#gem what kind of hairstyle does your skin have | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

feralrunaway · 3 years

Text

Unbound

Summary: As a debutante during the Napoleonic Wars, you fear what you will face as the London season begins. You can only hope that love finds you before you end up bound to a marriage that will make you miserable.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x reader

Word Count: 9k

Warnings: Mild historical inaccuracies, Mentions of war and battle, Fluff, Slight Angst, Smut (Intercourse, Loss of virginity)

A/n: This story is based on this prompt from the lovely @brandycranby. She is an angel and a gem for waiting the length of time she has for this! I had honestly never read or seen much fiction from the Regency period so I had to learn a lot in order to give this one some substance. Such an interesting challenge to write romance with so many rules and restrictions in place. I hope I did it justice. (Patiently beta’d by @hauntedelation)

“Please, not so tight!” you complained at Sarah, the ladies’ maid who tended to yourself and your sisters.

“Your mother will ‘ave my head on a platter if you don’t look proper when the guests arrive this evenin’, Mistress. Let’s do as she pleases, for my sake, and I’ll sneak you some of the extra dessert after she’s abed, promise.”

You smiled at that. “You know bribery is frowned upon, Sarah. Although I will likely need it after simpering for our dear cousin...what is his name again?”

She cast you a disapproving look in the mirror. “Jacob, as you well know. Mind you watch the sass, Mistress. That man holds your future in ‘is hands.”

You sighed. Yes, he certainly did. After your father’s passing, without having any sons, his fortune was given under the management of a distant cousin from the city until one of his daughters was able to find a husband. Being the only lady of the house of marrying age, that responsibility fell to you.

Well, at least partially. You merely had to appear appealing to the eye and the sensibilities of society. The rest fell to your cousin to approve of whatever suitor found you desirable.

“It won’ be all tough company, anyway. The Captain is to pay your family a visit tonight as well,” she said with a small sigh and a dreamy cast to her face. “It’s a cryin’ shame if you ask me, to send all those ‘andsome officers off to war knowin’ half of them may not be comin’ back.”

The two of you shared a melancholy smile in the mirror. “Well then, Sarah, I shall endeavor to enjoy the company of a tolerable man while I have the privilege. At least the Captain won’t expect me to speak of such mundanities as table manners and dance rotations.”

Captain Syverson was one of your father’s company men, and had the unfortunate duty of delivering the news of his passing to your family. The two had been comrades in arms, and with a heavy heart, the Captain had made an effort to ensure your family was adjusting after such a loss as best he could, visiting regularly in your country home. You found you looked forward to his visits very much. He always had interesting stories and would even listen to your own. He never seemed to mind that you wanted to speak your mind, or dress without the restrictions of current fashion, much to your mother’s chagrin. He gave you the respect of always looking you in the eyes when you spoke, as though he were truly listening. The Captain was a landowner, though from the sound of it he spent very little time there, especially when not conscripted by the military for duty. A fair few walks in the countryside revealed to you through conversation that the world was far more vast than your existence had yet proven. Hearing his tales of war and merchantry, politics and foreign trade alighted in you a hunger for more.

Yes, you would make the most of what time you had left in the quiet country. At least some of the company would be nice.

“Dear, please. Do not take such large bites. A lady does not need so much, and I would hate to see your dress ruined if you were to drop any,” your mother chided.

“I can hardly tolerate all these silks and fripperies. How burdensome to be expected to enjoy a decent meal without ever spilling a drop on such fine attire,” you groused.

“Well perhaps my dear, if you were not to inhale your food like the hounds at feeding time, it would not be such a concern. Now, if you’ll please, Jacob and the Captain here are gracing us with their good company and I would appreciate if you weren’t to make their stay unpleasant with child-like complaints.”

Your cousin nodded along as she spoke, his stern expression turned toward his plate.

The Captain chuckled and aimed a warm smile in your direction. “It’s no unpleasantness at all. The lady has a point. I am a firm believer that a good meal isn’t to be wasted to proper manners, but to be heartily consumed with appreciation for its taste.”

Your mother pursed her lips at that. She wouldn’t allow herself to admonish a guest in her own household, but she was clearly having difficulty with the Captain’s support of your ill manners.

“Remember dear, when the season begins and you attend an event, that you represent our household, and your actions reflect upon our family.”

“Yes, Mama,” you replied, catching a wink from the Captain as he sipped from his drink. You looked down at your plate to hide the proper blush that colored your cheeks.

Your thoughts quickly turned dour after that. The London season. Where you would be introduced as a debutante, to be a ware on display to all the peacocking men who wished to find a wife. It’s not that you had no desire to find a good husband; you truly did. But to have barely a choice in your suitors? That was the rub. You knew it best to allow things to be done as they were arranged, but you couldn’t help but feel that whatever suitor was chosen would likely be some miserable stiff of a man, as obsessed with manners and society as your mother. You had no desire to rush away your freedoms. If it were up to you, you’d remain in the countryside, unmarried and menacing your mother’s sensibilities, at least for a few more years.

You sighed. But as it was, you had surpassed the usual age to do such things, and the time had come for you to participate in the events. Spared only a year of mourning for your father’s passing, this summer would mark a new journey for you. One filled with fine dresses and hairstyles, dances and gossip, and very little freedom.

“Your mother is correct, cousin,” Jacob stated. “Having taken on the role of managing your father’s assets, I do not wish to see them fall to the hands of a lowly man. I will be vigilant in my examination of any potential suitors, but that requires you doing your best to appear presentable.”

“Speaking of marriage arrangements, dear cousin, where is your own wife? A pity she could not join us on this visit. Will we meet her soon?” you asked with only the barest hint of animosity. The tone thankfully seemed to be missed by your mother and Jacob, but you caught the smirk of the Captain across the table in your peripheral vision.

“My dear wife does not have the stomach for travel, but she eagerly awaits my return to the city. You will meet her thusly.”

“What about you, Captain? Why do you not have a wife?” your youngest sister, merely eight years old, asked innocently.

He smiled at her fondly. “Unfortunately, I fear, with war on our hands, it would not be kind for me to take a wife. Life with a military man is not the easiest. Perhaps if this conflict with the French should ever end, then I may consider it.”

“Perhaps then you might also consider removing that ghastly beard from your face as well,” Jacob murmured.

He seemingly took no notice of the murderous glares from both yourself and the Captain at his comment, but it was to be noted that your cousin did not remain at the table for dessert.

Days before the grand departure that would lead your family to the city, you found yourself in the music room with your mother and sisters, fumbling through the steps of some fashionable, multi-partner dance that had you stepping on your own toes.

“Again, dear. You must hold yourself with poise. Chin up. If you keep on with this nonsense you won’t end up with a single man interested in writing his name on your dance card.”

You tried not to let your frustration show. You knew how important this was for your family. As much as you hated it, this was your part in securing your family’s fortune and future. If you were to do well, it could also mean helping your sisters when the time came for them to find their own match. As you watched your sisters flouncing arm in arm, curls adorned with delicate bows that bounced with each enthusiastic step, you resolved to do right by them, no matter how it pained you.

A scuffing boot on the wooden floor drew the collective attention of the ladies in the room. Your mother quickly smiled as Captain Syverson appeared in the doorway, dressed in his company uniform.

“Oh Captain! Come. Would you be so kind as to lead us in some of the dances? We are trying to practice, but it would be much easier to have a man who knows the steps to assist us!”

The Captain had the grace to look only fleetingly distressed, before entering the room with a small, warm smile directed at your mother.

“Of course, although I will warn you it has been some time since I’ve had the...pleasure. I will do my best. My lady?” he asked, extending a hand toward her.

“Oh no no, not me, my dear Captain. Please, lead my poor clumsy daughter first, she has much to learn.”

She then directed your second youngest sister, a mere 12 years of age, over to the piano, placing the proper music in front of her. Captain Syverson took your hand, the callouses on his brushing against your much softer skin. He then directed your other wrist until your hand rested upon his shoulder, looking down at you with kind eyes. His hand slid down to gently rest upon your side.

The first tinkling notes of the song began, and that hand placed gentle pressure against your ribs, directing you to step along with him as he moved to the cadence of the music.

You found it easy enough to follow along, and soon were enjoying the rhythm of the movement, smiling as you were whisked around the room.

“I don’t notice any clumsiness,” he remarked, “You move quite gracefully, though I imagine you haven’t had much need to practice out here in the countryside.”

“Yes, well,” you blushed at the compliment. “I certainly find it easier to follow the steps with a proper partner.”

Your mother’s pointed cough at your words drew a smile from beneath his bushy beard, causing you to giggle.

He studied your face fondly. “Don’t be nervous about the city. Beyond all the pomp and peacocking they are simply men, as anxious to be desired as any of the ladies are. I have seen what a fine lady you are, and I assure you, any man would be lucky to call you his wife.”

You let out an exhale, your fingers idly tangling in the tassels of his epaulette. “Thank you Captain. I’m less concerned about being desired than I am about being desired by the wrong man. I know I must find someone, but I would rather not end up a mantel decoration for some man with a fortune. If only I could marry a man with a taste for adventure, for learning. Someone with whom I could enjoy a lively discussion without the subject of my manners coming up,” you huffed out a small bitter laugh. “But as it is, I will do my best to marry properly for my family. To ensure my sisters may enjoy the privilege to do the same.”

He looked down at you with a melancholy expression in his eyes. “Duty does not always favor our desires, but we must make the best of it.”

The music drew to an end and he allowed you out of his embrace, bowing rather gracefully for a man of his size and stature, to which you replied with a small curtsy.

“Thank you for the dance, my lady. But now, I’m afraid, I must take my leave. I came to say goodbye, and to thank you ladies as always for your hospitality. I spoke of duty, and now it is time for me to fulfill mine. War is calling, and I am needed to lead my men against Napoleon’s forces. I wish you all the best with your time in the city. I will write.”

The unfortunate news of where the Captain would be leaving to left a heavy silence upon the room. Indeed over the last year the lot of you had grown fond of his company. Fear of what had happened to your father happening to the beloved Captain left you nervous for what was to come.

Bidding farewell to both your friend and your country home had you miring in melancholy the morning of your departure. You watched as footmen strapped your family’s belongings to the carriages that would carry you to the city.

You turned at the sound of Sarah calling your name.

“Mistress, I worried I would miss you before you left. I ‘ave somethin’ for you.”

“My dear Sarah, are you not to come with us to the city?”

“Oh I’ll be comin’, don’t you worry. Your mother would ‘ave a right fit if I weren’t there to squeeze you into your gowns all proper,” she said with a laugh. “Some of us servants will be a few days behind is all, we’ve the rest of the household to pack up, and your mother ‘as asked me to attend to the seamstress when I arrive to gather your dresses for the season. But never you mind about that. The Captain left a parcel for you, and I wanted to see that you ‘ad received it before you went.”

Thanking her, you took the wrapped package and pulled her in for a hug, not caring if it was proper to do so.

“Don’t be too far behind us. I will be begging for some decent conversation in the days to come, I fear,” you told her. She squeezed your hand as you turned and entered the covered carriage to wait for your mother and sisters.

Once seated, you unwrapped the parcel, unable to wait until reaching your destination. Inside was a book, the title imprinted across the cover reading Captain Singleton: The Life, Adventures, and Pyracies by Daniel Defoe.

Opening the cover, you found a folded note.

My lady,

I wish you happiness and safety in your endeavors in the city. I know you have apprehensions regarding your future role and the lessened freedoms that may come with it. I have no desire to speak against the wishes of your dear mother, and I know that you must do what is necessary for the security of your family, but in thinking of the fears you expressed about never knowing adventure in your life, I wanted to present you with this book. It may never compare to the actual experience of travel, but know that in reading the exploits of others, you may find a small satisfaction. And there are other forms of adventure in life than those involved in travel. Think of your activities in the city as that of a roving adventurer, seeking a great treasure that holds the promise of a satisfied life. Sometimes, as with duty, we must moderate our mindset in order to find happiness in our lives. If ever I wished I could do more, that time is now. I will write to you of my travels with the Army, of battles and politics, if you would be so interested.

Cpt. Syverson

Life in the city wasn’t so bad as you had pictured, but you quickly found that you were not wrong about the expectations laid upon you. Dinner parties, gatherings, and rather unnecessary celebrations of mundane things soon filled your schedule, and you found yourself longing for the peace of the countryside.

Your ribs creaked beneath your tightly bound corset as you moved through the motions of another complicated dance. Your current partner, James Arnold, was becoming a regular suitor, somehow appearing at each party and asking for a dance before the end of each night.

He was admittedly a poor conversationalist and thought rather highly of himself, but was easy on the eyes and came from a good family. A friend of your cousin’s, you knew from the tidbits shared that he was considered a proper landed dandy. Many of the other ladies in attendance stood in hopes that he might request a dance with them as well.

Especially a one Miss Patience Banfield. A debutante of fine breeding, Patience had been a thorn in your side for most of the season. Her commentary on your dresses and jewels was always just shy of snide. She clearly held an interest for James, despite her father attempting to steer her toward other suitors.

You sighed. If only he held an interest back toward her you might be spared the endless dances and bland niceties that he considered to be courting.

“Dear cousin,” Jacob spoke to you as the dance ended and you took your leave of your partner, “might I have a word?”

“Of course Jacob,” you replied, dreading whatever correction he intended to give. He drew you a small way away from the crowd, to an alcove where it seemed your mother was waiting.

“I have discussed at length with Mr. Arnold his intentions and it would seem that things are getting on rather well with you two. Given his social standing and family assets, I have given him my approval to court you. I rather expect, if things continue as they are, that he will propose and that you two shall marry by the end of the season.”

“Oh my dear! Isn’t this wonderful news?” your mother exclaimed. “To have you a proper husband by season’s end. Oh what good fortune!”

You smiled weakly at them both, your gut sinking. You hardly knew what to say or even think. You had known this was to come, but that did not lessen your anxiety over it. Mere months in the city and already your fate seemed to be sealed.

Through sheer effort of will, you lifted your chin and politely thanked your cousin for sharing the news. You were too numb to speak beyond that. The only thing on your mind was a fearful hope that your suitor was not so bland as he appeared on the surface.

To your great displeasure, it seemed your hopes were answered, but not in the way you would have liked.

James Arnold may have presented a bland, dandy appearance on the surface, but you soon learned that he had a streak for gambling and was something of a lush. Most attempts at conversation were met with derision on his part, and it became quite clear that he spent a great amount of his time, when he wasn’t publicly courting you, in the less savory districts of the city.

It was as if once your cousin had approved his intentions, he felt no need to reign in his playboy tendencies for appearances. You were nothing but a decoration for him to wear on his arm.

As you were this afternoon, it seemed. Your cousin and mother had planned a small tea to entertain some of the other families nearby. Not once during the conversations had anyone mentioned worldly events or anything other than social gossip. You sat stiff-backed in your chair throughout dessert, minimizing any movement to prevent further chafing of your skin by the restrictive undergarments you wore under your day dress.

You found your mind wandering, daydreaming of the sea depicted in the painting above the mantle. You had nearly forgotten where you were physically when a commotion broke out in the street below the window. Shouting could be heard from several voices, and the gathered party departed the table to see what was going on.

Reaching the front steps with the others, the shouts became more clear to your ears, and you could see many people standing in the street, waving copies of the London Gazette:

“Napoleon’s forces have been defeated at Waterloo! His remaining army has fled”

Immediately your blood pulsed in your temples, fear seizing your throat and causing your breaths to come in short bursts. The news was to be celebrated, but you had merely one thing in mind as your mind absorbed the announcement.

Pushing past those gathered, you approached the closest man rapidly and snatched the papers from his hand. Ignoring your mother’s harsh calls, you gazed upon its pages to see the Duke of Wellington’s dispatch detailing a great battle.

‘...The attack succeeded in every point: the enemy was forced from his positions on the heights, and fled in the utmost confusion, leaving behind him, as far as I could judge, 150 pieces of cannon, with their ammunition, which fell into our hands…’

‘...Your Lordship will observe that such a desperate action could not be fought, and such advantages could not be gained, without great loss; and I am sorry to add that ours has been immense…’

You read again, heart thumping in your chest, trepidation seeping into your bones as you could not find the answer you sought.

‘...without great loss...ours has been immense…’

You felt as though you could not breathe for fear. Making a weak attempt to claw at your corseted ribs, the papers fell from your fingers to the ground. Your vision blurred as your mind focused momentarily on the memory of the Captain’s kind face and smiling eyes, before a wave of blackness took you under.

“Mistress!”

A cold cloth pressed to your brow, dragging your hazy mind back to consciousness.

“Give space, maid. It’s a mere case of the vapors,” came an annoyed admonition. “My lady if you please. This is rather unseemly. Sit up, sit up!”

You felt light taps at your cheek, and your eyes focused on the face of your suitor, who quickly stepped back from you as you began to push yourself to a sit. He looked around at the gathered crowd.

“Well? What are you all doing? Get the lady inside to the shade,” he said, fanning his hands at the nearest men, who had the decency to glare at him, including your cousin. Jacob shook his head slightly before bending down toward you.

Annoyed, you made to stand, accepting only a shoulder for support.

“Cousin…”

“I can walk. Please, I just want to go inside. I would like to be abed now.”

Upon entering, you went straight to your room, where your mother tutted over you enough to make you want to scream, finally leaving you when Sarah promised to force you to rest.

“Sarah please, get me out of these damned trappings before I faint again.”

“You an’ I both know it wasn’t the bodice that ‘ad you swoonin’ Mistress,” she chided, fixing you with a look.

Once she had worked you free of the blasted stays and into a loose shift, she steadied you by your upper arms and eyed you with a stern expression.

“Nothin’ is confirmed yet. For all you know ‘e could ‘ave survived. It would be best not to ‘ave your cousin get a whiff of these notions, but I can ‘old them off until tomorrow. You’ll be expected to play pretty again soon, so shed your tears today and give your heart a rest.”

You gave her a hug and nodded. “Thank you, Sarah.”

She bid you goodbye, closing the door firmly behind herself.

And so you did as she advised, weeping for the likelihood that you may never see the Captain again.

Two weeks had passed since the news of the end of the war, and many more celebrations were planned on short notice. The gentry threw their extravagance on display and spirits were high. You were tied into every manner of gown you owned and your mother assured you every time that she knew Mr. Arnold would be proposing marriage soon.

Not that the formality mattered. Your cousin seemed to have his plans for you all in order, informing you of the pin allowance he would demand on your behalf and drawing up plans for the dowry he would offer to his friend.

You were surprised at his efforts, and managed to thank him for them, despite your melancholy mood. You could barely force yourself to simper and smile, moving through the motions that were expected of you while inside you were a churned-up mess of emotion. You kept your ears perked for any news of the troops.

Your mother took pains to chide you whenever your poise faltered, but you knew the uncertainty affected your family too. No one spoke of the events of the end of the war within your home, though the rest of the city was abuzz with news of Napoleon’s abdication.

You sat with your mother and sisters in the family drawing room, practicing your needlework, when Sarah burst through the door, hair wind-blown and a smile on her face. Her smile quickly faltered when she noted your mother’s expression at her outburst.

“Please excuse me Mistresses. A letter ‘as arrived,” her cheeks colored in excitement as she finished, “A letter for the young Mistress...from Brussels.”

You immediately stood, your eyes seeking the letter in her hands, your needlework falling to the cushions as you reached for it. She immediately handed it over, unable to completely disguise her own happiness on your behalf.

“Mama, what is Brussels?” your youngest sister asked.

You didn’t listen for your mother’s reply as, with letter in hand, you rushed up to your room, locking the door behind yourself so as to not be disturbed. Throwing yourself to the bed, you ripped open the sealed wax and unfolded the paper to observe the thick, uneven scrawl that you would recognize anywhere.

To my dearest adventurer,

I pray this letter finds you well, and that you are safe and happy within the city with your family. I write to you after a most arduous battle, the likes of which I have not seen during the entirety of my career.

His writing further elaborated on the detail of the day at Waterloo, the bravery of his men and their opposition, the losses and victories his company experienced, and the aftermath on the field. Your heart clenched and relaxed in measure with his recount.

I must thank you, though you were unaware, for were it not for memory of your friendship and kind heart, I fear my fatigue might have overtaken me in those critical moments of battle. Knowing that the outcome of this war could affect your life and comfort one day gave me the courage to ride hard with the charge where I might otherwise have quailed.

You would have laughed, knowing the Captain would never actually sacrifice his bravery and duty, but you were occupied with the compliment and his confession that you were on his mind that day.

I will endeavor to visit you in the city soon, when our work here is done, and I have paid visit to those families to whom I must bring news of men’s passing in valor.

With care always,

Cpt. Syverson, Esq., 2nd Regiment of Life Guards

The relief coursing through you in knowing the Captain had survived the battle was sufficient to buoy your mood for the next week. You weren’t aware until your third reading of the letter how desperately you had been seeking that reassurance that he was safe and whole. The way your heart filled with light to experience the jagged scrawl of his writing and the open retelling of what must have been such a difficult day had you aware of feelings you previously weren’t sure you were capable of.

You had always known that you felt a certain affection for the Captain. But this? This...longing for the presence of another? For his presence in particular. This felt deep and beautiful....and dangerous.

For despite your newly realized feelings for the Captain, you were arranged to be paired with another.

August dawned in sweltering heat, and yet another party was underway, and this time you were to attend knowing your fate was promised to a man you dreaded being in the company of. The only consolation you found this day was that the event you were attending was to welcome home the officers of war who took part in the last days of the battles against Napoleon’s troops. You hoped one of the officers might have news of the Captain.

After refreshing with a drink and taking a turn about the room to cool yourself, you happened upon James entertaining a lively conversation with his fellows about the epic battle in which the fate of Napoleon’s reign was decided.

“I heard their troops were absolute ninnies, fighting like frightened women. It took none but a look and they were turning tail,” he laughed.

“But that’s simply not true,” you said. “I was told they led a fearsome charge and were more in number, but the decisive factor was that our troops had more length of tenure on the battlefields. That is how they were able to coordinate to best them despite the smaller number of men,” you continued, remembering the words in the letter from the Captain detailing that historic day. You found the recount compelling, and recalled the respect he had shown for the opposing force’s skill.

James eyed you dismissively, glancing between yourself and his fellows almost as if embarrassed. His lips then pulled into what was likely supposed to be a smile but turned out very much more like a sneer.

“My lady. While your beauty astounds, I fear your wits do not. There is no need to trouble yourself over a political discussion between men.”

Your cheeks flushed crimson, and you lifted your chin at the insult. “How would you even know such, Mr. Arnold? It is not as though you’ve ever made the effort to find out.”

You could hear him sigh as you quickly departed, attempting to quell the threatening tears. “Fragile creatures, these fine ladies. One would rather seek out a discussion in the Covent Garden than have to concern oneself with their sensibilities some days.”

You could hear the chuckles of his mates at your back as you fled the room.

Your mother called after you, but you hadn’t the sense to listen at that point. You knew you were being unseemly with your emotions. You couldn’t help it. Your heart was simply too sensitive to continue the charade of accepting a man who could be so dismissive and unkind.

As you turned the corner into the gardens, not looking at your path, you ran face first into a solid chest of muscle adorned with medals and a leather bandolier. Firm hands steadied you by your shoulders to keep you from faltering. Looking up, you instantly forgot your troubles as your eyes met the kind blue ones that you had so often found yourself thinking of over the past months. It took all of your mannerly training to restrain yourself from hugging him right there in front of his fellow officers.

“C...Captain?”

“My lady? What has you so distressed?” he asked, brow crinkling in concern.

You quickly wiped your eyes, sniffling a bit and straightening your posture.

“Oh it’s nothing of note. My apologies for appearing so unseemly. What a pleasure to see you! I read all of your letters. Please, you must tell me more of the battle at Quatre Bras.”

He eyed your features and you knew he could see right through your light conversation to the very inside of your aching heart. As you could not beg aloud, you pleaded with your eyes for him to play along.

“Of course, my lady,” he said, extending an elbow toward you. “Allow me to take you on a turn about the gardens, that I may regale you with a tale of battle.”

