#the zirconia family

[ofdarkestdesires]

Open RP Starter: A Grimm in the Steam

"Mmm, now that hits the spot~" Shrike purred, leaning on the edge of the large and steaming hot bath. She rested her head on her folded arms, her body gently floating in the water behind her with her legs playfully crossed and bobbing up and down. The scent of sweet sakura blossoms on the wind met her nose, and she took in a deep breath with a relieved sigh.

This was living. This was what she'd needed for months now, a chance to just unwind in the hot, steaming waters of a nice, secluded hot spring--far away from everything. From her family, from her friends, no matter how dearly she loved them--just a chance to unwind and let herself be at total, absolute, blissful peace.

Such total peace, she didn't even notice the bathhouse's door slide open behind her.

[asexxxualerotica]

( • )( • ): For the male Zirconias

Those ladies are Theresa, Kiana, Sirin and Kallen

Baelz: “I’m sure me and my sons can show these four a good time~ the only question is who gets to keep which when all is said and done~”

[freeusemuses]

Pyrrha: It's not my fault that your father's and my genes fit together like chocolate and peanut butter.

Zephyr: Wait, is that why you call us your "little peanut butter cups!?"

[landofanimes]

@sera-myu-week 2022 | Day 4: Dream Arc

The fourth Sailor Moon story arc has been adapted to stage a few times. Somewhat as rare as the second arc, but Bandai used Dream elements in other productions more often: specifically, the Amazon Trio and Amazoness Quartet. Though in fact, to this day there’s never been a stage adaption of the Dream arc featuring the Quartet, for both Bandai and Nelke opted for the trio. The four girls were only seen twice, and in a different story!

First musical adaption dated from 1995 Latest musical adaption dated from 2016

[blond-yallternative]

TSC boys will be TSC boys (ft. Cody, my beloved nb)

Low-stakes fanfic in which 3 backliners (Cody, Lucas, and Jean [included against his will]) bet 3 strikers (Jeremy, Nabil, and Derrick) that if the backliners can keep the strikers from making any successful shots on goal during a team exercise, then Jeremy will get his ears pierced.

Of course Jean balls out and so do the other 2 so the strikers lose.

Jeremy is deathly afraid of needles (in my head), and Nabil can't join them because he's going home to eat dinner with his family, but Pat joins in last-minute.

Pls be kind this is my first ever fanfic (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

By the time practice was over and they had all showered, changed, and dispersed to their cars, it was past six in the evening. The drive to their destination took less than fifteen minutes, and soon they were pulling into the parking lot of a low, dingy strip mall that looked like it had needed a fresh coat of paint about two years ago. The studio that Nabil had Googled for them was nestled in the far right corner under a large sign emblazoned Black Eye Tattoo. Between the second and third words, a large eye gazed out over the parking lot with a swirling design where its iris and pupil should’ve been. After they parked, Jeremy drummed his fingers on the steering wheel out of time with the pop song on the radio as he stared up at the sign. A few moments later, they spotted the rest of the boys and Cody heading towards them, and Jeremy twisted the key to kill the engine with a long-suffering sigh. He shooed Derrick off his car when he tried to strike a provocative pose on the hood, and Pat held the door of the place open for all of them as a doorbell chimed over their heads.

Jean was more than a little intimidated by the woman standing behind the counter inside. Her jet black hair hung in choppy bangs over her forehead but the rest was tucked behind her ears, making it easy to see the neon rings that stretched her earlobes to twice the normal size. Her haughty gaze didn’t change as the six of them filed through the door and crowded the small lobby space. Pat and Derrick flopped down on the low, bloodred velvet couch set against the far wall, so Jean and Jeremy leaned against the front windows. Cody and Lucas eagerly approached the front counter. The air felt near-frigid after the California heat outside, and Jean savored the sunshine warming his back.

“Aren’t you gonna go check out the options?” Derrick asked Jeremy, who cringed. “I’d rather not look at any of this until absolutely necessary,” he said, and Derrick smirked. At the counter, Lucas and Cody were explaining the situation to the indifferent-seeming woman. Jean squinted to read the cursive scrawl on her metal name tag. Cherie, with a little hand-drawn border of black flowers and vines. 

“All the stones here are available for lobe piercings, organized by size,” she said, dragging her finger in a line over one section of the glass counter that separated her from the lobby. Jean listened a little closer than he normally would, but her voice carried no hint of a French accent. “All our metals are surgical-grade steel, and they come in silver, gold, rose gold, or black finishes. No difference in price.”

“What’s the cheapest option?” Lucas asked. Cherie gave him an unimpressed look that said she was sick of servicing poor college students, but she tapped a black fingernail against the glass. “This one, three millimeter cubic zirconia. $65.”

“That’s quite the chunk of change for two little holes,” Pat muttered from the couch. Jean figured he hadn’t meant to be overheard, but Cherie said, “One.” 

The group looked at her. She clarified. “The $65 is for one piercing. And that doesn’t include tip,” she added, giving them a pointed look. When half the group made a sound of disbelief, Jeremy shushed them with a “Hey, guys.”

Lucas rounded on Cody. “So you’re loaded or something?” he asked, gesturing to their heavily-studded face. 

Cody grinned. “My friend’s aunt owns a tattoo shop. She does mine for free.” 

Lucas slapped his palms on the counter and sighed in dramatic relief. “Well, call her up then!” 

“Dude, she lives in Arizona.” 

Lucas sank to rest his head on his flattened hands in defeat. In the end it was decided that Jeremy would only be getting one ear pierced, but even when Cody and Lucas pooled the cash in their wallets they could only come up with $59.37. With a sigh, Pat chipped in a $20 bill to cover the rest plus tip, and Cherie swiped up the money to store it in the cash register. She surveyed all six of them now standing closer to her counter, and sighed. “You all want to come back, don’t you?” They nodded, and Jeremy said meekly, “Yes ma’am, if that’s okay.” She sighed again but tossed an impatient “Come on, then,” over her shoulder as she strode towards the back. She led them to what appeared to be the largest of the individual rooms of the main part of the studio, and bade Jeremy to sit on the black-cushioned chair in the center. There was one smaller plastic chair to the left of it, and Pat pushed Jean towards it before he could make a beeline for the back of the room. Jean sat as Cherie told the rest of them, “I’m going to need some space. Go stand in the corner over there.” The four of them obediently shuffled over and leaned against the graffiti-covered wall.

Cherie asked the room, “What’s the finish?” 

“Uhhhhh,” Lucas droned, and Jeremy looked to Jean, of all people. Cherie repeated the options to him. “Silver, gold, rose gold, or black.” Jean thought for a moment, studying Jeremy’s face. 

Well, it was not going to be black. But which of the other three? He narrowed his eyes, considering. Spray-painted daffodils, the Trojan statue from their first walk through campus, and a yellow cardboard dog flashed through his mind. “Gold,” he said decidedly, and Cherie nodded in agreement. Jeremy smiled at Jean, but the expression was a bit tight. 

“And which ear am I doing?” 

“Which one’s the gay ear?” Derrick asked, and Lucas snickered. Jeremy twisted in his chair to give them a look, but Patrick doubled down on it. “If the shoe fits, my friend,” he said with a shrug. “Cody, make them stop,” Jeremy complained, but Cody was too busy laughing along with Lucas. Jeremy sighed and faced forward again. “I’ll just do the right ear. I normally sleep on my left side.” After a beat he added, “Please don’t tell them whether or not that’s the gay ear,” and Lucas and Cody’s laughter rang out again.

He held still when Cherie commanded, and then inspected the purple dot she marked on his right ear with the handheld mirror she passed him. He turned and tucked a stray curl back so Jean could see it, too. It looked perfectly centered, so Jean nodded. 

Satisfied with her preparations, Cherie swiveled on her wheeled stool to rub hand sanitizer over her hands and pull on black latex gloves. At the snap they made against her wrists, Jeremy winced. “I like your nametag,” he said randomly, and Jean heard one of the boys snicker. Jeremy continued hurriedly, “You know, Jean here is French. You two might get along.” 

“Ooooh, parlez vous français?” Cody said in a ridiculous high-pitched voice. Lucas laughed maniacally as Derrick replied, “Oui oui, monsieur dumbass.” Jean looked around to see which of the instruments in the room he could use to put himself out of his misery as quickly as possible, but Cherie laughed, too. 

