that  she  knew  he  was  just  pressured  into  turning  his  back  on  her  like  everyone  else,  that  she  knew  he’d  never  do  something  like  that  of  his own  volition.  he  was  too  good  a  person  for  that.  and,  when  allison  ran  out  of  things  to  talk  to  his  gave  about,  she  just  sat  there  with  him. 

when  octavia  goes  missing,  allison  volunteers  to  go  searching  for  her  immediately.  she  persists  with  what’s  left  of  the  search  party,  even  when  they  discover  they’ve  entered  into  grounder  territory.  the  panic  and  fear  as  the  search  party  is  picked  off  one  -  by  -  one  by  grounders  attacking  while  concealing  themselves  in  the  trees  is  like  nothing  she’s  ever  felt  before.  she  truly  believes  that  they’re  all  going  to  die  there. 

and  just  when  she  thought  nothing  could  get  worse,  the  acid  fog  rolls  in  on  them.  or,  so  they  thought.  they  soon  discover  that  the  sounding  horn  was  just  a  ruse  to  get  the  grounders  to  back  off  the  search  party,  and  flee  to  safely.

their  altercation  with  the  grounder  they’d  later  come  to  know  as  lincoln  makes  allison  realize  that,  if  she’s  going  to  survive  out  here,  on  earth,  she  was  going  to  need  a weapon  of  her own  to  defend  herself  and  her fellow  delinquents.  even  if  none  of  them  liked  her.  and  she  knew  that  she’d  always  been  good  with  a  gun.  she  could  shoot  before  she  could  write.  but  there  were  no  guns  down  here.  so,  she  remembered  something  she’d  read  in  one  of  her  father’s  weapons  books  once,  bows  and  arrows.  she  could  make  one  for  herself.

so,  as  soon  as  things  began  to  calm   (  though,  with  the storm  rolling  in  and finn  close  to  death,  things  weren’t  exactly   “calm”   but  it  was  calm  enough  for  her.  )    she  payed  no  attention  to  the  others,  all  locked  inside  the  dropship  on  top  of  each  other  while  a  storm  raged  outside,  allison  fashioned  her  very  first  prototype  bow  out  of  twigs  she  gathered.  and,  after  her  first  bow  failed  spectacularly,  she  made  another.  and  another.  one  each  better  than  what  came  before  it,  until  she  had  what  was  a  real  bow,  and  a  quiver  of  arrows  she  carved.

soon,  allison  became  the  unofficial  hunter  for  the  camp.  she  recalled  her  earth  skills  teachings   (  which  she  aced,  by  the  way !  )   to  make  traps,  only  using  her  bow   (  which  she  had  a  knack  for  almost  right  away  )   to  shoot  birds,  and,  sometimes,  deer  and  mountain  lions.  everyday  she  would  go  out  before  sunrise,  and  everyday  she  would  return  just  before  sunset,  carrying  her  kill  of  the  day.  and  she  always  made  sure  she  came  back  with  something,  always  made  sure  that  the  camp  wouldn’t  go  hungry  for  even  a  day. 

allison  was  out  on  a  hunt  when  she  ate  the  jobi  berries.  they  gave  her  terrible,  awful  hallucinations  of  her  aunt.  and  even  after  the  effect  of  the  berries  wore  off,  and  the  hallucinations  went  away,  allison  stayed  huddled  at  the  base  of  a  tree,  rocking  back  -  and  -  forth,  crying.  allison  didn’t  return  to  camp  that  night.  she  remained,  holding  her  knees  to  her  chest  in  the  small  grove  of  trees  where  she  was  safe  until  the  sun  came  up,  and  she  knew  that  kate  wasn’t  out  there,  waiting  for  her  anymore.  only  then  did  she  come  back  to  camp.

it  was  the  only  time  she  went  out  on  a  hunt  and  returned  empty  -  handed. 

even  when  clarke  and  bellamy  returned  to  camp  with  their  payload  of  guns,  and  offered  one  to  her,  she  declined,  deciding  that  she  preferred  her  homemade  bow. 

while  allison  doesn’t  participate  in  the  unity  day  celebrations,  instead  deciding  there  should  be  someone  on  guard  and  in  their  right  mind  just  in  case,  she  does  enjoy  sitting  in  her  tree,  watching  everyone  else  enjoy  the  festivities  and  let  lose.  enjoying  themselves  for  perhaps  the  first  time  since  landing  on  earth.   (  and  she  may  have  had  a  sip  or  two  out  of  a  stolen  bottle  of  monty’s  moonshine  she’d  stashed  away  for  a  special  occasion.  ) 

when  the  bio  virus  takes  down  many  of  the  delinquents,  it  has  no  effect  on  allison,  and  so  she  is  one  of  the  few  who  are  charged  with  caring  for  the sick,  a  job  which  she  takes  incredibly  seriously. 

as  always,  as  the  impending  threat  of  full  on  war  with  the  grounders  draws  nearer,  allison  backs  up  clarke  every  step  of  the  way.  and  she’s  there,  at  clarke’s  side,  encouraging  her  when  she  has  to  make  the  difficult  decision  of  closing  the  dropship  door  with  finn  and  bellamy  on  the  wrong  side.  her  hand  hovers  over  clarke’s  as  she  pulls  the  lever. 