You took his proffered arm and allowed him to lead you through the hedgerows, in sight of others at the gathering but far enough away from any ears to be heard. It was several minutes of silence before either of you spoke again.

“It has been some time, my lady. How are you faring in the city?”

“The city is lovely,” you began. “My mother and sisters quite enjoy it.”

He placed his hand over yours. “That is not what I asked.” His eyes searched yours. You felt overwhelmed by how easily he saw through you, and cast your eyes downward.

“My dear Captain,” you began, fighting to keep your voice steady. “My cousin has chosen a match for me.”

His eyes moved to train on the gardens before you. No emotion crossed his face, but a muscle in his jaw twitched.

“He wishes us to be married by end of season.”

He was silent still for long moments after your announcement. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded stripped of emotion, but he attempted a small smile for your benefit.

“Then it would appear congratulations are in order.”

Why did it hurt so much to hear those words from his mouth?

You began to feel emboldened by bitter emotion. After all, you were standing with the closest friend you had ever had. The only man you knew that would understand the sadness in your heart at the thought of being so miserably caged. “They hardly are, Captain. This is not my choice. It is not a thing to be celebrated, but to be tolerated. You and I both know I may be playing dress-up as a proper lady, but I do not have the heart of one. I will follow his wishes because duty demands it, but for no other reason. You yourself spoke to me of duty. I know it is important to abide it—“

“Is he kind to you?” he interrupted.

“I—. What?”

“Is he kind to you? Does he listen? Does he make you happy?” Color appeared on his cheeks as he spoke, belying his anger.

“I…”

“Is he good to you? I need to hear you say it.”

“He is not a brute, if that is what you mean, Captain. But I cannot answer honestly if I were to say he was kind,” you stated, tears again threatening.

He looked to your eyes again, his own fierce. “Then forget anything I told you about duty, my lady.”

He squeezed your hand once more before giving a small bow. “I must take my leave momentarily. I will find you again by sunset, and I will ask of you a dance.”

And with that, he turned and strode back toward the manor.

After walking the gardens at length to allow time to contain your writhing emotions, you returned to the manor house to find your mother.

“Oh my dear! I wondered where you had gone. Come, walk with me. Have you seen? Our dear friend the Captain is here with his company men.”

You smiled weakly at her. “Yes, Mama. We have spoken. And I am to meet him for a dance shortly.”

“How fitting that you might have a dance in the company of the man with whom you practiced before the season started. A good teacher, that man, despite how he bucks tradition so.”

“That he is…” you murmured.

The two of you rounded the corner into the gallery, paintings interspersed amongst the curtained alcoves.

“Mama…” you began.

“What is it my dear?”

“When you and my dear father were courting, did you ever worry that you would be unhappy as a wife?”

“Never my dear. Your father was a wonderful man, as you well know. Kind and thoughtful, sensible with his money. Why do you ask?”

“It’s just that...this all feels so unwelcome. Like I must be saddled upon some man instead of allowing love to make the match for us. Mama...what if…” you could hardly force the words out for fear of your admission.

“Mama...what if I am to marry this man of my cousin’s choosing, when I may well love another? How am I ever to be a good wife, when the love in my heart lies elsewhere?”

Your mother looked in your face for a long moment before speaking. “My dear daughter, who is it you speak of, and why did you not say something before?”

“It does not matter now, mother. I simply—“

Your words were cut off by a giggle nearby. The illusion of privacy shattered, you looked about the room to see who may be present to witness your trepidation, but no one was to be seen.

“Mama, did you hear that?”

“I heard nothing, my dear. Are you feeling alr-”

Another, sharper giggle cut through the air. The curtain to the left of you shuddered with movement.

“Mama?” you asked, moving closer to the curtain, realizing as you thought further about the invitees to this particular affair that this was certainly not just some errant child playing where they should not be. Just as you reached the curtain covering the alcove, the Captain rounded the corner into the gallery.

“My lady,” he addressed your mother with a beaming smile. Surely his countenance had not changed so swiftly? “So lovely to see that you are well. I had come to find your daughter, that I may request the dance I was promised.”

“My dear, do come see that the kind Captain receives his dance, yes?”

“Of course, Mama, Captain,” you answered, about to turn toward them when the sound of a harsh whisper filtered out from the curtain. Unable to contain your curiosity, you reached out, swiftly drawing the curtain to the side. What met your eyes not only shocked you, but drew an offended gasp from your mother as well.

For there, in the hidden alcove, was none other than Miss Patience Banfield, entangled in the arms of your betrothed, his face buried in her exposed chest and with a hand nearly entirely up her skirts. You gasped sharply, the sound echoed by the sound of the Captain’s decorative sabre being drawn.

“My lady,” he said tightly, stepping up next to you and drawing you behind him as he pointed the tip of his weapon at Mr. Arnold. “Have your mother go fetch your cousin. I think there may be something he needs to see.” The venom in his voice apparent, the two offenders made attempt to draw away from one another. The tip of his blade at James’s throat stopped any further movement from the man, though he allowed Miss Patience the modesty of covering herself. Your mother’s footsteps could be heard hurriedly exiting the gallery, returning quickly with your cousin in tow.

“My God. Mr. Arnold, have you no shame? No honor? To think I nearly promised a woman of my family to you!”

With your back now turned to the lovers in an attempt to preserve some modicum of modesty, you silently scoffed at your cousin’s attempt to berate his friend. As though the man had no idea what a scoundrel he was. Only then did his words register in your mind.

“Nearly, cousin? Does that mean…”

“It means there will be no engagement! No contract with this man. I would never bring shame upon you like that. Besides, there have been...other...discussions today. You needn’t worry yourself over it.”

“Other discussions?” you began, feeling indignation that there had been more decisions about your life without your knowledge. “I dare say I do need to worry myself over it! If this is the type of result, cousin, then I happen to be very worried indeed! I think I have every reason to question your judgment this day.”

By the time you had finished admonishing your cousin’s judgement, other attendees had begun to filter into the gallery to witness the scene laid out before them. Gasps and whispers could be heard trickling through the room as the Captain finally sheathed his blade. Patience was sobbing in the alcove, and, while you detested the girl, you felt deep pity for her in her shame. To have her honor so publicly and blatantly ruined, and by such a reprobate. How nearly you had been missed by that runaway carriage.

The Captain turned to you. “My lady, do not fear more consequences of another’s judgement. For this day, it is only mine you must respond to. And you will have free will over the decision.”

Your eyes searched his. What could he mean?

“I have already discussed with your cousin some concerns over the prior arrangement, which it would appear were well-founded indeed. I have asked for him to consider an alternative...and for his permission to propose to you my desire for marriage. I ask of you to be my wife, if you will have me.”

His wife? The Captain? Your heart soared. You found not a hint of hesitation when he looked to your eyes for your answer.

“Yes. Yes! I will marry you. I love you, of course I will have you,” you nearly spluttered your answer in your haste to make it known.

His eyes softened, a smile growing on his face as your statement sank in. Conversation buzzed around you as the ladies and gentlemen in the room began to gossip, but you paid them no heed, your eyes trained on his. You had nearly forgotten about your own family’s presence until your cousin cleared his throat.

“Yes, well. A contract will need to be drawn up. And there is the matter of her dowry. We will need to settle upon an agreeable number.”

The Captain looked his way, clearly annoyed at being interrupted in this moment.

“I don’t need a damn dowry,” he growled. “I’d marry her if she was penniless. We can discuss the particulars of the transfer of her father’s assets, that I may provide care for her mother and sisters, but I don’t need any incentive to want to marry this woman. Her kind heart and inquisitive mind are more than enough reason, and her beauty an addition that makes her a dream to behold.”

The following weeks were a whirlwind of commotion you had not expected to ever enjoy. Despite the desire you knew your mother had for a grand affair of a wedding, she managed to simplify the celebrations to meet you in your desire for a more quiet and relaxed gathering.

You said your vows to the Captain in a sunlit garden with none but your sisters, mother, cousin, and Sarah in attendance before (surprisingly) enjoying the small but still beautiful party held in celebration. Several of the Captain’s men were present to congratulate you and it brought you joy to see what high esteem they held him in.

In the end, a decorated carriage arrived to take you to his estate in the country, where you would honeymoon before learning your new role as lady of the house. His home was elegant yet simple, with open land surrounding it for miles. It was perfect.

But not nearly as perfect as the man who carried you across the threshold and immediately to his rooms.

Setting you down, he kept his hand at your hip, eyes meeting yours, bright with happiness.

“My lady. My wife. Never did I think I would be one to say such a thing. With the war, I had resigned myself to not even think of it as a possibility. The end of the conflict came so suddenly, and to find you yet unwed when I returned to London...I cannot describe my relief.”

“Nor I, Captain. I thought my life to be over. Nearly wed off to that wretch of a man. But now see where we are. You and I, together. I could not be happier,” you said sincerely.

“I dare say I will accept that as a challenge, my love,” he said with a rakish smile under his beard, leaning in for a searing kiss, before murmuring words against your lips, “Starting right this very moment.”

You had heard whispers of what went on the night after a wedding, but now here you were, faced with the moment of discovery. You nearly shook with the nerves of it, but were more than grateful to be sharing this moment with a man you trusted.

Noting the slight tremble of your hands, he placed one in his own before speaking. “You once let me lead you in a dance when you did not know all the steps. Will you give me the honor of leading you once again?”

You nodded, squeezing his hand.

“Yes, Captain.”

Your permission was all he needed, taking his hand from yours and drawing it back to your waist to pull you close. His lips met yours again, warm and hungry. His other hand slid to your nape, tilting your head to further his access to your mouth. He slid his tongue along the seam of your lips, and you opened for him, allowing his tongue to dance with your own.

Once he had kissed you thoroughly breathless, his lips changed course, running softly along your jaw and neck, his beard leaving a delightful burn on your skin as he explored your collarbones and ran his tongue along the dip between them.

Your legs grew weak with his ministrations and you gripped his shoulders for support, feeling a growing wetness between your legs. You could hardly think for the passion he was igniting inside you. Sensing the effect of his actions on your body, he pressed a thick thigh between your knees to steady you, while his hands began an exploration of their own. The feeling of his palm caressing your clothed breast forced a gasp from your lips, followed by a mewl as his other squeezed the back of your thigh. You felt as though you might combust from the mix of sensations. You’d had no idea the simple act of his touch could create such fire in you.

“Please,” you managed to whimper out, to which he responded with a pleased hum. He reached for your dress, loosening the fastenings and allowing it to drape to the floor. He stood back to admire you, his eyes adoring and making you keenly aware that you had never been so bare in the presence of anyone but your ladies’ maid. Before your arms could rise to cover your underclothes, he pulled you closer to him by your wrist, his other hand reaching behind you. His fingers began to pull at the strings, loosening your stays. Every breath panting from your lips became easier as they slipped free.

Until they stopped.

“Damn these ties,” he muttered as his fingers struggled to unlace your undergarment. After a moment of frustration, he finally growled out a command, “Turn around.”

You complied, and over your shoulder could be heard the metallic unsheathing of a blade. You gasped sharply as his knife cut through the remaining ties, finally freeing you from the blasted thing as it fell to the floor. Returning his blade to its sheath, his hand came to rest on your arm, turning you to face him.

His hand trailed from your collarbone down the valley of your breasts before sliding to circle your nipple. A feeling like a jolt of electricity traveled through your body at the touch, and you moaned quietly. Your eyes left his trailing hand and took in his own very clothed form.

Timidly, you reached up and began to unbutton the fastenings of this jacket, pushing it open and over his shoulders. Drawing his hands away from you, he hastily removed his undershirt, exposing his firm chest littered with dark hair and scars of varying sizes. You couldn’t help but touch, feeling a magnetism to mimic the way he had been exploring your own body minutes prior. As your fingers moved downward, nearly to the line of his belt, your vision snagged on the prominent bulge pressing against the white fabric of his trousers.

Curiosity drove you to continue your journey downward, the tips of your fingers brushing softly over the mound, feeling an ardent pulse below the fabric. His breath caught on a moan, and he grabbed your wrist once again.

“Not yet, darling. Allow me.”

And with that, he quickly divested you of your remaining skirts and undergarments, picking your bare form up and placing you gently onto his bed. He then stood back, removing his boots, belt, and trousers in quick succession, until his own nudity stood on display before your eyes.

Every thick, virile inch of him.

But he did not allow you a moment to feel anxiety over what was to come, as he climbed into the bed to hover his form over you, kissing you deeply and thoroughly enough to have you once again panting and dazed.

“Look at me,” he said, his thighs pressing your own wide, lining himself up with your entrance. “This may hurt, but only for a few moments. Are you ready for me?”

You nodded, barely breathing out the word “yes” before he began to press in. His eyes remained trained on your face as his girth stretched your opening, pressing forward slowly, watching for your reactions. He leaned in to kiss you just as a sharp pain split through the pressure, causing you to gasp against his lips. He pressed forward further, until he was seated fully inside you, then stilled.

Moments later, the pain had ebbed, replaced by a throbbing want as the feeling of fullness settled into your being. Your hands found purchase around his broad back, and you pressed up toward him. It was the signal he’d been waiting for, and he drew back his hips, before thrusting forward once more, the action drawing a moan from both of you.

He moved to kiss at your neck and chest as he slowly increased his rhythm, drawing from you sounds of pleasure and surprise. He took a nipple in his mouth and he thrust harder, the change in sensation rocking a shudder through your body. On instinct, you wrapped your legs behind his and began to lift your pelvis to meet his with each thrust, causing him to groan against your skin.

Fervent with lust now, his pace increased even more so, his vocalizations rising in volume. His movements pulling gasps from your throat, you felt warmth gathering inside you, tightening to a focal point as his groin pressed against your apex with each thrust. It felt as if every fiber of your being focused on that point, as though you were being driven by his push and pull to fall from a precipice.

And fall you did. As he rocked against you once more, you felt your body tighten, your focus shatter, and your vision turn white. You cried out, clenching around him, gripping onto him as your world melted away in waves of ecstasy. The feeling of you clutching him close, of your walls squeezing his girth, was his undoing. With a few final, deep thrusts, he growled out his orgasm, filling you with his warm seed as his breath shuddered out of his lungs. His arms holding him above you relaxed as his pleasure slowly ebbed, and he lowered himself to the side, drawing you with him, still seated inside of you.

He pulled you close so that you could rest your head against his firm chest as his breathing slowed.

“Are you alright?” he questioned.

You lifted yourself on an elbow that you might see his eyes.

“I am more than alright. I had no idea…”

He smiled at your loss of words, raising an eyebrow.

You laughed. “I suppose it’s no wonder the fashion is to keep us ladies tied up so tightly and pristine. If that is what I am to expect, I fear I shall never wear my undergarments again.” You immediately blushed at your own silly proclamation, but he only smiled adoringly once more.

“My love, you will never find me telling you how to dress. You need not ever fear my embarrassment over your chosen attire, or lack thereof. Only joy at your freedom. Now that you are my wife, you may live your life as you please, unbound, and free to experience any adventure or pleasure that you wish.”

You watched his face, wondering if you had misheard him. But you knew in your heart that you hadn’t. This man, the man you loved, would never constrain you to a life bound by expectations and manners.

With the surety that you had ended up exactly where you belonged, where you wanted to be, you lay your head down on him again. You finally felt happy, free, unrestricted. Content to finally experience the life you dreamed of with the man at your side, you closed your eyes, slowly drifting off to sleep in the safety of his arms.

Tag list:(If you would like to be added or removed, please let me know. I have crossed out those whose tags do not work.)

@beck07990 @magdelen69 @rn7rocks @tinylittlebluebird @inthenameofcavill @gearhead66 @oddsnendsfanfics @cavillhavoc @pterodactylterrace @killjoy-assbutt-1112 @mary-ann84 @fuckoffbard @its--fandom--darling @kmuir1 @thelastsock @henryobsessed @eldarwen333 @definitelydenisse @inlovewithhisblueeyes @shy-violet-soul @seriouslygoodlookinggents @coffeebreathy @hope-to-hell @summersong69 @faithiee @madbaddic7ed @artandotherdelights @emyearns @cavillryarchive @bellening @agniavateira @maizyistrash @wiccanmetallicrose @the-soot-sprite @geralt-of-baevia @harrysthiccthighss @luclittlepond @critfailroll @brandycranby @october505 @buns-of-steel @worshipping-skarsgard @biblioworm @littlefreya @zealoushound @luna-aestas @amberangel1112

#captain syverson #unbound #captain syverson x reader #regency sy

459 notes · View notes

exquisitley-obsessed · 3 years

Text

Finaces, Firebirds, Foxes and Fawns: 9

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: A few weeks after Briallyn’s attempt at uniting with Koschei, Lucien opens the door of Lockhart Manor to find Elain, cold from the rain and holding a note from the High Lady of the Night Court demanding her to assist Lucien in building alliances with the human councils. Forced to work together by their exhausted High Lord and Lady, Elain is able to convince anyone to do anything, while Lucien has the acquaintances to go anywhere he likes. Together, they attempt to unite the fae and mortal lands and unravel the deal made between Koschei and Vassa, while Lucien remains haunted by his own promise to Elain’s father. ELUCIEN, POST-ACOSF

Pairings: Elain x Lucien, Elucien

Warnings: Mentions of sexual assault/abuse/rape + abusive families

A/N: I’ve added a tag list for those who wish to stay updated with this story! Just message me if you wish to be added <3

MY MASTERLIST

THIS FIC’S MASTERLIST

AO3

Chapter Nine: A Sight To See

Elain frowned down at the dress.

“I’m not sure if-”

“It’s perfect,” Nuala said firmly, glaring at her through the mirror. The surprisingly stubborn lesser fae was currently attempting to pin a handful of gemstones into Elain’s hair.

Elain just gave the fae a curt nod before looking back at herself.

Today was the day of the weekly meeting at Huckleberry Hall, i.e. Elain’s debut in the mortal realm as an emissary for not just the Night Court, but all the fae lands. How she’d gotten to this point in her life, she had no idea.

Yesterday she’d spent her time in the gardens chatting with Bartholomew, the Manor’s chief gardener. He was a sweet man that reminded her of her father, especially given all his travelling to the Continent and his collection of rare plant species in his greenhouse. He’d even promised her a few books on the matter and explained in great detail how plants can be useful for a number of things: healing, food, poisons.

He’d even pointed out the aphrodisiacs with a dopey grin, to which Elain had blushed furiously and moved quickly onto the exotic specimens.

She hadn’t seen Lucien that day.

Elain didn’t know why she was so aware of his absence given that she’d done just fine ignoring Lucien’s existence for two years. But yesterday, not seeing Lucien had thrown her balance off. When she was in the garden she kept looking up at the windows of the East Wing where his room supposedly resided. If only to catch a glimpse of red hair and a scarred face, just so she’d know he was okay.

Eventually, she’d turned in to the library to give one final assessment of her notes, and had spent the entire time trying to ask Nuala if Lucien was in the house without technically saying the words.

“Yes, that sounds good,” Nuala said without looking up.

“I…I don’t know what he does with his days.”

“Me neither,” Nuala shrugged.

“I haven’t seen him yet today…”

“Oh…shame…” From the glint in Nuala’s eye, Elain knew she had caught on to her not-so-subtle questioning.

“Yes…I wonder if he’ll be back later today.”

“Probably, considering he lives here.” Nuala was grinning now. And as Elain’s cheeks turned pink, she bit her tongue and stopped her questioning.

***

“Where did you even get this dress?”

“The Lady Morrigan gifted it to you before you left for the mortal lands, she was too late to say goodbye in person so she gave me the package.”

“Oh,” Elain nodded absent-mindedly. “How does Mor know my measurements?”

Nuala just grinned.

“Mor isn’t…talented in gift-giving, but she understands textiles like no other.”

Elain just nodded once more and shifted slightly upon dressing stand.

The dress was unlike anything Elain had ever worn before. The middle Archeron sister typically favoured dresses with full skirts and corseted bodices, all bedecked with lace, ribbon and silk, and paired with fresh flowers in her hair.

The dress she was wearing today just…wasn’t.

“Why am I wearing this again?”

“Because the mortals must understand that whilst High Fae and humans may look similar, you’re not. If you were to go in one of your standard dresses, the humans would see it as an attempt for you to ‘humanise’ yourself. Whilst common ground is important with the mortals, they must still understand that we are different. Do you see this fabric?”

Nuala took a finger and ran it along Elain’s covered shoulder, who nodded in response.

“This fabric is called Didache. It’s only found in the fae-lands, particularly the Autumn Court. It comes from the Dida-bugs of the Burning Caves who produce a fine silk-like fabric that is woven into sheets. It will remind the humans that we are different and yet-” Nuala grinned at her, “-beautiful.”

Elain blushed and nodded. The fabric was a deep forest green and yet, it moved like water. It seemed to always be shifting with the smallest of movements and sometimes, in the light, she could see not one but hundreds of shades of green flowing together, interspersed with threads of gold.

Mor’s ingenuity was shown in the choosing of this dress, as it both demonstrated a stylistic change between fae and mortal wear, and yet Elain was still able to maintain a comfortable modesty that would not outright alarm the humans.

The dress, unlike the flouncy human design, was a tight fit. It began high on her neck and covered her entire body, connecting to her hands via a tie on her middle finger. It cascaded down her body like a second skin, accentuating every dip and curve. Most strange of all was how it clung to her thighs (a sensation Elain was not yet used to) before the fabric flared ever so slightly at the knees and left a small trail of watery, emerald fabric to follow her as she walked.

It was simple, yet a statement.

Elain would’ve hated to wear such a tight dress if, well, she didn’t look so good. She’d been taught her whole life that covering up was natural for women and whilst she certainly wasn’t prepared to wear the kinds of dresses Feyre sported to the Court of Nightmares, this dress seemed to call for her.

“I think Mor had this prepared for you for some time,” Nuala said, pushing the final pin in. The hairstyle hailed from the Day Court Nuala explained as she had coiled Elain’s mass of hair on top of her head whilst leaving large strands to dangle down her shoulders. Brown bands were wrapped around her head and interwoven into her curls were dark green gems that glittered in the light and made it look as though her hair was made of starlight.

It was…beautiful.

“Thank you, Nuala,” Elain said quietly when her friend stepped back to survey her work.

“No problem,” Nuala smiled, “I know it’s not your usual dress, but you truly look like a Fae princess, perhaps even a High Lady.”

Elain reddened and surveyed herself once more in the mirror.

“The others are waiting for you at the stables,” Nuala said suddenly as shadows began to coil from her hair and she extended her hand to Elain.

After peering one more time at her notes on the table, Elain turned and glared at the female she saw in her reflection. With her hair pinned back, her pointed ears were on display, slightly pink at the tips from all her flushing. The dress, the hair, her dark eyes, the flawless skin – Elain was undeniably beautiful. And undeniably fae.

With a sigh, Elain turned and grasped Nuala’s hand before she could think too much about how she looked and all that had changed.

Even if she didn’t know how to play the part of fae, she might as well look it.

***

There was a small bustling crowd around the stables of Lockhart Manor. The stables were placed near the entrance to the woods and the small trail they would follow all the way to Huckleberry Hall.

Letting go of Nuala’s hand, Elain turned to survey the small crowd. There were stable boys and a few guards, and she could even peek Bartholomew speaking rapidly to a woman in a fine dress who was nodding along with interest, Jurian a few paces behind them, looking bored as ever.

No Lucien.

The thought shouldn’t have made Elain’s heart sink as it did. She’d been awake since sunrise, having breakfast in her chambers as Nuala began the prep work for getting her into the dress. And maybe as she watched herself slowly being transformed into a fae princess; she could only think of her mate’s reaction to seeing her in such an outfit.

Turning back around, Elain’s eyes once more fell on the gardener and the woman, now pointing down at the strawberry plants that lined the pathway. It took a few more moments of staring for Elain to realise that she was, in fact, looking at Queen Vassa.

Looking over her shoulder, Elain threw a stare at Nuala who only shrugged in response. Elain turned back. How was Vassa out? The sun was at a midpoint between East and Mid-day, she should be well past her transfiguration by now.