“I don’t speak French, actually. This is just what my grandpa used to call me. I don’t even pronounce it correctly, I know, but I still like it.” The entire room turned to look at Jean in anticipation. 

He gave Cody and Derrick a flat look. “I’m not going to say it.” Various sounds of protest arose from their corner, but Cherie started fixing the gold stud onto a long, sharp instrument and Jean saw Jeremy’s face go positively ashen. When she looked up, Cherie saw it too. 

“Are you afraid?” she asked bluntly, and Jeremy didn’t hesitate before nodding. The boys giggled from the corner. She kept her eyes on Jeremy, her expression unchanged. “That’s not a problem. It’s better if you look away, not close your eyes.” She dug her heels into the floor to wheel herself closer to Jeremy’s right side. “Would you prefer if I counted down, or just did it?” 

Jeremy swallowed. “A countdown, please.” 

Jean could practically feel the anxiety radiating off him with every breath. With a sigh, he shifted his chair to be parallel with Jeremy’s, and didn’t face him as he rested an elbow on Jeremy’s armrest. He cleared his throat. He could feel Cherie and Jeremy’s eyes on him but refused to look their way, and after another second he felt Jeremy’s hand curl under his arm to grip his bicep. His palm was warm and even sweatier than Jean expected, but Jean didn’t pull away. He ignored the whispered conversation happening in the back of the room. 

“Ready?” Jeremy nodded with a tense set to his jaw. Jean grimaced at the crushing grip his captain had on his arm but didn’t let himself move an inch. 

“Okay. Three, two, one,” Cherie said calmly, and Jean blinked in surprise. She had pushed the needle easily through Jeremy’s ear right after two. Jeremy blinked too, then loosed an exaggerated sigh of relief and said, “Dang, that actually wasn’t so bad! Do you do that trick with everyone?” His grip slackened, but he didn’t take his hand off Jean's arm.

“Only the wimps,” Cherie said matter-of-factly, and Jeremy laughed, a little giddy. The boys and Cody peeled off the wall to come admire the stud, and Jeremy only removed his hand from Jean when Cherie passed him the mirror again. Jean tried to be subtle about rubbing the now-sweaty inside of his arm against his shirt, but Jeremy was turning his head this way and that to see the piercing from different angles, completely oblivious. Cody gushed compliments, and Derrick said, “Yeah, gold was definitely the right choice.” Patrick clapped a hand on Jeremy's shoulder in approval.

Jeremy swung his legs over to hang them off the chair and face Jean with a beaming smile.

"What do you think?"

Jean considered the sparkle of the little earring in Jeremy’s lobe, bright against his flushed skin, and met Jeremy’s eyes. “It suits you,” he said simply. And it was true.

Somehow, Jeremy’s smile grew, and the stud twinkled like a miniature star as he kicked his feet.

As they all spilled back into the lobby a staggered chorus of “Thank you, Cherie!” arose from all five of the others. Pat already had his hand on the horizontal bar of the front door when Jean realized they had all turned to look expectantly at him again. He sighed and faced the counter. 

“Merci, ma chérie.” 

The sweet smile that curved Cherie’s lips seemed to soften her entire hardcore appearance, and she waved them all out amidst the chiming of the doorbell and the others’ whoops of triumph.

[emeraldtart]

TWST X Sailor Moon (ft. Amazon Trio!Yuu)

A Yuu who was part of the Amazon Trio (wait, wouldn't it be Amazon Quartet right now? There's four people), a group of villains who were animals transformed into humans.

They weren't part of the original three, but is an addition to lure out the pegasus. And as such Zirconia transformed a young black foal into a human to do so.

They're the youngest of their group, about high-school age. They are not allowed to drink alcohol, Hawk don't let them. Doesn't stop them from joining their older friends at the bar, drinking juice or milk.

After the Amazon animals were given Dream Mirrors and permanent human forms, they lived together in a small house.

Until Yuu saw a mysterious carriage pulled by horses.

Yuu came from the Equidae star, whose residents are primarily horses or animals belonging to that family.

They were separated from their mother at a young age, no thanks to Zirconia. As such when they turned into a human they immediately latch on to the Amazon Trio as they were the first ones to treat them with kindness.

They can still turn into a horse, and sometimes do it for fun.

Instead of Epel riding a regular horse during the Ghost Wedding Event, it was Yuu.

They can kick like a horse, and it will shatter concrete. Ace and Grim witnessed it firsthand.

Since each member of the trio has their own respective element, Yuu's would be earth.

During their time at the Dark Moon Circus they are the resident knife thrower.

Jamil has no idea where the extra knives went.

Since they're raised by three young men who were literally animals, they don't know how to act human sometimes.

Ever since they were enrolled to NRC against their will they began to wonder why the other three want to be human so bad. Homework sucks.

The can perfectly understand animal language, sometimes Yuu even gossips with Lucius, Heartslabyul's hedgehogs and flamingos, even the horses at the stable.

Yuu can understand Jack even if he's in wolf form. Jack appreciates it.

Is quite literally a herbivore, but please bear I mind real life horses can eat birds if given the opportunity.

Meanwhile the other three are freaking out about Yuu's sudden dissapearance. Fish Eye began to think Yuu ran away from home, which doesn't help the other two's nerves.

Yuu didn't do it because they didn't want to scare Hawk Eye.

[arc-misadventures]

What are Those?! AU: After finding out that Jaune hoards gems how many of the girls decide to try and use gemstones to try and get into his bed

Diamonds Are A Dragons Prize

Pyrrha: Hey, guys how’s it…

Weiss: I don’t care who the hell your gem grader was father! I had the, Lapidary Master himself graded all of my diamonds, and he identified that almost all of them are fake! They’re not diamonds, they’re Cubic Zirconia! Fake Diamonds! So you will bring all of our precious gems, Mom’s, Winters, yours, and even mine to, Beacon, right here, right now! Before your precious net value plummets even further then it already has!

(Beep.)

Weiss: Prick…

Pyrrha: Uhhh… D-Did I miss something…?

Blake: Oh, we learned, Jaune hoards precious gems; diamonds, rubies, and the like. So people have been giving him precious stones as a… dowery of sorts. But, Jaune apparently is super rich because he owns several mining companies that mine specifically, precious stones. So, Jaune has been inspecting, giving people prices, and proof of their stones value instead.

Pyrrha: And, he did that for, Weiss’s diamonds as well?

Blake: Yeah, for her ‘diamonds.’

Weiss: My fakes! Tens of thousands of Lien were spent collecting diamonds, and other precious gems for my family. I brought approximately 67,000 Lien worth of diamonds with me to, Beacon!

Ruby: 67,000?! You had that much money kept in a simple latch lock box in our bathroom?!

Weiss: Well the fuck does that matter now?! 67,000?! I’ve got less than three grand of real diamonds in that chest! My father bought fakes! Millions of Lien worth of fakes!

Pyrrha: Oh, so that’s why she’s so upset.

Nora: Yeah, it’d be like if I had a mountain of pancakes, and they were all foam…

Blake: That… Sounds like a, Nora analogy.

Pyrrha: She’s been having nightmares about it for the past week…

Ruby: It’d be like having a dream about eating chocolate chip cookies, and it turns they’re all oatmeal raisin…

BP: …

Pyrrha: So where’s, Yang?

Ruby: Hmm? Oh she was taking a engagement ring, Dad gave her mother foe, Jaune to grade it. She wanted to know if it had any worth to it.

Nora: Is she going to sell it?

Ruby: I think she said something about seeing if mom abandoned something else of value besides her, and dad.

Pyrrha: Ohh…

Blake: Uhh…

Weiss: …

Nora: Nice~!

Ruby: Yeah… Yang’s mom is… is something else…

Yang: And, a fucking idiot~!

Ruby: Yang, you’re back!

Pyrrha: Hello, Yang, good news I take it?

Yang: Hell yeah~! Jaune just apprised this wedding ring I have, and he gave me one hell of a price on it~!

Pyrrha: Oh, how much?

Yang: Well, Jaune described it as a: Light yellow diamond, Class Z. 3 carats in weight. Custom Cut. Valued at approximately, 30,000 Lien~!

Pyrrha: Oh my gods…

Ruby: W-W-What…?!

Nora: How many pancakes could I eat with that…?

