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pillage-and-lute · 3 years

Note

Hey I have a holiday prompt for you! What if it’s the pairing’s first holiday together and they stress about figuring out what to get each other? Any pairing you feel like! PS Reading your stuff never fails to put a smile on face!💜💜💜

Hi Blondey!

cute shit ahead. Modern AU

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“Yen,” I swear,” Geralt panted into the phone. “It’s an emergency. Please, I need your help.”

“No.”

“Yen please I’m actually begging.”

“You should have thought to beg before Christmas Eve.”

“I’m meeting him tonight, Yennefer, I’m on Wilson Street, with all the shops and I’m so lost, please.”

“No.”

“I’ll set you up with Jaskier’s hot friend. The one from the coffee shop. She’s single.”

“...I’m on my way.”

-- -- -- Across Town, Triss and Jaskier’s Apartment -- -- --

“I just thought I’d have more time to get him a gift,” Jaskier wailed, draped dramatically over Triss’ beat up armchair. “And then it was thanksgiving, then finals and it’s Christmas eve and I don’t have a gift.”

“Well,” Triss said, sipping her cocoa and barely looking up from her book. “It’s not noon yet, shops aren’t all closed. What kind of gift does your relationship need?”

“What?” Jaskier looked up from his flop of despair, confused.

“I mean, if you’d been dating for a month it would be slippers or some scotch or something.”

“We’ve been dating eight months though!” Jaskier wailed. “I love him, Trissy, desperately. I see his face and everything goes all pink and mushy.”

“You should get that checked out.”

“No, I mean,” Jaskier sat up and looked at her. “I think he could be the one. He might be it for me.”

Triss looked up from her book. She’d known Jaskier since university, and his heart had always been so mobile, but there was something shining in his eyes. She shrugged mentally. Put it down to a Christmas miracle, but Jaskier was really in love.

“What does he like?”

Jaskier huffed. “He likes being grumpy.”

“And?”

“Me.” He paused for thought. “His horse, Roach, he loves riding. He loves his goddaughter, and mythology.”

“Lord of the Rings nerd?”

“Oh you have no idea, he’s basically Aragorn if Aragorn had albinism.”

“I know a place,” Triss said, getting up. “Put on your coat.”

“Will it be open?” Jaskier asked anxiously, pulling his boots on.

“They live above the shop,” Triss said, throwing his scarf at him. “I know the owners, I’ll just shoot them a text.”

-- -- -- Back on the other side of town -- -- --

“Okay,” Yennefer said. “And you’re sure the hot barista is single?”

“Triss,” Geralt said. “And yes, apparently she’s been crying about it to Jaskier for ages.”

“Right, let’s go looking,” Yennefer said, looking remarkably cheerful.

The rows of shops were mostly open for last minute shoppers and Geralt and Yennefer fought through them.

Well, Geralt fought. Yennefer just glared and people moved out of her way.

“Does he cook?” Yennefer asked, pointing at a cookware store.

“Ramen and box mac n cheese,” Geralt said.

“You said he likes clothes?” A very full store with what could only be called hipster clothing.

“He has lots of clothes I want something...special,” Geralt said. He was trying not to lose hope.

“You really like this one.”

“I do, you met him he’s just...bright,” Geralt said, mumbling a little into his scarf as the wind blew a flurry at him.

“Hey, look at the music shop on the corner,” Yenn said. “I’m down here all the time, I’ve never noticed it before.”

Neither had Geralt. “Is it new?” It didn’t look new. It looked nearly condemned.

“You said he loves music,” Yennefer said, stomping in the direction of the store.

“I dunno, that store looks...”

“He loves music,” she said. “And you love him.”

They entered the store.

-- -- -- Triss and Jaskier -- -- --

“How the hell did you find this place?”

“I told you,” Triss said, matter of factly. “I know the owners. They’ll be down any minute to open it up.”

“They’re opening it up just for us?” Jaskier asked guiltily. It was Christmas eve after all.

“They owe me,” Triss said. “I introduced them. Well...reintroduced.”

“Welcome to The Sword in the Stone, Gifts and Novelties,” grinned a young man with very blue eyes and slightly large ears, opening the door. Behind him a blonde young man grinned cheerfully too, he was wearing a santa hat.

“Hi,” Jaskier said, stepping gratefully inside. “It’s a pleasure, I’m Jaskier.”

“Merlin,” said the young man who’d opened the door.

“Arthur,” the blonde waved.

“Seriously?”

The pair just shrugged. Well, Jaskier, called Buttercup/Dandelion/Julian/a lot of other things, wasn’t about to tell people what to call themselves.

“I hear you need a gift for that special someone,” the blonde -Arthur- said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Yeah, he loves fantasy stuff and I just... I don’t know what to get him.”

“Gotcha,” Arthur began to lead him back into the shop. Merlin and Triss were chatting by the door.

“Were you thinking bigger, got a lovely cardboard cutout of Viggo Mortensen?”

Jaskier pictured Aragorn watching them have sex from the corner of Geralt’s little studio apartment. “Maybe smaller but kind of...niche?”

“Lucky you, this place if full of niche,” Arthur said cheerfully.

Jaskier looked at the wall full of swords and was that a battle axe? “Yeah...”

“Does he wear jewelry?” asked Arthur, jingling a box full of metal in Jaskier’s direction.

“Not really,” Jaskier said. Then something caught his eye. “Wait...” he pulled something out of the box and held it up to the light.

Somehow...it was perfect.

“How much.”

-- -- -- Yen and Geralt -- -- --

“This place looks closed,” Geralt whispered to Yennefer, looking around at the racks of instruments.

“Not closed dearie, just dusty,” came a cheerful voice from right behind Geralt. He and Yennefer jumped.

“Sorry honeys,” said a little old lady with coke bottle glasses. “Got my slippers on, makes me quiet. She shuffled one foot, clad in pink fluff, off the floor as exhibit A. “Gift from my great grandson, aren’t they darling? Now,” she looked at Geralt with laser intensity. “You’d be needing a gift.”

“Um, yes ma’am,” Geralt said. How had she known?

“Ooohoo you need a gift,” said the tiny old woman, “Cause you’s a boy in love.” She nearly cackled. “Follow me honeys!”

Geralt and Yennefer looked at each other, shrugged, and followed. What choice did they have?

“Got a harp,” the shopkeeper called cheerfully. It was indeed a full, standing, concert harp. It had a figurehead on it but the face looked absolutely agonized.

“Maybe not,” Geralt said.

“Hmmm no,” said the lady, shuffling her fluffy slippers. “Bagpipes?”

“He lives in an apartment.”

“That’ll be a no, then,” said the woman, peering at a rack of instruments in the corner. “Aha!” she shrieked, startling Geralt and Yennefer both.

“This!”

It was perfect.