Sighing, Elain practised walking as she made her way over to the Queen. The dress was surprisingly practical, easier to move in than any of her corsets. Instead of restricting her movements, the fabric simply glided over her skin and moved with her, no doubt catching the light as it did and reflecting a thousand shades of green.

“Queen Vassa,” Elain greeted with a small curtsey.

The Queen turned from the gardener to nod at Elain, and Elain saw how Vassa’s eyes caught on her appearance, her eyes flicking up and down her body for a brief moment, her figure seeming to still.

“You look magnificent, Vassa,” Elain smiled, hoping that her compliment was seen as nothing other than a peace offering.

Vassa was sporting a traditional human queen’s gown. The colour was a deep gold with a panel of green and crimson embroidery running up the centre of the dress. There was a low tie hanging on the queen’s slender hips and a heavy crown upon her forehead. She was the image of strength and power, and next to her, Elain felt as though she looked like the evil-fae seductress.

“Forgive me if it’s a crude question but, how are you…”

”Here?” Vassa said drily, raising a brow. Elain forced herself not to flush with embarrassment and just nodded.

Vassa sighed as though she were bored and raised her hand. Elain was unsure what she was supposed to be looking at, there were two rings on her hand and a nice set of manicured nails but-

Then she realised. The ring on her fourth finger was made of black metal and was far too heavy and brutal to be worn by a Queen.

Looking at the ring, Elain felt something coil in her gut. Turning fae had attuned her senses to magic, and thrumming from that ring was a magic that smelt like sickness.

Suddenly, Elain felt herself drifting out of her body, able to look down on herself and Vassa. As she did, she had the distinct feeling of something falling into place.

”It’s a new addition.”

Jurian's voice snapped Elain back into her body with a small gasp. He was slowly stalking up to them, cutting into a fig with his knife as he moved with a predator-like grace. “It seems that Vassa’s keeper sent us a house-warming gift. He’s only two years late.”

“Jurian…” Vassa sighed tiredly, as though she’d had this conversation several times before.

”It seems like our death-Lord, from his lakeside manor, has decided to give our dear Queen the ability to see daylight.”

Elain could only glance between the two, barely able to keep up with their bantering. She was still feeling overwhelmingly nauseous and was trying to avoid looking at the ring directly.

”Don’t worry,” Vassa turned to Elain with a sneer, “I’m not fixed just yet. The ring comes with a cost. Each hour I put off my transformation adds 24 for later.”

”Why not leave it on?” Elain said in a quiet voice, still feeling the earth move underneath her.

”Oh yes, of course, I’m sure Koschei just skipped over that in his master plan,” Vassa snarked. Elain, to her own surprise, rolled her eyes.

“Well, hello princess,” Jurian spoke before Vassa could. He talked as though he hadn’t seen Elain before.

Elain’s skin couldn’t help but prickle as she watched his eyes lapping up her figure with a complete disregard for anything else.

“Jurian,” Elain nodded, trying to drag his eyes up to her own.

“What did we do to deserve this?” His eyes met hers with a wink and then, again, ever so slowly, Jurian’s eyes ran up Elain’s body, lingering slightly on the fabric that was straining over her bountiful chest before meeting her eye. Elain didn’t deem the comment with a retort.

“Leave her be Jurian,” Vassa rolled her eyes before turning to Elain with something that looked like a coy smile. “It’s fun to see them drool, isn’t it?”

Elain, to her surprise, found herself grinning widely and nodding. If she wasn’t mistaken, she and Vassa had just shared a pleasant interaction.

Today was full of surprises.

“And they say we’re the weaker sex.”

Vassa tipped her head back and laughed, and when Elain turned back to Jurian she found him watching the queen intently, something enigmatic in his stare.

“When you’re done with girl-talk, we really must get going,” Jurian rolled his shoulders. Even he appeared dressed in his finest, and Elain wondered just who it was that must’ve pinned him down to drag a comb through his scruffy hair, now flopping back from his, rather handsome, face.

“Last time I checked Jurian, I’m the Queen, I say when we leave.” Vassa pointed a look at the man who only seemed to smile wider at her retort.

“Of course, your majesty…” Jurian rolled the word around in his tongue, “When you’re ready, my queen, I’ll be waiting for you by the gate…possibly awake, possibly napping.”

And with that Jurian turned and strode away, the woman and the female watching his retreating figure strut across the pathway.

“Idiot,” Vassa cursed under her breath before turning back to Elain. “Lucien told me this morning he’ll be arranging your transport. Apparently, we’re not arriving together, Jurian and I will be one unit, you and Lucien another. Just so you know.”

As the Queen spoke her voice steadily grew colder and colder until she was back to how she usually was with Elain, her voice monotone and her eyes bored. Elain just gave a nod and that was enough for the Queen to deem the conversation over as she turned and followed Jurian down the path. As she moved, Elain couldn’t help but notice how she tipped her head back seemed to drink in the sunlight.

Elain was left standing in the middle of a small bustling crowd, many of the guards moving to follow their Queen and keep her safe. And so, Elain went back to her search for her mate.

After searching the crowd, she allowed her eyes to close and for her focus to turn within. It didn’t take long for her to find the bond, as soon as her eyes were shut it was there, glowing bright and gold, a single thread leading from her out ahead.

Angling herself, Elain followed the bond until she heard his heart, strong and steady, filling her ears like the most beautiful drum. Opening her eyes, she saw him.

Lucien was talking to a rather nervous stable boy and Elain was rather thankful for the small chance to ogle him without his awareness.

For one thing, Elain understood the stable boy’s nerves. Lucien looked…powerful.

He was wearing the finest of his fae attire, with fine brown boots and pants, a crisp shirt, a waistcoat and then a riding jacket. Across his chest was a bandolier with an assortment of eccentric knives, all sharpened to deadly perfection. On his hip were two swords, his autumn blade and another blade but made of gold. His hair was unleashed and cascaded down his shoulders and back, and his scar made his fierce expression even more lethal.

Two years ago, Elain would’ve been petrified at such a sight. It was a reminder that Lucien wasn’t her fae prince, that even though he had the makings of a perfect husband there was something darker and more alluring that hung around him.

He was a courtier, a disowned son, a silver-tongued fox. And Elain saw that everyone underestimated him, and that’s what made him most dangerous of all.

But while any fae prince might make Elain’s heart flutter, the sight of Lucien in his most professional, intimidating glory, roused some feeling deep within her gut. It was like her entire body turned electric, and the air between them seemed to crackle as the bond tightened.

Elain watched as Lucien’s brow furrowed and his hand reached surreptitiously to his ribs. Lucien’s eyes were no longer on the stable boy and his rambling, he was looking around – he was looking for her.

Elain saw the moment Lucien laid eyes on her. He stilled, the hand rubbing his ribs going stagnant.

The world seemed to fade away as Elain watched Lucien’s eyes take in her dress. He started by looking at the neck and then, at a tortuously slow pace, his eyes wandered down and down like Jurian.

But where Jurian’s gaze had made her tired and comfortable, Lucien’s seemed to set every nerve in her body alight.

She watched him as he watched her, and she could see him pause on certain parts. Taking in the first full display of her chest, the way the fabric ran seamlessly down her waist before flaring with her hips, and then again at her thighs.

Some part of Elain dared her to turn around, to show him how the dress barely fit over her behind, how the fabric seemed to stretch as it tried to contain the slopes and swells of her body.

She didn’t know where it had come from – but she didn’t want the voice to stop.

Then, Lucien’s eyes were reluctantly dragged upwards and just before they met eyes, Elain saw Lucien’s tongue dart between his lips to wet them. For some reason, Elain had the strongest urge to clench together her thighs.

Lucien moved forward like a predator stalking prey, with a lithe grace that was reminiscent of a snake.

Elain didn’t care for the rest of the world; she just saw him. Maybe it was not seeing him yesterday, but all Elain knew was that now he was nearby, she wasn’t taking her eyes off him for the foreseeable future.

Every step was torture. Every inch closer made the bond thrum and sing with delight.

Lucien came to a stop barely a foot away from her. There was a pause of silence.

“Elain,” His voice was low, gravelly, restrained.

“Lucien,” Elain’s own voice was breathy.

And then Lucien was bending down, leaning in close almost as though he were going to kiss her and Elain – Elain didn’t recoil. When Lucien’s face was inches from her own, his eyes searing into hers, she felt his palm slip into hers. His hand was warm and much, much larger than her own, and Elain felt raw electricity jolt through her at the contact.

With a deliberate, torturous slowness, Lucien raised Elain’s hand to his mouth and placed a single kiss on her knuckles.

Many men had kissed Elain’s hand before, from old to young, bachelors to fiancés. But it had never been like this.

Lucien’s lips on her knuckles was like a promise. It was just lips on the back of her hand – it was entirely inadequate, it was nothing – and that is what made Elain’s body sing.

Lucien’s eyes never left hers, and as he straightened, he didn’t let go of her hand.

“We’re planning on riding to Huckleberry,” Lucien’s voice sounded a bit clearer, but his eyes were still dark and glittering.

“Okay,” was all Elain could manage. But her body was in overdrive, her entire existence being concentrated into the feel of Lucien’s hand in hers. One small touch and she was consumed.

“Oh look! Lucien-” Jurian’s voice swam from somewhere off to the side.

“Vassa, Jurian, you best be headed off now, you don’t want to be late to miss the guards at the northern checkpoint,” Lucien spoke without looking away from Elain, and his voice was full of such a natural command that another pulse of heat ran through her.

Elain distantly heard as Vassa, Jurian and a few guards saddled up and trot out through the gardens into the forest. The world seemed to thin around them, stable boys returning to the Manor, even Nuala evaporated into the air, until all that was left was a grey-haired horse and Lucien, with his hand in Elain’s.

“I thought we might ride together, to present a united front. But if your uncomfortable there’s another horse in the stables saddled and ready to go.” Elain could’ve sworn that as Lucien spoke, his thumb ran across the back of her hand. “It’s also just a way of me making sure your safe.”

“Are you expecting there to be danger at the meeting?”

“No, very few even know of your arrival and the mortals are in too weak a position to attack a visiting fae. I just…for my own peace of mind.”

Remarkably, Lucien seemed bashful as he spoke, his eyes breaking from hers for a moment as he shifted on his feet.

“Oh…alright.” Elain smiled up at him, and it was a peace-offering. The world seemed to still for a moment as Lucien noticed, and his gaze lingered on her lips.

Then he was clearing his throat and turning to lead her to the saddled horse, but he didn’t release his hand, instead, he used it to tug her along, as though he were entirely reluctant to let go.

“The journey is significantly shorter on horseback; we should be there in around 15 minutes.”

Lucien eventually reluctantly let go of Elain’s hand as he hoisted himself up and onto the horse.

Elain could only watch. Watch as he set himself astride the saddle, watch how his thighs – how had Elain never notices his thighs before – clenched as he seated himself upright. Watch as he flicked his hair back over his shoulder, his muscles somehow flexing through the layers of his shirt and jacket. Watch as he extended his hand to her.

Elain frowned down at her dress as a thought struck her.

“Oh…I don’t think I’ll be able to ride anything in this dress.”

Elain felt rather than saw Lucien go still.

Looking up from the green fabric, she allowed herself to assess him. Lucien’s muscles seemed to be standing on end, his delicious thighs clenched so that the tendons stood to attention. His hands were fisted into the reigns and his knuckles had turned white with his grip.

Most intoxicating of all, was Lucien’s eyes. They were glazed over and distant, as though Lucien were thinking of something intently. Or rather, picturing.

And then Elain saw it.

It was from a distant perspective and the first thing she saw was Lucien, with his browning skin on display as he laid on his back across pale sheets. His beautifully muscled legs were exposed and tensed, his torso nothing but streamline muscles, his arms bare and glorious as they tightened as he gripped onto the figure astride him. He looked so…undone, with his red hair spilling across the sheets, his face furrowed, and his mouth parted with pleasure.

The female astride Elain’s mate had her head thrown back, her golden-brown curls bouncing along with her breasts as she bobbed wildly on top of him. Elain couldn’t hear them – couldn’t hear the moans that she saw rippling from her own mouth.

Then, the pace changed, instead of desperate jerky movements, Lucien and the female’s body slowed into an easy rhythm, each of their bodies rolling together with a trained precision. She could see Lucien’s mouth moving as he spoke breathily to the female, pulling her down so their foreheads touched. She watched as his eyes grew hungrier, how the rolling gave way to thrusting, how he took two fingers and pushed them into the female’s mouth and how she sucked enthusiastically before releasing them with a ‘pop’, how Lucien then dragged those two fingers down her body, slowly, before pushing them down to where they were joined and beginning to rub against her in slow, languid circles-

The horse grunted, and Elain jumped.

All of a sudden she came back into her body, it was as though someone had been holding her windpipe and abruptly let go. Her knees felt weak, her mouth dry, and for a moment, she could barely remember her own name, never mind where she was.

“We’ll winnow.”

Lucien was in front of her now, having gotten down off the mare whilst her mind was elsewhere. He was now fiddling with the buckles on the straddle before a stable boy took the reins.

Elain looked up at him dry-mouthed. Did he know what she’d just seen? Was she even…had there been a shift in her scent? Fear tinged with excitement plunged through her.

“You okay?” Lucien murmured; his eyes concerned as they roved over her face. It looked like he almost reached for her hand again.

Elain didn’t trust her voice and could only nod in response. Lucien seemed to assess her for another moment before he held out his arm, ever the courtier. The female looked out at the stables as she wrapped her hand around his bicep, trying to ignore how the muscles shifted and tensed under her fingertips.

“Right, well…let’s go.”

As Elain closed her eyes and held her breath to prepare for the twisting sensation of winnowing, she could on think of one thing.

Elain had just had a vision; she still had her powers.

36 notes · View notes

moonlightstars16 · 4 years

Text

Chapter 5 ~ Library Introductions

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

"Are you understanding everything so far Connie?" Pearl asked while pausing her lecture and teachings about the royal Diamond life. She knew Connie had to become familiar or else they could do unspeakable things to her. It was most imperative since she will be joining her and Steven on all meetings regarding the 'Cluster' project. Still with all the knowledge given, Pearl was surprised she could keep up and, it would seem, to retain everything. Supposing it wasn't to far off from humanity's royal lifestyle, rules and proper etiquette. With the Diamonds, one can never be too cautious or prepared.

"Yes Pearl, never speak unless addressed and salute and bow when entering the room." Her notes were detailed and organized just like her old cram school notes were. It was easier to think of them as such than her current circumstances. Still the thought of what transpired only a couple of hours ago left her clutching the transparent tablet tightly, as if she would fall if not holding onto something.

'Warmth touched her skin as she began to awaken. Blinking twice as if disbelieving of her own eyes. Forcing herself to realize this wasn't a dream, she slowly sat up. Hand rubbing the side of her head from a slight discomfort, though it could've been for everything happening to her at once. Moaning she looked up and gasped, not expecting him to be sitting next to her so casually. Instead of anger, she couldn't tell what sort of expression he was trying to convey. Perhaps it as nothing.

"How are you feeling?" Was that a genuine concern he held in his voice?

"I-I'm fine-" Gritting her teeth and shutting her eyes tight at the sudden pain in her head throbbing. Her hands gripping a blanket, just now realizing it partially covered over her. On instinct she laid her head back onto the pillows. Moaning slightly from the discomfort she felt. Unexpectedly a cooling and soft sensation touched her forehead. Barley opening her eyes to see Steven holding a cloth dipped in cold water. It instantly eased her pain and gave her the idea that the water was perhaps from the fountain. Still she was curious as to why he was doing this in the first place.

"Shh... just relax." Then he smiled, an actual smile! Connie could't believe how genuine it actually was. Or how it appeared to be that is. Hesitant to truly trust anything coming from him. Soon the pain she felt diminished and he lifted the wet cloth from her head, placing it to the side before returning his attention all on her. She truly was beautiful and with a fire beneath her innocence, that made her even more radiant. Reaching out he gently caressed her hair down to her cheek. Inhaling sharply at his touch, and taking note of how gentle he was. "How does it feel?" His voice, deep, calm and caring it would seem, even she couldn't deny that. Soon it occurred to her that she hadn't said anything and the silence was going on for too long.

"Oh, um, it's okay... I don't feel anymore pain."

"Good"

"Um...my eyesight.... did you- I mean-..." she sighed trying to figure out how to word it.

"Yes I did." Her eyesight was pretty much crystal clear. So much so she could see a lot more detail than before. Including him. Which was a bit more nerve wracking in this moment with how close he was. His exactly half mask with only his eye from that side of his face shining through. At first glance it was frightening to see, however in this moment she saw more than a fearsome look. She saw what appeared to be soft, tender and gentleness. It was almost comforting though a bit odd with his rough exterior.

"Thank you..."

"Hmm" His hand lingered on her cheek momentarily before moving to the back of her neck. The other slipped around her lower back as he lifted her up. Quickly her pillows were adjusted so she could sit up better. Instinctively, her hands reached up against his shoulders (much firmer than she thought) to keep her balanced. There eyes met for a brief moment and for the first time she could see his more clearly. Though similar to any human eye, his were pitch black, the only color was a pink pupil in the shape of a diamond. He smirked and chuckled slightly causing her to snap out of her haze. "Are you enjoying the view?" Those words felt vial and full of arrogance. Immediately Connie pushed him away, which wasn't that far but enough so she couldn't feel how close he was.

"I'm fine" her tone full of that fiery spirit he loved to see coming from her. Standing up he walked towards the door.

"If that's the case, Pearl will see you in ten minutes to discuss some important matters." Before leaving, he glanced back and gave her a wicked smile. "That fire within you will surely help you fit in. Though will it be enough?" Connie's eyes widened and a blush crept her cheeks, while echos of his laughter ringed in her eyes as she left.

"Connie.....Connie?!" Pearls voice snapped her out of her thoughts. "This is very important and your focus is imperative before our first meeting with them soon!"

"I'm sorry, you're right I need to focus." Sighing Pearl shut off her tablet and ran her hand through her hair.

"I think that's enough for today. Why don't you take a break and we'll pick it up tomorrow?" She was obviously very tired and need to rest. 'Especially after all she's been through.'

"Are you sure? What will Steven say-"

"Oh just tell him I told you to take a break. If he has any problems with that, well he can surely try to pick a fight with me." Connie giggled at her amusing tone, believing every word. "Now go and get some rest." She added with a smile.

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

The castle architecture was similar to earths medieval, Victorian, Gothic style...with some gem interior mixed in as well. Still it was beautifully haunting. Every corridor lit with candelabras, melting wax candles, red carpet, and many shadows. Though frightening at first glance, her curiosity kept her going. Her fingers grazed the dark wooden railings and her gaze looked up to see another beautiful chandelier. Not realizing where she was going, a green gem with a triangle shaped hairstyle bumped into her. Causing the gem to fall backwards and her transparent tablet to fall out of her hands.

"Hey! Watch where you're going, you Clod!" Connie held out her hand for the gem currently on the floor.

"I'm so sorry! Here let me help you!" She smiled while the gem eyed her in curiously, taken aback from this unexpected gesture. Hesitantly she accepted and stood up with her help.

"I would take it that you are the human everyone is talking about?" the gem eyed her through twin diamond specs observing everything about her. Though Connie didn't quite know how to feel about the fact she was the topic of everyone's conversations.

"I suppose so, I'm Connie. What's your name?"

"You care to know my name? Why?" she looked kinda shocked that someone even took the slightest interest in her and not her abilities.

"Oh well I guess it's because I want to get to know you better. To be your friend." A flicker of hope seemed to flash across the gem's eyes, before she shook her head and stood straight. Doing the Diamond salute Connie learned from earlier.

"My name is Peridot Facet-2F5L Cut-5XG!" That was a lot of info still it made her smile. She noticed that the long name might've been unnecessary. "You can call me just Peridot if you want."

"Well Peridot it's nice to meet you, and I'm sorry I bumped you to the floor." Connie laughed slightly, embarrassed and showing an apologetic smile.

"It's not important now, no worries. But I have to ask, what were you doing?"

"Well I was just walking around, getting used to my surroundings I suppose...and perhaps a bit lost along the way." she admitted sighing. This place seemed at least three times that of a large human castle. And that's saying something because those seemed to small in comparison!

"Oh! I can help you with that! Come with me!" Peridot said excitedly while grabbing Connie's hand and rushing through the East wing. It took all her strength to keep up and not trip. They ran until a huge double door, dressed in gold trimmings, stood before them. Connie barely had time to admire the design before Peridot pushed the door open, dragging her inside. "Lapis! Bismuth! Come here quickly!"

"Who?" The question barley escaped her lips as she took in the most beautiful, grand and incredible library she ever laid her eyes upon. Her eyes twinkling at the sight of how large it was and filled with many stories. And quite human like as well. Hardly anything gem related connected to this room

"We're coming Peridot, hold on!" From above Connie saw a beautiful blue silhouette with wings made up of what appeared to be water. If she hadn't already known she was a gem, she would've surely mistaken her for a water nymph or fairy. The gem in question landed right before them. A tad taller than Connie and even more so than Peridot, not that it was a bad thing. the gem eyed her over briefly.

"Is she-?"

"Yes, Lapis!" Peridot interrupted "I met her in the hallways!" Not sure what about that was exciting. Still she gave Lapis a friendly smile as well.

"Hi, my name is Connie."

"Connie? Well that is a beautiful name!" A powerful booming like voice echoed through the enormous and open room. She turned her head to see a larger gem, with in her gem going inwards instead of out and streaks of rainbow in her hair with a more silver complexion. "I'm Bismuth! Welcome to our home!" The kindness in there voices almost made her cry. Pearl was nice but was Steven's second in command, Greg showed more kindness and yet was still his father.

Though he did not approve of what he did, his heart was broken from loosing his love. Almost seeming like he was blind to it all. Not really of course but the hesitation was prominent. Spinel....wasn't a gem to cross paths against. But these gems seemed different than the others in a sense, her gut told her she could trust them. Maybe she could get through this after all.

"Thank you, it's truly nice to meet you all here. I'm beyond grateful to have met such kind gems."

"Well I'm sure you can use a friendly face after what you have been through." Bismuth said with a bit more gentleness in her tone and a genuine smile.

"I suppose everyone here as heard." Her face downcast and blushing of embarrassment.

"Well it's not every day a human is willing to come here." Bismuth added with a nervous chuckle, her hand scratching the back of her head.

"But why did you give yourself up?" Lapis asked with a look mixed of confusion and concern.

"Yeah, that is a puzzling thing to grasp. Even with all my calculations I still don't understand." Peridot replied adding onto the conversation. Connie rubbed her right arm and sighed remembering the moment she last saw her father. Tears threatening to brim her eyes as she blinked them back whilst taking in a deep breath.

"In the moment all I thought about was saving my father. I couldn't stand to loose him. It wasn't till he gave me the opportunity to change my mind, that I truly felt the weight of what I have said burdened on my shoulders. I suppose I said yes because, even if I stood by and did nothing, it would be like I had murdered them myself. I- I don't want anyone else to get hurt."

"Well Connie, you truly are courageous to do what you did. I'm sure the humans back on earth are grateful for your bravery."

"Bismuth is right! You're a hero!" Peridot exclaimed proudly which made Connie giggle briefly, until she heard her next comment. "Yes I'm sure when you return, they will have made a huge statue in your honor!"

"That is if I return home..." Connie spoke softly walking towards a chair to sit upon.

"What do you mean 'if you return'? don't you want to go back home?" Lapis asked once again full of concern as she sat down next to her.

"I- I made another deal with...him..." Upon hearing that they gasped, eyes widening at the sudden new piece of information. Peridot and Bismuth gathered closer as Connie explained the deal and how it came to be. When she was finished recounting the events, she took another deep breath as Lapis gave her a handkerchief to wipe away a few tears that had fallen.

Feeling beyond tired of crying and embarrassed of doing it in front of anyone. Gently Dabbing away the tears she felt on her cheeks and her eyes, she ran her fingers through her hair. "I'm sorry to have bothered you with all this." A nervous laugh escaped her briefly.

"Hon, don't ever feel like you're a bother to us. It's been an overwhelming turn of events for you. I can't speak for everyone in this room, but I know you can tell me anything." Bismuth spoke in the most comforting and caring voice she could muster.