Weiss: 3-3-30,000…?! M-My diamonds were nearly 70,000. Then, Jaune graded them, a-and it turn out most of them were fake! A-And, I only have 3000 Lien… and, you just go there with some rinky dink ring… and it’s worth ten times that?!

Yang: Yeah, pretty much.

Weiss: …

Weiss: Ah-ha…? Ha. Hahahaha! Ahh-hahahahahaha!

RBYNP: …

Weiss: AHH-haaaaaaa…

Ruby: Got you, Weiss!

Nora: Whoops, she fainted again…

Pyrrha: Again?

Blake: Yeah, she fainted yesterday when she found out, how, and why, Jaune was super rich.

Pyrrha: I best ask him about that…

Blake: Don’t touch his rocks, he’ll gut you if you try.

Pyrrha: W-What…?

Nora: So, Yang; You gonna make a pretty penny, or are you going to keep that?

Yang: Yep~! I’m gonna keep it though. There’s too much sentimental value to get rid of it.

Ruby: Are sure about that…?

Yang: I’m sure; besides if, Jaune picks me as one of his wives, I’m gonna ask him to give it to me as my engagement ring.

Ruby: Oh, that’s ni… Wait! Y-You want become, Jaune’s wife?!

Yang: Well, one of them, I don’t really mind sharing.

Ruby: But, why? Why do you want to marry, Jaune?

Yang: I’ll admit it, I’ve always had a thing for, Jaune. He’s cute, caring, supportive, handsome, and just a really sweet person… I wasn’t going to act on my feels, I was going to let them fade away because, Pyrrha had claim on him, and I’m not the kind of girl to steal another girls man. But, since he’s more, or less open game because of the harem thing… Well, I’ve decided to throw my hat in the ring. Unless… You don’t want me to, Pyrrha…?

Pyrrha: Shoot… I owe, Nora fifty Lien…

Nora: Whoo! Pancake money!

Yang: Wait, did you make a bet on me?

Pyrrha: On whether, or not you liked, Jaune. I bet against, and lost. I just though he wasn’t your type.

Yang: Well, he is! So… Do you mind…?

Pyrrha: Not at all, I wouldn’t mind you joining us at all.

Yang: R-Really?!

Pyrrha: However, it’s his choice to make not mine. So, good luck winning him over.

Yang: Sounds fun~! So, speaking of you, and Jaune~!

Pyrrha: What about it?

Blake: What was it like?

Pyrrha: Oh, that? Well, do you really want me to tell you what happened, or do you want to find that our yourself~?

Yang: Mmmmm… Nooo… I rather be surprised really…

Blake: But, since he put you out of commission for a while; I’d like to know what to expect.

Ruby: Well I don’t! Bye!

(Slam!)

Yang: Good. She’s not ready for such things…

Pyrrha: Well, you know about his tongue, and how long it’s is~!

BY: Yes…

Pyrrha: Well, lets just say he can get it really deep inside of you: Really deep~!

Blake: How deep…?

Pyrrha: Oh, you’ll feel how deep he can get it~!

Blake: And, what is it like, is it more human, or is more faunas…?

Yang: Faunas?

Blake: Depending on the faunas, they sometimes have more… animal bits.

Yang: S-Seriously?! I thought that was some sort of racist talking point?!

Blake: Yeah… There’s a bit of truth to every stereotype. We don’t like to talk about it, because its… It’s just uncomfortable to talk about for all of us.

Yang: I-Is, Jaune like that…?!

Nora: Nope! It’s a perfectly normal human penis!

BYP: …

Yang: H-How do you know that…?

Pyrrha: Nora, likes to peek on us in the shower…

Yang: Oh, okay… So, uhh… what is it like?

Pyrrha: I’ll just say this… He’ll ruin you for all other men, forever, and you’ll love it~!