“I can’t afford it,” Geralt said, feeling hopeless.

“Oh yes you can,” said the little old lady gleefully, if she could Geralt got the sense she would be jumping and clicking her heels. “Nobody wants ‘em these days, this one’s seventy-five percent off!”

Geralt left with a weird shaped package.

-- -- -- Geralt’s studio apartment, evening -- -- --

“Hey,” Jaskier, said, stomping his boots on the mat.

“Hi,” Geralt replied, stealing a kiss. “What’d you tell Triss?”

“Told her I was sending a gift, what’s you tell Yennefer?”

“She’s heading over there now,” Geralt said. “With that movie they both like.”

“Ocean’s 8?”

“That’s the one, and a plate of homemade Christmas cookies.”

Jaskier smiled at Geralt and stole another kiss. “We’re never going to have a moment of peace, now we set them up,” he said. Geralt grinned at him. “Never, but I think we did the right thing.”

They settled in on Geralt’s little loveseat. Jaskier set a wrapped present on the side table. Beside it, on the floor, was a very poorly wrapped mess. Lots of scotch tape was visible. It was quite large.

Jaskier felt panicky.

“Should we,” Geralt said awkwardly. “Do you want to exchange presents now?”

“Sure.” Oh god, Geralt’s gift was so small, and what if he hated it?

“You first?” Geralt said, handing over the odd package.

Jaskier had always been a rip-it-open present person, but he took his time, although there was no salvaging the taped up paper.

“A lute?” he turned to Geralt in delight, face lighting up.

“A lute,” Geralt said. “Is-is that a good thing?”

“Oh my god, Geralt, yes! Oh I love it! I can’t wait to learn it!” Jaskier dropped kisses all over Geralt’s face, careful of his new baby.

He handed Geralt the little package. “It’s not as great but...”

Geralt was a folding kind of person and folded up the wrapping paper carefully, then he opened the box and took out the amulet with the silver wolf’s head.

“Oh,” Geralt said.

Oh. Was that a good oh or a bad oh? Jaskier tried to breathe slowly.

“Jaskier I...”

Oh no. He hated it.

“It’s perfect.”

What?

“When I was little I thought I’d be a knight,” Geralt said, pale eyes shining. “And I drew wolf’s heads on everything, my crest, I said.”

Geralt was holding up the amulet as if transfixed.

“Vesemir can show you, he kept the drawings,” Geralt said. Then he slipped the medallion over his head.

“My knight,” Jaskier said. “My wolf.”

Geralt gave a playful growl. Jaskier’s heart thumped a little harder. Geralt must have picked up on something in his eyes because he cocked his head.

“Oh?” he rumbled, low in his chest. “You want a wolf, do you?” He growled again.

Jaskier leapt up, shrieking with laughter and ran to hide in the bathroom. Geralt caught up before he could close the door.

“I’ll huff and I’ll puff,” he said, dragging Jaskier closer and giving him a bear hug. He growled in Jaskier’s ear.

“And I’ll blow your...how does it go?”

“I’m not sure, wolfie,” Jaskier said, pulling Geralt closer by the amulet. “But I think it ends with you eating me all up.”

It was a very merry Christmas indeed.

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Ope! Idiots! With a random appearance from BBC’s Merlin (In 2020? I guess.) and a little old lady. + the magic of christmas.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher #modern au #christmas #minor merthur mention

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moxfirefly · 3 years

Note

hellow its me again hehe can i have a order 53 In/By A Swimming Pool with mikey please?? (kink prompts??) Sorry if it's not clear ^_^

A little aquatic adventure? Ok I’m down for it.

Rated Mature (18+ Only)

Michelangelo really loves your thrill seeking ways. It’s quite possibly one of his most favorite things when it comes to you, first place being you yourself obviously.

You had met up with him at the roof top of one of your many spots. It was date night nevertheless and Mikey always prided himself in showing you a good time. Dull was surely not in his vocabulary and you loved that. But tonight the two of you had been drawing blanks upon what to do. The humidity had covered the night air making it just unbearable to be outside.

Which led to your idea.

“Babe, can you break us into the pool over at my college?” You were lying your head on his lap whilst Mikey played with your hair. His face broke out into a big smile. “You serious?” You sat up and smirked at him. “Well it’s freaking hot and I’m kinda feeling a pool date tonight” You climbed on his lap wrapping your arms around him. “So? Up for a little breaking and entering?” Mikey was thoughtful, he wasn’t necessarily into illegal stuff but where was the harm of taking a little late night swim?

Mikey nodded, laughing once you squealed in delight . He welcomed the onslaught of kisses you attacked him with.

____________________

Breaking into the college had proven fairly simple, child’s play almost. Inside the large indoor Olympic pool you wandered off to turn on the pool lights. Not wanting to make it obvious you made sure to just turn the lights that were placed inside the pool itself. Mikey wowed at the sight of the grandeous pool.

“Pretty neat yeah?” You met him by the bleachers, your giddiness radiating off of you in waves. Mikey couldn’t even keep still, the prospect of taking a little night time swim with his gorgeous girlfriend was definitely bucket list worthy. “Let’s jump in!” Mikey announced unfastening his skateboard back bag and his gear. You yourself unbuttoned your jeans and kicked off your shoes. Your orange clad boyfriend couldn’t help but stare as you pealed piece by piece of clothing. He was kicking off his own shoes by the time that you were in your undergarments.

Good lord you were absolutely stunning to him.

“Come on baby boy, last one in is a rotten egg” You took off and canon balled into the pool. Almost slipping trying to kick off his shorts, he jumped into the pool and was instantly met with the cool liquid relief. You swam to the bottom of the floor, the serene soundless feeling of the water engulfing you. Truth be told you always enjoyed the water but just hated coming here when it was filled to the brim with people.

Mikey swam up to you effortlessly and pulled you into a hug. The bubbles flowed freely with your laughter and soon you were above the surface with a laughing and giggly terrapin. “Ok I gotta say, this is cracking top three date nights” You feigned shock. “Big words there Mikey, top three? Really?” Mikey made a thoughtful expression.

Then he grinned and dunked himself and you down.

Most of the night was spent like that. Swimming around, a rousing battle of spraying water at one another, you even tried to race him (lost pretty quickly too). The entire night was shaping up to be another legendary memory for the two of you. Closer to the shallow end the two of you sat, your head on his shoulder.

“I want a pool in our future place some day” You smiled at the idea and Mikey whistled. “Man now that would be lit, could you imagine? We could get some cool slides and have it be heated so we can still use it in winter” There he was off adding to the fantasy of what might be. It often crossed your mind how things might be if the two of you had your own space to call your own. You and Mikey always made up crazy fantasy houses for fun when bored.