PART  ONE     ,     PART  TWO

[lupismaris]

Illegitemus non carborundum est

Also known as The Chef!AU cat has posted about occasionally. I elt like shit all day and yesterday and somehow words happened. Idk how much of this will be finished but at the very least, have the first chapter or some amusement.

James is a Chef/pub owner, John’s a freelance author and novelist

eventual silverflinthamiltons 

__

Chapter 1

Over the years, the one thing that John Silver had come to appreciate most about London was the multitude of cafes, coffee shops, and pubs that populated the city. Without fail, he had managed to find a little hole in the wall best suited to very possible situation, dates, business lunches, catching up with old friends, the awkward break up. 

Sometimes a cafe was better, the calmer, at times more elegant tone of the place adding to the scolding his sister might be giving him, or making him appear more put together when meeting with a publisher. Other times a coffee shop with old wooden booths and simple menus were best, when the only thing needed was caffeine and quiet. And on nights when writers block and insomnia decided to team up on him, well there was always a pub or ten within walking distance of the tube station. 

The only trouble was, out of all the spots he’d been, a regular haunt had eluded him. Nothing felt quite right, nothing offered the right balance of all three, at least on the list of fifty or so places he tried. And often he and Jack, and their little circle of friends, stuck to their usual routine of places, rotating through them now and then to give the illusion of something fresh and different. But genuine change, a true meander off the beaten path was rare.

So when Jack recommended they meet at a new place for lunch, John was curious. Jack had always preferred The Scarlet Brewhouse on the other side of the river, or The Wolfhound near Covent Garden when he had a bit more change in his pocket. John couldn’t remember if they’d explored the pubs and shops near Boroughs Market before, or at least not consciously- he’d been one one to many pub crawls with Jack and Charles, of which his memory was foggy and limited. Perhaps that had been when Jack had found this new spot, The Walrus.

Who’d name a pub after so random an animal John had no idea, likely an inside joke of the owners. But then in a city with a few dozen public houses referencing cocks and princes, he supposed it was no more nor less suited than any other.

The corporate lunch crowd of the two o’clock hour had thankfully moved along, leaving the entrance to the Market far less crowded than the last time John had visited. It was an easy thing to spot Jack in his violet bomber jacket waiting on the curb with a cigarette in hand. John laughed at the sight of Charles next to him, three butterfly closures on his bruised forehead and a plaster splint on his nose.

“What the fuck happened to you?”

Charles grumbled and rolled his eyes. “Nothing-”

“He’s the reason we didn’t go to Scarlet’s I’m afraid,” Jack said with a put upon sigh.

“Did you get banned?”

“No he knows better than that. He started a fight down in whitechapel last night, with the pair of fellows who run this walrus place.”

Charles sneered, but it was a weak thing, with the bandage on his nose. “They started it.”

“Technically you threw the first punch, and in an effort to avoid them pressing any kind of charges, we are escorting Charles to go and apologize, while you and I enjoy our lunch, john. If that’s alright with you.”

“As if I’d say no to lunch and free entertainment. You realize it’s just as likely that charles will just start round two while we’re there, don’t you?” John asked as they turned down the side street and headed for the bank of the river.

“If he wants to get laid in the next month he damned well better not.”

“I take it Ellie is equally as mad about this?”

The sheepish look on Charles’ face made it clear he hadn’t yet told his occasional girlfriend about it. “She’s busy with exams. Didn’t wanna bother her.”

“No so I’m just left to deal with you.” Jack finished his cigarette and tossed it. “It’s a good thing you’re a good lay, charles.”

John rolled his eyes, it was an old nonsensical performance the two carried on, that they only enjoyed each other’s company for sex. Even a complete and utter stranger could take one look at them and realize they were effectively joined at the hip till the grave, them and Anne of course, Jack’s sometimes girlfriend but always partner he’d known since childhood.

“Anne not partaking in your humiliation?”

“She’s got a photoshoot scheduled up in Cambridge today, won’t be back till after dinner. Otherwise she’d be front row with her camera ready to catch this idiot having to apologize for once in his life.”

“I still say they started it.” Charles insisted.

“What was it even about?” John asked.

“Haven’t got a clue.”

Having been present for more than one of Charles’ notorious bar fights, John could easily believe that the whole point of the argument had been lost in the fray. All it took was a couple extra shots and a poorly timed joke in bad taste and charles was ready and willing to answer it with a right hook.

“Here we are, now behave charles or so help me-”

The Walrus looked, at face value, like every other hundred year old pub in the city, with the worn and re-painted wood framed windows and moulding around the door, a few iron tables and chairs sat outside to look across the street at the river and the opposing bank.

“Did you actually bother reading up on this place before dragging us out here jack?”

Jack huffed indignantly. “Yes I read up on it, I’d not pick a place without at least skimming the reviews. They’ve got nearly four stars on every possible review and the staff is gorgeous.”

“I’d care more about the food.”

“Well they said the food was good too.” Jack nudged Charles inside and waved John in after him.

It was a cozy setting, dark wood and white washed walls, old nautical art pieces hung here and there on the wall amidst old trophies and antiques, like many of the pubs along the river. It had the benefit of large front windows that made the place feel airy, instead of the cave like atmosphere of so many other places. Twenty tables or so were scattered about the room, the large oak bar extended to offer both kitchen side seating and barside.