BY: NICE!!!

~~~

Ruby: Hey, Jaune!

Jaune: Hi, Ruby.

Ruby: How goes the gem collecting?

Jaune: I’ve found some interesting gems, like this one.

Ruby: Whoa… That’s beautiful… What is this…?

Jaune: That is a, Moss Agate Opal. One of my sister’s likes to wear these, so I got it for her.

Ruby: Aww, how sweet of you.

Jaune: I may like my stones, but I love my family even more…

Ruby: You don’t sound so certain on that.

Jaune: Depends on the stones…

Ruby: Okay…

: Excuse me, would you take a look at this?

Jaune: Oh, of course! Allow me to… Well hello there~!

Ruby: What is it?

Jaune: Oh, aren’t you a beautiful little thing~!

Ruby: Is that a sapphire?

Jaune: Hmm?! No! No not even close.

Ruby: Then what is it?

Jaune: While it may appear like one, but this isn’t anywhere close to a sapphire.

Ruby: Then what is it?

Jaune: Tanzanite, one of the rarest gems you can find. It doesn’t have the same value as a diamond, but they can only be found in one place, hence the rarity. And, considering where that is, they tend to hoard them.

Ruby: Where’s that?

Jaune: Menagerie. Isn’t that right, Miss…?

: Sienna, Sienna Khan, High Leader of the White Fang.

Jaune: Hmmm. Well, this is certainly one fine introduction letter. So, what can I do for you, Miss Khan?

Sienna: Oh so many things, my King. Oh so many things~!

[sylver-drawer]

The Abandoned Princess [WMMAP x TAE]

Original Fic written by Helxium | Rewrite/Continuation (with permission) by SylverDrawer

“In desperation, Jennette revealed herself at the ball only to be cast aside, spiraling a fight between him and Viscount Patterson. After her world shatters, Anastasius sends Jennette away with his dying breath. When she wakes up, however, she finds she is no longer in the empire of Obelia—but the empire of Castina. Thrust into a world of strangers far from what she once called her home, perhaps she may come to know what it truly means to be a family.”

(1/?) Chapter One | And so, the world crumbles apart.

The first thing Jennette felt was warmth. Not the warmth she longed for—that fuzzy feeling that bloomed in her chest like the first flower of spring, or the delicate touch of a hug—but warmth. A scalding heat, like boiling water left on an ignited stove, splattered onto her cheeks and all she could make sense of was the sight of red. Fingers fitted too tightly between flesh, right between the ribs, and the brunette can only see the god forsaken crimson of those fingers coated in blood. Had she not collapsed already, her knees would have given in. It soaks quickly, seeping into the finely sewn fabric of the embroidered velvet lined with gold thread—but it’s not nearly as gilded as the two royals’ hair, blessed like the sun. No, it is a dull oxidized and tarnished gold, more so resembling the hair of the man in front of her. Yes, the man who she thought she knew well, yet never at all. A man who’s eyes, dimming by the second, mirror a similar diamond shine to the two royals behind him.

Perhaps the man’s golden strands of hair and jeweled eyes were not as pretty as the Emperor and Princess’, murky and clouded, like a gemstone that failed to be polished properly. But why—why is it only now that she sees how clear they are when they reflect her?

Jennette’s lips tremble as they freeze like the first snow, face paling while unconsciously shaking her head softly. And so her words come out, cracked, and fragile.

“Wh… why?”

The Emperor’s curled fist forced between the man’s ribs, pulsing with a flickering aquamarine blue veil that scorched away the flesh and bone around it, twisted out roughly. With such intensity, it’s no wonder the man’s body falls, dark red spilling from his lips down to his chin. He falls against her, strands of his golden flax hair tickling her neck as the nauseating scent of metal stings her nose. Jennette can’t help but raise her trembling fingers against his chest as he weakly heaves into her shoulder, her blue zirconia eyes slowly rising to meet the Emperor’s.

The blood of Viscount Patterson drips onto the disgustingly pristine ballroom floor from his gloved fingertips. They’re mocking her—Jennette. Silk white gloves, dirty, yet the hands inside remain clean even when blood is spilled so cruelly. And those jeweled eyes—a diamond dust storm, with a frostbitten sharpness, as if submerged in venom—stare back apathetically.

“You dared to call me your father with that uncouth mouth of yours? Well. Here’s your real father—a traitorous reprobate, doomed to damnation…!”

Jennette’s eyes began to sting, her vision glossing over as her fingers trembled, clinging on to the Viscount—no. Clinging on to her father. Her father, who the Emperor had just stabbed a hole into. Her father, who was now bleeding out against her shoulder. Her father, who’s breath was getting weaker by the second, his body, cold.

As she felt her dress grow heavy, soaking in her father’s spilled blood, Jennette couldn’t understand. She just couldn’t understand it. All her life, it was all she ever wanted—this simplest, little thing. Ever since her first breath, she longed for a family. A father who’d smile at her warmly, a bright little sister who she could spoil rotten and adore—even if it took an eternity, it was an eternity she’d wait for. But this—the girl she thought of as such, avoiding her gaze with a knowing guilt, and the man she thought of as her father, hands dirtied with her actual father’s blood—just what did she do to deserve this, this cruelty? From the moment she was born, she wasn’t even allowed her mother’s warmth—and now her father will perish, coddling her with all the warmth he has left.

The eyes of the princess she thought she knew are avoidant. It was just the other day when those jeweled eyes twinkled in excitement at the chocolates and milk tea she had made for her. Ah. Jennette sees the truth now—she was being deceived from the very beginning. There was never a chance of them becoming family from the start. As a bitter darkness creeps into her throbbing heart, Jennette wonders if their friendship was also a lie. Did the princess have fun telling Jennette those “I love you”s and “I miss you”s halfheartedly? Did the princess enjoy taking advantage of her naivety, placating her love-starved self with festival whims? Did Athanasia enjoy watching her cheeks warm at the slightest affirmation, stringing her along while fully intending for that affection to remain unrequited?

As something inside of her cracks, the stinging heat of Jennette’s tears fall. It was true after all—that Athanasia was Claude’s daughter, for only a child could be as cruel as her father.

Jennette’s eyes wavered to the magician, arms extended protectively over the gilded princess, whose gown was decorated in the best satin ribbons and most expensive jewels. He told her once, the only time she spoke with him, that he despised nobles like her. Yet there he was, shielding the highest woman in the empire all while condemning her—a girl whose gown was soaked in her father’s freshly spilled blood. It was comical, and she wondered if he thought so too—that it was only natural she ended up this way. Jennette was ‘dirty’, after all from what he announced to the world only a moment ago, demented and monstrous. If this pain that pricked at her heart like his dear Athanasia’s beloved rose thorns was inhuman, what would he call himself—he, who rejects humanity with his venomous apathy. She once thought him a boldly honest individual, but she sees now he is a feeble hypocrite, just like the nobles he so despises.

And to the other side of the princess, was Ijekiel. Her Ijekiel—no, she supposed he was never hers from the beginning. Always a soft and gentlemanly disposition, satiating her childish whims, but Jennette knew all along. Those amber eyes never once reflected her. Ijekiel was no actor, yet those recited smiles and false pleasantries could’ve fooled anyone. Anyone, but her. Fifteen years together, but she can’t bring herself to call it the end. After all, how can you end a relationship that you never had? Jennette loved him, that cruel kindness, those false smiles, and the hand he held out that always felt cold. She wanted them to be something, for her to be something to him. He’s watched, all those fifteen years, in that cage-like mansion, all of her tears whilst cupping her loneliness—but in those fifteen years, he dare not relieve it, nor spare her even a fraction of the warmth he gave to her.

She’s spent her whole life, snuffing any of her desires and suffocating her loneliness all for the happy family he and the Duke promised—and it all crumbled. Jennette would not have longed so strongly for such a lie had she been loved by the Alpheus’ normally. Even if it were for just one moment, she would have been content with that. Everything she resolved to, everything she worked hard for—it never existed in the first place. Even now, at her lowest point, Ijekiel’s wavering and always passive eyes—eyes that always, always, always watched—are motionless for her sake, yet so ready to act when beside the Princess.

And there, the closest in proximity, yet the coldest of all—the Emperor. Claude. Jennette thinks back now, to their first meeting. It was just over a year ago, wasn’t it? Vividly, she remembers her feelings of that night, overwhelming in which she held close to her heart day after day. The Debutante Ball, so dazzling it was, full of lily-like laddies and finely groomed men. She could almost smell the marbled floral perfume, wafting in the air as nobles danced the night away. And in the midst of the garden of sparkling flowers, they danced most brilliantly—a pair of gilded royals, with eyes of jeweled starlight. Under the chandelier’s glow, they shone like the sun, blindingly so, with eyes full of love and warmth.

But from the very beginning, she was never spared that same warmth, isn’t it so? How the princess’ twinkling eyes dimmed and faltered as if frozen in place as she held that primrose ribbon the royal had dropped—how Obelia’s deity-like ruler’s gaze iced over, devoid of amusement or interest—she knew both of them were cold, but she thought she could melt that icy wall separating ‘them’ and ‘her’. Jennette thought she could find her way into their hearts, like they easily already nestled into hers. She dared to hope, dared to believe.

How foolish she was. He knew from the beginning didn’t he? They all did.