“I’m serious though, Mikey” You got up, waist deep in the water. The drops mesmerized Mikey, you looked so beautiful in the dim lights. “Our own place? Me too angel cakes, I want the whole deal” He stood up as well and wrapped his arms around your waist. “You think I ain’t getting Raph ordained online so he can marry us? Like I wouldn’t break into city hall and steal those marriage license documents? Gurl I’m gonna wife you up” Each announcement only made your smile grow wider before you couldn’t stop giggling.

Wrapped in a blanket of love you had no other option but to kiss him. It was one of those kisses you couldn’t stop smiling against his lips but the more you kissed the more heated it became. Mikey’s kisses trailed down your neck, the wetness there felt so good, the coldness of your body pressed against his making your nipples harden. “Say it again” You punctuated each word with a kiss to his cheek. “You’re gonna be my wife, baby” He backed you up against the wall of the pool and caught your lips in yet another heated kiss.

How can an idea make you feel so excited, in every sense of the word. You pressed your hands against his plastron, the firmness of it was something you secretly enjoyed a lot. You admired him, mouth agape catching your breath you pushed down his underwear. Mikey smirked and did the same with yours. He unclasped your bra casting it out onto the water. “Gosh you’re so gorgeous Y/N” He cupped your breast in his hands, firmly kneading them before dropping kisses onto each of them. You twirled a wet mask tail before untying it and also letting the water take it away. The weightlessness of the water, Mikey supporting you with his hands the goosebumps pebbles your skin. You would never get bored, just never a dull moment with him.

He entered you like that, slowly with a sigh of your name against the shell of your ear. Wrapping your legs around him more tightly you let him take charge. The water rustled with first few slow thrusts, the feel of his wet reptilian skin felt so tight against your human one. “Love you to bits” He spoke sweetly. A wave of emotion crashed into you, to have him here present and so in love. Your eyes fluttered closed and you smiled. “Love you so much” You hiccuped when he bottomed out fully.

Mikey loved the feeling of the water around him, the coldness of your skin that seemed to be heating up little by little. The feeling of his cock nestled inside of you, how you dug your fingers into him. “You’re so beautiful, love this so damn much” He thrusted slowly but the intensity in his words, in how he admired and loved on you had you quickly going up.

You kissed him with a desperation that matched his own. Mikey moaned into your mouth, thrusting harder and more firmly. Those icey blue eyes of his landed on your own e/c ones. You gasped holding yourself tighter around him. He begged for you, something untangible he couldn’t make words for but he showed you with actions.

It hit the two of you so suddenly and it felt so damn right whenever you could manage to cum at the same it always blew your mind. Disorienting didn’t begin to explain it, Mikey choked out something that sounded like your name and you held onto him you were sure he might bruise.

Once the ringing in your ears stopped, you felt his lips on yours and everything in the world, simply melted away.

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt mikey #michelangelo tmnt #tmnt michelangelo x female reader #tmnt michelangelo x reader #tmnt michelangelo #michelangelo x reader #mikey x reader #Mikey #ns*w #ask #angelcatlowlyn #requested oneshot #writing prompt

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seb-owns-these-tatas · 4 years

Text

Witcher of the Night (Chapter 13)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

CHAPTER 12

WITCHER OF THE NIGHT MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Your existence in their world had reasons. A purpose that involves the contentment that Geralt never found in the world that he was in. The feelings you have for your witcher makes you feel things that you haven’t experienced yet, desires that make you feel sorts of things as it also was a cause of the Cicatrix that laid in between your chest. The question is, were you on the same page as Geralt is? or was it just a misunderstanding prior to that night?

Warnings: Soft and smiley Geralt! (*rolls on the ground*), Sexual Implications, a needy reader, an annoying bard, MODERN references, mention of Divergent, grumpy Geralt, a soft-touchy-feely reader. FLOOFY chapter! Insecure reader tho. 😭 Harry potter and Lord of the Rings references. HAHA!

Words: 8.5k (Well, Hello long ass chapter)

A/N: THERE’S STILL CHAPTER 13.1 BEFORE THE SMUT. AHE. Sorry for the delay. Happy mother’s day to all the mothers out there! Y’all are the best and real superheroes! If this chapter didn’t make you smile, then this means I am a failure for everyone! 😂💖

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE!

Disclaimer: PNG’s used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi. Characters, places and said monsters aren’t from moi as well. GIF’s INCLUDED ARE CREDITED TO THOSE WHO MADE THEM! I DO NOT OWN THEM!

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

KISSING GERALT HAS BEEN SUCH A DREAM. The kiss felt like you were in seventh heaven and it also kept your mind wide awake the whole night; even with Geralt by your side with his lulling monster stories and those gentle fingers raking your hair like how he always does.

The gesture even made you a little more giddy than ever and Geralt didn't seem to mind as you've kept yourself wide awake; watching him sleep and never keeping him out of sight.

Though, he'd eventually covered those coy eyes of yours because it was bothering him; coaxing you to stop staring and just have your beauty slumber because you needed all the energy for your training.

A training that you thought would be for Cirilla because they've always had their swordplay fights before the sun rises and sometimes in the middle of a beautiful morning; as you watch Geralt in discreet as he wields his sword like how the waves move in the ocean. Very satisfying to ogle and observe.

The way he handles a sword was perfectly smooth and bland like how your coffee tastes in the morning.

Which is why your face was scrunched in peculiarity when he was done with Cirilla's training; giving the smaller silver sword to you with that reticent expression on his face; his habitual tight-lips now relaxed as he eyed you back with that tender gaze he holds whenever you were there.

An image you weren't used to; but may seem to wish it would be there forever because of how soft he appeared for you to see, not his usual brooding and serious persona.

"This is a very nice first date," you sarcastically muttered; wanting to scoff and whine from how unusual it was to receive training from the witcher like you were some sort of Tris Prior in the world of Divergents.

After the kiss last night, you've expected him to give you flowers, gifts, kisses or maybe more of his attention. Howbeit, you'd remember that you weren't in your world and that he wasn't a typical man who'd woo women like that. Geralt was probably a man whom women has been trying to court just to have his attention based on how beautiful and captivating he was.

Were you his beloved now? A girlfriend? his lover? you actually had no idea and chose to stay silent. Never asking anything more as to not ruin his good mood as he woke up in the morning.

Geralt didn't specifically told you anything about being his beloved. The only thing you understood in his words last night was that you were important to him and that he also cared.

Perhaps, he doesn't roll that way. The witcher wasn't particularly that type of man.

Therefore, you left it at that although it was dithering your heart. You were contented whether how ill-defined your position was in his heart.

"Why am I doing this again, Geralt?"

The latter silently watched you fidget with the sword on your hands, your cheeks puffed from how strange you thought his favors may be. He couldn't help but give you a beam that showed his teeth, his emotions thoroughly in a bliss after the night he confessed; parts of his aggression lifting up his chest, "The bard knows how to fight with his dagger," he adhered strictly to the fact, keeping the sword safely on his side.