The man at the bar looked up when they entered to greet them, but the moment he caught sight of Charles his put upon smile faded.

“Uh-”

“Hi we’re looking for a man named Flint?” Jack asked, as John settled into one of the empty tables in the window.

“What for?”

“My friend here caused him a bit of trouble last night and wanted to apologise.”

The bartender seemed to doubt that very much but nodded and turned to the kitchen. “Hey flint! You’ve got a visitor!”

“I’m not here.” came the gruff and uninterested reply.

“I think its the guy who decked you last night.”

John startled when a mountain of a man leaned against the kitchen door frame, apron slung around his hips and a healing split lip turned up with a smile. “Yeah it's him, flint. What do you want then?”

Charles glared at him until Jack sighed and shoved him forward to the bar.

“To apologise, and make sure there’s no hard feelings.” He said, ignoring the sour look Charles gave him.

The mountain blinked in surprise, and looked back over his shoulder, no doubt to where this Flint was debating whether or not to accept. Apparently he was willing to hear the apology, after a muttered reply, the mountain huffed and waved charles behind the counter.

“Flint’s got his hands a bit tied up, c’mon back.” He said and Charles followed after Jack again pushed him forward.

“I swear to god if he starts another fight I’m going to scream,” Jack said on a sigh, dropping into the seat across from john.

“If he does, at least the place’s is pretty quiet.” Aside from them, only two regulars sat at the bar, and half a dozen patrons at the tables further away. Hardy enough to cause a frenzy if a fight broke out.

“No need to worry, Flint won’t start a fight in his own house,” The bartender said, coming over with a trio of water glasses and menus. “If I’m honest I was surprised he got in a fight at all last night.”

“Is he not normally a hotheaded man then?” Jack asked.

“Oh he is, just the type more likely to jump you outside the pub rather than in. Wasn’t there so I dunno what was said but it must’ve been something.”

“I’m normally there but I had a deadline last night, couldn’t go out, thought Charles might be capable of coming home in one piece but here we are.”

“Ah well, we can only do our best with em can’t we? I’m Muldoon, lemme know when you want to order or if you want any drinks.” He was a short, genial looking man, with clever eyes and a well trimmed beard. The heavy brogue in his accent made John smile.

“We’ll take two of whatever cocktails you make best,” jack told him. “I’m going to need a few once this affair is over.”

“give me five minutes, they’ll be right up.”

“Did your deadline not go as well as you hoped?” John asked, when the bartender was back at work.

Jack waved a hand. “Who the hell knows, its submitted and the publication can decide whether or not its fit to run. With my luck I’ll have it sent back to me drowning in red ink and chunks of black out.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t write so many pieces on back door deals the whitehall bastards make, or how fucked the cops are, maybe then you’ll get more work published.” John pointed out, even though he knew the answer he’d receive. Jack was as invested in his journalism as John was in his novels, and the day Jack gave up his life of ruining rich and powerful people’s lives, would likely be the day they buried him.

“Ah but then, what kinda man am I, to ignore truth in exchange for a fat paycheck?” Jack chuckled. “Besides they’ve enough useless reporters amongst the london press, and when have I ever been one of the flock?”

“Never. They’re still giving you a few articles to work on outside of your pet projects aren’t they?”

“Yeah some nonsense about the men’s fashion expected at the next royal wedding or some shit. This is what happens when you’re the only fucker in the building who knows how to dress properly, they stick you with all the fashion editorials.”

John laughed at the disgusted look on Jack’s face. “To be fair, you have kind of brought it on yourself. How many times have you lectured your coworkers on their lack of fashion sense?”

“Look if these straight men want to get fucked then they need to dress better than a fucking-”

“Drinks, gents. On the house.” Muldoon set the glasses down with practiced ease, timing his interruption well.

“On the house?” John asked.

“To commemorate both Flint’s getting his face broken and your man getting his face broken, and yet being civil enough to apologize.” Muldoon said. “Or because you’re the most interesting part of my day thus far.”

“I may fall in love with you sir.” Jack smiled up at him.

“Sorry love, gonna have to take that up with Billy.”

Jack tilted his head and looked to where Muldoon nodded- The hulking blonde still leaning against the doorframe, his back to them. “Ha! In that case my dear it will be a chivalrous love from afar.”

Muldoon laughed, a bright burst of sound that caught the attention of the blonde, Billy. He glanced over his shoulder, at first with a curious frown, but one that easily melted into a fond smile as he watched them. He glanced back at the kitchen and seemed satisfied that hell wasn’t going to break out, so he turned and round the bar, coming to join muldoon beside their table.

“You’ll be glad to know your man’s behaving himself,” Billy said with that same wry smile he wore earlier.

“Thank fuck.” Jack groaned softly. “You were the other one weren’t you, last night?”

“I was yeah, though to be fair it was just a misunderstanding. Neither of us hold any ill will towards- charles was it?”

“Vane yes, charles vane. I was honestly worried you might press charges.”

Billy scoffed. “Flint would rather fight him ten times over then get the cops involved, don’t worry.”

“What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“A few guys was bothering a couple of kids in the pub, being general shits. Flint had already started getting involved, before I could really stop him. Your man escalated it to a fight, or tried to, Flint tried to stop him, the guys who originally started the fight got a couple shots in and bailed by the time the three of us and finished causing trouble.” billy shrugs. “Like I said, a misunderstanding.”