Jennette’s eyes sting, a cold panic enshrouding her hiccuping chest as if being thrown into a frozen lake. It’s painful. Frantically looking around to the nobles standing idly by, bystanders, witnesses to the girl’s inquisition, a sinking sensation fills her chest. Just moments ago, she was greeted with smiles by her peers. As everything crumbles apart, their eyes show a certain twisted apathy, as if they were looking upon an animal who had snuck in, wearing a human’s flesh. Were the wizard’s words true? That she seduced others with her ‘black magic’, like some devil? The reality in which all the kindness, all the smiles and all the warmth you’d offer even a stranger, was fabricated in the end? Such a fact was painfully clear to Jennette, now—that in this cold ballroom littered with people, there was no one who would care to keep her warm. It crept in, in bits and pieces, gradual, until the fear of being alone devoured her completely. The brightly adored Athanasia, the omnipotent Emperor, and her beloved Ijekiel—from the very beginning, she was being used and deceived without a care.

“Is that such a sin…?” Jennette manages weakly, her cold and dry lips trembling. She casts her gaze up, as if staring into the face of god, himself. Her revealed zircon eyes shook, glazing over like the polished facets of a jewel. “Was wanting a family such a sin, deserving of such cruelty? To crave the love between parent and child, sister and sister—unconditional love that everyone takes for granted… is that really something I can never have?”

The Emperor is so close, only a mere few feet away, yet his eyes are so distant—so detached, when he takes his bloodied hand and reaches for the sword at his hilt. The handle is impractically gilded, as if it were more closely a decoration than a weapon with purpose. Smoothly, it slides out from its golden sheath, and Jennette sees her reflection in it. It's thin and dull with a matte finish like poorly tempered chocolate, cheaply obscuring her image. The Emperor would never take an actual sword to an imperial gathering, but even with an unpolished blade, it would certainly kill her—though flimsily breaking after one use. Ah. Such a thing, it’s just like her, isn’t it?

“Fool.”

It’s just one word, and it feels like the end of the world. His Majesty says it with such resolute firmness, unfeeling, as if she wasn’t even worth pity or hate. She was nothing.

“There is no future where a wretched creature like you, born from a curse, could ever be happy. Your existence will breed misery to all in which you know. It is your fate to be unloved.”

Cheap metal drags against the marble, scratching the surface. The blood from his hand drips down onto the blade, and Jennette sees her distorted reflection covered in blood. This can’t be. Is this really it? Is this really her fate—to die loveless and alone, just as she’s lived? Thick iron floods her nose, putrid, and her father’s body against her is stiff. He’s truly gone now, and she is all that is left.

“Since you claim to want your family so much—“ The Emperor lifts the sword, staring down the blade and into the pitiful girl’s cracked zircon eyes with cold venom. “—shall I send you to hell with him?”

Jennette clings to the stiff and cold corpse of her father, and sobs, choking on her own tears while slowly shaking her head.

“No. No, I—“ she rasps. “I don’t, I don’t want to die…!”

Even after everything—after a life plagued with only despair and loneliness, longing for something that never existed, the girl still believes. Even as her only family, the only one who would willingly give his life to protect her, is dead—Jennette wants to believe. That someone in this cruel and twisted world, or even someone outside it, will love her.

The Emperor’s jeweled eyes narrow, a sheen upon them. For the first time, the corners of his lips upturned—wickedly amused, in cruel disbelief. A low scoff.

“You don’t want to die?” It’s then when Claude raises the dull sword, a shadow cast on his face as his eyes glow dangerously. “As if you had a choice.”

Jennette thinks she hears the princess’ voice yell out before the sound of cut air pierces her ears. A high pitched ringing resounds in her head, hazy and distorted, a darkness born of desperation swirling in her heart as a tear falls down her stained cheek. It happens oh so quickly—she feels her world begin to tremble, every emotion inside her in disarray, and all the walls she’s built up for fifteen years crumbles away. Her blood rushes backwards, her head filled with some sort of pressure as a feverish blaze overwhelms her chest and fills her lungs. Every finger begins to ignite, a tingly sensation vibrating within them as she clutches the terrifyingly cold body against her. A chill washes over her flushed skin, and she can barely make sense of the loud and intense beating of her heart, thumping erratically like a rampaging storm. All her senses are being overwhelmed, so much static and noise reverberating in her ears, and all she wants is for it all to just stop.

Dark gusts of wind spew from her, spiraling from her collapsed feet, forcing Claude to step back and shield himself. The darkness pours out like a broken dam in the form of numerous tendrils and limbs, reaching out mindlessly like a child’s hand that was never held.

The hurricane of black magic lashes out—slicing marble pillars, clawing at the walls, tearing and pulling at the curtains—and the crowd of bystanders break out into panic, nobles in their fancy gowns and tight suits pushing and tripping over each other selfishly. Cracks form in the walls, pieces of it crashing into the previously unblemished flooring. Concentrated mana breaks the glass, tightly fitting through and reaching out of the windows like a bird forced in a cage. Imperial guards on standby try to calm the nobles, guiding them outside the hall under the Knight of Crimson Blood’s orders.

Claude’s formal attire is nicked at, littered in frayed slashes and ruined, but no blood is drawn. He peers behind him—his rose, the beloved princess—protected behind a makeshift barrier with the Wizard and Son of Alpheus. He makes eye contact with the magician, livid red eyes boring holes into the royal. The wizard murmurs something; a command, sharply under his breath, and Claude understands—kill it.

He turns his gaze back to it—the Chimera—spawned from his bastard brother and that whore. Claude’s hand grappling at the cheap decorative sword twitches, his fingers growing itchy, and he takes a moment to think through it properly. Multiple layers of mana drenched in darkness cover its heart—the main body deep within, captured in some sort of trance—and the corpse. How useless, protecting something that’s already dead. He’ll have to get past the limbs lashing out, as well. Had he brought his imperial sword, he wouldn’t even have to think and could rip into it easily—but this crappy thing is flimsy and weak, it’ll break before he reaches the core.

To finish this quickly, he’ll have to use his fist as he did before—though the darkness is irritating and burning his skin gradually. He wanted to avoid doing so messily as it seemed his daughter was still fond of that thing somehow, but her safety takes priority.

Just as he takes a step forward, his diamond eyes slightly widen.

“… foolish.” The scattered bits and pieces of Jennette’s mind come together as the bloodied hand of the corpse cups her cheek softly, weakly, directing her to him. His skin is pale, a grimy gray that shouldn’t belong to a human being, with thin and bloodied lips. Flaxen hair with strands of gold stick to his cheek and forehead because of the dried blood, but she can see it—his aquamarine eyes that always reflected her, and the weakest of a smile. “How foolish, the both of us.”

In her chaotic state, she can see the bits of his mana and life force holding on, though the body has long given up—the mana and soul of her father—fighting death itself for her. Jennette’s lips tremble and she holds his weakened hand, so cold and stiff to the touch. He coughs up more blood, blood that splatters into her neck, and panic is added into the chaos.

“Don’t—!” Jennette sobs, more hot, stinging tears, staining her face. “Don’t—don’t move, I’ll, we’ll make it out together so…!”

Flickering hope and desperation—the slightest, slightest possibility they’ll live and be happy together—grounds her. Nevertheless, the light in his eyes grow dim—dying, withering like a decayed leaf in autumn—and her heart palpitates in her chest as he slowly shakes his head, an almost soft yet regretful smile etched into his lips.

“—No,” he rasps. “Not together.”

In the dark storm of black mana that surrounds them protectively, pulsing thick like oxidized blood, a different color of mana mixes in. A white light, pure and gentle, one you’d expect to clash with her mana, instead melds into it as if guiding her instead. It’s alien to her, different from the ‘kindness’ the Princess and the others have offered, yet so heartbreakingly comforting and warm that it makes her eyes well up with tears. All sense of feeling in her limbs begin to fade as a prism of colors, shimmering with whimsical whirls, envelop her.

Meeting Anastasius—her father’s—fractaled eyes, Jennette chokes out a barely audible “why?”.

“Why…?” He echoes, his eyelids faltering as he fights to remain awake just a little longer. A ghost of a smile remains on his face now, a bit mysterious with the slightest bit of amusement. “Why, indeed.”

It’s the last thing she sees, burning the image and carving it into her soul—her father’s smiling face, knowing and true—before her vision ripples with light and a symphony of quiet, incoherent murmurs whisper in her ear. The world disappears beneath her feet, and everything goes white.

—♢♦︎♢—

Silence encaptures the ballroom, now mostly empty if not for the royals and their companions left within. The dark storm, filling the place with black mana, had completely settled, the only thing left being the damage it had caused. In the center, neither the Chimera or the Corpse remained. A dark trail, like charcoal shavings, lead to where they once sat—but otherwise, their bodies were gone completely, as if they were never there in the first place.

Claude puts the sword away, back in its sheath at his hip. A useless thing—couldn’t even use it in the end, he supposes. The Emperor turns his body, casting his gaze to his daughter as the magician’s barrier slowly fades away.