"And me too!" Peridot chimed in with a large grin.

"Well gem or not I think you're pretty amazing. Same goes for me." Lapis contributed while her lips curled upward.

"Besides I think it would be nice to see Steven force fed a piece of humble pie." Bismuth added as they all laughed.

"Thank you, you all are so sweet. But I'm not sure if I can stand up to him... not with humanity on the line." Bismuth's hands overlapped hers, Connie, in turn, lifted up her gaze.

"Listen, like I said it took great courage for you to sacrifice yourself for humanity. But I believe this was meant to be, maybe you're the hero not only humans need, but what we all need as gems. Perhaps even saving Steven's life from eternal darkness." She put a hand up before Connie could interject. "I know it's a lot to ask of you, no ones going to force you to do it. But please know whatever you decide, we will stand by your side. Help you in any way we can." Bismuth was right, it was a lot to take in for her. However knowing she had friends was all she needed right now.

"Geez Bismuth, why don't you say she'll overthrow the Diamond monarchy while you're at it." Lapis remarked with a sigh and her fingers slightly pinching her furrowed brows.

"Oh right theirs another goal for you!" Bismuth said sarcastically while snapping her fingers which made Connie laugh and Lapis rolling her eyes.

"Wait, you're not serious right?" Peridot innocently asked seeing how the sarcastic bit went over her head. That made them all laugh harder as Connie tried to explain the joke. Feeling much better already since she arrived here. All three gems soon gave her the grand tour of the library, filled with human books that they had collected over the years.

However unbeknownst to them was a certain pink gem; watching them amongst the shadows, watching her. She couldn't stand what was happening at all. With the other gems befriending her and vice versa, she realized she would have to get involved in order to get what she desired. This human was turning out to be a much difficult adversary than she expected.

"You still watching this pathetic human? Why?" Jasper spoke wrapping an arm around Spinel's waist, kissing her neck multiple times.

"I won't let her be a thorn in my side. If I am to be in a position of power soon, I must do whatever it takes to maintain it." Her voice low and threatening before lifting up Jasper's head and kissing his lips passionately. Taking her away back to her quarters.

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

Outside in the castle garden, Steven had taken a break from composing reports and ideas for the upcoming project, walking amongst the courtyard. His mind become clear as he felt the cool breeze around him. Sometimes a quiet stroll through the garden(and perhaps with lion at times) was sometimes needed; to clear his head from the thoughts he fought so hard to suppress. A sound of what seemed to be laughter echoed in the wind, catching his attention.

following the sound he looked up into the Library window. Noting the merriment that Peridot, Lapis and Bismuth were making. It was slightly puzzling since they hadn't been this happy in a long time. But when he saw her, it all made much more sense. Watching Connie as she laughed, smiled and placed many books upon the shelves, along with the others, seeming as if she enjoyed the company and the activity. 'So...she likes to read...' He thought memorizing all that he was witnessing in that moment.

Unintentionally he had a small smile appear at the corner of his lips (though no one would be able to see since his mask hid half of his face). Unable to look away from someone so angelic as she was. Perhaps it would be nice to have someone by his side. He then shook his head from the thought reaching up to touch his mask, just barley.

'No...don't fool yourself. A beast is what you are and always will be.'

#shatteredbloodsufau #au #fanfiction #evil steven #steven universe #steven universe future #steven and connie #connie mahaswaren #connverse #garnet #amethyst #pearl #greg universe #spinel #the diamonds #pink diamond #pink steven

16 notes · View notes

shizukateal · 4 years

Text

Judging Magia Record’s Outfits [Part 12]

The last part. The 3 rules.

Hikaru Kirari

I would have prefered a more traditional plated skirt, but I’ll accept this one. The cape is my real problem tho. I just don’t see its purpose, considering that the hoodie surely won’t fit with the hat, and I also think that the feather on top is a bit overkill, at least in this outfit. Still not like it when I can’t tell which is the soul gem.

Sunao Toki

Haha, her name means sand clock.

So ok, this girl doesn’t have the aestethic excellence and balance of Touka to justify all of the decisions of her outfit, but I won’t deny that most of it is pretty interesting and cool. Insanely complicated to draw and animate with all that lace, but cool nonetheless. Still, I’m not sure if removing the pointless sheer fabric layer would magically solve all the problems. I like her hairstyle, but I’m not sure it fits with this aestethic.

Mikura Komachi

Repeat with me kids: less is more. I am going to assume that those are sakura’s, so they kind of get points for creative thematic cohesion, and perhaps if this outfit was more concise I would accept them. What I am not willing to accept is lapels without jackets and the overstuffed tail. It’s a shame though, she was very close to being almost as interesting as Homura.

Seira Mihono

Not sure if she’s suposed to be a penguin or some kind of fish, but in any case, this is girl is a case of outfits not matching the appeared age of the user. Even ignoring the socked tits, this girl just seems a bit too tall and her facial features are too sharply drawn to convince me that she should be wearing this kind of thing. I mean, apparently she sold her soul for the sake of always having enough money to make her projects so if that doesn’t tell you something about her age I don’t know what does. Outside of that, I think her hairstyle would be a lot better without the ponytails, since they also seem innappropiate for her age and apparently have their own holes in the hoodie. The boots don’t convince me, nor do the cuffs with handless gloves. Bonus points for the clackerboard pockets, tho.

Midriff Count: 17

Temari Kira

Much like Seira above, this girl isn’t really doing anything wrong, but she doesn’t have the body for this outfit.

Here’s the thing about Mami Tomoe: she knew perfectly how to balance her sexiness with her more girly side and she did that without barely showing any skin. Her corset perfectly hugged her figure, so it wasn’t necessary for anything else in her costume to show off her body in any way. This girl has a similar dress shape to Mami’s, but her chest is too big for it. Sayaka can pull off this sweetheart neckline under cape schtick, but that’s because her breasts normal sized and don’t look like they are about to flop out.

It just looks disonant like this. Like, I’m glad that she’s not wearing some ugly sexy halloween costume, but she still looks way too mature for this outfit. Even her hairstyle, which isn’t technically wrong in any way, seems like something she wouldn’t wear at her apparent age. If there’s a lesson you should take from her is that you have to be careful in how your artstyle affects the age your characters look.

Characters ruined by the Male Gaze: 17

(the next part)

#puella magi madoka magica #magia record #hikaru kirari #sunao toki #mihono seira #komachi mikura #temari kira #magical girl #magical girl fashion #part 12

52 notes · View notes

elesianne · 4 years

Text

A Silmarillion fanfic for @feanorianweek 2020 – Day 4: Caranthir

Summary: Caranthir likes few things better than tending to his wife's hair, and Tuilindien likes few things more than letting him.

Rating: Teen and up audiences; Wordcount: ~1,300 words

Keywords: romance, mild sexual content, hair kink

Notes: A sequel to Your spirit calling out to mine but you don't have to have read that to read this.

(Read on AO3)

Fascination

It is no grander occasion than a dinner at a friend's house that they are getting ready for, but Carnistir insists on doing her hair up in an intricate arrangement. Tuilindien lets him even though there really isn't time –they both got home late to change for dinner. She stayed too late at the palace library, and his negotiations with a merchant he has been dealing with on his father's behalf ran long.

Carnistir always wants to make her hair as beautiful as possible, whatever the occasion. Since his tastes run to the ornate and intricate in this matter, her hair these days is more styled at a family dinner than it was on their wedding day when she wore it down, tumbling freely down her back with only flowers woven into it by her mother. His own hair Carnistir cuts shorter as soon as it covers his shoulder blades, and when it is grown past his shoulders he always pulls into a careless ponytail and fastens it with a cord. He doesn't care enough to either do more himself or to allow her to spend any time on his hair.

And Tuilindien would rather let him spend the time tending to her hair anyway because he enjoys it so much. She loves looking in the mirror to see him behind her with a look of fascination and concentration on his face as he dextrously entwines her golden curls into complicated braids and designs he comes up with as he goes along. He threads in little gems, beads and rings of precious metals or ribbons of bright silk, crowning the look with delicate combs or a circlet.

There is an ever-growing collection of all of these on her dressing-table, and if she didn't know how clever he was with money and how prosperous they were to begin with, she would worry that his preoccupation with decorating her hair is making a dent in their finances.

In spite of the large collection of ornaments Carnistir never uses too many at once: his taste is impeccable and his creations never cross the line into gaudy unlike some others'.

Sometimes he uses flowers because he knows that she likes them, although it vexes him that he cannot enchant them to stay unwilted. Tuilindien does it herself like her mother taught her to, and doesn't mind having to do it.

Tuilindien also lets her husband do with her hair as he wishes because she loves it so much, his devoted countenance and his wonderful touch alike. Sometimes he pulls at a strand a little too tightly for comfort or accidentally jabs at her scalp with a sharp hairpin, but most of the time his large, strong fingers are gentle and skilful. Luxuriating in the touch, she often closes her eyes and feels all the tension in her body melt away as she relaxes to the point of limpness.

But keeping her eyes open is a good option too because then she can watch him in the mirror, his clever fingers moving swiftly and his beloved face simultaneously relaxed, happy and furiously focused. He has a facet to his generally impatient personality that can concentrate in silence for a long time on the smallest detail when he is truly absorbed in his task, and this side of him manifests itself when he brushes and styles her hair.

As she sits here now, both of enjoying themselves and each other, she slips quietly into a memory.

Carnistir's tending to her hair became a ritual of theirs from the very first time they went anywhere together as a married couple, which happened to be the day after their wedding and their destination was simply lunch in their own dining room.

Breakfast they had skipped; they'd woken up in the garden pavilion where they had had each other their wedding night, too impatient to go inside. They did make it to their bed in the early morning hours, sneaking back into the house in silver light, but once they made their way there different appetites had again manifested themselves and eating had been forgotten.

By the time they'd recovered from that second pleasure, it was lunchtime and they decided that they should put in an appearance in the dining room lest their servants get too much reason to make fun of them. Dressing took a long time since they would rather have been undressing each other again, but eventually they were decent and Tuilindien picked up her hairbrush to hastily start brushing her hair. After the night and morning they'd had it was a thorough mess from head to hips, though Carnistir had tenderly untangled it with his fingers at moments of afterglow.

He'd stepped behind her where she stood in front of the dressing-table and the tall three-panel mirror. For a moment he just watched as she brushed her hair, his gaze flickering between her reflection and the real her, and she enjoyed his gaze on her as she had learned to. Then he asked, his voice low, 'May I?' and held his hand out for the hairbrush.

A little surprised even after his frequent previous attention to her hair, but pleased, Tuilindien handed him the brush and sat down on the stool before the mirror. He surprised her by disentangling and brushing the long curly mess with more gentleness and patience than she had allowed herself. It also felt far more wonderful than she could have imagined – and with his touch and his undivided attention alike on her, it felt just as intimate as what they had had together on the silk sheets, and the cushions of the garden pavilion.

At one point Tuilindien realised she had just closed her eyes and moaned out loud, and, embarrassed, she opened her eyes quickly to see in the mirror what his response to her reaction was. Carnistir met her gaze in the mirror and she could see the dark flames lapping in his eyes that had already become familiar to her, the particular kind of flame that he only had for her. But then, instead of taking her back to bed as she fully expected him to do after that look, he only bent his head and kissed the top of hers, then returned to his task.

It was only when he had got rid of every snarl and tangle and her hair was again a wide river of gold down her back that he threw her onto the bed and made her his own again. Her hair twisted around his fingers almost to the verge of pain, he made her moan out her pleasure.

Remembering that first morning with a secret little smile, Tuilindien now looks at her husband of twenty weeks with love and desire. She would quite like to tell him to pause at his task and touch her elsewhere besides her hair, and to let her touch him. But there is no time, they are already late for dinner, so she stays still and lets him finish the unnecessarily complicated hairstyle, reminiscing that the first gift he ever gave her was a pair of ornamental hair combs, the gift that started their courting.

She knows that later tonight when they have returned from dinner and after Carnistir has unravelled the elaborate array of braids and ornaments, he will stare at the freely flowing golden locks for a moment, and perhaps he will have the patience tonight to brush them for a long time and bury his face in them and pet them, running his fingers through and admiring the colour like the light of Laurelin, or perhaps he won't.

Sooner or later, his patience will snap and he will take her with wild joy, and then after they will fall asleep in a tangle of limbs and hair, black and gold, his face always against her skin or in her hair.

Tuilindien smiles at her husband's reflection in mirror in happy expectation of the night.

'I adore you', she tells him.

His eyes meet hers before he returns to his work, and he kisses his hair. 'And I you', he says.

A/N: I am not even sorry that I wrote Caranthir a fascination with Tuilindien's hair that merrily gallops over the line to fetish territory. After all, all of Tolkien's elves valued lovely hair, and the Noldor thought the golden hair of the Vanyar beautiful (HoME X, HoME XII respectively). So this is just an extrapolation from that, right? In any case, Tuilindien is just as into it, so it's a happy thing for them.

I had a lot of fun writing this self-indulgent little fic. Thank you for reading, and please let me know your thoughts.

#I promised sequels didn't I... so have this #*shoves 1300 words of hair kink at you guys*#I'm also writing that other one I posted a snipped of a couple of days ago #also. this is the 1st time I had to pilfer a photo off the internet for the banner. didn't have photo of my own that fit #feanorianweek #caranthir #silmarillion fanfiction #tolkien fanfiction #caranthir's wife #tuilindien #my fics #fascination #elesianne's fics

12 notes · View notes

uribo-in-space · 4 years

Text

Star Trek TOS First Time Viewing Reaction - S2E2: Who Mourns for Adonais?

DISCLAIMER: I have seen some TNG and Voyager when I was a child and later the AOS movies as a teenager. I felt quarantine time was the right moment to begin the ambitious project “Star Trek marathon 2020/(2021?20??)”, meaning I’m going to watch all of Star Trek starting with TOS finishing with Disco (or maybe we have Strange New Worlds by the time I catch up haha). I started TOS last month and I AM LIVING. IT’S AWESOME and sparks so much joy. I decided I could just write up my thoughts as I am viewing it for the first time as a memory of the experience, not knowing most episodes at all. So, there we go.

Spoilers obviously - just in case somebody else is 50 years late like me, haha.

Opening scene: Scotty flirts with a female lieutenant on the bridge. So far so cute. What about the dialogue from Bones and Kirk accompanying this scene though?

MCCOY: I'm not sure I like that, Jim. KIRK: Why, Bones? Scotty's a good man. MCCOY: And he thinks he's the right man for her, but I'm not sure she thinks he's the right man. On the other hand, she's a woman. All woman. One day she'll find the right man and off she'll go, out of the service. KIRK: I like to think of it not so much losing an officer as gaining SCOTT: Come along. (He and Carolyn enter the turbolift.) KIRK: Actually, I'm losing an officer.

like - what? I had to rewatch this scene to fully understand what they’re saying. I think it’s interesting that, despite TOS being like 50 years old now, I find it easy to forget we’re actually in the 60s/70s when binge watching. Watching it now is sometimes a weird meta experience as you tend to overlook elements that were considered super futuristic in the 60s but are perfectly normal now, so that you actually miss some FUTURISTIC elements because you’re living those aspects of FUTURE already. Yes, of course women quitting their jobs after marriage still happens, but it is not considered a “rule” or “natural order of events” anymore, and is (talking from a western perspective) more of a choice and you would not assume this happening automatically. Especially if you produced an utopian sci-fi series today, that concept would probably not be included. Anyway, it’s pretty interesting that female Starfleet members seem to drop out of service after marriage and it is not considered something a captain or anyone can do something about in the future (I mean, apparently the men still continue their service? I only have divorced Bones for reference so far though). Anyway, TLDR, I am not judging the 60s relics as they are a product of their time, I think they are rather an interesting addition to the viewing experience in 2020, considering the writers did think this concept would persist in the far future. Back to the episode.

IS THAT A GIANT HAND IN SPACE

I love that Chekov casually assumes he has hallucinations - like bro do you have reasons to believe that and what did you do in your free time

This hand really kills me. I also could not believe what I am seeing but I love it

Spock stating he is not offended because you need emotions to be offended - interesting, Spock, so what happened when Kirk pulled a yo mama joke on you in that Paradise Hippie Love Romance Pollen episode (man that was a gem of an episode)

Chekov has one of the most HILARIOUS lines in that episode (next to having one of the most hilarious hairstyles, his hairstyle looks like an interesting over the top take on the Beatles haircut and his head looks so much like a mushroom I feel like he has a side job in Mario Kart):

APOLLO: Search your most distant memories, those of the thousands of years past, and I am there. Your fathers knew me, and your father's fathers. I am Apollo.

CHEKOV: And I am the tsar of all the Russias.

KIRK: Mister Chekov.

CHEKOV: I'm sorry, Captain. I never met a god before.

Chekov be sassy to gods

I can’t let this haircut go, as it got me thinking: Is there a hairdresser on the Enterprise?

That’s a thing to explore

What gossip that person might hear sign me up

So, the guy really is the God Apollo huh

Costume note 1: That toga Apollo wears is SO SMALL like - “SIR nice to meet you but you’re REVEALING THINGS please sit with more modesty OR - NO NOT LIKE THAT”

Costume note 1, addition: Nice to see the ratio of revealing costumes of men & women wearing sexy revealing clothing in this episode is very equal

Apollo really has a worshipping kink huh

But as a Greek god you probably have that

Also where ARE the other gods? Like he just casually says they are all gone... “with the wind” but... why? Did they suffer from worship withdrawal like he does now?

Also: I really LOVE the concept they introduced that the Ancient Greek gods were just a bunch of space travellers visiting Earth who decided to chill there for a while and be all powerful and worshipped. But as Kirk says in the end they were a huge factor for mankind to move to the Golden Age, which is a cool thought.

Seriously what a fun premise? I would watch that as a series. Hera, Artemis, Zeus, Apollo etc. all chilling on their ship and having fights and romances and space adventures on strange planets. I imagine them being a really chaotic and high-maintenance bunch though

Thinking about it, Apollo said he was a demi-god with a human mother (if I understood that correctly) so basically he was born on Earth and never saw (what I assumed is) their home planet until he was an adult and they returned (why did they return?)? But the Enterprise crew defeats him by finding out his “god powers” are actually originating from the temple structure on the planet, so does that work long distance then?? Like they could access their home planet powers from far away...? And not the powers themselves are passed down by genes but rather the access to it? Or is it that they need worship to thrive (like that’s why it worked on Earth and they just need a temple?) Questions over questions. Love the concept overall.

Kirk, Scotty and Chekov talking about energy patterns and science and how to defeat Apollo (also Chekov you’re such a smart boy! and he says he is only 22 in this episode awwW and the others are looking at him like - wow a child is with us) and Bones just randomly... grabs a bowl of fruit, holds it a bit and puts it aside - as I saw no note for that in the script I think it was improvised by Kelley... but why? Like was somebody from the staff whispering last minute “oh no that bowl is ruining the shot take it away subtly if you can”? It really startled me but it’s kinda funny.

Chekovs hair is even more FLUFFY and voluminous in this scene like did they bring the Enterprise’s hairdresser with them? (It’s cute)

CHEKOV: Perhaps if I assisted. KIRK: How old are you? CHEKOV: Twenty two, sir. KIRK: Then I'd better handle it.

Also I like protective Scotty in this episode. I think it is one of the first times he really gets some character development and proper screen time

Kirk being choked by Apollo is on the thin line of really intense acting and passing into Shatners school of overacting but - it works so I am giving a thumbs up for very INTENSE acting

I feel somebody shouted at him “MORE INTENSE” “MORE MOANING” “INTENSITYYY” “BE MORE CHOKED”

Lieutenant Carolyn is kind of a weak character and is pretty much the embodiment of a 60s ideal of a woman but HELL she is beautiful

Costume Note 3: I actually like the cut of her costume, it is an imaginative take on the toga and also sexy - I was surprised they aired it like that tbh - like from one side it looks like she is topless really

Costume Note 3 addition: but then HOW did they fix it? Like she’s not wearing any kind of bra and the fabric is not attached to anything so I guess they glued it to her skin in a lot of places huh - also there is a scene with a storm and a strong wind where I feel the way she tries to protect and cover herself is not just acting but really an attempt by the actress to catch her costume from flying away and not trusting the glue the costume people used

I don’t want to imagine how many wardrobe malfunctions she had with that costume and how many times she stood there topless in front of everyone so... idk

I guess same goes for Apollos costume lol so fair

On a more positive note on the portrayal of women is Uhura’s role here. Her in that mechanics uniform building a bypass circuit in that crammed space under her console (she still has her full hairdo which gets all squished oh NO and the hairdresser is down on the planet fixing Chekovs mushroom!) - you go girl

UHURA: Mister Spock, I haven't done anything like this in years. If it isn't done just right, I could blow the entire communications system. It's very delicate work, sir.

SPOCK: I can think no one better equipped to handle it, Miss Uhura. Please proceed.

Thumbs up for the supporting Spock.

Also I love every time Spock takes over the Bridge. It’s so cool.

So that’s all! Overall a campy episode at first look but I was pleasantly surprised by the concept of the Greek Gods being space travellers etc. Thumbs up for that giant hand too (pun intended). I like to imagine that like with episodes that play in a middle-age setting they just had a set from another movie lying around and thought - how can we make this a strange planet - but that’s really part of the charme of it for me.

This was a long text huh.

BONUS QUOTE (or rather BONES QUOTE?) - as it was my favorite:

MCCOY: To coin a phrase, fascinating.

#star trek tos #star trek marathon 2020 #star trek #star trek episode reaction #star trek tos s2 #star trek tos s2e2 #who mourns for adonais

4 notes · View notes

jace-the-writer-guy · 5 years

Text

A dream game of mine

These are the ideas I often come up with for a dream game, and it just combines so many elements from different things I've played or watched videos of into one huge and crazy thing that would be amazing to see and play. It's pretty much a pipe dream in this lifetime of mine but I can't help but imagine it. So without anymore stalling, here's all my ramblings about it.

I would just really love a game like Skyrim is, but just... more. Like Skyrim has a bunch of the adventure/exploration elements I love in a game, but I didn't think it had enough diversity in scenery and it all felt cold because of the part of the world it was set in.

I would love a game that was like Elder Scrolls Online in size with all the different provinces you can go to with all that land to explore between the snowy areas, desert areas, and forest/jungle areas and all the settlements that would be scattered throughout. And all the scenery in that game was beautiful to me. And along with that, add the crafting/blacksmithing stuff from ESO too, because that was the main thing I did when I played the game. I created everything I used from different swords and armor.

And speaking of swords and armor, I'd love the game to have what ESO does, which was have there be different styles of weapons and armor you can craft after you read the plans or whatever for it. Like a steel sword can be one style, or you can craft it in another style but it would have the same stats, just a different look. Same with armor too. Or a greatsword could be more on the skinny side, or you could make it be a massive weapon like what the Buster Sword is.

Whatever weapons you favorite will be visible on your character and you can choose where you want something specifically placed. For example, a Ranger could have their bow across their chest and back and their quiver of arrows at their back either behind either shoulder or at their waist, or on their thigh while they have a dagger on one hip and a sword on the other. You can't have too many weapons on your body though. There would be a weapon wheel you can bring up that lets you choose between what weapons you have favorited.

The weapons and armor would be highly customizable too. Like with armor, you could mix and match different pieces or furs to make something unique to you, and for weapons you could add different accessories to them like jeweled hilts or carved bow shafts.

As for the exploration, I think it would be a phenomenal thing to focus on in a fantasy game. With so many environments like what I mentioned above with forests to snowy areas, there can be some absolute magic to be discovered like beautiful lakes or ponds, or something like my Heaven's Clearing area I created in my RWBY AU. Mountainous areas with waterfalls cascading down the rocks? Giant trees in a gorgeously lush forest with a treehouse village? A snowy village deep within the mountains? An ancient and run down fortress in a canyon with only one small valley to access it? Sprawling cave systems in the mountains? Tropical beaches? A beautiful oasis hidden in the middle of a vast desert? Explore and you can find stuff like this and more.