Those lips of yours jutted in an opposing pout; your eyes seeming to connect with his spellbinding ones while he continued to wheedle, his cat-eyes curving into a soft shape of a crescent and you were totally enamored. Your heart skipping a beat when he was never breaking his gaze away; giving your stomach the heebie-jeebies, "---Cirilla is finally learning the techniques of using a sword,"

Your mouth was now turned into a tight-lipped one, shaking your head from the idea he wanted as you scrunched your nose further, "And I am better watching you and Cirilla have your little sword play fight," pause. "---I'm not going to fight anyone,"

You've continuously shook your head, tutting at the brilliant idea he'd tried to think of. Though, Geralt was adamant for his preposition; seeming to think the idea won't get you stabbing him accidentally or better yet, yourself.

"We can't be certain that there wouldn't be," he proclaimed, utterly determined.

You huffed out a frustrated breath, face falling right in the middle of the meadow as Geralt stood before you. His comely stature shining against the morning light and you were sure you've been blinded, "Right. Bad people are chasing you still,"

A bashful look has been unintentionally given to the witcher, lighting up an amused crooked smile and hum from the latter as he stayed completely taciturn, admiring the shy woman that stood before him.

You've suddenly felt him shift, turning your focus back at the Herculean, white haired Legolas as he'd languidly took a step back, looking calm and composed as he firmly ordered. His smile falling, turning all ruminative.

"Hit me."

More complaints were sent for what he requested, finding the whole ordeal somehow lamented because all you ever held was a pen, paper or laptops that certainly doesn't deal with people shedding blood unless you stab a pen at them. Sure, you've dreamt of fighting in combat in fantasy series or movies; but in your imagination, you were skilled. The version of yourself that you had in your dreams had talent and the one you have today only had idiotical abilities to plot your own demise because of how foolish you were in their world.

"Can't I fight with Jaskier?"

Geralt cocked his head to the side; in utter amusement as a small smile carved his pretty, luscious lips that grabbed all your attention. The witcher immediately noticed and had a smug glint in his amber eyes as he talked, "If you wish to annoy people and woo the king then he is excellent at it," pause. "---You wouldn't learn how to use a real sword from the bard. Unless, using a lute as a form of weapon in the middle of a royal banquet is your choice of fighting then Jaskier would do a great job,"

Thus, from the moment Geralt has made his utterance, Jaskier somehow had the luckiest time on planning to feed Roach as he emerged from the doorway, ceasing himself from sending a teasing ridicule as his name has been called in vain; backstabbing him by finding entertainment from how he tried shielding himself from the incident back in the years.

"I've never received any compliments from you don't you, witcher?" he hollered back, enclosing his mouth with a hand as he called from afar; a bucket full of Roach's food on the other.

Jaskier seen Geralt shake his head, a surprising beam drawing his face as the witcher playfully wisecracked out loud, "You don't need them, Jaskier."

The harmless banter made Jaskier pucker his lips in surprise, never anticipating how he'd gradually changed from being the brooding, reserved witcher to the grinning, active man he was seeing as he was teaching a woman who had no inspiration on learning the techniques of sword fighting.

Geralt simply turned his head to see you awkwardly holding onto the base of Cirilla's sword; having a gawky, hunched stance and the witcher took heed of it but chose not to correct it yet. You were dubious of even holding a sword and also a lot more hesitant as you've tried to strike a blow at his face. Without effort, he'd simply dodged the attack with one hand using minimal strength. The swords instantaneously crashing against each other with a satisfying ring of metals colliding.

Unfortunately, the weapon flew out of your hands as he'd dodged your strike, shamefully falling on the ground with a soft thud. Geralt snapped his eyes at the sword that fell from your hands before feeling his eyes turn to you, "Midget." he calmly scolded, having at least a massive amount of patience for you, "---Take it easy." you'd heard him advice. Baritone timbre soft but still rough which stirred that familiar warmth pooling just below your stomach; heart beat stumping upon your chest because of how you were worried it would obscenely pool in between your thighs. Just the thought of Geralt's presence kindled with the fire raging your insides.

You've never had felt any such strong desire for a man other than the witcher himself and it was beginning to grow frightening because of how you wanted him so bad; the kiss you had probably triggering something inside of you that didn't know it existed.

Maybe, it was probably horny hours like how you had them back in your apartment. The problem here was that you finally had a man to do it with, but you weren't sure if he also desired for you the same way as you do.

What if he only wanted you for companionship? Perhaps, he'll somehow find you boring like how your dates went back in earth when the time comes?

You didn't notice Geralt has grabbed onto the sword that flew right out of your hands, sauntering towards where you were and his presence lingering a little too close for those kindling flames aggravating that desire you had when his voice vibrated from behind.

"Also, try harder."

Despite of how enormously tall and brawny he was, the witcher leaned down to grab onto your hand, his rough fingers caressing yours that was sparking up the flames as it felt so gentle. He placed the handle of the sword onto your palm, delicately dragging the other to hold onto the base. Those calloused palms of his enclosing yours in a warm embrace as his warmth from behind seemed to turn more quenchless as time goes by, a sudden hunger flooding your system as your body turned putty with just a simple touch.

You've felt your throat run dry, stance turning standoffish when he'd loomed behind you. Heavily aware of his presence. Your voice cracking and stuttering as you mindlessly thought out loud, trying to wash the vulgar thoughts away, "I--I--I am! It's just that you've given me a real sword for practice!"

Geralt reiterated; utterly droning, "It's lighter than mine," with a simple raise of his brow as he stood behind you, his face inches close and you could feel his stare completely immense, making you look away from how flushed your face have been, "Even so! It can hurt anyone! Can't I learn witchcraft instead? I’ll be the potato version of Hermione Granger! It’s impossible that your world has no Voldemort! Expecto Patronum! Avada Kedavra!"

The preposition was hurriedly rejected with just Geralt's smile turning upside down; replaced with a scowl that coaxed you to turn your head to see him shaking his head with his face approximately close to yours; those amber eyes trying to melt your heart as he still had that vivid, affectionate dewdrop clustering in those peepers that provoked a satisfied sigh out of your ajar mouth.

His pitch suddenly turned austere; mouth tight-lipped as he quoted, "You will not use any ounce of sorcery from my world," you've seen the side of his lip turn into a smirk as he haughtily added, "---Alas, you are also too clumsy and impulsive for it,"

Geralt grudgingly moved his face an inch away; not before seeing a sight of him taking glimpses of your ajar lips as you awaited to be kissed by the witcher himself; howbeit, he chose to tease and ignored the accented feelings he had been trying to hide since the first day.