“What,” the young lord, of snow white hair and amber irises, speaks first, a cautious and conflicted expression upon his face. “What just happened…?”

“Whatever the hell it was,” the irritated magician, ruby eyes and long obsidian hair, responds. “It’s over. They’re gone.”

“Gone…?” It’s all Athanasia mutters, feet stiff as if they were planted roots, digging deep into the pristine royal ballroom floor. Her diamond gaze doesn’t leave the place the girl once stood and, one by one, flashes repeat in her mind. Jennette’s sudden reveal of her lineage and gemstone eyes with Duke Alpheus quickly behind her with a shocked and dreaded face, Ijekiel slowly following behind with one of resolute confidence without the speck of regret—and then just as Claude rejected Jennette, casting her aside after she threw herself at him, he suddenly appeared. That man that had been lingering around the Alpheus mansion who resembled her dad so much, whose charcoal locks dispersed into a gold similar to theirs with eyes of jeweled luster, abruptly charged toward her. If Lucas and Ijekiel hadn’t leapt to her side to defend her, she didn’t know what would have happened.

And then Lucas began letting everything out, his irritated temper getting the best of him. About the spirit that resided alongside that man—who was apparently her uncle—and about Jennette, the truth of her identity and origins and what she was, that Athy had kept hidden as well. She watched, as with each word Lucas had spilled, how the girl’s face fell and began to swell up with tears, crying out in denial.

At some point, they locked eyes—Jennette and Athanasia, as if pleading for her to deny it. And all she did was look away in a drifted off stutter, guiltily.

Jennette collapsed to her knees, alone. The lovely princess, who should’ve been showered in love and spoiled to perfection, was alone. As her father strided toward the brunette, all Athy could think about was how she stood to the sides, protected by Ijekiel—who was supposed to be by Jennette’s—and Claude, wearing a cruelly cold and unfeeling expression as he firmly denounced her. There the lovely princess was, collapsed to her knees without a single luxury of love or riches, and a cruel thought went through Athy’s mind as she watched the mirror of herself—how glad she was, that she wasn’t in Jennette’s place.

And then the bloody scene unraveled, freezing Athanasia in her place as her warm father cruelly stabbed a hole into her uncle, who had leapt to Jennette’s protection. Athanasia glanced over to the pool of blood that still remained, and the dripping red coating Claude’s fist. The moment he appeared, she expected death—Athy couldn’t lie to herself about that. But it scared her a bit, the brutality of her father that she had never seen before—the most powerful man in the empire, who could’ve used his magic to do the job as he always had before, but instead used his bare hands—as if he wanted to feel the man’ life slip away himself.

But when Claude started walking towards Jennette with a blade in hand, a fear crept inside of Athanasia. The sight of Jennette sobbing on her knees, prostrated before him as Claude told her how unloved she would forever be—Athy couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread. It was familiar—familiar because this had happened to her. A painful realization grappled at Athy’s heart, that if she stood there and let Claude kill her, she would be no different from the people who let Athanasia get executed. The people who let her get executed, after living a lonely and loveless life.

So she couldn’t help but call out in protest—but it was too late. Before she knew it, there was chaos, blades of black magic clawing at the walls, destroying everything in sight, suffocating the room with mana to where Athy could hardly breathe—and then nothing. Nothing at all remained of the two.

Nothing was left. Jennette’s bashful smile haunted Athy’s mind, flushed cheeks and fingers fiddling with the cheap string bracelet she had bought her on a whim, and a rush of emotion overwhelmed the gilded princess.

“… find them.”

Lucas looked over to the princess’ mumbling. “Hah?”

Athanasia’s diamond eyes gleamed, and she jumped at the magician, grabbing at the collar of his robes.

“I said—find them! There has to be a magic trail—or something, right?! So find them! Find…” The brightest, warmest, joy-filled smile she had seen, with soft brunette locks outlined by the glow of bursting fireworks. Athy trailed off, fingers loosening as she gazed into Lucas’ eyes, and he huffed.

“Fine! Wait here,” he grumbled, gently tearing her hands away from him, and stepping unevenly toward the room’ center. Ijekiel watched Athanasia cast her gaze toward the center, desperation and guilt laced in her usually sparkling jeweled eyes, and he looked back toward his father—who had been knocked unconscious halfway, laying against one of the walls. Among all of the cracked and slashed concrete, the area above his father’s discarded body was unusually untouched—as if Jennette couldn’t even hurt him in her blind outburst. A mellow feeling enveloped Ijekiel’s chest—preparing for when his father wakes to the disappearance of the girl he had raised for nearly two decades.

Lucas approached the center, following the charred trail and where it stopped. He crouched down, a pale hand against the marble with a scrunched up nose in disgust—as if he had touched something dirty. He grumbled to himself, huffing as he focused his great mana. The longer he let his mana analyze the trace of the remains, the more his narrowed eyes and furrowed eyebrows began to raise.

“… hah? It’s not here.”

“I know she’s not here, Lucas, so go find her—“

“No.” The magician's firm, deadpan response silenced the princess. “The Chimera isn’t here, nor is the spirit or the corpse. Their magic just… stops.”

Lucas stands up, focusing the reach of his mana and extending it. His eyes glow, filled with crimson red mana that sparks around him.

“Teleportation would still leave some trace. With how unstable both of their mana was, something would’ve been left—and they wouldn’t have been able to go far anyway.” The red light fizzles out, extinguished like a flame, and he turns toward Athanasia—whose eyebrows are raised in shock and confusion. “They’re gone. Like they were just sucked up by some void.”

“Then…” Athy’s jeweled gaze wavers, lowering to the ground. On the ground, by her heel, is a little pendant—thin and weak, rusted, made from a cheap metal—but one she recognizes, a small frayed purple thread stuck onto the loop. “Where… did she go?”

—♢♦︎♢—

Something funny is hanging from one of the trees of the Rass estate.

A strange storm, the biggest in over a decade they say, happened. It lasted from yesterday morning to the ungodly hours of last night. The second son of De Rass was out practicing his sword training when it happened—some murky clouds and a few drops of rain, but sudden showers weren’t too unusual. And then an emergency announcement from the temple came out, and he was ushered inside right before it got worse. Unpredictable, apparently the priests were making a fuss about it, his father mentioned during dinner. Claims of the world ending, that Vita has forsaken us, a premonition of some great blessing or calamity—yadda yadda, not really Carsein’s problem. The biggest issue was that he was holed in all day yesterday because of it—an onslaught of hail knocking on the rooftops, the outdoor training grounds littered with frozen sleet, constant flashes of lightning splitting the sky that could probably give his uncle a heart attack at his old age (no disrespect to his majesty though), booming thunder and the noisy pitter patter of rain practically washing the walls and windows—it was honestly a miracle he slept through most of it. Either way, by the time he woke up at the break of dawn, everything had gone back to normal. The gravel of the training grounds were barely damp, but no longer frozen thanks to Castina’s predominantly warm weather. The walls and rooftops were dripping a bit, but overall there was not really any damage—well, besides the single window that broke during the storm.

Otherwise, normal. The clouds parted quickly, and a beautiful sunny day was born. Good. He could continue his training from yesterday.

At least, that was his plan until his mother—her mystical, sky blue hair that neither he or his brother inherited combed neatly over her shoulder, and equally glass-like blue eyes sharply narrowed—held him back.

“Something doesn’t feel quite right, yet,” she murmured.

“Feels fine to me…” The Duchess glared pointedly at her youngest before letting his shoulder go.

“You can go, but be alert. There’s still something out there.”

Which is how he found himself staring up this tree. ‘Something’, indeed. It was an ordinary tree, an older oak with moderately dark ribbed bark and little colonies of lush moss climbing up the base. The roots were a bit bulbous, digging neatly into the grass and disappeared under the dirt. In opposition, its thick limbs split into numerous smaller branches that reached up into the sky, shadowed by the bushels of leaves. Like he said, an ordinary tree, just outside of one of the Rass gardens on the way to the training grounds.

The only not-so-ordinary thing was probably what caught his eye. Among one of the higher branches, sturdy with a thicker base, was something swinging. It was light—the fabric of what he thought was a dress anyway, swaying softly like freshly aired out sheets. That was the first weird thing. A drop of water lands right above Carsein’s eyelid, and he forces that arctic blue eye shut out of instinct. The tree is still obviously wet, as well as the ground. That fabric swaying in the wind? An ornate pattern involving marguerite flowers with gold embroidery curling around the waist, an addition to a fine and silky material with delicate lace and ruffles. There’s a large dark stain trailing from her shoulder to the dress skirt, but he’s not one to question a stranger’s clothing choices. Either way, Carsein doesn’t know much about dresses, but he knows what wet clothes look like. That dress is dry.

Carsein looks to the ground, and finds a tattered ribbon. Crouching to pick it up, he stares at the fabric in his hand and compares it to the person in the tree. There’s more torn pieces of cloth higher up, and that combined with the pieces of branch at his feet, you’d almost think she fell from the sky. That’s impossible though, so Carsein dismisses the thought immediately.