Examples of the sights you could see. I don't know the artists sadly. I found these all on Reddit at r/imaginarylandscapes)

And if and when you find this stuff? Build there if you want! It could be like Fallout 76 with the C.A.M.P. thing, but you have such an extreme amount of freedom to build kind of like in Minecraft, and have the building be like a mix between Minecraft, 7 Days to Die, and Ark. Build what you want from a nice, cozy little cabin in the woods, or a big estate on the mountainside with the waterfalls going under the house. Make it as big and as grand, or as small and as cozy as you want it to be with loads of decoration stuff you can build, and with different variations to the decorations. Different styles of beds, candles, wardrobes, chests, doors, windows, whatever. Just give unmatched variety. And of course for all of them, you would have to go out and find the materials, like for a simple cabin you would have to go out and either buy the lumber, or cut it down yourself. Or if you want to just dig into the side of a hill or mountain and mold your home from there, you absolutely can, given you have the equipment to dig it all out. Or you could just be a nomad and camp around anywhere you wanted while you travel and not be held down to one place.

Character customization would let you be able to make the character you want for a fantasy game like this is in my imagination. Loads of different hairstyles, body types, eye/hair/skin colors, customize your height to be the size of a Goliath (in D&D) or a gnome and so on. Pick from a variety of races from human, different races of elves, dwarves, halflings gnomes, goliaths, orcs and tabaxis', mix races, and more. And in game, you can really pick any type of clothing/armor style you want from even more choices. And along with that, you can of course pick different classes for your character to be from a fighter/warrior, to a ranger, to a magic user, to a bard, or whatever. You pick your skills from a huge list of stuff for each class and you go around and do what you want to do as that character. And like with Dragon's Dogma (one of my favorite games), you can change your class instead of being tied into one class at really any point in the game that you felt like. And you can multiclass too and combine any two classes you want to try.

Magic in the game would be more... magical. Like you start out with basic spells if you're one of the magic using classes with sorcerers getting a bit more, but it all starts out as just looking very dull. And when you train and level up your magical abilities and find new spells out of the huge selection of them in the game, the magic gets more and more bright, vivid, colorful, vibrant, and flashy too so you can actually see the results of all the levels you poured into your magic.

It wouldn't just be exploration though, considering weapons, armor, and magic would be in the game. There would be so many different jobs and ways to make gold to choose from, and there would be multiple long running quests you could accept that would be like something from D&D. And a thing for that is that the game can either be single player and you can pick a party of NPCs to join you through your adventures, or you could switch it over to multiplayer and invite a few of your friends in to explore the world together or do these quests and split the rewards from both the journey itself and the reward for completing the quests. The questscan have different styles, like serious ones and some where there can be some fun, like a Borderlands mission.

And as something in between these quests, you could have different jobs you can choose from like I mentioned. You can start your own mine or lumber yard to sell ores, precious gems, or wood to anyone (NPC or player) that wants/needs it. You can do guard duty for someone, you could scout an area out for any dangers for someone wanting to build a house or for military, or chart out unknown parts of the world and draw a map of it (provided you take a cartography skill) and sell them to people. You could even just be a simple hunter and hunt game to provide meat and pelts for yourself and for trade. Or be a bard and make some music between more somber songs or uplifting ones, or ones where you just tell the tales of events that have happened in the game. And for that, the game would have a huge score of music. And there would be bounty hunting quests as well, and sometimes they can lead into something more.

You have the choice between if you want to be a combat focused character or a trader/craftsman focused character or something along those lines. In single player, you could hire an NPC bodyguard and they would be extremely competent (unlike the referees in WWE games :p) in battles in order to protect you. Or in multiplayer, your friends could provide your protection while you create trade routes or gather materials, or explore the world for treasures. And it could be the other way around with you being the bodyguard and your friend being the one you're protecting too.

Choose your own backstory from a huge list of options. You could have a backstory as a simple farmer, a guard, a soldier, a trader, a blacksmith, a mercenary, or a craftsman to name a few. Each backstory comes with a specific set of gear depending on the backstory and an area of the world you start out with and in. Like a mercenary would start with light armor and a battle axe, having just completed a job in the colder regions so you would have fur cloaks and armor or you could have just completed a job in a more tropical spot of the world.

And romance too! You could have your character romance any NPC in the game no matter if they're male or female, unless they're already married. Or if you want to do a bit more, romance them both! Start a family with them, and hire bodyguards to protect them while you're out adventuring, if your spouse doesn't have any combat skills of course. Or hire bodyguards anyway to secure your childrens' safety.

See a dog you want to adopt? Adopt it! Same with cats or any other animal you might see up for adoption or for sale from somewhere. Each province have different kinds of pets you can get, so traveling the world for your perfect hunting/travel buddy or housemate may be something to do. And you can name your pet too. Or you could even capture and tame a wolf or tiger or something in the wild too if you wanted. Also, you can pet your pets. Give them attention!

For travel, you could either carry the bare essentials on your character and just walk either alone or with a companion by your side, or you could save your gold for a horse or go tame a wild one to ride through the world. And on top of that, you can buy different types of wagons to carry all the things you need to set up a larger camp for yourself or for your companions. Larger wagons mean the need for an extra horse. And you can also buy or craft accessories for your horse and wagons, like different saddles or canopies respectively.

And also for travel across the seas, you can either pay for passage on a ship or save up gold to buy your own and hire your own crew to go on voyages. Along with that, one thing you could do is become a pirate if you chose to in case you didn't want to just spend your days on land, or become a trade vessel to transport goods from place to place, or you could even just have it become a passenger ship and take gold to take people across the sea. Search for buried treasure and pillage other ships as a pirate, or discover an island to claim for yourself and your friends.

One thing that would be in the game would be hunting, from small game all the way up to dragons. The hunting is something I enjoy so much in Red Dead Online that I would love to see it in a game like this with so many animals and creatures. Of course there would be stuff like boars, deer, bears, and animals like that but there would also be fantasy creatures to try to hunt, and the biggest, baddest, most difficult, and most rewarding would be dragons if you chose to hunt them. But you could just stick to hunting normal animals too, because that can be very rewarding in its own way like with what I said before about hunting. And of course, you could go fishing at one of the many rivers, streams, ponds, or lakes in the game too.

There would be two separate modes you could do between a more casual experience or something more hardcore. The casual mode would be that you don't have to worry about eating, drinking, sleeping, or worrying about temperature to survive while the survival mode would include all those things, plus the need to watch out for poisons, venom, or diseases or anything like that so players can enjoy the game how they want to enjoy it.

One thing about the game is that there is single player and multiplayer of course, but the multiplayer would have private servers and public ones for if you only wanted to play with friends, or if you wanted to take it online and interact with a bunch of other players. And on top of that, there would be separate servers for players who only want to have a peaceful time with other players where they can't attack each other at all, and servers where PvP is fully on for the players that want the danger of dealing with other players that want to take them out so there aren't those types of people in the same servers. Choose your server, choose your experience.

Another thing that would be a part of the game is full, unrestricted mod support. Create mods for the game to craft it into something truly special either with different weapons, armors, spells, quests, races, or anything. Download any mod you want at your discretion, no matter what it is. And the mod support would span all platforms the game is on with absolutely no restrictions regardless of platform or the content of the mods.

To make the game even more special, you can create a new character at any time you want, and your previous character will still be wondering the world while you're starting anew. And if you end up finding your other character, you can form a team with them and easily switch back and forth between the two. That would make it possible to create your own adventuring party rather than hire NPCs or relying on your friends. Or, you can just have your characters be completely separate. And if you wanted to, you could possibly romance your own characters if you can't find the right NPC in the huge world.

The hud would be something very simple, with a health and energy/mana meter, a mini map, and radar. Each thing here can be toggled on or off so you could just have your health and energy/mana showing while turning off the radar and map, or you could have it all be turned off to have nothing on your screen for a more immersive experience. You can switch between third and first person to increase that even more.

Basically what I want is some huge fantasy exploration/adventure/action/RPG, something so huge with so many things to do that it has such an immense amount of playability and replayability. Something set in an hugely detailed and gorgeous world with multiple large provinces/climates/biomes. It would take an insane amount of time to try to explore every little part of the world, along with completing all the quests. And there would never really be a shortage of quests because they would keep being added every once in a while to the game through free updates, along with the ones added through mods.

That's all I have to share about this huge, crazy, borderline impossible dream game of mine right now. I might add more to it if/when I think of more. I hope you all enjoyed the read if you decided to read it. I'd love to hear what you guys think, and I'd love to hear your own ideas if you have them.

#personal #video games #ideas #ramblings #dreams #game idea #dream game

14 notes · View notes

hytregos · 4 years

Text

Existence No. 1: Awakening

Pages: 18

Word count: 8463

...

Many years after the Omni War, everything has been devastated. This is a world where all your characters meet, either from fanfiction or canon stories. Name the character or fanfic, it is in it but is must make canonical sense. All worlds have been brought down to their knees, only to beg for a piece of crumb. After the war, the United Rail Nations formed a new ideal and recovery method on how to recover after the war.

However, when it was thought they all could recover; there have been financial and policy setbacks that have kicked in just days, weeks, or even months before hand. This resulted in what many would name, the green death. Why was it named this way, it is named because everyone started losing money randomly without any intervention. Stocks start to deplete rapidly, a majority of cosmic bank and planetary banks went dark. Worldly civilizations and economies started to fall apart.

The newfound and enriched politics that have formed up and have been established started to slowly break apart to the point where politicians and leaders start having fist fights. After a while, the broken political system started to shatter more widely. This was an opportunity for terrorists and pirates that originate from any spectrum. Mass death and revolutions plagued everything. As if anything could get worse, there have been reports of civilization shutdowns, causing mass famine to spread. This allowed multiple unknowns to take place and rule the abandoned or dead worlds in their name.

Just as things can’t get worse, there are many secrets in the cosmos. Some are open; some are not meant to be discovered. And some… that are originally not meant to be.

Prologue No.1

Everything has its beginnings. Everything has its pros and cons. Everything starts with humble or great beginnings. There are heroes and there are villains who created their stories, stories that have been passed down through time. Most particularly; The grey fox, the blue falcon, the hare, and the frog taking on the evil monkeys, fish, and bugs. The naive little boy martial artist to challenging the gods. The young star warrior who stood against a king, a knight, and nightmares. Two plumbers, a princess, and a demon king. A silent boy with a fairy, a princess, and a reincarnation of the lord of evil. A kaiju and a country. The battle of metal tops with spirits within. Knights who’s blades shine with the force would ease the darkness. One soldier, one alien, one ark, and seven rings. The slayer who went to hell and back. The man who does good. A trainer and its companion. The man of the universe. The cats of the universe. The dragon warrior. A cat who shows fun with a big hat, colored red with white stripes. The green what who stole Christmas. The robots in disguise. A brave kid against the Titans. A boy who claimed the stoned sword that once belonged to his father. A targeted man who survived the POW camps. The firstborn of a God. The founders of the land of the free. The father of country named India. The man who forged the art of war. The father of western studies. The president who freed the slaves. The lost underwater city. The man on the moon. The first woman to fight for women's rights. The American Evangelist. War that conflict with other worlds. The underwater creature of madness. The scientist who constructed E=Mc2. The entrepreneur who named a theme park after himself. The little blue people who wore white and red. The big blue people who are tree lovers. The Mexican tiger boy. A spoiled boy with a groove. A ghost hunting phantom. A leader of the primates.

A time card came with a thousand to a trillion introductions later, both in the realm of fiction and nonfiction.

“They told me to hold the time card because some yellow sponge was what came and it would be a waste of time and effort if the author included a lot more introductions”, an individual announced as it walks off with the time card.

And finally, the chaos warriors and the protectors of seven gems with its giant emerald. These characters and their stories inspired others to make their own fan made creations or even something new but inspired by them. Just like this one. And believe it or not, all of these characters actually met.

Before all of those, everyone was separated. But then, geniuses from their own realms came together to build machines or create special portals to other realms. That is how everyone met. For short, just think about anyone fictional, they likely met but also won't be doing what you could expect them to do. Just like a Sondash ship. It was a new golden age. Everyone started new alliances and created new… things (almost anything to be exact, kind of like the virtual reality thing in Ready Player One known as the Oasis).

However, everyone speculated that a new force of negativity will rise eventually. Some agreed, some neglected, others were silent by just the thought of it. After ten years, it came to be, the empire, a combination of forces united into one formidable foe. Those who knew, shoved it in disbelievers faces screaming, “HAHA, WE WERE RIGHT!” Sharply little of those who were silent, knew about something, that this was part of an upcoming disaster, upon immeasurable levels, upon mythological levels. The war had two names; The Omni War and The War to End All Wars. The one who established led this empire was Mhleliw II. It took eight years but the empire has been defeated. He promised that this empire will last forever, and that everyone will ascend to godhood. However, despite his defeat, Mhleliw II was never found nor was any trace of him. Some suspect he may have killed himself or have wandered off in his madness.

After years of peace and terror with violence that was unbearable for one moment everything went back to normal. Everything is a barren wasteland. And the war came with a cost. A new depression came where everyone is set on the break of poverty and worse. It didn't start immediately; it started after cosmic stock market trading system crashed. It started a year later after the war ended. After the trading system crashed, then came banking failures, digital piracy, name it, it happened.

However, after researching the technology and the nature of the mechanisms that belong to the empire, people began to go mad upon trying to understanding it. One of these unfortunate madmen, is a young child, before the age of 10, saw two sigils clashing with each other out of pure rage, fighting for dominance. Another was a mad teenager, aged 15, who saw what it looked like or what they looked like. Because of this, there has been a new research group with highly developed and trained minds to ensure that they don’t go mad upon research. This group is known as “Project Omni of Creation and Destruction”.

Now, we get to the story-

Some Skion scouts, who suddenly got lost, trapped in some realm. The Skion are four armed vampire like beings without the special powers, wearing antiflux oxygen suits that run on 48 hours of oxygen. It all went from random galaxies to now, breaching rifts with singularity micro-dimensions. Now, they’re stuck, in an unknown void, surrounded by some barrier. The

location with the barrier has what felt like ten suns, with a surrounding of four other bright lights, each with their own attributes. One is comprised of an advanced technological machine like flicker, one comprised of corporate promotion spotlights, one of the desolations of matter and anti-matter, and one comprised of both cosmic time schemes. The one they fly above is comprised of what looks like a world purely composed of how nature sets up the way of how life naturally functions.

The scouts are Mikov, Trieechii, and Qu’tuk. Mikov is the youngest and stands 5.5. He is also the most amateurish and irresponsible. He’s bald with triplet pointy ears with yellow silicone iodine eyes with tiny pupils. The skin is as reluctant and dirty as frog depiction. His color scheme on his armor is yellowish plagued with stone red paint cells. It had extendable chain lingering and dangling on the spiked shoulder plates with molting krinkiton metal.

Qu'tuk, the middle aged of the three, the leader of this patrol squadron, he unfortunately stands 4.11 due to a lack of mutual calcium and protein deficiency since birth. He has no eyes but has astronomical sensory of his surroundings. Not only the shortest but also the heaviest of the group, as well as the strongest. He has no hair, no ears but has earholes. Extremely thinned eyebrows with some baize splashed onto some of the parts. His personal armor standbys are nothing but a deflection electromagnetic bubble which always malfunctions.

Trieechii, the oldest of the three, also the leader of this squad, standing 6.2. Like Mikov, has triplet pointy ears and silk flavored eyes with large pupils with a secondary pupil. His neck is oval shaped due to a mercury and prolonged corona exposure that came from one of a variation of a tyrannical singularity created space mutant's crystals. He has a hairstyle that is identical to that of Niagara falls with a multitude of broken hair fangs that looked like a 10 foot dragon slayer wearing dragon killing equipment... who is a dragon type as well. His armor pigments were pure purple mixed with granite and ruby.

Qu'tuk shoved Mikov with aggression, “It was your idea to bring us here!”

Mikov turned around and responded, “Mine!? You’re the one who thought about this AFTER you raided bunker c-42 on empire terrain! And after you decided to tinker with rift crossing dimension breaches!”

"Oh BLAH BLAH BLAH, always blaming the deadbeat smartass!"

"Oh BlAh BlAh BlAh, AlWaYs BlAmInG tHe DeAdBeAt SmArTaSs!"

"Oh, now we are going through this AGAIN?"

"Oh, NoW wE aRe GoInG tHrOuGh ThIs AgAiN?"

Those two argued for a long time. This strife of words went upon to even Mikov, as usual, starts mocking Qu'tuk. The situation is a dumbass vs a smartass. Mikov is a buffoon who only knows how to get into trouble while Qu'tuk is the one who many would consider "the one who knows too much".

Trieechii one had to fire a shot between them to cease the quarrel. But that barely did anything. They continued to quarrel after the shot was fired. How can he deal with this? Usually, the shot works but didn't work didn't work. Trieechii reaches for something in one of his four pockets and pulled out a flare. This flare began to gleam a bright light, overshadowing the argument between the two Skion scouts. They both used their arms to shield their eyes from the bright light. The flare that Trieechii is using is a Glani flare. This flare has been manufactured and produced by the Alien sentient modulator known as Cellva konk, who is known for inventing the alpufan dusk.

Both Qu’tuck and Mikov stopped fighting and turned to Trieechii. They both gave a dumbstruck face to him to resemble their idiocy. These to bundlers, they always get into repulsive arguments over a little crumb of bread. Some back at planet Sulop began to wonder why those two were stationed together in the first place. Trieechi gave them disappointed, but not surprised face. The two responded with the usual gestures, a spinning hand, giving off a ‘I won’t do it again’. Trieechii knows that another quarrel will happen again, just give it time.

Trieechii then turned his attention to the strange barrier to see a shadow flying towards them. Both Qu’tuck and Mikov turn to look at the shadow. When the creature bumped into the light part of their barrier, the creature bounced back. But nothing less, it did it again and again and again until there was a crack. The scouts didn’t even notice the crack, but what they did hear was the sound of what felt like two church bells being scrapped by each other.Qu’tuck and Mikov hovered to the location to figure out what is happening there. Likely that this barrier was there to keep the shadowy figure and others like it in that so called world.

“Wait, I don’t think moving closer to that barrier is a good idea.”, Trieechii exclaimed cautiously.

The other two smirked and looked at each other and back, “We’ll be fine, it’s just a shadow figure. Likely one of those shadow demons that the night hunters fight.”

“I am just saying… Look around you, does this place seem out of order to you?”

The two stopped and turned to Trieechii with flickfulness.

“Think about it, a giant creature that shows that it wants out and four others that could be like this place? Something doesn’t seem right here.”

Qu’tuck moved his voice in, “I think he’s right. I mean… now that I think about it, I don’t think we are supposed to be here. I think it is best to figure out a way out before we one, lose oxygen and lose our ability to properly breathe and second, maybe the one light with machine flickers would be able to help.”

Mikov doesn’t care and just laughs his ass off, thinking that this is a joke. Matter of fact, this scout thinks that all of this is a joke. Why does this person think all of this is a joke is a reasonable matter. Under Mikov, the creature flies towards the barrier, focusing its attention at the three scouts. Mikov flies closer to the barrier, not acknowledging the other two’s call outs for him to fall back. In response, he goes on a freefall to the barrier. Because he is falling at a rapid paste, the creature stops soaring and hovers in place, waiting for the moment to strike.

Mikov stops his freefall right where he is at the exosphere, the tip of the world’s atmosphere. The other two soared down to Mikov’s position. The creature’s eyes began to gleam with excitement. It stops hovering and aerialites to the Skion’s position. It aligns its wings together and creates a twin spear motion with the wings. It began to ascend into the air once more and lock on the three Skion scouts. Qu'tuk notices the creature charging at them.

The creature appears large, has five wings on both sides of its body. But because it is seen as a shadow figure, it is hard to truly make out for what it is. The most notable thing is the eyes, the two slit pupils that may have given its size away. From what the eyes can tell them, this thing is a massive flying behemoth. But would behemoth be the right term, it is rather skinny and slick than hulking and bulking. Rather, this would be some kind of flying serpent like creature with wings rather than gliding scales on the bottom of its body.

The other two then turn to the barrier to see the shadowy figure penetrate the barrier, allowing it to reach out. Their eyes stared shook, their blood ran cold like ice, every breath felt like charcoaled firecrackers. It looked small from the distance, but now, they see… this thing. They are not sure what this thing is. Qu’tuk however, slowly started to bleed out from his eyes and choke from the blood that ran down from his eyes to his mouth.

The other two opened fire at the creature. They used Krakulon Harpoons to potentially stun the creature and keep it away. It stuns enemies by emitting a 100- 1,000,000 volt stun, enough to render an Elder electric Dragonite to its bones. But the harpoons didn’t work, the sun is having no effect on this creature. But rather, the stun effects are reflected back at them, causing the three scouts to have a severe reaction to the electrical volts. However, the volts returned are stronger than the volts brought from the harpoon.

The creature looked back at its world, never before did it attempt to do such. Many others do try but most all never made it. Perhaps the Celstiontiqunchs’ were but delusional liars made up of those who descended on mad corruption. Last time they were free was when they were frontiering strife from those machines. This barrier was made to keep them out forever, but this? Why, no, more like how, how did it free itself from the barrier? The creature looked at the three Skion scouts. It noticed that one of them still lived after that reflected volt. Trieechii weakly slithered his nearly shut eye towards the creature as he can only see it’s eye. He can’t truly understand what he is seeing. What is this thing? Why is it here? Where is this place?

The creature simpered one of its right five eyes towards Trieechii, returning attention to Trieechii. It gave off a blank red eye, no pupil or cornea, that shines at Trieechii. Slowly in response, Trieechii began to shake uncontrollably as his mind starts to deteriorate. The creature turns back to its world. Upon returning to it’s world, it notices that the barrier is flickering. With each flicker, the barrier grows weaker and weaker, allowing it to pass through. Could that mean… he is returning? Or is…, it returning? Either way, these questions conflict with the creatures thought processing.

Next, in a faraway land known as Equestria, that has been renamed Pionola; the new leader, Dimeonka, is now leading the ponies. Because of the war, Pikonola is having a hard time and Dimeonka doesn't stray far from the struggle. Dimeonka is a stallion with a black pigment with white red stripes. He is a calm mined pony with a low temper esteem. He likes to point the way to a better world, through extremely dangerous situations that can leave an entire species extinct. He goes through PTSD and is currently on medication. His eyes are brown, mane and tail are blond and he has an arrow piercing a page as a cutie mark.

But what happened to Twilight and her friends? Twilight and the rest of the mane six died in the war. Celestia and Luna died in the depression due to lack of funding and the plague. Discord; after fluttershy’s death, went into depression, which lead him to suicide by making himself fade from existence. Spike is nowhere to be found. In other words, Equestria is in ruins. Lack of funding and something about some powerful demon who always smiles came in and turned the world into a ghost town. The biggest one is a war against a band of space pirates.

The current party runs Equestria is a Brankius party. It is a party where the direction of society is directed by a higher one’s thinking. In other worlds, there is this hidden individual who gives orders to officials and the officials’ synchronize it in their way so this hidden individual won’t be detected. In context, Dimeonka is not the true leader, but a figure to the real one, playing the act whole the hidden one dangles with the puppet strings. However, the figure must

be a well known selective that must commit an action that will make him forgotten, so he or she or it can remain in power.

Although it works perfectly if done correctly, the political party is heavily flawed. Secretly, everyone fights for that secret leadership, only for everyone to end up killing themselves after obtaining such position. This has been going on for a long time, enough to render Dimeonka to his hoofs and possibly be on everyone’s mercy. But after a long setback, Dimeonka changed somethings to how Equestria’s Brankius party roles. Because of this change, the secret leader has been revealed and executed, and Dimeonka became the true ruler.

He is a reddish solid color, with short mane and tail that indicates that he has fought an Ursa Major and lived. His eyes are violet with some bloodshot veins indicating bloodshot eyes. He bares a conch shell crest cutie mark, indicating that he likes to decorate things in a ‘counched’ matter. He wears a pair of goggles, the left glass however is slightly cracked but barely noticeable unless you look real hard on it. He stands at 5.7 ft tall and 6.10 ft at length.