John laughed softly. “Yeah sounds like charles.”

“Hes otherwise a great drinking mate though, I’d happily end up in a brawl with him again-” Billy looked up at the ding of a bell, the kitchen calling him back. “Sorry, duty calls.”

“Well at least it wasn’t something genuinely awful, I feel a tad bad about being so cross with him.” Jack mused, after muldoon had taken their orders.

“Nah, I’m sure he half expects it these days.”

They swapped stories of the work week, little things they’d forgotten to share via text while they waited for their food. As neighbors and close friends, John was always surprised how much they had to talk about, as he and Jack saw each other nearly every other day, unless work ran them down. Of course it helped that Anne’s girlfriend was John’s sister.

Charles rejoined them just after their food had been set out, looking dazed and uneasy.

“What happened?”

“I… think I got a job?” Charles said after a moment, as if he wasn’t sure.

Jack choked on his drink. “What?”

“He… he said he needed help at the bar, and was willing to teach me kitchen shit if I was willing to learn. And I just… said yeah why not?” Charles currently worked for his so-called father figure, as part of the security detail the company employed after hours. It didn’t take a genius to sort out how unhappy Charles was there. “Teach cut my hours a good bit recently, I’ve got the time, and the pay’s better, actually.”

The two stared at him a moment, before John started to laugh. “Only you could fucking deck a dude and get a job out of it, jesus christ.”

“I- I can’t even begin to process this but- that’s good? I think? Or at least a much better outcome than I’d expected…” Jack shook his head. “Whatever am I going to do with you…”

Charles smiled as brightly as he could with the plaster on his face and snatched the pickle off Jack’s plate. “No doubt you’ll think of something.”

They saw nothing of this Flint during their lunch, though they did get to chat a bit more with Muldoon and Billy before leaving. All John saw was a flash of red hair through the kitchen doorway as the man passed, red hair pulled up in a high messy bun and freckled arms.

But that, and his reception of Charles, was enough to pique his and Jack’s curiosity.

It had seemed they’d found a new haunt after all.

[thegroovyboar]

Cynosaura's Profile

Name: Cynosaura Rafflesian Dragmara (Has both parents surnames, not a second name) Pokémon: Venusaur National #: 003 Title: Seed Pokémon Type of Pokémon: Grass, Poison Nicknames: Saura Gender: Female Age: 29 Birthday: 14th of May Sign: Taurus

Nature: Sassy- Cynosaura is a lively woman who have a lot of guts, is spontaneous and a bit cheeky. She likes to live life at the fullest. She’s very energetic and likes to give her best and working hard on what she likes or wants to do.

Held Items: Black Sludge earring, sometimes she can wear a miracle seed too.

Ability: Overgrow (Powers up Grass-type moves when the Pokémon's HP is low.) Chlorophyll (Boosts the Pokémon's Speed stat in sunshine.) Thick Fat (Boosts resistance to Fire- and Ice-type moves)

Attacks: Sweet Scent, Petal Dance, Sunny Day , Protect , Grass Knot, Nature Power, Energy Ball, Poison Powder, Sleep Powder, Leech Seed, Take Down, Sludge Bomb, Synthesis, Petal Blizzard, Solar Beam, Frenzy Plant.

Weak Against: Flying, Fire, Psychic, Ice Height: 170 cm (5”7’?) Weight: Information not available Hair Color: Blue-green Hair Length: Mid-short, over her shoulders Eye Color: Red/Magenta Skin Tone: Dusky pink

Build: Tall, round and curvy, she has muscular arms and quite a presence Markings/Scars: Tattoos: A rafflesia arnoldii on the center of her back Piercings: Different earrings on each ear Job: Adventurer; actually owns a jewelry shop in Lumiose city, but she doesn’t work there.

Appearance: Cynosaura it’s a big woman, being quite tall and having muscular arms. She likes to take care of herself, from having fabulous hair to perfect nails, and of course her make up it’s always on point, but when it comes the time, she’s can be quite a practical woman who’s always ready for any situation. She likes to wear large hats and pretty clothes even for the everyday life, but she still like to be quite comfy for fighting or just adventuring. She loves good scents and she’ll always will have a good perfume on her.

Personality: Cynosaura is open, kind and friendly, but also astute and flirty. She’s a real diva and she shows it from her fashion choices to her confident way of moving around. She’s not afraid to show her vamps attitude, as she’s very sure of herself, but not for this she thinks low of other people, and quite the opposite she likes to help people to be as fabulous as they can be. She’s quite strong willed and stubborn and when she has an idea or a plan she just go for it without second thoughts.

Orientation: Heterosexual Significant Other: With too many hot men around she just can’t chose one. Rival: / Family: Aurorus (Father) Ivysaur (mother) Hometown: Lumiose City

*********************

Likes: Good fragrances (of every type, from food to flowers), shopping, hot men, attending elegant events such as dinners or cocktails. Dislikes: Disrespectful people, lack of dialogue, greasy foods or stinking places Fears: Breaking a promise she made, To not be able to earn her mega stone one day, seeing her business fail. Strength: Helping people feeling better (she always tries her best at least), awesome singer, very skilled at poker or card games in general, quite a capable businesswoman, actually has a lot of secret skills. Weaknesses: Cooking, Being modest (she doesn’t think it as a flaw thought), saving money, sometimes she speaks her mind too impulsively but she’s getting better.