Upon closer inspection of the ribbon held up to the person in the tree, it’s a very nice dress, too. Or, at least it was. He’s been to his fair share of balls and social events, as well as gone out to town with Tia once or twice, so he can tell the difference between decorated gowns versus day-to-day casual outfits. The second weird point, he guesses—what’s someone doing at the Rass estate wearing a formal ball gown? He'd be less surprised to see a sword smuggled in the tree.

The mop of tangled messy hair, is brown. Nothing to make note of, pretty ordinary in itself, some kind of chestnut. It wasn’t the signature bold red of the Rass family, or the snow white of the Monique’s. His name escapes him—Allen? It’s not a spring green like his family’s either. In addition, not even close to the blue of the royal family’s hair. So, it’s a plain and ordinary hair color you could pretty much find on anyone. That being said, Carsein doesn’t really recall any family friends with this kind of chestnut brown hair. With the shadow of the tree and the leaves stuck in her hair, he can’t really make out her face either. He tilts his head, eyes trailing her folded over figure to her legs, where a shoe is missing—the other, nearly falling off. After doing a vague glance nearby, he doesn’t see its pair. The redhead laughs nervously to himself—third, how did she get up there with only one shoe?

“Hey,” Carsein calls, brash, with a hand next to his mouth to project his voice. The lady doesn’t move. A peckish feeling starts creeping up on him, some kind of nervousness in his gut. This is a real girl, right? And not a ghost? He looks back at the fabric in his hand, and clutches it. Get a hold of yourself Carsein, that’s stupid. Carsein casts his gaze up again, his shoulders dropping in a sigh. He’s not going to be here all day trying to wake her up, right?

Carsein pauses, running his hand through his hair, the cogs in his brain turning. Her clothes are dry, even though it was just storming out, which means she must’ve arrived recently right? Carsein’s eyebrows furrow, thinking back to the horror stories Kaysian told him of noble ladies who admired him too much, and the lengths some would go through to get his attention. This isn’t one of them… is it?

“Hey, if you’re doing this to get attention, cut it will you? It’s dangerous up there…” The young redhead calls out again, louder. No stir. Carsein scratches his head. The boy starts weighing his options, the different possibilities, and comes to the conclusion that it’s too complicated to dwell on it any longer. He should’ve just followed his gut from the beginning.

So the definitely refined young gentleman, second son of De Rass, kicks the tree roughly like some brute.

“I’m being serious here. Come down, or I’ll…” The oak tree rumbles, the leaves and flimsy branches shaking as a result of his act of violence. He shouldn’t be surprised—really, he shouldn’t—but he is, when the hanging figure begins to slip. Carsein’s turquoise eyes widen, catching a sliver of sunlight from between the leaves as he faces the consequences of his rash actions. As the figure’s weight shifts, toppling more toward her lower half, she slides off of the branch like some potato sack and it’s then when Carsein faces the reality—the girl’s actually unconscious.

In a perplexed panic, he steps back, hot adrenaline pumping through his veins trying to predict where she’ll fall. It happens quickly—her softened jawline scratches against the bark, her fingertips leaving the branch’s edge, and Carsein reaches out, arms extended with a wide and grounded stance.

This isn’t a romance novel, so she falls inelegantly, in one fell swoop, and Carsein doesn’t catch her like a gentleman should. There isn’t a flutter of the heart, unless you count the teen’s pulse palpitating out of head racing panic. The figure’s only heeled shoe that was left falls, hitting the ground and he hears it disturb the dirt with a muffled flop. What he comes in contact with first is her waist, and he hates how his first thought is how small it is, before he grasps the rest of her torso and pulls her close. Everything above her neckline hangs over his shoulder, her toes limp as he just barely lets them touch the ground. Carsein’s hands scramble against her back, knotting his fingers clumsily into her tangled hair and losing his balance a bit, but regains it just as quickly. She’s light, dangerously so. He could probably say he’s held swords heavier than her—some exaggerated thought, but it really does feel like it. Her bare feet drag against the path, and he lowers himself slowly to his knees to readjust his hold on her more comfortably.

She’s a frail little thing, fragile in his arms, and it reminds him of when he saw Tia for the first time—a weak thing she was, with a gloomy disposition at the back of the room, decorated in pretty clothes like some doll. That’s just what this girl is, Carsein thinks, examining her figure. Doll-like, with pale, porcelain-like skin that’s cold to the touch—frozen. An uneasiness builds in his chest, fearing he may have just discovered a corpse, before catching the barely noticeable rise and fall of her chest.

A long sigh, and the immediate release of tension. She’s nothing like the array of crazed women his elder brother described—who would be much older—to his relief, though quickly grumbling to himself about his stupid paranoia. Her figure is that of a growing girl’s, long and thin limbs more petite than Tia’s, but he can tell she’s closer to his age than hers. Carsein stares with a pointed look in contemplation, before shifting the arm that wasn’t supporting her, to move the incoherent and messy chestnut strands from her face. When he consciously intertwines his calloused fingers through them, the first thought he has is that they’re soft. Despite the tangles and speckles of bark from the oak, her brunette strands are fine and thin like a spider web’s thread. Moving her bangs, cut bluntly like a fan, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t speechless for at least a second.

He’s not an idiot, so he knows she’s pretty. That’s not quite it though—she’s pretty, but not beautiful or gorgeous in any way. His mother, for one, is gorgeous—at least that’s what his father says—sharp cat-like eyes, fine eyelashes, higher cheekbones, thin lips, etcetera, etcetera. Tia is also beautiful with her feathery locks like fresh snow, twinkling eyes like polished amber that seem to set ablaze the moment she holds a sword, a sharper jawline accompanied by soft cheeks and fuller lips—not that he’s looked at them, definitely not—but they’re all different somehow in a way that Carsein has to think hard about. The girl here though, she’s a wishy-washy mix. Her cheeks, a little plump with baby fat, are softly rounded and feel like rose petals. There’s remnants of something familiar on them, a bit crusty and brick colored, but he can’t really tell what it is exactly. Her upper and lower eyelids are puffy though, practically the only color in her body, rosy and flushed as if she had been crying all night. Weird. Carsein’s eyes travel from her closed eyes to her slightly parted mouth—short eyelashes and thin, dry lips, practically devoid of color.

“Hey…” Carsein is irritated now, shaking her shoulder roughly. She may not be a stalker of his brother’s—or maybe she is, who knows how crazy girls his age are—but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s creepy. “Hey, you, wake up!”

He sees her lower lip tremble, and one of her eyelids twitch as she stirs. The girl’s thin eyebrows furrow, pressure building between them. Her eyelashes flutter open, finally, and—oh. The girl, so doll-like—her eyes open only a sliver, but that’s enough for Carsein’s breath to lodge up in his throat. He’s never seen such a myriad of colors before—a vivid marbled aurora trapped inside a prism, how the sunlight dances in them, glittering like the intricately cut facets of a jewel. Her eyes are reminiscent of diamonds, the finest jewel known to man, but even that almost feels insulting. The fractaled light caught within them spirals with rainbow-like hues, so much more brilliant than the simple luster of a diamond. It’s honestly more disturbing than beautiful to the redhead, yet he can’t seem to look away.

The girl’s eyes waver, unfocused—at least, he thinks so, since he assumes that darkness in the middle is the pupil—and she breathes out. Her breath is a bit raspy, like a wheeze—oh, her throat is probably dry. Crazy, since she was in the middle of a storm—or maybe not since her clothes aren’t wet in the slightest. Her lips seem to move, trying to form words, but nothing comes out. After a moment of struggling, the eyes she had barely managed to open, flutter shut again and her neck goes slack, drained of whatever energy she had. Carsein kneels there, uncomfortable, until he sighs of relief when her chest softly rises and falls again.

The boy looks up to the sun peeking between the leaves, and grumbles to himself. Putting his weight onto his feet, he straightens his legs and stands up securely. The redhead thinks to himself about the weirdness of this situation, and what exactly this means for the future, as he begins walking back towards the manor, the mysterious and weird young lady comfortably carried in his arms.

One thing’s for sure—Carsein isn’t getting any practice today.

[clownazon]

Dumping thoughts on you all because I can

Gonna ramble about characters / ocs as Steven universe gems because I can — do I care about actual Steven universe? Not really unless they’re my faves — so this is gonna be strictly gems and their roles..maybe fusions , haven’t decided yet — mostly headcannon based for my own little gem hierarchy and what not BLAHNLAH IM BABBLING IM SORRY

Lottie..because of her family she’s high class/aristocratic BUT she could potentially be ‘defected’ (or the only KNOWN one). She could bee a pyrope or maybe a sapphire

Roy is a little different — he specifically gives me sapphire vibes.. he’s orange or like a Padparadscha sapphire — he also reminds me of a ruby

Carmen would also be a Pyrope or maybe a Bixbite! Very crabby and high class

Richardddd..you shall be a helidor because I say so /silly