In the castle, a guard is taking a break in the guard headquarters. However, in other worlds there are guards, security, and other personnel or some type of police headquarters with a lone operative taking a break. Each of them laid down or sat down and rested. However, they heard some type of voice or felt some type of presence. They look around to see nothing, but that insecurity remains. ?They each know something is here, there has to be something here, but what?

Each of them looks up to see some strange shadowy figure that is staring down at him. Some didn’t seem concerned that much, some were concerned, most were silenced. Those who didn’t seem concerned, waited for it to do something. Those who were concerned armed themselves or amped their abilities and prepared for a fight. Those who were silenced, couldn’t bare to witness what they are seeing.

Despite different approaches, they all met the same fate. The ones who were not concerned were an easy picking, allowing the shadowy figure to pounce on them, metaphorically devouring them. Those who were concerned, tried to dispense of it, but all failed in the attempt. Those who were silenced, began to tear with terror. They are returning, they know the time is right. THEY are here, they are… The shadow figure opened its mouth at the silenced guards and…

Shortly after, the guard shows up struggles to stay up as it walks down through the empty halls of their locations. They shook ferociously as if they were frostbitten. Their eyes look bloodshot, their faces reddened with some but not noticeable cuts. Their armor/suit is ragged, cut, and damaged. Their posture is rugged and clearly, the individual(s) struggled to stand.

“Why are you shaking like that and where were you?”, curiously asked the leaders as the guard walks forward.

The guard stops and tries to speak, but they each fell down in different ways, showcasing a fresh slashes, cuts, or scars, through their bodies, from their head to their feet. Thecuts began to bleed heavily. Some of the cuts even exposed their interior muscles or even their bones. Some of the flesh that are right by the damage started to fall off as the blood began to sprinkle, but for some, it didn’t or did sprinkle again. Their bodies begin to cloud as more blood began to leave their body.

One section of leaders were not conspicuous of the situation and mildly laughed it off, claiming that the whole thing is an act. Some began to laugh with the leader, while the others try to help the individual. The second cast were curious about what is going on, so they called a medic to figure out what is going on. The third cast rushed to the individual's attention, demanding a medic to aid this individual. However, what they all have in common, is that they were attacked by the same thing. However, each attack on each individual has taken different forms, all depending on the area and species. What could be the cause of such calamity? Is it another terrorist attack or some type of remediation that is randomly unfolding itself to the world. There are enough problems right now, why start a new one?

Each of the guards were shaking intensely as the cold started to flood their bodies. They all wish they have never seen what each of them have seen, they just want to forget it. But now, their lives are cut short because of this calamity. Was it fate or some sort of interruption? Each withering slowly as the light starts to fade for each of them. Each of the leaders or medics or anyone who was close to the guard asked questions such as, “What happened? Who did this to you? Is this some prank? Who would commit such brutality?” Each of the guards slowly looked up with clouding eyes.

“He….”, they each weakly mumbled out loud.

“Who?”

“HEEEEEEE…..Ee.eee--”, each of the guards died out before they could utter a word.

This info, not enough, but by how each said it, it is as if they have seen something they were not supposed to see. Each of the medics used brain transplants on the guard(s) to translate what they saw. they stick the electrical receivers in the neck part and the neuro receivers in the cranium parts. The medics added the impulses into the victims to get a read of their memories. This is happening through many methods; psychiatric memory manipulation, magic mind reader, anything to figure out what happened.

Back at the throne room, Dimeonka used a mind extract spell to analyze the corners of the guard’s recent memories. This spell only allows Dimeonka to go back to memories that are 72 hours old, or three days to be simplesti. He looked into the mind of the recently deceased guard and found what appears to be a shadowy figure or some type of [phantom that attacked him. It was fast but terminal. It took many forms but what remained was a figment of eye and a spine of teeth. IS that right? A figment of some sort or… something? Dimeonka can’t tell since the memory is starting to fade. But unlike most times, matter of fact, this is the first time anyone’s memory is fading a lot quicker than necessary.

When Dimeonka stopped his mind trace, he noticed that the body is starting to fade from existence. No seriously, none of that thanos dust or fade like a ghost, fade as if this guard never existed in the first place. Dimeonka took notice as the guard starts to fade away. This method was said to be complete fiction with possibilities such cause being impossible. But seeing the impossible before him, stunned him to the bone. He is speechless on what he has witnessed. Never before had he witnessed such testified death impossibility happen before him. Everyone else who knew about the same theory were also stunned, speechless.

Dimeonka stumbles backwards conflicted, trying to understand what is going on. But has he goes deeper into realisation, he notices that he is slowly beginning to lose his mind. His head pounding, brain cells start to deteriorate and rupture, and his vision starts to blur. He can barely keep it together, this is something that should NOT happen. Begins to hum “whisper of the river” to calm himself down. It is a song that requires you to use leaves for instruments to play it correctly. This song has been used in mediation sessions that he has been taking lately. Though it is hard to play it correctly with the right leaf structure, the result is really soothing.

The Everyone else is either losing their mind, remained frozen, or quickly assessed the situation and alerted everyone in their high councils about the situation. This isn't just happening to Dimeonka, this is happening to everyone! When each senate or council member got the information, they either doubted or embraced the information. Those who doubted the information either went mad or had some of their own underlings containted. Those who embraced it couldn’t believe what they are hearing and try to reject the information. They can’t bear to hear such information that invalidates the current knowledge that they have.

Every time something new but unexpectedly large is announced, nearly everyone panics. No one can rest in this time of era with war, terorism, economic deterioration, etc. What else is there to do in these times without having some sort of life or death stress? Is everyone’s struggle in vain, does it have no end? Would there be a moment where everyone can finally rest? Some are indeed dying from overwhelming stress, anxiety, etc. But this uprise, this crosses too many lines.

Dimeonka then calms himself down and orders three guards to investigate the area. The three guards swifty stampede through the halls to the location where this recently deceased guard was. The iron weight added with every thump on their hoof gave out loud clanging vibrations to the fortress. The stress from the fast pasting stallions causes the armor to start scratch up in some parts. However, this particular armor is constructed by a form of nanometal that regenerates any form of it'setal tissue, as long as the wearer is alive.

"What do you think caused that?", the second guard personifies to everypony.

"Could be some large creature. Otherwise, something new, maybe not.", the third guard responds hastefully to the second guard.

Like everyone, they pray for a REAL rest. Everyone is always on alert, no breaks, almost no sleep, and even no repercussions for their physical or mental health. These guards are no different from such unfortunate calamity. The guards have been trained to contain a mind that is solid metal. However, because of the underdeveloped and decaying economy, as well as political corruption that sprung behind places, the guards begath to throttle into corruption as well. Because of such actions being taken to course, the united rail nations stepped in for each local system and suggested robotic guards, but many, including Equestria, declined the offer.

The guards arrive at the scene of the incident, only to find nothing but debris that originated from the guard and the room storage. The room is about the size of an average size shed. The room can store up to 25 stallions and is one of the new five guard stations that hosts a mini kitchen. This station also holds five beds and has an armor closet that holds different types of armor, all for different purposes. Such example of differentiation is bulk armor is for walls, slim is for scouting and patrols, and weighed is for intense wind resistance.

They scavenged the room for any clue but no answer. However, there is one clue, on the chair, a giant clawmark that is causing the chair to spaze in and out of existence, trying to render itself and keep itself alive, somehow. One of the guards attempted to touch it, but was stopped by a voice in the guard’s head, telling him not to think about it. I mean, it’s just some anomaly, what can go wrong? These guards are nothing more than mere privates that just entered a militant force.

During the scavenging, they manage to uncover the guard’s notes, written in a black notebook with stretch marks that have dried tear stains on it. The pen has been used three days ago and is covered in dry sweat. The notebook has been written on the same day as when the pen has been used. The pen has a metallic but rubbery for it’s build. It is six inches and some damage indicates that this guard chews on his pen. The chew marks indicate healthy but brittle teeth bites.

Two of the guards looked everywhere but barely any clues to what really happened, other than the claw marks on some places. They turned to the third guard, who has begun to stutter and sweat. His eyes are pinned on what he is reading, something about an unknown force awaiting and some schematics about unreilating and unknown locations. Some of this knowledge… is not even on record. Trojecting seven light years from waypoints outside their own multiverse and pinpointing several stars to constellations that don’t replicate natural shapes. This knowledge...., isn’t theirs or anyones that they know of.

As much as the guard tries to understand it, he can feel his mind slowly melting as he attempts to see any real meaning in their world. But all of this…it makes no sense, everything is wrong here, it doesn't match up! The guard begins to pant uncontrollably as he thrives deeper and deeper into the pages. Be begins to hear voices, voices that he has never heard of before, or rather voices that maybe no one has ever heard from before. The guard looked around to see if anyone is there, but all he could see was his vision blurring and the two guards looking at him with confusion and scarcse.

The guard looks up to see a figment of shadows looming above their heads, mumbling things to one another, as well as giving off a glitch like vibration to them every time they revolve around each other. They each can’t be described but they all have multiple appendages on nearly every part of their body, each with their own set of eyes and mouths. The main eyes are large with a set of 2x3. The best they can come up with is some twigs that are strapped down to a large pole and liquefied in some jello maker. The limbs are rather something that a jellyfish would have, something rubery but also slimy and satisfying to touch.

The guards don’t know what to think about this, al they have in mind is what is happening to the third guard as he starts to swiftly turn the pages frantically and in a frightened motion. He continuously turns his head and eyes as he swarms through every page he looks at. All of it, it is not supposed to make any sense. Everything this guard is reading, it’s all wrong. It’s supposed to be WRONG! None of this is supposed to be true!

The guard starts mumbling some strange words, in a voice that mirrors that of the shadowy figures that are floating close to the ceiling. The creatures crack down to the third guard, emanating a strangely distortive energy around them that causes all but the shadowy figure’s vision to start blacking out. Is this what that earlier guard experiences, was this the final moments of vision before he passed? Is this, what he saw? What the hell is going on, someone tell them something, tell them something NOW!

One of the guards, the first guard, ran away from the scene before this blacking out could advance. He can only bare to look back and witness the two fading from existence like that.

There is no true way to describe the situation that they are in, it is as if they are being erased from their memory. However, despite such feeling of relativity, it is not the exact same. This one guard, named Hipiro, has joined the guard just to get paid and finally make a living, not settle down on unknown anomaly that shatter reality by just being there.

Hipiro is a low class guard, just like the other two, mostly just so he can make a living out of something. The other two did it for the power and position. Hipiro is 27 year old pegasus who was born with one wing deficiency; a disorder that only gives pegasus one wing instead of two. This deficiency is rare, but it has happened before. It is as rare as obtaining candymarus; a condition where somepony born with candy for body parts. However, one of the largest differences is that one does not almost instantly die days after birth.

Hipiro runs off to the throne room but before he enters it, he is introduced to a foul odor, fresh but foul and somewhat spicy. When he arrives at the throne room, he only witness what can be described to be gore. What else can be said about witnessing multiple corpses rangolled around and hung from their intestines or any organ of bone of theirs. Their eyes are jotting out with their Sclera and corneas ripped to shreds. Parts of their iris’ are scattered with their pupils mixing with other pupils. The veins of the eyes are mixed with some of the blood puddles that has dried up. Actually, Hipiro is not even sure if the strains are veins or thin tissues of flexible muscle.

The legs and hoofs are dismembered and dislocated. Their muscle tissue is slowly slithering off as is drips down from the body part is was originally assembled to. Some of the muscle tissue has some bone marrow leaking onto the remains, causing the order more rock and milk like. Some of the bone marrow has protein and fat in it, causing the odor to worsen. The stench when blood starts to rot and bodies began to decompose. But it has barely been an hour and this is happening? What the hell is going on, SOMEONE TELL HIPIRO SOMETHING!

The flesh that surrounds the torsos have been tangled up in what can be described to be a big pile of cheap spaghetti. Intestines all chews or clawed up and tossed around one another. By some means, some of the dead poses are even individuals who are attempting to return their intestines back in their bodies. Some of the intestines still has depiction in them that are now leaking from the intestines. Some of the stuff wasn't even fully digested ye and it comes out as a brownish liquid that is jet to be become a wet solid based depoture known as poop. Some of the intestines has depiction on the exterior of them. Some have dried up with insects feeding off them and maggots devouring the remnants.

The livers and kidneys are no different from such fate. They all are torn up and scattered among the throne room. Stomach acid starts to corrode the gallbladder and kidneys. Some of the corroded parts happen to be tongues Some parts of the arteries are penetrating the spleen, and

thoracic. The stomach acids also increase the smell of the foul odor coming from the remains. Some of the kidneys and livers have become a breeding ground for many insects. This place, nothing but FOUL!

The heads and tails of the ponies are all what can be described to overlayed flesh just being folded to the point of There is a pony with their stifle being crushed by a spinal cord that is slowly being devoured and covered in slime and mucus by bone worms. The skull is bashed up with parts of the brain dripping out or splattered across a terrain. Their tongues are al dripping out with saliva and blood with their spinal fluids leaking down from their necks. Their teeth brackled and some hung around like decorations. Even their noses were all smashed as if they were compressed by a hydraulic press.

Hipiro slowly walks in to see everybody rendered down and disemboweled and possibly eaten, al in different ways. He starts to suspect that this has something to do with the shadows that has been circling that guard station. Now that he that he thinks about the shadows, Hipiro begins to wonder; is the other guard, Thundero ok? Is he dead, is he injured, what has happened of him? All of this is rapidly flowing through his mind, making him feel unstable. Too much, so little time, so many weird things going on. He doesn’t know what to do.

He then hears a rather high pitched joyful but sinisterly unsettling and disturbing laugh, in a voice that he has never heard of before. He looks around to see some of the bodies disappearing, only the blood stains remain of the deceased ponies and stallions. Wait, what happened to Dimeonka; where is he? Has he met the same fate as these unfortunate souls? If anything, what if he evacuated just before whatever happened here? The possibility is medium, he mostly never backed down from a challenge, especially if it threatens his position of power. But if it doesn't me may try to strike a deal with it so there wouldn't be any conflict.

He then hears a studderosh and petrified voice in the distance. Sounds familiar, rugged and weakened, through a pile of corpses. Out came a hoof, covered in blood but looks as if it were blending in with the fur. The fur color… and how the hoof is shaped, it’s familiar. Hipiro gallops towards the pile of bodies carefully, he doesn't want to trip over the bodies or slip caused by blood puddles. If he did, he would likely end up with serious injuries due to armor added impact which could lead to a concussion or some loss of bone structure or even interior bleeding.

He arrives at the corpse pile and reached his hof out and led a hoof to this survivor, only to the survivor to be a familiar stallion.

“Dimeonka?”, Hipiro sharply realizes after he has pulled this stallion out from the pile of corpses.

Hipiro lifts him out, only to feel vibrations coming from his leg. These vibrations that is intensely being deominstraighted to Hipiro, it is as if something has scared Dimeonka. He has shakes like this at times, however for the shaking to be intense as if he were a vehicle in an extremely rocky road, something has caused him to result in this behavior. Hipiro pulls Dimeonka complete out of the piles and the first thing he witnesses is the sheer horror on his face. Whatever Dimeonka has seen, it must've been out of this word.

“Hey, Lord Dimeonka!”, Hipiro calls out to his master.

He then proceeded to tap him, causing his to snap in fright and terror. Hiprio jumped back in shock at what has happened to Dimeonka. Dimeonka looks at Hipiro with petrification as if he has seen something that scarred him for life. Hipiro waves his wing to Dimeonka, but in response, Dimeonka swiftly gallops out of the pile, circles around the room, and back into the pile.

“WHAT ARE YOU D-D-DOING!?”, frantically squealed the petrified stallion with his body still heavily shaking uncontrollably.

Hipro jumps in response to his random squealing. Whatever Dimeonka saw, it clearly gave him an impact. Never before has Dimeonka ever acted this way.

“NEVERMIND WHAT I SAID!”, Dimeonka squeaked and dragged Hipiro into the corpse pile.

“What are yo-”, Hipiro is interrupted by Dimeonka, shushing him.

“This world, this isn’t our WORLD! This place, it doesn't… IT DOES NOT BELONG TO US! IT IS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE OURS!” , Dimeonka begins to lose it.

“Lord Dimeonka! Listen to yourself! You don’t know what you are saying!”

“NO, YOU LISTEN TO ME! LISTEN TO MY VOICE AS I COMMENCE THAT WE SHOULD ALL OPEN OUR EYES!”

They both then hear some chuckling in the distance. It originates beyond the throne room entrance. The chuckling continuously gives off a vibe as if there are multiple voices there. One childish, one of an adult, one of a lunatic, one of a beast, one of a creature from an unknown world. The walls began to collapse as the bodies began floating in the air, exposing Hipiro and Dimeonka. The roof began to distort as it gave of this glitched or static like sound effect. It is as if reality of collapsing, but for the two, they know it’s more than just a reality split.

“They are here…”, Dimeonka mumbles in submission.

“Who?”, Hipiro responds swiftly and mildly frightened, and recognizing the submission in Dimeonka’s voice.

“They… I don’t know. But they are here. They are here to take what we have become. They are here to reclaim what is theirs.”

Hipiro glanced at Dimeonka cluelessly; who is… are they? What do they want? Hipiro starts to feel his brain pounding intensely. Each pounding causes him to startle and fall to the ground with immense pain. He recovers but slowly feels the aftermath of the head pounding still taking affect. He remembers something about Dimeonka, before his leadership, he had to be taken in for insanity treatments. Perhaps this was one of the main reasons. He may have been slowly losing his mind over time, likely due to a drastic change of point of view.

Nothing less, the voices, they slowly creep up closer to the two, causing them to gain goosebumps. The voices echoed through the room and through the halls, but it also gives a feeling that these voices originate more than just one location. Hipiro looks for an exit and notices the open glass figurine window. He charges at the glass figurine, hoping to make an escape and breach into the outside world, escaping this situation. He could take Dimeonka, but given his current situation, his mind is set into submission as he slowly begins to grow unstable.

He collides with the glass only to be reflected back, not dealing any damage to the glass. This blast sent him back a 1 ½ yards away from the glass. He felt this deflection as if something backhanded him back to his starting point. He looks around to see nothing but Dimeonka scrambling his voice around as he begins to roll around, once again, in submission. Hiprio begins to think, “Who is he really submitting to?”

A voice called out Hipiro’s name in an unsettling and grooming way. It is as if the plagued sea of stars have begun to spiral in his tounge. The sky begins to twaddle around him as an attempt to slurp some sense into him. The revendius vocality is causing him to stutter and shaking randomly. It is small and barely noticeable; but for the emitter, it is noticeable. The voices begin to cackle out like some ravaging noises, so infamiable, so untamed, it can never be recognized or even puzzled together.

A shadowy figure begins to loom over the halls, but some of the shadows originate from the windows. The shadows that are originating from the windows cause mass screaming among the new Ponvymania town. A gang related town with a low tolerance for anyone squishy or soft. Ponyvill fell into decay after the Omni war hit Equis. It when out quicker than a rendering siphon. It is peckering with the scent of… mixed frost and sea salt, or so what can be stated.

.Hipiro stumbled backwards as the shadows began to surround him, starting with some type of… claw like figure? He is not sure, but what he sees, is a claw of sales that indicate something of reptilian origin. Or… what impracticalities have penetrated his mind? Hipiro then begins to hear Dimeonka screeching some foul and dispensed language, he can’t even understand what Dimeonka is saying. Matter of fact, there has been no recordings of the language that Dimeonka is using. Words that… could not… should not…

The shadow begins to form, around Hipiro as he preps a Gattatik Val C-3 Machine Gun from his armor. The weapon supports a cooler from the barrel and the ammunition are Slug double F centimeter roundz. One shot from this weapon can send a curl a blue whale to oblivion. The bullets however, are nothing more than a crum, enough for a mouse to feast on. He stands firmly, waiting the the ting to pop out. He feels a hoof dragging upwards on his hind left leg. He turns his neck 157 degrees counterclockwise to find out who is dragging his limb.

Dimeonka looked at Hipiro with fanaticism in his eyes and sweat. His heavy breath gave a feeling as if he lost it. Hipiro slowly moved his head backwards, away from Dimeonka as he slowly creeped up to his upper torso. Dimeonka reacted to this by pinning Hipiro down on the ground. Dimeonka screamed in submission, demanding the shadow to take them away.

Hiprio pointed the Gattatik as Dimeonka is he screamed, “I am sorry… I have no choice.” Hipiro fired the gun, instantly ripping Dimeonka in two, scattering his organs and kidneys everywhere.

The foul scent of deprained blood being spilled fresh as the scaled claw swipes it an ingests it like a…- jellyfish, or a blob like substance. The body of Dimeonka is swiftly ripped apart and dissolved as it was injected by the random gloomy prepotouisms. The liquids from the body began to evaporate as his skin and fur begins to dissolve. The muscles are ripped up and saturated into this smoothie like substance. The bones have been ruptured into… seeds inside of a strawberry shake? The organs and the brain have been shifted in tenderized cuisines in a size of a pill.

Hipiro thought Dimeonka would die in battle or some kind of disease or assasination attempt. But this, how can it be spelled out? Being eaten alive? Being dissected alive? Being burned or melted alive? Atoms ripped apart? What can it be? What is this thing doing? Is there anything to be said for what Hipiro must bestow? He walks backwards frightened, he rather be hypnotized into being a worthless slave he once was rather than witness this. He felt a pat on the back, it felt scaley, but interestingly smooth and mildly soft. He stops to turn to witness a giant appendage glooming over him… Hipiro slowly increased his voice to produce a scream that he

could never reach. The thing opened what appears to be opening its… mouth and towered over Hipiro.

Back at the unknown word, the barrier that surrounds the location begins to raddle. The creatures within the world begin to look up and notice the barrier flickering on and off, rattling intensively. That is when they knew, the barrier, it is dying. One of those creatures… expands its wings and skyrockets in the air. This thing begins to curl into a ball in preparation for potential breach. The creature makes contact with the barrier and it miraculously breaches. The pressure from the breach scatters into the infinite sea for where the starts and beyond lay. The creature uncurls itself and looks back. In response, the creature cries out to the other creatures, informing that the barrier is broken, and descend back into its world once more.

The creatures responded drastically, screeching and whaling their snarls at every location there is. This was enough to inform the other starry locations and some locations in the…--- infinite sea of stars, where ‘everyone’ thrived. Those who heard such sounds… and paid attention to these foul and unfortunate sounds…, they were all RE-introduced to… what they considered a voice from the reaches beyond the void. Those who didn’t pay attention, ignored it and moved on. No one could ever guess what has happened.