Battle Style: Cynosaura rarely fights in nonofficial battles, as gym leaders or other battle institutions. She prefers to train alone or with her teammates than fighting other people. She’s quite a direct fighter who doesn’t use a lot of strategies, but more of heavy, focused moves like Take Down, Sludge Bomb, or in some occasions Nature Power. She’s not thoughtless thought, as she knows her own limits and makes sure to never surpass them fighting against too powerful opponents. She’s quite skilled in defense too, as she can protect and heal herself with different of her moves, also if the opponent gets too close, Cynosaura will make sure to make it harmless by using the sense of smell against it with moves like sleep powder or sweet scent.

********************

Favorite- Food: Caviar canapé (Fancy Cocktails food in general) Drink: Mimosa Color: Fuchsia Season: Spring Activity: Shopping and helping poor unfortunate souls with her awesomeness.

********************

Background: Cynosaura was born in Lumiose City, in the region of Kalos. From her early childhood, she has always been quite a strong willed person, thanks to her parents, especially her mother, who always encouraged her to do her best in every situation. When Cynosaura was little and went to school, even if she was quite a squat and round girl no bully dared to make fun of her, because she knew how to assert herself and did not hesitate to beat the bragger by time to time. When someone else was targeted, she was the first to going out there to defend him, so it didn’t take long for Cynosaura to gain a large group of friends and admirers. She liked very much helping people in need, and not without a hint of vanity, she really liked being idolized too.

Her parents were the owners of one of the biggest jewelers in Lumiose City, where Cynosaura used to spent many hours when she came back to school. She loved to observe all those glittering jewels in the showcases, and she could not wait to grow up to be able to wear as much as possible of them. Her parents told her that when they were older she would have been the owner of the shop, and it would have been almost as if those precious were all her own, but Cynosaura had other plans for the future, maybe a little too many in fact. She wanted to become famous, and known and loved by everyone, and to do good to people too, and every day she changed her future projects. One day would have been the greatest designer ever known, another a famous singer, one more a fascinating actress who starred in all the best movies.

One day a great parade was held in Lumiose City. Everywhere there were jubilant people, confetti and music. Cynosaura went to Centrico Plaza to see it with her parents and was absolutely amazed by that show. She wondered what caused the whole party in town, and her father explained that it was about a new champion taking charge in the Kalos league. The champion wasn’t just any person too, but a charming girl, looking rather young. Cynosaura looked at her, full of admiration, and finally decided what she would grow up to be: The champion.

At the beginning her parents smiled at this idea, but as usual they lovingly supported her, since they thought that the new project would have been changed within a few weeks. But when the months passed and then the years, and Cynosaura, now a teenager, continued to practice her future championship, they decided to make her think about it. Of course, as a young Ivysaur full of energy, she wasn’t weak, but surely she wasn’t even remotely up to the league, or perhaps even a gym leader. Besides Cynosaura had an energetic, but too refined way to fight. Sometimes for her it was more important to fight with class than to really defeat the opponent. But Cynosaura seemed adamant about her decision, and after many discussions, she finally revealed that she would have had an ace up his sleeve.

For a long time she had set her sights on the shining Venasaurite that was on display with the other mega stones in the windows of their jewelry store, and was sure that with the mega evolution she would be able to defeat any opponent. Her parents scolded her for being so arrogant and naive to think that it would be enough for her to succeed, where others had failed even with so much experience and hard work. In addition, her father forbade her to possess a mega stone even when she would have evolved, saying that if it was really that her dream she would have to earn it. After a lot of complaints (and just that bit of melodrama that Cynosaura had learned to use when she was studying acting) her father gave up and made a promise, if she could defeat all the Gym Leaders in the region with no other help but her strength and ability, he would have considered giving her the Venasaurite.

And so, as soon as she had finished school, Cynosaura left for the Kalos region to be able to face the first gym, deciding to go to Cyllage City given her advantage of types. But despite all her boldness, she was not able to defeat the gym leader. Surprised by this, she didn’t give up and continued to return to the gym, also trying to train with the other teams who were there for the same purpose. Cynosaura didn’t like the training too much and did not see any big changes, so at the end she decided to change tactics. What she needed to do was to find a team of her own to deal with the gyms. Her father didn’t said anything against it, and she would have needed some comrades with whom to face the league in any case.

One day she arrived to the near city, Geosenge Town, and there she found a large group of people visiting the large rock structure at the center. At first she thought they could be tourists visiting the place, since Geosenge was quite famous as a tourist resort, but she noticed how they all wore weird clothing, similar as weird scientists coats. So she decided to approach and ask, being particularly curious and not at all shy. To answer her was a young Delphox, who, despite the nervous air and the particularly apprehensive attitude, presented himself as one of the chief scientist of that group. Although he had a strong Kalosian accent, the young man told how they had come there to visit from Alola, on behalf of the Aether Foundation who had a desire to expand in that region.