The latter surprisingly gave a chortle, his chuckle sounding heavenly amongst the birds chirping in the background, "How dare you?!"

He gave your hands consolatory pats as it was already surrounding the base of the sword. Geralt straightened his back, his thumbs casually giving the back of your hand a soft caress before taking heed of your silent squealing from his seraphic touches, "Hold the sword with your dominant hand, midget." before he took a step back away and muttering a mocking repartee, "---Maybe a Hirikka will be a better combatant than you,"

You've watched him waltzed back to where he was as he stood in front of you with a grin on his face, "I shouldn't have accepted your apology last night." you deadpanned with your eyebrows furrowed from how riled up and entirely flustered you were feeling early in the morning.

The witcher tipped his head with his smug grin, "You didn't. I just knew you would because you never get to have your nap without receiving cuddles and chill from me,"

You've feigned a gasp, unclasping your hold around the sword as you placed your palms around your hip, giving him a sassy posture of how you were appalling by the truth that he suddenly was giving; thoroughly surprised by his sudden pesky, frolic attitude he seemed to vibe. He was learning from your modern references and it shocked you even more.

"It was cold last night!"

"The night is also dark," He ridiculed and mocked what you've said to him last night while he was asking for forgiveness. His teeth slipped against the cardinal pillows of his lips, giving you a gorgeous toothy grin that made your breath hitch as if his aesthetics radiated off the sun light, "---You needed my warmth, midget."

A playful glare was sent to the witcher; intentionally keeping up with his mockeries as you gave a chuff and found his mischief rather entertaining because he rarely acts the way he is right now, "Are you a furnace? No. You aren't, Geralt of Rivia. Don't act like raking those fingers of yours through my hair doesn't help you sleep at night---"

"But, I'm your furnace amidst the benumbing night."

You couldn't help but giggle from his innocuous pick up line, utterly finding it amusing and endearing when you've understood it way differently despite of how ingenuous he wanted it to sound.

Their era and how they communicate was certainly giving you a good ol' laugh.

"Are you calling yourself hot?"

Geralt couldn't help but outstare; gawking from the dazzling laugh you've mindlessly given him. He was oblivious of his beguiling beams he has been making you see and the gaze that bewitched the morose of his spirit, puzzling how a mere person could take away the misery that has been haunting him since the moment his mother has left him alone to become a witcher in their world and a lot more great affliction he'd somehow experienced.

Presumably, your existence in their world had reasons.

Hence, the witcher knew it involved his happiness.

"Now, keep your stance firm," he snapped out of his daydream, gently tapping the tip of his sword on your thigh which erupted a squeak and a tiny whine from you, "---I can't always be with you when you are attacked by anyone who wants my family dead,"

You tilted your head to the side, cheekily wiggling your eyebrows as you grinned up at him like a Cheshire cat as he shook his head from your playfulness, "Did you just lowkey tell me that you treat me as family?"

"Would you want it to be that way then?"

Another failed attempt of giving a successful, strong blow has been swung towards the latter, easily stepping one foot back as he blocked the smite with one hand. Though, you hadn't let the sword fly out of your hands this time which Geralt considered as slight improvement for being taught in the first day.

"Hmm. Again." he'd given an entranced hum, giving a tight lipped smile as he affirmed and tried to wriggle out more strength from you because it was pretty much a reluctant strike as well.

You've straightened your back, keeping your feet loosely away from each other as you sighed an exasperated one. The sword falling on your side as you wanted a truce. Feckless of the pout you were giving to the witcher who was too persistent in giving your body an ache from the training. Geralt raised a brow, seeming to enjoy your whining and allegations from the moment he'd given you a sword.

"Stop puckering your lips like that. I'm not giving you a buss when you're acting like a chit,"

A buss. It sounded pretty much familiar as it was used in those romance books you've read back in earth. His straightforwardness tickling your spine in a delicious way that got you flustered for the tenth time this day. You know your eyebrows rose up till your hairline from how he was assuming things that were actually the truth, "Did that mean a kiss?! I--I wasn't asking for a kiss though!"

"Then, acting adorable won't let you get away from this."

You've groaned out loud; fighting yourself off from stomping your foot out in utter vexation from how he'd always seem to knew what you were thinking. Were you that obvious?

"I hate you,"

Geralt took a stroll towards you, thoroughly leaning down to your height with a cross of his prodigious arms; the sword still in his fist and watching how he'd closely stared into your eyes as he fought off a smile, "The hate is quite indistinct and difficult to tell after you've been kissed last night,"

Your heart wanted to burst from the embarrassment, feeling your face turning into flames. Just add a little bit of oil and people could probably fry anything they wanted to as they use your face as a pan.

Reprehension would have escaped your lips if a hand hasn't clutched onto the side of your neck, his hot breath assaulting your face before you've felt his lips on yours in a hot second; never giving you time to process everything as he broke the buss with a sweet, tinge sound that seemed more soundly in your ears rather than swords colliding in a battle.

His hand behind your nape left in haste, straightening his back and shoulders; acting like he hadn't done anything wrong nor he continued to act like he didn't even give you a small, plain peck to the lips that gave a startle and somehow positioned you into a blissful, heart exploding condition.

"You don't dislike me, midget." Geralt's expressions were indescribable. His features stoic for five seconds before seeing his lips turning into a gloaty smirk as he spun in his heels, leaving you dumbstruck from the surprise.

"G-GERALT! That's not fair!" you stood rooted on the ground, keeping your lips together as you smacked it out loud like you couldn't believe he'd given you another kiss to ruin your ovaries and focus.

He strolled along the meadow, his emotions flying elsewhere as he was entirely finding your reactions hilarious. Geralt walked the path back to where he stood before, turning around in face-front to see your face all red and giving him the stink-eye, "Nothing is ever fair. Now, use all your strength to hit me with your sword."

You tightly grabbed onto your sword with both hands, listening to how he'd told you it should be held and also thoroughly remembering the basics that he told you prior; keeping your stance better than the one you held a while ago, watching how his face lit up as yours turned serious and challenging, "Oh, I will! You're a cocky witcher today and it's annoying!"

Jaskier have fed Roach back in the stable, he walked back to the doorway to see Cirilla leaning her back on the stone walls, arms crossed with a smile that tells how amused she was as she watched how you were trying to strike a successful blow at the witcher who found your lack of knowledge utterly astonishing and endearing; regardless of how he has been fond of having lovers which were strongly independent and knew how to stay alive in a battle.

You were a paradox to his life. Utterly questionable as to why you have even arrived.

"He's not teaching her how to fight," Cirilla admitted towards the bard who subtly nodded beside her, also watching the quote training unquote that you had with the white wolf. Yet, both of them could see how his way of teaching seemed to be less harsh than how they've been taught. Totally aware of how he was also buoyant rather than serious and brooding.