#Existence Novel #Hytregos

4 notes · View notes

artnerd1123 · 5 years

Text

Roo’s Character Sheet

I started this a good long while ago, but finally finished it!!! Here’s all the deets on everyone’s favorite lil paint kitty :D (and apologies to those the cut doesn’t work for lskdjfs)

Character Chart Character’s full name: Roo Pingere Reason or meaning of name: “Roo” is what happens when you mash “red” and “hue” together; aiden’s not the best at names, and named the lil guy after a red paint splotch the kitten took an interest in. Fitting, seeing as Roo himself was made out of spilled paint. Pingere is latin for paint. Character’s nickname: Roodle, Roodle doodle, paint spot, honey bun, bud/buddy, doughball Reason for nickname: Roodle/Roodle doodle are Aiden’s nicknames for Roo, on account of him looking like a doodle of a cat. Also, rhymes. Aiden also calls him bud/buddy sometimes jus bc it’s an affectionate nickname for a son. Journal will occasionally call Roo “paint spot” as a kinda older-brother giving younger-brother that he likes a nickname type deal. Honey bun is a term of endearment seraph uses for him, as is doughball Birth date: October 13th Sexuality: biromantic Gender/pronouns: ???, he/him

Physical appearance Age: 10 (note: familiars are “mature” at 3yrs of age) How old do they appear: depends how mature he’s acting. some people would say he’s baby, but he normally acts around 17-19 tbh Weight: he’s made of paint. Maybe somewhere around 50-60 pounds tho? Height: 2’9’’ Body build: he is a Literal Bean™ with noodly arms n legs Shape of face: cat Eye color: black scleras, his irises are white with a black ring inside it, but his iris turns orange w/black slit in feral form Glasses or contacts: none Skin tone: pale indigo with darker indigo fur, and lavender cheeks Distinguishing marks: his cheeks each have two horizontal purple lines on them, and he also has freckles *shrugs* Predominant features: his big ol ears n fluffy tail, as well as dripping paint Hair color: technically fur, but indigo Type of hair: fur :V Hairstyle: none Voice: his vc is over here! Overall attractiveness: jus an adorkable lil bean Physical disabilities: none (unless not being able to touch water is one :V) Usual fashion of dress: doesn’t tend to wear anything but cloaks Favorite outfit: his classic brown cloak w/ many layered patches added over the years, held together with his indigo gem/silver cloak clasp Jewelry or accessories: has a silver cloak clasp with a circular indigo gem inlaid

Personality Good personality traits: good natured, wants to help, good listener, gives good advice, easy to make himself and others laugh, loyal, bubbly once you get to know him, dedicated, supportive, extremely loving/affectionate, does his best, very slow to anger, good secret keeper, will let loved ones know how he feels regardless of the emotion Bad personality traits: frightfully shy, indecisive in times of stress, easily scared, easily stressed, social and regular anxiety, very emotional, has a tendency to beat himself up over mistakes/things he did wrong, scares himself sometimes, if you actually somehow manage to make him mad he gets vicious, needs gentle handling if he’s overwhelmed or he’ll have a meltdown Mood character is most often in: a toss up between anxious and content Sense of humor: wordplay and making stupid faces are his go to. Puns are his favorite! These, likewise, will pretty much never fail to make him smile or laugh. Corny jokes are another failsafe that’ll cheer him up/make him laugh easily Character’s greatest joy in life: being able to paint on just about anything with his tail, and sitting in the sun/other warm places near people he loves Character’s greatest fear: being separated from Aiden unwillingly (aka getting lost) and blood Why: blood just… freaks him out. It always has. Whether it’s the implication of violence or just the sight of the bodily fluid, it will never fail to distress him. Aiden is also his originator, and the one person he relies on most. Without him, Roo wouldn’t know what to do with himself What single event would most throw this character’s life into complete turmoil? Losing Aiden. Character is most at ease when: with aiden, especially in places that they stop to rest in towns. If aiden’s not around, he’s most at ease with good friends or staying in the place they’ve found to live in. If there’s a windowsill or armchair to curl up in, then that’s even better! He’s almost always calm when he’s curled up somewhere comfy, with people he knows well close by. Most ill at ease when: aiden’s away, he’s on his own, during thunderstorms, or they’re right in the middle of somewhere really dangerous. Foggy/dark forests, old abandoned ruins, and anywhere wet/damp are all fair game. But he has to be alone to be truly ill at ease. He really doesn’t like being all alone. Enraged when: you manage to push all his buttons and break through his anxiety to tick him off. This barely ever happens, but it can if you continuously harass his friends/family. The moment he stops being scared of you, he’ll fight you himself. Angery Kitty™ Depressed or sad when: he messes up, he feels like he’s failed, he’s been anxious too long, [redacted] happens, they’re out of his favorite food/paint/etc at home, it’s been raining for awhile Priorities: helping/hanging out with aiden, tryna keep him safe, doing the same for all his friends, trying to do his best in any situation, and taking time to himself to recuperate if he needs it Life philosophy: treat others how you want to be treated, always be kind and respectful, and give plenty of chances. But when it comes down to it, know when to put your foot down, and know when things are out of your hands. Just do what you can while you can. Do the best you can do. If granted one wish, it would be: to have a safe home where he and aiden can settle down… (particularly with a partner of his own~) Why? As much as Roo likes exploring new places with Aiden, he misses the days when they were happily settled in a questor village, with friends and familiar surroundings that never changed. He wants to find a place in the world and settle there, away from danger and scary things where they can jus hang out together. He’s also always been a bit of a romantic, and he’d really like a partner one day. Jus someone to lov on and to lov him back, y’kno? Character’s soft spot: shiny/colorful things, friends, and scritches behind his ears Is this soft spot obvious to others? Yep. Completely. Spend a little time around him and present one of these things to him, and you’ll def be able to see him light up :D Greatest strength: he’s really observant of others/his surroundings, and thus very introspective. This allows him to offer good advice and insight on any given situation that he’s a part of. Also, his feral form def packs a punch >:V Greatest vulnerability or weakness: he’s scared of a lotta things, and his anxiety also super sucks. if he’s in a stressful situation, these tend to lock him into a state of horrible indecision. Not to mention his feral form is kinda out of control. He gets really anxious/self conscious about it. Biggest regret: not being able to control himself in his feral form Minor regret: being so shy around new people Biggest accomplishment: he doesn’t quite have a crowning achievement, but he’s helped aiden outta plenty of dangerous situations while questing. Minor accomplishment: he’s found a way to sleep on literally any windowsill, no matter how small. Magic kitty :D Past failures they would be embarrassed to have people know about: back when he was still learning how to clean up properly, he used to get the places objects went confused. Clothes would end up in the kitchen, paints in aiden’s dresser, and pots n pans would end up wedged in with the art supplies. It was a fun time. Why? Roo likes to think he’s helpful n organized… this is certainly a big spot on his record XD Character’s darkest secret: he’s actually terrified of himself/his feral form. Like. Pure, unbridled fear. He gets really bad nightmares about it hurting people he cares about sometimes. Does anyone else know? Ye, aiden does. Aiden tries to help Roo get past this fear.

Goals Drives and motivations: maintaining safety during quests is a big one, as well as finding time to himself/to rest from being around people. If he can avoid crowds in general, he’ll do jus about anything to make sure it happens. He also wants to help his friends n family stay happy, or at least give them good support. He’s driven by a sense of responsibility, as well as knowing how bad it is to feel horrid, and jus wantin to stop people from feelin that way. Immediate goals: make sure the house stays relatively clean/organized, help where needed, find a warm place to nap, find some sort of scrap/etc to play with, try and get into the cookies (again) or jus get his paws on som sort of sweets. Long term goals: help out on any and all quests, protect aiden, and find somewhere they can properly put down some roots How the character plans to accomplish these goals: attentiveness, working through his fear/anxiety, and trying his best How other characters will be affected: positively! He jus wanna have a safe place with his originator n friends ;w;

Past Hometown: the town aiden had settled in before taking up his questor career Type of childhood: happy and untroubled! He had a few major run ins with fear, but aiden was always there for him. It was pretty perfect as far as a familiar’s “childhood” can get. Pets: none First memory: seeing aiden in his living room Most important childhood memory: his first thunderstorm; namely, what happened during it. Why: It was the first time Aiden had left the house without him, and he wasn’t able to follow. The fear he felt from all the thunderous crashing and rain ended up pushing him far enough to turn into his feral form-- also a first. However, Aiden came home as soon as he’d found out about his familiar’s troubles, and spent the whole rest of the night with him. It taught him that Aiden was a constant, and would always be there to comfort and take care of him. It was also his introduction to his feral form-- something that definitely still impacts him to this day. Childhood hero: aiden!!! Dream job: he’d like to go into design tbh. He enjoys drawing patterns, and likes decorating things. If he could do that for a living, he’d be gold! Education: plenty of book knowledge, taught by aiden, and plenty of world experience too. He’s pretty well rounded in all aspects (tho he’s skewed in the direction of observation/working out solutions to actual situations rather than anythin else) Religion: n/a Finances: aiden takes care of that

Present (for all intents and purposes, present counts as mid-story. Makes things easier to answer.) Current location: an apartment in a bustling town surrounded by forests. (town still needs a name) Currently living with: Aiden and Journal Pets: none Religion: n/a Occupation: familiar (doesn’t really have a job, but cleans around the house and such) Finances: aiden still takes care of this

Family Mother: Relationship with her: Father: Aiden Relationship with him: loving and caring, lossa respect and trust! There’s nothing Aiden wouldn’t do for em, and the reverse is true. Siblings: Relationship with them: Spouse: Relationship with them: Children: Relationship with them: Other important family members: Journal, ruffy (in the future), seraph (also in the future, becomes spouse)

Favorites Color: dark blue! Least favorite color: that kinda pukey looking brownish green color. When it gets later in the story, he absolutely hates the color of blood (both dried and still wet) Music: anything kinda jaunty and upbeat! Pop and carnival music are some he likes a lot. He’s also got a soft spot for lullabies and anything played by a music box. Food: biscuits!!!!!!!!!! Literature: loves fairytales, particularly ones with cute romance plots. He’s a sucker for mushy gushy cute stuff, happy endings, and magical expeditions. Form of entertainment: fireside storytelling!!! Or regular storytelling. That’s fine too. The more hand motions, voices, and possible magic visual aids, the better. Expressions: that shouty, loud, bubbly excitement that happens when you put someone in front of their favorite things. Mode of transportation: riding on someone’s shoulders, or otherwise being carried Most prized possession: his cloak. It’s patched up and well loved, since he’s had it so long!

Habits Hobbies: painting, watching birds, dancing, reading, climbing on things, finding out new ways to get into the cookie jar Plays a musical instrument? nope Plays a sport? If parkour across the apartment at 3am counts, then yep How they would spend a rainy day: inside, curled up somewhere warm. Preferably as far from windows as possible, with a cup of hot cocoa and a ball of yarn to paw at. Spending habits: doesn’t tend to buy much of anything. He buys hot cocoa packets, biscuit mix, paper, and new patches for his cloak every so often tho Smokes: no Drinks: the only thing he consistently drinks is hot cocoa Other drugs: nooooooope What do they do too much of? Worrying about things and what strangers he’s interacted with are thinking of him What do they do too little of? Letting go of situations that went horribly wrong in the past. Extremely skilled at: organizing, picking apart a situation or how people are feeling to give good feedback/advice, sleeping on windowsills Extremely unskilled at: tasks that require you to do a whole lotta things at once, interacting with a lot of people at once, coping on his own in a really stressful situation Nervous tics: fidgeting with paws, quiet meowing, constant glancing around, flicking his ears back and tucking his tail between his legs Usual body posture: kinda slouched, ears perked, and tail either resting on the ground or up in a loose “S” shape Mannerisms: around strangers he’s very soft spoken and timid, hides behind things a lot, and sticks close to places/people he knows. If you manage to get him out of his shell, he’s easily excitable and very bubbly. Likes to ask questions, play with scraps and trash, and clean things up so it looks nice. He’s kindhearted and sweet to everyone, and will occasionally rub up against things or people he really likes. Easily startled. Avoids water/damp things. Doesn’t tend to spend much time in crowded areas, or enjoy it at all. Peculiarities: if he gets too overwhelmed by negative emotions (mostly fear), he can only meow instead of speak. He’ll also drip paint at different rates depending on his mood (the faster it drips, the more distressed and/or angry he is)

Traits Optimist or pessimist? Tries his best to be optimistic, but can sometimes break down and turn into a kinda paranoid pessimist (thank u anxiety) Introvert or extrovert? Biiiiig introvert, but needs close friends somewhere he can reach to feel secure. Daredevil or cautious? Def errs on the side of caution! He can be reckless if distressed tho Logical or emotional? V emotional. Trusts his gut on things. Disorderly and messy or methodical and neat? Methodical ftw! He likes his space at least mostly clean! Prefers working or relaxing? He’s alright as long as he’s enjoying himself, but relaxing wins out. Confident or unsure of themself? Yes. (depends on the situation lol) Animal lover? Yea!!! Dogs and other canines make him nervous, and bugs kinda freak him out, but he likes jus about everything else :0

Self-perception How they feel about themself: he thinks he’s timid, a little too anxious, and a little too easily scared, but a good, kind familiar who’s doing his best to improve himself n live a good life!!! He’s absolutely terrified of his feral form. One word the character would use to describe self: sheepish One paragraph description of how the character would describe self: “My name’s Roo, an’ I’m a twelve yeah old cat familieh. I’m kind of a nervous mess sometimes, b-but I’m doin my best to fix that! Or at least teh cope! I’ve been told I’m a sweetheart, and that i’m really easy to excite ‘n make laugh. I’m always tryna be kind an’ understandin! I’ll lend yeh my ear, if yeh need someone to listen, an’ I’m really good at giving advice.” “Um… about my hobbies… I like to organize things, paint, an’ dance! Oh, and watch birds!!! They’re really really cool… Just like my friends! I love them a whole lot, and there’s nothin I wouldn’t do for em!!!” “... One last thing…? Mnn… um… I’m… I’m not all too fond of my feral form. And I see it a lot more ‘n i’d like to. I-I’m way more emotional ‘n easily stressed than I’d like s-sometimes…” What does the character consider their best personality trait? His excited nature and/or ability to give quiet support What does the character consider their worst personality trait? His fear/anxiety What does the character consider their best physical characteristic? His freckles!!! He likes his lil spattering of spots across his snoot. His fluffy fur is another good contender. What does the character consider their worst physical characteristic? How he drips paint, tbh. It can make quite a mess if it gets out of hand. How does the character think others perceive them: helpful, kind and sweet, but a little childish (that last part kinda bugs him sometimes) What would the character most like to change about themself: his anxiety and feral form. Anxiety has always been something he struggles with, and he’d really like to downsize it to at least a more manageable level. As for feral form, he absolutely hates that he turns into a giant violent panther when he gets too stressed-- especially since it’s hurt people before.

Relationships with others Opinion of other people in general: people are mostly good, even with the few rotten apples that pop up from time to time. Large amounts of em are exhausting to be around a lot tho. Does the character hide their true opinions and emotions from others? Not often. Roo’s pretty much an open book. If he does hide something, he’s got a good reason for it, or you’re someone he doesn’t know well at all. Person character most hates: nobody, really. (this does change as the story goes on tho. Ho boi) Best friend(s): Aiden, Journal, Ruffy and Seraph (both in the future) Love interest(s): Seraph~ Person character goes to for advice: Aiden Person character feels responsible for or takes care of: also Aiden, Journal sometimes, and Seraph/ruffy in the future Person character feels shy or awkward around: any new person ever. Feels awkward around Seraph until crushes are admitted. Person character openly admires: all his friends!!! Person character secretly admires: Seraph (for a bit, anyway ;3) Most important person in character’s life before story starts: Aiden After story starts: Seraph, Journal, Ruffy, and still Aiden

#roo pingere #afw #a familiar world #sldkfjslkfjs this took so long--#i'm gonna end up sayin that about all of these character sheets XD #but i'm glad it's done!!!#tis fun to do n all important stuff to think about :0 #hope y'all enjoy the roo infodump #arty writes

4 notes · View notes

mysticmysterywrites-blog · 5 years

Text

Prompt #2

Got an uhh.. Aasimar and Tiefling I would like to play, should anyone indulge me. I've had their characters for a while, but this is the first time I've played them dnd Verse. Looking very specifically for female characters here.

Lupa is a Fallen Aasimar, though she's true neutral by nature. She has beautiful eyes that look like literal ruby's, with curly hair cut braided tightly on one side, and left loose and fluffy on the other. It does, in fact, glow. She's well muscled, but in an absolutely elegant and graceful sort of way. Has bronze skin, with bright red freckles that glow and burn under her skin. She has patches of Vitiligo on her back, that flush out against her shoulder blades. She's so tall! so tall, like 6'3, 6'4. She's an uhhhh Pyromancer Sorcerer. Comes off as very stoic, though quickly shows herself to be a gremlin. Tends not to take things so seriously, even if it seems like she does otherwise.

Comparatively, Ambrosia is a short tiefling, with large ram horns that curl thickly outward, and, not unlike her companion, large curly hair. It sort of, flows and floats through the air, as though she's underwater. The hair is a mix of pinks and white shades, and her skin looks marbled in nature. She also has those sweet hooved feet, and has a soft bit of fluff at the end of a thin tail. She's stocky, with a bit more muscle to her. Stands maybe about 5'4? She's a Brute Fighter, who specializes in Battle Axe and War Hammers, though can strike up a mean duel when convinced correctly. She's very joyful, a Neutral Good. Comes off as being a bit more gentle then she is, though has a soft spot for children and ppl who aren't too good at standing up for themselves.

The two of them are working through some things right now. Working through some FEELINGS. But its fine, its okay. They can be GAY on MAIN.

The plot idea I had for this is that your character is either apart of or hosting some kinda Gala, while my characters are in charge of distracting yours while the third member of their party goes through and grabs what they need from this house. Your character can genuinely be the host, or maybe someone that was invited (or ALSO came to the party for some underhanded means). Trust me they're dumb and gay and don't have the internet the possibility of them slipping up is obnoxiously high. (Guilty pleasure of mine, but also could possibly be the eldest daughter of some old nobility that gets charmed by the two of them and swept away? You know how it be sometimes!!) Or maybe your character is the young child of nobility, who's kind of forgotten about by their parents? Smth like that.

I'm good with NSFW scenes if you are, given the character and roleplayer is 18+. Actually, I like nothing more then the idea of them being pulled off into a library or bed/bath to distract your character, and then some. Might have to deal with two clueless lesbians too, but thats fine. However, we don't gotta. I just as much like the idea of getting into some dergeounds and dragons shenanigans. Some polyam shenams.

It was a simple job, all things considered.

Getting into the gala was easy. The twins mother had the connections they needed, knew how to sweet talk and sugar coat her words. An invite was all but assured through that woman. While they knew not the layout of the place, they practically had all night. These gala's could run for /hours/, an unending run around.

On paper, it was easy. Which meant that there was always something outside the plans that would throw a wrench in it.

Get in, get the papers, get out.

It should be easy.

Lupa felt absolutely gorgeous right now.

Of course, that wasn't to say she didn't normally think she was beautiful. No, no. That was nothing more then a statement of fact, a favor that came with heritage and luck, and confidence that come in knowing both of these things. But there was a difference between KNOWING her own looks, and feeling as though she'd just been dipped in liquid gold.

They'd worked her hair for hours. It was the thing she noticed first and foremost. It's pulled up tight against her head, ornaments and beads strung through to create a colored, gentle glow. It takes a moment of picking for her to notice that they'd picked specifically glass beads, and she rolls them around in her fingers as though testing their limits time and time again. Its a hairstyle she normally does not have, and one she thinks she won't keep once it falls out of place. But for now, it looks.. good. Tight on the head, but good nonetheless.

They'd done well on her make up. The red hues looked good against bronze, and she thinks that maybe they'd maybe bought the dress specifically for her. It fits against her form, one arm hidden under sleeve, the other framed by precious metal and gem. The sleeve leads down her arm, and stops just over the back of her hand. Theres a pattern on it that she thinks, with her brief knowledge of embroidery, must have taken hours to complete.

However beautiful she feels, however, is nothing compared to how beautiful Ambrosia looks.

She's talking to one of the twins- Kimon, when she steps into view, saying something akin to the words, "Remember, the party is centered around the garden, so if you want to have the most luck getting in and out then.." When she glances and happens upon the tieflings form.

They've left her hair loose in all its glory. The streaks of pink flurry through the clouds of white, and her hair floats high around her head as she steps closer. They went with light makeup - A good call, if you asked her. The woman looked fine on her own, none needed. Thales must have gone out of his way to decorate her horns, because the ornaments on it are new, tight to the bone and unblemished by fight and time. Her dress is nothing akin to hers. Shades of silver and blue shimmer and shimmy with every step. It falls to her knee's, though the top of it wraps around her chest tight enough to keep itself in place. The gemstones she wears catch the dimmed light from the windows, lighting her skin with shadows of color.

However, the prettiest thing has to be the expression on her face. There's this grin on her face that covers half of it, and Lupa remembers that she didn't have much like this. Not normally, anyway. She looks as though being dipped in make-up and cloth has changed her life, and though she still has calloused hands and sharp muscles from heaving weaponry around, she thinks that maybe it would feel weird seeing her without it. (She wants nothing more, she thinks, then to give her this everyday. She doesn't understand it, but this is the happiest she's seen the woman in weeks.)

"Oh!" Ambrosia says, like she's just as startled to see her, "Lupa you look..."

Lupa nods, "I'm aware," Monotoned. She's not one to take compliments when she already knows them to be true. Ambrosia startles, though after a moment laughs. She continues, however, "You look.. Spectacular. You're going to steal the show away, at this rate."

".. Me?" She blinks, pulls at one of her bracelets. Lupa doesn't dignify that with a reply, and the man next to her snorts into his hand. She almost stomps on his toes in turn.

"Come on. I was just going over this plan with Kimon. We might as well rehash it again now that you're here."

The manner is large, and to a degree unnerving to stare up at.

The twins came from money. It was an undeniable fact. It was old money, inherited from a father they'd no longer knew nor supposedly remembered, and carefully monitored through their mother. But Money was money, she supposed. Despite this, they lived modestly for their wealth. Their mother lived in a house big enough for herself and her sons, big enough to house multiple guests and then some. Big enough to be spacious, and certainly bigger then the average living space. But they'd not been spoiled with servant, and that space got used well with the sort of generosity that had come with time and well knowing experience.

The same could not be said for this manner, she feels.

Her heels click against a smooth, gracious surface, and she can't help but feel even marginally intimidated by the sight. She wonders, for a moment, how many of the rooms get consistent use. Even the outside of the building looks as though it was simply dressed up for the Occassion. The lights that shine and glow on it color its white washed walls in vivid shades of rainbow, dancing and glimmering in her peripherals. She can place a name to the spell with little issue - Dancing Lights, one she'd become more then familiar with thanks to their bards cantrips.

"Lupa,"

She feels the woman next to her shift closer, and when she glances to meet her eyes, she finds them gazing up to the buildings with wide amazement. And in that moment, she cares not about how pretentious it seems anymore.

The party, of course, is about as dry as she'd expected.

It's mostly rich people with far too much time on their hands, using the excuse of drinking and small talk to attempt to sell their goods or make new connections. Most of the dancing are the same, or similar enough in nature that they follow a pattern in time to the tune. If theres anything she's learned in her travels, theres no party like a bunch of drunken sailors singing at the top of their lungs. She likes to think that most here would have a heart attack at the sheer idea of someone heaving themselves onto a table to dance.

But Ambrosia has spent the last hour falling from person to person on the dance floor, and though she came in supposedly not knowing but one of the dances, she's managed to pick up on four by now. She's always been quite good at that. Maybe that could use that to their advantage at some point... She catches the other woman's gaze, and theres a moment that passes between the two of them that almost rings with.. confusion? A silent question, one of which she does well not to answer. And in doing so, turns her gaze away from the other.

Next she knows, she see's a glass shoved in her face, champaign bubbles popping on skin. "Drink," The woman tells her, raising an eyebrow to her as she does, "Here I thought I was the nervous one. You look as though you know The Raven Queen herself is going to come and collect the souls of everyone in this room," Ambrosia laughs at her own joke, and it's as light as the air in the room.

"... Sorry," Though she takes the glass, she does not drink from it. It wouldn't do her much good--- It takes far more to get her tipsy then a glass of rich-man's liquor.

Ambrosia reaches past her to grab one of the premade plates, tail lashing behind her as she picks from the bunch. Excitement? "Are you just going to stand here all night?" She asks. Maybe irritation...

Lupa takes a moment to consider it, "I need to keep an eye out for our hosts," She says, and she knows its an excuse, "If they come in and we manage to miss them-" She has to take a look around to make sure theres no one around, "Kimon and Thales might get caught. Neither of us can risk that, Ambrosia." The tiefling stares. The pause in long enough that she feels the need to add- "Besides, These events have never been much fun for me. I can't find any enjoyment in an event thats business masked as pleasure," She says, purses her lips, "Go have fun, Ambrosia. I'll be over here."

"But I was hoping you'd--" Frustration reads over the tieflings face, and she cannot for the life of her figure out why. Definitely irritation then. So instead, she looks down to the glass, and avoids the woman's gaze. "Yeah. Okay. I won't be too far away, so if anything comes up..."

There's no polite way to tell her that she'd be watching, of course. So instead, she says, "Enjoy your dance," And learns back on the table to go back to observing.