After He explained what Aether Foundation was and what was their mission, Cynosaura liked very much the idea of an organization that was traveling to help others, and since it was still stuck in a stalemate, she asked the man to join them to help out. The young man seemed startled by that girl's request, and after freezing up for a moment (and apparently sweating a little bit?) and after consulting with his colleagues, he decided that having a local inhabitant could be useful, and that "every person of good will who want to help the Pokémon was well accepted in the Aether Foundation" he said automatically trying his best to politely smile, as if he had tried that phrase before saying to a real audience. Cynosaura could not help but find that boy adorable even if a clod, trying his best to be reliable when it seemed he was the first one to need a hand.

For some time she just went around with the group, that also, she just grew fonder of Voltaire, who was, in beyond his appearances, a kind, intelligent and very skilled man. Cynosaura learned that he had graduated in medicine thanks to the Aether Foundation that had paid for his studies. When it came to work, he looked like another person, becoming very professional and almost sure of himself, but as soon as his tasks ended he would once again be the anxious fox of all time. But in time he too began to bond with Cynosaura too, who was always very patient and kind to him. Things seemed to get smooth for a while, but apparently there were problems at the headquarters of the Aether Foundation in Alola, and the group could no longer contact them for some time. Then, after a few days, the notice was given that the foundation had been dissolved, and the funds for the Kalos expedition had been blocked. As it wasn’t enough, sometime later voices about the foundation president reputation started spreading through from Alola. Surprised and shocked, the group was initially undecided about what to do. Then some decided to return to Alola, others to stay in Kalos as the foundation no longer existed.

As for poor Voltaire, he was simply in total panic. Seeing his friend so desperate, Cynosaura tried to reassure him and make him think, of for how unexpected or bad that situation might seem for him, it was not then the end of the world in the end. But Voltaire had no peace, as he had no idea what he could do, and his anxious character did not help him to think clearly. After calming him with the use of her Sweet Scent, Cynosaura took him gently in his arms and proposed to continue his journey to Kalos with her, so in the meantime he could see if there were new prospect or opportunities for him. Dazed but slightly calmer, Voltaire consented to the idea. So the two, and some more people that also decided to join them, started to go to the different gyms.

The team, wasn’t exactly the best or the strongest, as many of them weren’t used to battle, but under Cynosaura charismatic guide, they started getting some better results after a while, and also they got to have a nice time together just exploring the region. The more serious and cool climate of work had turned in a happy friendship between them, and even if some of them had been together from years, they felt like they had finally the possibility to actually know each other. With time and effort they became stronger and some of them even evolved, even Cynosaura herself.

Two years passed, and after a long journey that led them to wander around town and meet many new people and situations, the team finally arrived at Snowbelle City to get their last badge. Even though she felt ready for the battle, Cynosaura knew that it would be easy for her and the team, and the one that would have been able to do it was Voltaire. She asked if she could count on him for that battle. The man waved his head nervously, wringing his wand in his hands. Even after all that time, fighting kept making him very nervous, and having that responsibility was very much for him to handle. But Cynosaura kept saying that he was ready and he would have been able to do it, and the other teammates kept supporting him too, as outside he seemed the old always traumatized Voltaire, but in reality he had become much stronger, not only in battle, but also in character. Now he tried, despite everything, to always give his best for his companions, and they really appreciated him for this.

Indeed the battle in the last gym was strenuous and difficult, but it was indeed Voltaire’s Mystical Fire to grant them the victory. Enormously relieved to have done something good for once, Voltaire believed that for them to had obtained all the medals was already great result to be satisfied of. But Cynosaura had a dream to fulfill and did not want to settle for just that, so she proposed to rest a little and then go to the league to challenge it. Since they had come up there despite no one would have bothered about them, they all consented, while poor Voltaire was already sweating and struggling, thinking about the elite four.

Cynosaura decided to pay a visit to her parents she had not seen for too long. They were delighted to see her grown and evolved in Venosaur, and they were very proud of her when she showed her badges to them. His father saw how much she had committed to do what she wished and happily offered her a shining Venasaurite, but after a brief hesitation, Cynosaura declined the offer. She had come up there without the need of the stone she once thought essential, and she would have gone all the way without it. Plus she said how she didn’t need to evolve again to be "mega" awesome. The parents complimented Cynosaura for that choice and wished her the best of luck.

Unfortunately, good luck, dedication and even the best intentions aren’t enough sometimes, and their team wasn’t good enough to even get at the end of the Elite four. Voltaire was going to lament on how incable he has been and how impossible was, but seeing how Cynosaura was sad herself of the result he just smiled, took her shoulders and told her affectionately “Sous avons fait de notre mieux, pour moi nous sommes déjà champions..!” At that, Cynosaura just nodded and smiled back at him.

Obviously she did not give up, and it didn’t passed much time, before she decided to try again, but she did not want to get stuck there and wanted to see new places, so she decided she would challenge the league of another region. As for Voltaire, he sure had lived enough emotions for a lifetime, and since fighting was too unnerving for him, he decided to return to Alola to be able to give a second chance Aether Foundation that had been refunded, and working honestly he hoped.

So after having so much recommended the two took different paths, and Cynosaura left for Unova, determined to give her best also in that new adventure.

[myriadsofcorpses]

Daryll, the young paladin, who took off when he was promised the happiness he’s been longing for, for all his life.