It was like a different Geralt that loom before them as he tutted and shook his head to cease your reckless attempts of trying to hit him with the sword; grabbing onto your fingers to cease you as he explained with a relaxed face he'd given while all you could do was glare and huff back.

Jaskier gave a small smile, eyes narrowed from how the sunshine hits his face and mindlessly tapped the handle of the bucket with his index finger, "The witcher is flirting with the rat, probably want some bonking,"

The lion cub of Cintra gave him a once over, "Some what, bard?"

"Forget what I said,"

Cirilla brushed him off as she went on with her lurking, Something you said ignited a grin out of the witcher as he quietly listened to your rants and rambles about how annoying he have been, "Also, this is the first time I'd seen Geralt smiling like that again. I hope she doesn't leave. I'll do everything for her not to leave,"

The bard gave a nod of understanding. Deeply thinking as to why Cirilla would do everything in her willpower for you not to leave; hence, seeing the smile that Geralt has given you was a simple answer as to why you needed more protecting and a lot more time to stay. Would it be selfish of them when you probably had a family back in your world?

Thus, Jaskier's gaze lingered on you and saw how you giggled back at the witcher who has said something that made him scowl. The mere sight of you strumming along the rakish onslaught of his heart strings from the week that Geralt wasn't around bothered him but he chose the better of it and ignored.

"But, isn't it strange?---" he momentarily ceased, snapping his gaze away from you as Cirilla gave him a nasty lour for whatever thoughts he wanted to say out loud, "---That your step-mother would be pretty much smaller than you?"

The child loudly groaned in response, turning her back away from him as she pulled the doors to go in, "You are honestly the most irritating person in the continent,"

The day has been pretty much a blur. After being trained by the witcher no matter how many failed attempts you tried; his patience utterly high for you to even comprehend that he had a lofty tolerance for your inability to successfully strike a sword.

Your arms were somehow sore, considering the amount of attempts that Geralt has been repeatedly telling you to just hit him with all your might, yet being active in the battlefield will never be your forte. He tried giving you hope, downright telling you that it was normal and everyone improves sooner or later as long as your training had consistency.

You've been a bitchy-pants after the training. All catty and stopping yourself from sending a t-bird for the bard who received a snide remark and decided to send irritating teases that you were just being sexually frustrated.

Simply to say, Jaskier knew you were having your horny hours. That time of the day or that day of the week.

How'd he know? you had no idea. It was probably only his guesses as to why you were acting bitchy towards everyone except Kolby and Cirilla. You were being bitchy towards the men of the house especially at Geralt who has given you body soreness.

If only it was a different type of ache, you would probably not be bitchy.

A heavy sigh left your lips as you sat your back along the walls of the hallway, the only place where you've found peace because walking in the first floor even got you vexed because Jaskier seem to find your irritation amusing and had been running his mouth about how it was fine to just give in to your fantasies especially that the witcher probably had wanted it as well since the first day.

You were contemplating whether or not to turn on your cellphone; remembering how it was only at seventy-five percent. You've stared on your phone that rested on your hands, spinning it around as you were trying to fight off the kept fervor that has been insatiable and a bother when Geralt has given you one touch.

The feelings and emotions have been skyrocketing, it was already there even just from the start of your morning. However, after going home from the Djinn troubles, it started doubling and began to grow bestial like a monster wanted to come out of your chest from how you badly needed the witcher.

It just wasn't normal.

Geralt was entirely aware of your vexation. Though, he was meters apart from you and was actually outside to take care of Roach. Inside his chest, he felt an ounce of disturbance with the help of your irritations and frustrations; the sensations coming back again and the witcher still had no idea why.

He knew where you were and decided to find you. Finding a midget hunched in the middle of the hallways with her brows tightly furrowed, a worried pout on her face and blown cheeks as you fidgeted with your phone.

Geralt fought the urge of smirking and just sauntered to where you were, his heart beat beating in blissful thumps that got him wondering how it was even possible in just the sight of you.

You've felt his presence looming before your stooping form, a stink eye was given to the witcher who crouched in front of you, his burning gaze solely on you as he cocked his head to the side, observing your face and the state you were in with a smile growing on his face.

"You're annoyed." he artlessly admitted, never risking to leave your sight.

You scoffed, shaking your head as you felt the burning desire grow even further, turning away to help your poor little heart from feeling more bothered than it ever intended to, "How'd you know, Legolas?"

The nasally mention of that nickname you had for him got Geralt frowning. His forehead creased to the extent that he seemed to be thinking rather too deeply as to who this Legolas was and why were you even calling him that.

"---and now you're the one annoyed,"

Geralt kept his lips in a tight firm line. Amber peepers shining in dissatisfaction.

You brushed off his noncommittal reaction; already used to his lethargic norms as you complained about his infuriating friend, "It's Jaskier! He's annoying me since this morning!"

He just continued to give you a listless look, giving a displeased hum as he wholeheartedly let you rant to him.

Then, you added, "---Just his breathing irks me!" which only a hum was the only word you've received again, "Hmm."

You've irritatingly grunted, giving him a glout as you also kvetched, "Stop the humming! You're annoying me as well! You've been annoying me too since this morning!"

Your cavils has stirred a defeated sigh from the latter. His sudden actions obviously had reasons as to why you were abruptly being trained with a weapon. If only he hadn't brought you with them in the marketplace and haven't run into Tybalt then gallants weren't supposed to be searching for you by fair means or foul.

"What did I do this time?" he lowly grumbled, utterly dead beat. A faint, crooked smile raising those lips of his. You've held onto your phone a little more tighter, feeble arms crossed in front of your chest as he simply gave you his attention that you somehow yearn a lot, "You and Jaskier can stay in one room together while I sleep in yours! Men are so annoying! Always have been!"

Geralt's features appeared to be of someone who was suddenly bothered at the understanding of your statement, his listening comprehension twisting whatever it is that you've said as he skeptically appalled, "You have been with other men?"

Your face twisted in a tight cringe, bewildered by his presumptions that sounded like he was telling that you had a lot of men back in the days or basically his words were telling you that he couldn't believe that you actually had a man before. You've given him at least ten seconds of you just giving him a displeased flicker of your eyes before the white haired witcher proceeded with his remarks.

"Also, are you threatening me in my own home? You're kicking me out of my own chambers?"

An innocent nod was given to Geralt. The witcher simply gave an enervated blink, hearing a serious growl buzzed out of his chest; scrutinizing for whatever your eyes held out to him. The intensified gaze of his peepers searing that says he needed your sincere answers.

"This...Legolas you have been calling me," pause. "--- Do I remind you of your previous lover?"

You waited for more additional questions or perhaps a moment where he could tell you that he was just joking around. However, the intimidating, gargantuan monster-slayer who was crouched before you; never said that he was just giving out any jocularity of his previous light-hearted demeanor as he was all brooding again.