GONNA GRAB MARCO FROM MER /silly — Marco makes me think quartz (specifically Smokey quartz or Biggs Jasper) but also surprisingly he gives me lapis vibes for some reason ?! He seems like he would love to be a lapis — controlling water and being able to fly

Regina would be a morganite or maybe a little defective zirconia! Short and stout, overcooked..

^^ Evermore would also be a ‘fake diamond’ (aka a zirconia) in that case

REGANNNN makes me think of quartz too, specifically carnelian or citrine! Maybe pyrite too would be cute :3

Rachel gives me angelite vibes !!! Or moonstone!

Corduroy O’Dile makes me think of Calcite, but then a bad accident happened where he got cracked (something to reference him losing the company)

HANNA!!! Hanna also gives me citrine vibes but I could also see her as an opal!!!!

KEVINNNN gives me Pearl vibes

UMMMMMMHMHMH THATS ALL I HAVE AT THE MOMENT

And these are the people who own the ocs smiles @merwynsartblog (Marco), @totally-not-a-tickle-blog (m!roy) , @dismissivedestroyer (Regan, Regina and Rachel), @bulldog-geckorahhhhh (Corduroy), @luzxii (Hanna)

Here’s the little custom made chart I used :3 made by @_BeeBunnie_ on Reddit

[ofdarkestdesires]

Baelz when Bast comes back.

“You stole the book, left no message—I swear, I was this close to smashing down Caine’s front door to start searching his Castle for you—do you even know how worried you made your mother and me?!”

“Darling, don’t bring me into this.”

[asexxxualerotica]

OC Muse List

~RWBY Muses~

Stark Ryker: Rough punk student of Beacon Academy, and member of Team VALR. Was previously partner to Roman Torchwick and Neo, but was offered a deal by Ozpin after a job gone wrong. Also apparently Cinder's long-lost twin.

Fenris Silbern: Wolf faunus mercenary originally hailing from Atlas. High-ranking member of the White Fang hierarchy and long-time friend of Sienna Khan. Has an on-again-off-again relationship with Willow Schnee behind her husband's back.

Midnight "Madds" Maddison: Former student of Beacon Academy, now an established clothing designer for Huntsmen Outfitters. Shop located in Vale, often lends his expertise to students.

Sebastian Silke: Moth faunus former student of Beacon Academy, now a wealthy Dust magnate based out of Eastern Vacuo. Largest commercial rival to the SDC, and personal rival and enemy to Jacques. Possibly has been providing Dust to the White Fang?

Hozukimaru Wukong: Sun's distant father. Monkey faunus, and Combat Instructor at Shade Academy in Vacuo. Also was third founding member of the White Fang, and continues to support their actions and missions in secret.

Team CROS: An all-Faunus team of Huntsman students at Beacon Academy, currently in their fourth and final year of studies.

Caine Taurus: Team Leader of CROS and younger brother to Adam/Eve Taurus. Secretly infiltrated Beacon to recruit other Faunus to the White Fang's mission. Bull faunus.

Roman Westward: Caine's partner and teammate, hailing from Vacuo. Grew up on a ranch and has a history dealing with bandits and cattle rustlers. Horse faunus.

Orion Verte: Seven foot tall and seven foot wide beast of muscle and mass. Hails from Patch and was a childhood friend of Ruby and Yang before he moved. Bear faunus.

Sirius Silbern: Orion's partner, hailing from Atlas. Son of Fenris Silbern and Willow Schnee, raised by his father when it became clear he was a faunus. Wolf faunus.

The Zirconias: A powerful family of Grimmfolk who live at the northern-most point of Solitas, hidden by a perpetual blizzard.

Baelfieyr Zirconia: Commonly referred to as Baelz. The father and founder of the house, turned into a Grimm by the Brothers over 10,000 years ago. Also generally married to Pyrrha Nikos, among a few others who stumbled upon his hidden castle.

Zephyr Zirconia-Nikos: Baelz's firstborn and eldest son. Takes after his father closest out of all of his children, and has already been made aware will be taking over lordship once Baelz decides to move on.

Scarlet Zirconia-Nikos: Baelz's second-born and eldest daughter. A prodigy in magic and the first of his children to learn how to travel across the dimensions. Also has a great love of the arts.

Lupin Zirconia-Nikos: Baelz's third-born and last by Pyrrha. Woefully untalented in magic, but known for being extremely hard working and genuinely dangerous in hand-to-hand combat. Tends to wander, looking for a place to be useful.

Bast Zirconia-Belladonna: Baelz's first-born by Kali. Partially a cat faunus and notoriously lazy. Tends to sleep her days away, avoiding responsibilities, and sneaking away for lively night parties.

Shrike Zirconia-Branwen: Baelz's first-born by Raven. Known for being extremely shy as a child and nervous around people when she was younger. Now a bit more open, enjoys traveling to other dimensions and doing some sight-seeing and friend-making.

Krystal Zirconia-Schnee: Baelz's first-born by Weiss. Extremely gifted in both her mother's Glyphs and her father's Magic. Particularly mischievous, leading more people to the castle.

Cherrybomb Alistair: Shark Faunus daughter of Fox Alistair and Neopolitan in the not too distant future. Known for her spunky and cavalier attitude, and her attraction to older men—especially professors. Currently attending Beacon Academy.

Garnet Foxx: Fox faunus performer and porn star, very popular on the spicy porn site OnlyFauns. Attended lower-level Huntsman schools but never pursued a full Huntsman training. Based out of Vale.

Yukon Gold: Bison faunus hailing from central Vale, mostly a humble woodsman handling a diminishing logging business. Has an innate distrust of Huntsmen, and so deals with Grimm by himself.

Calypso Nightshade: The younger sister of Kali Belladonna. Known as Lady Nightshade, a popular lounge singer in Mistral. Also known for her sexual performances in White Fang associated hang outs.

[freeusemuses]

Would Zephyr or Lupin Zirconia sleep with cosplay-Raven?

Not Enough Alcohol in the World || No || Maybe if I were wasted || Maybe || Eh…Sure || Yes || TAKE YOUR CLOTHES OFF NOW!

Lupin already had the doors magically locked. Nobody, not even Scarlet was going to interrupt him for at least a week.

[shyrosequartz]

Quick doodle of my Pink Zirconia :~) she belongs to the Garden Court. An attempt at artificially creating another diamond, she instead ended up being a completely unique gem... She's dearly beloved by her family despite this, however 💕

I'm probably gonna revisit this design a few times (I do Not feel confident in the flower cut out but also couldn't think of another fitting shape that I liked 😭)

She's for my "what if pink had been raised by loving parents" wish fulfillment OCs, though she's her own character too of course. For her design I thought a lot about how Rose is a symbol of maturity, compassion, and sensuality for Pink. Due to this I decided to make PZ's design a little... sexier 😭 but I still wanted it to feel light, airy, and playful! Sensual and mature but still a bit goofy silly.

The Garden Court is another set of Diamonds, also called the Other World. It is considered merely a rumor to the gems of Homeworld; the only gem certain of its existence is White Diamond, though she would deny it if asked.

These diamonds follow the path set by the Black Diamond, a kind and merciful gem with the ability to create life. Unlike White who needed to drain life from organic matter to create gems, Black Diamond could do so without harming the planet. Black Diamond has vanished now, though, her legacy gone as well.

[delugedecade]

"Now what do we have here?~" Zephyr Zirconia asked as he appeared behind the vamipress Seras Victoria. "Who is intruding in my family's home?~"

"Please... All I ask is shelter... The carriage I was on was crushed by the landslide. I have no way home in this storm." The pale vampiress pleads. True to her word, she had unfortunately tracked mud into Zircona castle, but it did not compare to all the dirt on her uniform.

[skippyv20]

Hi Skippy. TRG (the royal grift & zirconia) on YT stressed that it was important to archive copies of their noprah conversation because they would ultimately pretend it never happened. I didn't believe her.

A few YouTube links that I recently shared here on Tumblr (proving Harry is a liar) are now broken because as of last week, the channels have been deleted. These channels have been active for 2 years to promote their lies and suddenly they're just gone.

I don't get it. The entire world knows what they all (Meghan, Harry, noprah, gail, tyler) did so why bother deleting videos? We even have the transcripts as evidence.

I realize they are liars and master manipulators but I sincerely dont understand the method to this madness.

The world knows what they all said for 2 years. Gail attended the ripple of nope awards and said the brf is not racist and meghan & harry don't think they are racist.

Obviously if Harry thinks the "institution" is racist or unconsciously biased he should give up all BRF titles/associations and remove himself from the line of succession. No one with integrity would continue to be associated with a racist institution or family.

Marketing himself as PRINCE Harry and using royal monograms on stationery and homegoods (see the doormat) is evidence that Harry has ZERO credibility.

Separately and then together, Meghan & Harry told Noprah & the entire world that at some point while Harry & Meghan were dating, a British Royal Family member told Harry that the dark skin tone of any children born from their union would impact the child's privileges, titles & royal status.

Also, Oprah asked Harry whether or not he fled the UK because of racism and Harry answered, "yes."

Serious Question: what is there to be gained by hiding the video?

Hi! Thank you! Great post….the reason they want things shut down, is because in time…it will be forgotten….that is why it is so important when people post articles…not only the link, but the article itself. Those words they can’t erase. They will though say, if it is an article, that the reporters put that in, and it’s a lie. The reason Diva has been able to get this far, is she denies, denies, denies. Every article she puts out, she has at least 3-5 different versions. This keeps people guessing…gaslighting is her friend. She plays with people’s minds. No one knows what is true, and what isn’t….the more they keep talking, the more proof we get as we have the info to back it up! Also, I LOVE your blog! You are an amazing researcher….thank you for all you do!🙂❤️