Nyr and Sieg, also known as Nyria Friedrich and Siegmund Friedrich, Daryll’s squad members from the academy, who went out to search for him, instead of reporting him as deserter or missing, while miraculously managing to stay hidden despite Sieg’s obvious, outstanding beastkin-ness as a Lamia.

Susan, who claims to have come from some mountains to the north, formerly thought to be uninhabited, except for some very brave dwarfs. Convinced Nyr and Sieg to look for Daryll somehow, otherwise they’d’ve turned their backs on him.

Glennoth, also called Glenn, who picked up on the group on his search for strong warriors. Had a fierce bout with Nyr at first and seems to keep a secret with him ever since. He has an immense interest for blacksmithing and ores, his hobby is to patch up armor he “finds” around places. His true intent is to look for his mother, who has gone missing ever since his hometown was raided. He claims to be an ogre, a race of hulking giants known for their strenght, but is actually barely the size of a small, regular human.

Krysta, a magician who seems to have adopted Susan, along with an undead feline beastkin called Mirus, of whom she ensures is harmless. They first met when defending a town under siege, of which the men were strangely unresponsive at first, worrying their wifes, well, the girls in general to a great extend.

Mirus, said cat. Doesn’t seem to have the same origin as the common, strolling around undead, which have been on the rise recently. He keeps very tight clothes which, at times, seem to be the only thing holding his rugged body together. Krysta stitches him sometimes, as healing magic doesn’t have much of an effect. Prefers to eat grass, fruits and berries, worrying about frenzying like other undead.

Niamh, local idiot. Didn’t even find a cover-name, but angelic names are common enough among the populace. Went looking for Shou after hearing she was sort of amnesiac and doesn’t have many other reasons to be here. Her twin brother Caireall is attending to the matter the two of them were originally assigned to.

Phobos, apparently high-ranking commander among the more intelligent undead forces. Appearing less like a zombie, but more like a mutant. His right arm is a bulging mass of cells, which produces bones to fight and is sometimes fused with other zombies or mutants to heal them. Little is known about him, but he somewhat resembles an old instructor of the academy who went missing.

Deimos, Phobos’ most trusted partner. A hulking armor, larger than some ogres and barely capable of speech. However, the two seem to converse regularly.

Kage, formerly known as Zacharias, an old recluse scientist who fused himself with a species of mountain-lion to obtain superhuman strenght. He says the means of such scratch at his humanity however. Claims to have discovered the secrets of all earthly biology, but no one understood enough to retell it however. He also claims that all life is connected at the same root.

Saichi, also an undead, or mutant, rather. Barely recognisable as an elf. His heart and one eye have been overtaken by a flower, as well as his lims which appear to be branches or vines.

Sarriah, an elf who fell into despair when her husband disappeared. She kept disrupting society at home and when a certain memory-altering spell stopped working on her, she was cast out to accompany the party on their endeavours instead. Has been staying close to Kage and Saichi, however, she cannot seem to remember why.

Taesye Seomun, younger brother of the King of the Forest, who was sent along to learn about manners.

Helen Ragnfrid, Daryll’s little sister who seems to have died when their homely manor caught fire. Unable to pass on, she’s absorbed the spirits of her older sisters and occasionally... “assists”. With “things”.

Aldea Shirasagi. Both names given to her by herself. A wandering beastkin who recognised the angelic power residing within Susan, Niamh and Taesye due to her own, slowly amassing, divinity. Since then tags along, proves useful but isn’t very well-liked. Former “slave” who’s well-known and -versed around certain merchant communes.

Caireall Seonaidh, doesn’t care about cover names but occasionally calls himself just “Cai”. Foul-mouthed cynic who also isn’t very well-liked and cares about Niamh above all else. Was busy investigating the merchant nation for information.

[ishra-levanha]

Character Info: Ishra Levanha

– A P P E A R A N C E –

Gender: Female Race: Keeper of the Moon Miqo’te Height: 4’10” Eye Color: Pale blue Hair & Fur Color: White

– F A C T S –

Name Day: 15th Sun of the 1st Umbral Moon Occupation: Unemployed student and scholar Sexual identification: Heterosexual, Demisexual Romantic identification: Polyamorous Alignment: Neutral Good Criminal History: Smuggling, petty theft, not-so-petty theft, lying to an officer… No charges though! Relationship Status: Single

– F A V E S –

Favorite food: Fresh fruit, homemade bread, meat miq’abobs Favorite drink: Tea Favorite scent: Mint and lavender

– R A N D O M S –

Ten facts about your muse

Like many Moon Keepers, Ishra does not have any tangible relationship with her father. She is vaguely aware that only her oldest sister Shurii and her late brother Vherin’a are her full siblings. While this is of little consequence regarding her relationship to her mother’s other children, Ishra occasionally wonders if she has any half-brothers or half-sisters from her father’s side. If so, it is likely that most of them would reside in Gyr Abania.

Ishra was born in her mother’s gaol cell in the Black Shroud. Due to Vherin’s imprisonment, Ishra was raised by her sister Shurii. To this day, Ishra does not know the details as to why her mother was arrested. She erroneously assumes it has something to do with her mother’s past banditry.  

Due to the wide gap in age between Ishra and her oldest siblings, she has several nieces and nephews that are of similar age or older than her. Throughout their childhood, Ishra and her niece Vheki were often mistaken for one another. This has played into her desire to stand out from her relatives as much as possible.