Kimon settles on stage and begins to play about midway through the show, the tabaxi man next to him giving him an odd look as he does so. But the sound of his fiddle is a welcomed familiarity, and she finds herself falling into step to the song.

Odd, she thinks. That wasn't part of the plan. But they exchange a glance, a nod, and she decides that what she's feeling at the moment is absolutely not panic.

At first, she see's her out of the corner of her eye.

Ambrosia had, at the time, rushed off to entertain the two nobility that were running the party. That had always been more her thing- the woman was well read, and she was by no means shy to touch and magic. She made for a compelling distraction, if not an overall compelling person. She'd be wholey surprised if she'd not had one of the two nobles head over heels for her by the end of the night. Or, she supposed, that could perhaps be a bit of projection on her end. Still. She notices her because.. well, she's beautiful. It's the type of abstract beauty that she associates with wealth, sure. And while it takes her a moment to realize that, perhaps that's also as she appears tonight (she cannot hide the scars on her hands that come from years of magic use, not the callous on her heels from travel. But she knows, beyond that, she must look one in the same. ) Its... a level of beauty nonetheless.

She raises an eyebrow to the woman, who'd been carefully seated on the edge of the window. The architecture was gorgeous. The doors and windows to the ballroom had been opened or cleared, letting the nights breeze blow in and revealing the all too picturesc view of the gardens to the inside world. Lights hover and glow about the walking paths, though the ones in the distance seem to be slowly beginning to fade or die. Almost as though telling the guests that it was almost time to leave. She makes not to herself to leave through the back, this time around.

"You look like your having fun," She says, carefully. She imagines her tone both gives away too much and not enough. Whether or not this is reality misses her, though after a moment she does feel as though she might be making this woman uncomfortable. Or maybe it was simply that she felt uncomfortable. Hm. She's not unaware of what she looks, however. In the end, it works to her advantage.

"Would you like some?" She offers, holding at the end of her plate, "I got some for my companion, but it seems like she's ah... Gotten distracted," she nods over to the woman in question, who seems to be entertaining the couple with a careful display of magic that comes with her heritage.

#Cherubplay #Lupa #Original Character #Dungeon and Dragons au

1 note · View note

mxpotts · 5 years

Text

STUDY : Pepper Potts / tagged by: no one...i stole it from myself

— BASICS.

▸ IS YOUR MUSE TALL / SHORT / AVERAGE ? she’s short !! 5′3 !! but honestly, she’s in heels all the time so people seem to forget the fact she is a smol.

▸ ARE THEY OKAY WITH THEIR HEIGHT ? yeah she’s fine with it. when she was younger she wanted to be the same height, if not taller, than her brothers but she knew that was never going to happen.

▸ WHAT’S THEIR HAIR LIKE ? soft !!! pepper’s hair is so freaking soft mkay. soft and long and pretty much black but when the sun hits you can see strands of dark brown.

▸ DO THEY SPEND A LOT OF TIME ON THEIR HAIR / GROOMING ? oh yeah she takes pride in grooming. she loves washing her hair with her favorite shampoo. she likes trying different hairstyles and making sure that her hair looks nice.

▸ DOES YOUR MUSE CARE ABOUT THEIR APPEARANCE / WHAT OTHERS THINK ? yes. she’s always carried herself a certain way. her mother and grandmother told her that appearance matters and if she wanted to get anywhere she needed not only her brain but to put her best face forward. now that she’s already she doesn’t care as much what people think about her but she has her moments of worrying ‘was that dress too short?’ ‘that picture makes me look fat..’ things like that sometimes (not often tho) cross her mind.

— PREFERENCES.

▸ INDOORS OR OUTDOORS? indoors ▸ RAIN OR SUNSHINE? sunshine ▸ FOREST OR BEACH? beach ▸ PRECIOUS METALS OR GEMS? gems ▸ FLOWERS OR PERFUMES? flowers ▸ PERSONALITY OR APPEARANCE? she needs both. though she leans more towards personality. ▸ BEING ALONE OR BEING IN A CROWD? she works well in both areas but after a long day prefers to be away from a large crowd. ▸ ORDER OR ANARCHY? order ▸ PAINFUL TRUTHS OR WHITE LIES? painful truths. just tell her the truth mkay ▸ SCIENCE OR MAGIC? science ▸ PEACE OR CONFLICT? peace ▸ NIGHT OR DAY? day ▸ DUSK OR DAWN? dawn ▸ WARMTH OR COLD? warmth ▸ MANY ACQUAINTANCES OR A FEW CLOSE FRIENDS? a few close friends ▸ READING OR PLAYING A GAME? reading

— QUESTIONNAIRE.

▸ WHAT ARE SOME OF YOUR MUSE’S BAD HABITS? straight up workaholic. she will work and keep on working until her project is complete. her own health and wellbeing taking the backseat when this happens. which makes her a bit hypocritical since she’s always making sure everyone else around her is taking care of themselves.

▸ HAS YOUR MUSE LOST ANYONE CLOSE TO THEM? HOW HAS IT AFFECTED THEM? When Pepper was in college both of her grandmother’s passed away. She was close to both her maternal and paternal grandma’s so losing them was hard on her. She became depressed and her grades dropped from A’s to C’s and she considered taking a break. Her brothers showed up at her school and helped her through it all. Eugene put her on a schedule and fixed up her notes. Marcus took her out for lunches and dinners and told stories about their grandmothers and helped her remember the good memories. Henry took her out to clubs. They drank, cried, drank some more and even got a matching tattoo (sun and moon tattoos on their ankles). They stuck around until they were sure she was ready. Without them, she would have drowned in her grief.

▸ WHAT ARE SOME FOND MEMORIES YOUR MUSE HAS?

holidays with her family !! spending time with her girl scout troop as a kid !! being hired by Tony !! vacations with her brothers !! cuddling with tony for the first time !!

▸ IS IT EASY FOR YOUR MUSE TO KILL?

nope. not at all. she’s killed twice (stane and killian) and both times left her with nightmares.

▸ WHAT’S IT LIKE WHEN YOUR MUSE BREAKS DOWN? she freaks out. panics. dry sobbing hard but she can’t get any noise out. but then it comes and it’s these gut-wrenching sobs. her body feels all limp, like she can’t move. after she gets extremis her breaking down is the same thing but lmao there’s that tint to her skin and she’s clenching her fist to keep control of herself.

▸ IS YOUR MUSE CAPABLE OF TRUSTING SOMEONE WITH THEIR LIFE? it really depends on the person. when she’s hiring security guards she has to be sure that she can trust them because her life is literally in their hands. she trust her brothers with her life, like no doubt, and her parents. she trust happy and rhodey and of course tony. she knows they would do everything in the power to keep herself.

▸ WHAT’S YOUR MUSE LIKE WHEN THEY’RE IN LOVE? she’s already a caregiver. she already enjoys taking care of other people by cooking for them and giving them all kind of love and attention. but when she’s in love ??? oh man. prepare for hugs and forehead kisses, sweet pet names, breakfast in bed. but also prepare for awkward puns and corny pick up lines ! so yeah there’a all that.

TAGGING: anyone who wants to do the thing

#(capable and qualified || headcanons)

2 notes · View notes

queenbol-of-baldurs-gate · 6 years

Text

(Edit: this is turned out super long so if you don't want to read a rant just skip past this post 😂)

Every now and then I will find a little gem in the DA2 mods- but everytime I browse the Nexus site for the little things, I always resent having to see those head morph mods that "improve" the characters. Like, some are actually really nice, some are just different hairstyles and beards and such, and some are just completely different people lmao. But then it comes to the ones where they take a naturally beautiful character (Aveline is the best example) and "improve" her by thinning her jaw, taking away her freckles, giving her sexy bedroom eyes and just slapping a whole load of makeup on her. And I understand that that person thinks that's sexy. That's what they think beauty is. Maybe it's just their type. But I don't think it's necessary to put improved or better in the mod title when you've just made them look like a model. Of course models are attractive- it's their job, their motive. But it doesn't mean Aveline isn't attractive- I personally think she's beautiful cuz that's my taste. May not be someone else's, but to someone she's pretty as she is. And this is done to every other female character at least once in a mod to make them "better"- but it happens to Aveline the most because she isn't stereotypically femininely beautiful. One mod even outright says "a more feminine Aveline" and I just think why does the shape of a jaw define femininity? I have no jaw to speak of, does that make me less or more feminine? It's bizarre. It just makes me think that a lot of people on the fandom have bought in to this man-made beauty that the fashion world and celebrities have created (again, it's their jobs to be beautiful, the industry just profits off of their looks and how they can pander their products off on to society and their insecurities) and have unlearnt that beauty comes in so many different forms that diverge from the "norm". It happens to the male characters as well, just less often than the female characters, but to the same level when it does happen. They too put the words "improved", "sexier", "more handsome", "better" in the mod titles, and when I check it out they've usually given the character and strong, sharp jawline, high cheekbones and sunken cheeks with intense bedroom eyes. And they usually make them look like they're frowning all the time. To get this overall "manly" brooding look that a lot of women have grown up swooning over and being taught it the epitome of male beauty. There are some that just make them very soft featured, big adoring eyes and plush pouting lips, doing away with all of their wrinkles and skin details. Again, everyone has different tastes. But it shows a disconcerting dismissal of men who don't have strong jaws, or have soft round cheeks, who aren't "manly" like the celebrities on the screen, and address them as "lesser" beauties. I myself love soft, chubby and husky men (and in love with one now) whilst other people like slim, bony men (looking at you mum) or fancy a man who has biceps the size of your head. They are all different kinds of beauty in this world. And these mods just get me down, because they erase the characters natural, original beauty- plus you can always tell when it's done by a sexist or a racist (don't get me fucking started on the white-washing mods they are a bane on my life and living proof that we have hordes of racists in the fandom).

#long #long rant #rant #dragon age 2 #da2 #mods #da2 mods #i have a lot of thoughts and feelings about this #i enjoy playing 2 but i hate its mods #dao is fun but long #and the mods are usually spot on #or at least these kinds of mods are drowned out #by the thousands of other mods that exist for that game #my laptop isnt powerful enough for dai mods lmao

6 notes · View notes

deathtouch · 6 years

Text

⋆ femfeb day 2 // my femfeb masterpost ⋆ xposted to ao3 ⋆ moira / symmetra // 2k // explicit ⋆ alternate universe, demon symmetra, occult, demon summoning, demon sex, oral sex ⋆ moira attempts to summon a demon

From Light Into Being

Moira checked her pocket watch in a manner that would appear to others as anxious. She wasn’t anxious. She was simply tight on time. There was a difference. She had no reaction at all to the position of the minute hand, but she certainly didn’t like it’s placement. She glanced around the jewelry store again.

It was a lovely place, really. The walls and cases were all a deep, rich wood stained a color so dark it almost seemed black. The lighting was low and the scent of the shop was earthy. This particular jewelry store had been in the same spot for a hundred years. The business had been passed down from family member to family member. The building was steeped in history. She would have liked it better if she didn’t have to deal with another setback every time she came here. Moira took a quick breath, approaching the clerk who was standing behind a case full of diamond necklaces. “Could you just tell your boss-“ “He’ll see you when he’s ready.” The clerk replied. She was a pretty girl with a beautiful cupid’s bow of a mouth. Moira had thought her quite appealing the first time she’d come in here. In the dozen or so times since that first meeting, the clerk had grown less friendly and less prone to smiling. Somehow she didn’t seem as cute anymore. Thankfully at that exact moment, the jeweler emerged from the back of the shop. He was an older man with strong fingers and a slight stoop to his back. He wore thick framed glasses and clipped to them were a set of magnifying glasses. He walked over to the two of them, hand cupped to hold what he’d been working on. “They’re all done then?” Moira asked, a touch of hopefulness in her voice. “Yes, they’re finished,” He said warily. He’d been working on them for weeks. “Cut to the exact specifications I asked?” She pressed. “Yes, Ms. O'deorain. The exact specifications.” “Because even a millimeter off and-“ “They won’t work.” He finished the sentence for her. Yes, yes. He’d heard this a hundred times by now. “And what exactly are you needing them for?” Moira straightened, lips pursing into a tight line. She didn’t like that he kept asking. It’s not like she could tell him the truth. He wouldn’t believe it for one thing, and if he did he wouldn’t be too pleased to know what he was complicit in. “Just so long as they’re accurate,” She said after a long pause. The jeweler extended his hand, passing along the precisely cut prisms of topaz, diamond, garnet, hematite, onyx, obsidian, quartz, sapphire, tanzanite, and zircon. Some of the stones were worth more than others, but it wasn’t the cost that mattered. It was the cut. They needed to be precise; they needed to be perfect. The Goddess only responded to perfection. Moira appraised them in her hand. The bright colors stood out against the pale skin of her palm. They seemed right. The shape matched the drawings and sketches in her gramarye. It had taken months to collect stones big enough, and to find the right jeweler to cut them. All that time and effort whittled down to a handful of colored rocks. “Thank you,” She replied sincerely, producing a small drawstring pouch from her breast pocket to rest the stones in. She paid the man in cash, a fat stack of bank notes wrapped in a band. She had plenty of money to spare and left the jeweler a hefty tip for his fine craftsmanship. +++

The sky was dark overhead, flickering with lightening and rumbling low with thunder. Gusts of warm wind swirled the brittle brown leaves on the ground. Moira found her ginger hair and the lapels of her jacket fluttering in the wind. The incoming storm was a good sign. There was energy and electricity crackling all around her. It would suit the summoning ceremony nicely.

She went over everything again in her head as she walked, recounting the instructions for the ritual. She knew them all by heart. The heels of her boots clicked on the pavement, sidewalk passing underfoot as she hurried back to her apartment. It was only a temporary living space. She’d really only rented it because of the proportion of the room. It had taken her a long time to find the right place to conduct the ritual. She needed a perfectly square room, equal on all four sides.

She must have visited over a thousand apartment buildings, homes, hotels, hostels, and hovels in the city before she found the right one. She’d gotten down on her hands and knees and measured the baseboards with a tape measure. Often times rooms were off by centimeters. That just wouldn’t do. The apartment she finally found wasn’t in the nicest part of town but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was the perfect proportions.

“Moira?”

Moira glanced up from the sidewalk, breaking away from her thoughts.

“Moira O'deorain, is that you?” To Moira’s surprise, an old colleague of hers crossed the narrow street to greet her. Angela Zeigler. They’d gone to school together a long time ago. She didn’t look much different, in fact she looked positively the same. Her light blonde hair was still done up in that insufferable messy hairstyle she seemed to think was casual and cute. Her modest clothing, a turtleneck sweater and an ugly brown pencil skirt, made her look like someone’s mother. “Mercy,” Moira greeted, somewhat unkindly. “Oh goodness, no one’s called me that in ages.” Angela laughed. It was an old nickname from their medical school days. “I’m sorry, we’ll have to catch up another time. I’m on my way and I’m in a hurry.” Moira told her plainly. “Moira,” Angela reached out to clutch her by the arm and stop her going. “Are you alright? You look a little…” Her voice trailed off. Moira stared down at her, filling in the blank with her own words. Rushed? Yes, she was rushed. She needed to begin the ritual soon. It was so close to sunset. The sooner she got home the sooner she could set up. She couldn’t stand around chatting all night. That wasn’t what Angela was thinking though. Moira realized then that Angela didn’t look concerned. She looked frightened. Moira could see it in her pale blue eyes. There was fear in there. “Look a little what?” Moira asked suddenly, wanting to know the answer. Dark? Dangerous? Powerful? Does what you see scare you, little Mercy? Are you remembering all the rumors back at school about the meddling I’ve done with dark forces. Satan worship they called it, the imbeciles. Moira didn’t say any of this out loud but she wanted to. She was tempted to. “No, it’s nothing.” Angela forced a smile and stepped back. “Sorry to have bothered you. It was nice to see you.” Moira hurried on her way, barely listening to the niceties Angela muttered behind her. +++

Moira stopped at the top of the staircase, laying eyes on her apartment door. Her heart was beating a little quicker in her chest and she had to tell herself it was from rushing up those four flights of stairs. As she reached out with the key to unlock the door she found her hand was trembling, just a little. She stopped to steady herself, drawing in one deep breath after another. There was no need to be nervous. She wasn’t nervous. She just wanted this to go right. It pained her to imagine what might happen if she messed up the ritual. The Goddess might be angry. She might come bringing pain and death. Moira found that she wasn’t scared of dying. What worried her was the idea that The Goddess might not come at all. That had happened to others. Others who had done the summoning ritual perfectly. The Goddess simply hadn’t been interested in appearing for them. “Not me,” Moira told herself. “I’ll summon her.” She unlocked the door with a click and pushed it open. The room was precisely how she had left it; nearly empty. It was a blank slate of a room to begin with. She hadn’t moved any furniture in. The only thing she’d brought to adorn the place were candles and dried flowers. Purple irises, yellow daffodils and pale gladioluses. The candles, free of scent and white in color, and the dried flowers were both elements required for the ritual. The most important part, however, was the sigil Moira had carved into the hard wood floors. The sigil was almost as big as the room itself. It was a painstakingly intricate piece of work containing circles inside circles, shapes, symbols, runes, and interconnecting lines and curves that crossed one another a thousand times over. It had taken her a week’s worth of endless toiling to complete. It wasn’t good enough to simply make the impression of the sigil, she had to get it exact. Perfect circles, perfect angles, perfect shapes. She’d used protractors and rulers, checking and double checking her work. If one line was off by a centimeter, if one circle wasn’t exact in its circumference The Goddess would not come. Moira took a deep breath, stepping into the large sigil. She produced the drawstring bag of jewels from her pocket and emptied them into her hand. She knew the sigil by heart. She knew which gem went where. She got down to her hands and knees, finding the crevices she had carved into the wooden floor. She placed each gem in its carved slot, adoring the sigil with small twinkles of sparkling color. When she was finished she sat back on her heels, wiping her forehead. The gems were evenly dispersed around the outer circle. She hoped this offering of beauty would please The Goddess immensely. Moira checked her pocket watch, noting that it was almost exactly sunset. She need only light the candles and begin the prayer. +++

Moira’s tongue felt thick and dry. Her voice was raspy and cracking from the chanting. She repeated the words of the prayer again and again, a kind of musical cadence to them. She’d said them so much they were no longer words in her head, just noises. It didn’t even feel like she was speaking them anymore. She was so entranced, her lips and tongue were moving by rote. Her voice was not her own to control. Her body overrode, acting compulsively. She couldn’t mess up now, couldn’t deviate, couldn’t stop. She had to keep going, keep repeating until The Goddess arrived. Her knees ached from kneeling on the hard floor. The room had grown hot, unbearably hot, as she chanted. She couldn’t remember how long she’d been kneeling here repeating the words. She only knew that she had to continue. Sweat prickled all over her body, beading on her forehead. She didn’t think of it. She repeated the words, willing her desires into being. Perfection, she thought as she chanted. Come to me, please, Goddess. I’ve done it all perfectly for you. The air burned her lungs as she drew in breath. It was so hot in here. Though she was uncomfortable, sweating through her clothes and desperate for water, she didn’t have room for those thoughts in her head. Perfection, she thought again. It’s all perfect. It’s all for you. A crackling sound nearly made her miss a beat in her chant. The sounds of distant thunder had been rumbling in the background all night but now it sounded like a bolt of lightning had hit the floor in front of her. She opened her eyes, not knowing when she’d close them. Her eyes watered from how hot it was. Heat waves shimmered in front of her. She squinted painfully, noticing something was falling from the ceiling. Her chanting quieted but continued as she looked up. Ash. Ash was falling down, and flakes of something smoldering with the spark of fire. Her heart leapt in her chest. Before her The Goddess appeared, a shimmering mirage. She was molten like magma, a burning heat radiating from her chest. Her eyes were bright, white hot beacons. Dark horns curled back from her head. Her skin was a breathtaking mottling of black purple and burning orange and bright white gold. She was so much more beautiful than Moira ever could have imagined. “Symmetra,” She whispered The Goddess’s name, bowing before the demon. “I’m honored.” Moira didn’t even have time to be proud of her accomplishment and the fact that she’d actually done it. She was too busy being in awe. She had summoned other demons before, but never one so powerful as this. Never one she had such reverence for. “You called?” Symmetra mused in a dark voice, heat radiating from her body. “I beg of you,” Moira whispered, “Bestow upon me your knowledge.” “You must please me first.” Symmetra told her. Moira looked up, not daring to look The Goddess in the eye. Instead she stared at her cloven feet. “Does the sigil not please you?” She asked, confused. She must have done it right or else The Goddess would not be here. What more could she offer? The flowers? The candles? “You’ve done fine work with your hands.” Symmetra replied. “Now show me what your tongue can do.” Moira gasped softly, the realization flooding through her. Again her heart leapt in her chest. Yes. Oh, yes. She never dreamed she would be worthy enough to touch The Goddess, let alone use her mouth. The privilege was not lost on Moira what-so-ever. She crawled, hand and knee to the demon’s feet and sat back. She raised her hand to part Symmetra’s skirts and found that this time her hands were not trembling. Though it burned her to be so near the molten skin of The Goddess, this did not stop Moira. She buried her face between the thighs of the demon and licked at her folds hungrily. She felt like she was licking hot fire. A sharp taste burned her tongue. It was delicious. She licked for more. She put an unmatched enthusiasm into the task, her own body alight with pleasure. She couldn’t believe this. To taste the sweet juices of The Goddess, Symmetra. How could she be so lucky? Pleasure thrummed through her own body. Her eyes rolled back into her head. She got lost in the task, the same way she had gotten lost in her chanting. Her tongue worked tirelessly, attempting to please The Goddess with all she was worth. The heat intensified around her, becoming insufferable. She couldn’t breathe, but she didn’t care. Blackness washed over her and even in her last waking moments she gave her all to satisfy the demon. When she came to, Moira was dusted with ash. Her lips and tongue tingled in pain. She was sprawled in the center of the sigil. Crisp flurries, alight with fading fire still floated down from the ceiling. She pushed herself to sit up, trying to get her bearings. In the dark she saw a pair of bright yellow eyes, burning intensely. Moira stiffened immediately, suddenly aware that she was still in the presence of The Goddess. “Thank you,” She whispered hoarsely, offering her appreciation. She was at a loss for words for a moment. “Have I pleased you, Symmetra? Will you bestow upon me your knowledge?” The demon shifted, stepping forward. Her chest began to glow yellow. The room grew hot once more. She came closer and closer, crossing into the sigil to where Moira lay. A terrible energy clouded her, something dark and dangerous and powerful. Something Moira ached to have. For a moment she was sure The Goddess was approaching her to kill her, to rip her throat out, to devour her whole. She accepted her impending death. Instead, Symmetra bent at the waist. “From light into being.” She said calmly, as if these words held all the answers of the universe. She reached out, tapping a finger to Moira’s head. The world cut out. +++

Moira woke with a choked cough like a woman drowning. She turned on her side, coughing and hacking miserably. Her head was burning, a massive migraine making her nauseous. She tried to remember what had happened but it was all a mess, bits and pieces coming back to her in chopped and screwed memories. She could barely even remember what The Goddess looked like. Only those burning eyes and the seam of hot lava that ran down her chest. The candles had burned down to nubs and the room was in darkness. In the slim light she could see that the dried flowers had shriveled to brittle brown clumps. The gems in the floor did not sparkle, they were dull and sad. She reached for the nearest one and found it was cracked in two. She held it in her palm, staring at it as if it held some answer. A corner of the garnet prism caught some light source and it sparkled, barely. Light. From light into being. Moira gasped, choking again. Her head pulsed with pain but she remembered. She remembered. She remembered everything Symmetra had shown her. The intricacies of the universe and all that it had to offer. How she need only bend the light to make it hers. The broken gem clattered from her hand as she began to make the motions she had learned. A soft wave, a pinch of her fingers. It took all her energy but a soft blue light blossomed in her palm. A new gem formed, perfectly shaped and whole. Tears sprung unbidden into Moira’s eyes. She laughed. She’d done it. She’d called upon The Goddess and gained her knowledge. She felt more powerful now than ever before.

#moira #symmetra #overwatch femslash #femslash february #overwatch fanfic #femfeb

9 notes · View notes