He fervently stared you down, making you shift on the floor as you looked up into his eyes; mirth surrounding the windows to your soul when he didn't budge after you've given him an guileless beam, "Yeah. Pfft. Earth also has their own witcher slash elves---What? Oh my God, this is funny."

Geralt is all wordless and silent; awaiting for whatever explanations you could give him and you couldn't help but ask in a skeptical manner; bizarrely gasping for his seriousness.

"Wait, you're actually---stop giving me a scowl! I never had...one? He's a Lord of the Rings character and I swear to God, he is fictional---Not real! Though, he looks like you because the hair and such---but---" you've jumped from one thought to another, feeling the scrutiny under his gaze and obviously nervous that he appeared to look like he would grab his sword and look for the man to behead him. Though, it will never happen due that Legolas was entirely fictitious to even start.

You ceased yourself from trying to explain the background story of Legolas for Geralt. Your nerves getting the best of you whenever you were being interrogated. An exhale of breath escaped your lips as you took a good look at the grimacing witcher before witlessly reaching onto his face with your palms on either side of his chiseled face as you gave him your best doe-eyes, sweetly trying not to coo at how his brooding demeanor actually makes him look fetching nevertheless.

"Stop being mad at me," you buttered his silence up with a tender tone of yours and the way he scrunched his nose and appeared to be looking bizarre tells you that your sweet-talking was cringe-worthy because of how you probably never knew how to simmer a man's troubled day.

Or he was just not used to gentleness.

You've retracted your hands away from Geralt's face and tried your best in avoiding those questioning and bemused eyes of his as you abruptly stood on your feet, shamefully rubbing your nape as you had yourself wincing from the second hand embarrassment of treating Geralt like he was some soft baby, reminding yourself to never do it again, "I am embarrassing myself,"

At the time you've stood up, Geralt also has been on one's feet. He didn't mean to look at you weirdly as you've cupped his face with that tender gaze inside your eyes. When the moment your delicate fingers brushed his, he felt as if he was in utopia. The man wasn't just used to intimate touches especially your caresses that felt like Gossamer.

Geralt just wasn't used to people treating him like he was actually human instead of someone who deserved to be treated differently.

Only Renfri, Yennefer and you had this effect on him. Though, with yours seemed to be much stronger.

Your panicking state urged you to flee from his presence, but the witcher wasn't going to let you go that easily as he'd caught your wrist; gently pulling you as your back hit the wall. Both hands and fingers scooping your neck like a baby chicken he'd caught and decided to take care of as his his warm touch skimmed till his thumbs brushed against your jaw, carefully urging you to peer up into those amiable gazes he successfully tries to give.

"I'm not mad." he dearly reassured, his small smile bringing your heart into euphoria because he was much more beautiful this way; smiling as if the world hasn't condemned him with an ill-fate of being a witcher.

Your beams were difficult to fight off; immediately giving him a smile as he also did as well. Chiefly, only giving you the sight of his crinkled eyes. His thumbs tenderly caressing your jaw which coaxed you to calm down from being fidgety which was totally a good medicine because your nervous jitters actually ceased with just his gentle touches.

You've grabbed onto his hand, memorizing his soft features as it was ever been a rare sight. Never believing he was acting the way he right now towards you. Your fingers brushing against his hands like a feather tickling the witcher's sanity.

Before another utter cockblocker slash disturbance came trudging up the staircase and somehow found you both in an heartfelt position; with Geralt cradling your face like no other.

"Oh! Ughm, this is a rare sight." Jaskier ceased his steps, midway through the hall, the bard's growing grin seeming to give you jitters as his ridicule began, "---and the small rat has been sexually frustrated, Geralt!"

You just wanted to strangle him sometimes.

"Cot damn it, Jaskier! SHUT UP!" you exclaimed, totally flustered as Geralt dropped his hands to the side; looking between you and Jaskier in ponder; those eyes of his full of curiosity, "You're...?"

"I AM NOT FEELING SMUTTY!"

If only you could dig and cover yourself up from the embarrassment, you would.

"---Smutty."

"You get my point, Geralt! I know you do!"

Geralt had his forehead in a tight wrinkle, thoroughly thinking what you meant; though, he understood none because the word seem to be peculiar, "Midget."

Jaskier exhaled an exasperated breath, dramatically rolling his eyes as he waved you both off and curved right pass between the both of you, entering his chambers to grab onto some clothes because he wanted to bathe.

The bard pointed a finger as he walked off, his hips swaying as he does so and never looking back, "She needs some nightly penetrating! You're welcome, witcher!"

Geralt watched Jaskier leave, an amused pucker of his lips was the answer to your questions that he certainly understood everything now and cocked his head to the side, peering you down as he awaited for an explanation. Yet, all he saw was you covering your blushing face with a guilty, forced smile as you washed your face in frustration to give him your regretful eyes.

"Don't listen to him," you quoted and begged for him to just take the bait.

Nevertheless, you've seen him raise a hand; about to start talking about being one horny woman for him when you've stopped him midway and tried to shift the topic away, "Anyways, I forgive you, Geralt. Now, can I braid your hair?"

The witcher closed his ajar mouth, humming in wonder as he dropped his hand to the side; narrowing his gaze at you, "I wasn't asking for any of your forgiveness."

You've blinked back at him, jutting your lips together as you looked away, tone teasing and slightly threatening, "You sure that's your final answer? No regrets?"

Geralt roughly puffed out a breath, muttering profanities beneath his chest, "Fuck." and another grunt because he'd remember how he still wasn't forgiven by yelling at you for last night, "---Fine. Do I have a choice?"

Your smile turned into a knavish grin, wanting him to regret why he even agreed to whatever plans you have for him as you bluntly answered.

"No."

The one you had in mind, planning for a simple diversion for Geralt to erase the horrid truth that Jaskier has told out loud for him to hear was actually another rabbit hole that had caught your feet, catching you going far down the pit like you have been scammed. Clearly, because Geralt's unwitting deep groans and hums has made you hot and bothered every time you've tried combing his hair along his snowy locks.

You were wincing every time he has his nose flaring whenever your fingers thread along his hair, the knots giving his head a rough yank from how you were trying to untangle those knots.

Geralt sat on the floor; his arms on either side of the bed. With you who sat on the bed and your legs criss-cross behind his impressive, thewy back; tempted to just give him a big hug because he seemed so comforting but chose not to based on how grouchy he became once you've combed his hair with your fingers.

You didn't even know if he was irritated or somehow liking the whole situation because he was deeply growling, groaning and eventually having to hear a slip of guttural, restrained whimpers that caught your ears. Enlivening that cravings and curiosity you had for some human touch.