When Ishra was a young child, her brother Vherin’to hired one of his adventuring companions to teach the girl how to read, write, and perform basic mathematics. She took quickly and eagerly to her lessons, devouring every scrap of information that she could. Curiosity has yet to kill the cat, and her initial interest in academics eventually evolved into true scholarly pursuits.

Ishra has no scars and heals from most injuries relatively quickly. This has the unfortunate side effect of keeping her from really taking the consequences of her reckless behavior to heart.

Despite her small size, Ishra has a comically voracious appetite. This becomes even more apparent when she expends large quantities of aether in a short period of time. It is thus inadvisable to leave leftovers in her presence if you have any intention of saving them for later.

The Levanha clan often trades with the Sylphs of the Black Shroud, and Ishra is somewhat familiar with their language. If pressed, she might even admit to preferring the company of the plant-like beastfolk over many of the Gridanians she has met.

When Ishra’s innate aetherical abilities began to manifest in her youth, Vherin’to arranged for her to study arcanima. It was thought that the intense study and discipline of the art would provide distraction to keep the girl out of trouble, with the added benefit that it would be a more controlled form of magic for the young Keeper to pursue.

Ishra has been described by several of her tutors as a “veritable wellspring of aether,” and is very gifted in regards to her aptitude for magic. In spite of her innate talent, Ishra lacks practical combat training and thus has a tendency to unintentionally overcharge her spells in the heat of the moment. This, combined with a passive draining of her aether during spellcasting, results in devastating offensive power at the cost of rapid exhaustion. For similar reasons, channeling healing spells often has painful results for the recipient. Ishra is working to overcome these obstacles, and has met with some success in the past few years.

Ishra has a deep fondness for flowers. Many of the journals of her travels that were intended for written accounts instead became filled with sketches of new blooms and carefully pressed blossoms. Others have come to associate her with plant life, resulting in nicknames such as “Shroud Flower,” “Datura,” and the rather more caustic “Little Morbol Fang.”

– F I V E - T H I N G S –

Things they like:

Baths! Baths were a luxury that Ishra did not get to enjoy nearly as often as she liked during her nomadic lifestyle. In her childhood, some of the earliest manifestations of her latent magical ability were weak fire spells to heat up small bodies of water for bathing in cold weather.

Dancing. Sometimes it was for purposes of worship, sometimes celebration, but most often for fun. Ishra danced often when she lived with her sisters. Since moving into the city-states she does so only privately, though it remains her preferred form of exercise. Curiously enough, she has never danced with a man.

The Maelstrom. When Ishra was sold to Serpent Reavers, she survived the journey with minimal harm due in part to a Maelstrom operative by the name of R’jhati. He played an integral role in keeping her secure on the ship and arranging her escape in La Noscea. To this day she looks upon members of the Maelstrom favorably unless given a reason otherwise.

Engineers. For whatever reason, Ishra is drawn to the tinkering types. Be it in a tavern, at a show, or when meeting with friends, she will almost always gravitate towards whoever seems to be most focused on the idea of their next project.

Travel. Ishra is frequently described by her sisters as having a “boyish wanderlust.” Even the expansive stretch of land her family journeyed across in their nomadic lifestyle was not enough for the wide-eyed Keeper. She wants to see the world and experience everything that she possibly can in her life.

Things they dislike:

Wood Wailers. Although some of the men and women who serve to protect Gridania are kind and noble souls, more than a few bad apples have ruined the bunch in Ishra’s eyes. She is wary of them due to racism she and her family members have experienced. On some level, Ishra also feels as though it is their fault that she had to be raised without a mother.

Blood. Ishra has a very sharp sense of smell, and the scent of excess blood makes her ill to her stomach. The scent likewise brings back memories of her two near-death experiences, along with other events that she has witnessed. Although she can push through her distaste in the moment when treating the injury of another, she may be shaken after the initial rush of adrenaline has faded.

Pirates. Ishra, along with a shipment of crystals, was sold to Serpent Reavers off the shores of Thanalan after her caravan was waylaid enroute to Vesper Bay. Even after escaping, a lack of funds and marketable skills led to few employment options beyond smuggling working as courier for the “sailors” of Limsa Lominsa. Ironically enough, however, Ishra would later fall in love with a man who had a less than savory history on the sea. The relationship ended disastrously.

Loneliness. Growing up in a tight-knit community setting did not prepare Ishra to handle solitude very well. In the prolonged absence of other people, she grows incredibly anxious and depressed unless she is able to find suitable distraction. She would sooner keep terrible company than be left alone.

Clutter and Filth. Ishra is something of a neat freak, especially now that she is living inside of permanent buildings instead of makeshift shelters and caverns. She will go on cleaning frenzies if something so much as smells off to her.

Good habits:

Hardworking

Patient

Curious

Compassionate

Organized

Bad Habits:

Nosy!

Insecure

Unintentionally rude, often interrupts in conversation

Reckless

Headstrong

Personalities they gravitate toward:

Adventurous

Analytical Thinkers

Passionate or Driven

Mentors

Logicians

Personality types they avoid:

Cruel

Xenophobic

Haughty or Judgmental

Manipulative

Condescending

Fears:

The Serpent Reavers

Enclosed spaces

Abandonment

Death

Drowning