"Midget..." he grumbled another complain and lowly warned, hearing the baritone growl he'd ought for you to hear which made you ignore his protests as you had your own protestations as well, "Stop complaining. Also, don't you own a comb? Your hair---It's---Oh! I'm sorry! Can you please stop growling and moaning at the same time!"

His head was minimally pulled back because of your reckless combing. Your nose scrunched even more as you'd received another menacing hum that tells he was close to hitting your face with a pillow because of how rough you were taking care of his hair. It's not that you weren't rough, but the locks in his hair was frustrating you to the highest.

"Hmm."

You subtly leaned down, sneaking your head to the side of his face to see his expressions void of emotions. The typical Geralt whom you've met as he felt your presence nearer, he'd turned his head to give you a lackadaisical look in his eyes that tells that you were stressing him out.

Your eyes twinkled apologetically as you had no problem in receiving a glare from the fussed out witcher. "Well, that sounds like a displeased hum," you stated as a matter of fact, shrugging your shoulders before straightening your spine and grabbing onto his Ivory roots again, "---and a different kind as well,"

He sighed in defeated, letting you handle his hair in spite as he simply closed his eyes. There was no more backing out as he was now sat in front of you, hair all untied as you've threatened to cut his hair with a scissor you've managed to have that was sat beside you.

"Bad kitty! You're liking this, aren't you? You like your hair being pulled!"

No answer was received and you left it at that. Thinking that maybe he wanted silence as you went on with brushing his hair with your fingers. Now, all gentle as the tangles were already free from the knots. It was certainly improvement; in Geralt's side because he stopped complaining after you scolded him so and quietly waited for you to finish; showing like he trusted you with his hair or whatever.

With a gentle tuck of his hair behind his ears, the witcher was all putty on your hands. Hearing a low rumble that resonated off him in pleasure and satisfaction because of how your touch was sending torment to the cravings he had for you.

Hence, his patience and respect he had for not throwing you over the bed and just relishing in with those insatiable desires he had for you needed and deserved an applause because of his high-capacity to resist the mania.

His appetite was surely in a famished mayhem as he breathed in slow and deep, your gentle touches that raked through his roots and his cravings growing more and more uncontrollable with each passing day and night.

Maybe, the scar you had on your chest had effects. Lewd effects for the both of you.

After minutes of comfortable---well, aching moments for Geralt; you've heard him mutter through gritted teeth in the midst of his slow breathing, "I'm not a cat."

You were already at the ends of his Ivory hair, simply braiding them in perfection as you objected, "But, you are! My grumpy kitty!"

There was no response again and you focused on braiding his marvelous hair and let the silence flow. You were actually just hearing him breath as it also calmed your nerves; a bewildering occurrence on how one's breathing could simply put you in peace.

You've grabbed onto his black ponytail which seemed to be owned by Cirilla and tightly tied onto the ends. Small hairs that seemed to not be possible in tying them down were imperfectly out of its nest; though, the ruggish effect it gave was actually making it look perfect for him.

"There! Done!" you mirthfully exclaimed, giving out a tiny tee-hee before you recklessly surrounded your arms around his musclebound shoulders. The irresistible urges just telling you to cease from being shy even just for today and be more of your unshackled self; stepping out of your timid borders every once in a while. It surprised the witcher with your touchy-feely attitude as his body went stiff when you've embraced him from behind, "See? I told you! You'll still look beautiful with your hair braided! Now, payment time, mister!"

His Adam's apple bobbed up and down, clicking his tongue as he tried to find any words to say from your hasty, sweet gestures while he was not one who is used to receiving such care. Geralt had no words to say, his mind going in a haywire as he suddenly saw your palms in front of his face, begging like a peasant with your face nuzzled to his side as he weirdly stared at your palm.

"You want coins?" he skeptically questioned, your warmth and scent crashing his ability to think straight. You've dropped your arm around his shoulders, your actions seeming to surprise you as well but you paid no heed and just wanted him closer; his warmth insatiable as you hugged Geralt tighter. Your warm touches giving his body to adjust and be used to it as you felt him slowly relaxing against your hold.

You peeked from the side of his face, giving him a twinkle of those vindicated eyes as he languidly turned his head to see you giving such a naive look that he couldn't help but be fond of everyday. If it would take his hair to be braided for you to sweetly look at him like how you do right now; he would take the risk on letting his hair get yanked, "I don't know. Whatever payment you have in mind---I would love it,"

Faces were inches apart. You've seen the way his eyes glow in sudden mischief. His risquè suggestion making your heart warm in a way that got your ravenousness fueled as your face felt the blush and sudden excitement, "The one I have in mind is quite unseemly for your chastity,"

You gave a giggle, always loving how he'd intensely stare into your eyes like you've given light to his darkness; that type of glow inside his eyes that got your insides churning whenever he does, "Aren't you playful and naughty today, Geralt?!"

Geralt gave a tight-lipped smile; knowing you wouldn't accept his ravenous suggestion because of particular things he knew about. The witcher knew he wasn't wrong, he can never be wrong by what he was sensing.

However, a rare smirk was promptly shown, the ingenuous flicker inside your eyes changing in just a snap of one's fingers as it turned suggestive and playful, "What if I actually want that?"

It was what your heart wants and what those voices inside your head has been whispering. The mere idea of Geralt defiling your chastity that you have been treasuring because no other men deserved was utterly thrilling and worth it.

Not because of the thought that he was striking, but he was the only man you've wholeheartedly trusted and probably have given your heart like he was a king no matter how unsure of what you were in his life.

Closer and closer, you went in for the kill. Just his golden peepers alone was enough to pull you into a hypnotizing trance as you closed the space between you both, landing your lips to his in a soft, birdsweet peck that got you insides melting and the desire rapidly coming back in scorching flames, "I thought you wanted to indulge my curiosity all night long?"

Your words were temptingly drawled slower as your warm breath hit those ajar lips of his, an impenetrable haze in his eyes that suddenly brought uncertainty to what Geralt actually meant the last time you had the bathroom moment, your sudden confidence kind of wavering but still you've wanted to see how he was fond of you the way you also had your affections for him, "When I told you I was curious, it’s true, Geralt."

You've brushed your lips together and felt the witcher sigh before you had given one last honeyed kiss to his lips in which Geralt had puckered back, raising your hopes that he was solicitous about you.

'More,' his consciousness and emotions echoed, kissing you back with the same tenderness you held for him. He seemed like he was about to deepen the kiss; breathing through his luscious lips before you've felt the pillowy vermillion brush against yours as he abruptly ceased, hearing him lowly growl as he kept the tip of his nose, touching yours in an eskimo kiss before slowly pulling away to your disappointment.

The hesitation of wanting to deepen the kiss shot a sting to your heart; your overthinking self reading his actions that you've misunderstood his feelings that it was downright doting because you were head over heels for him after quite sometime.

But, hearing his next words immediately brought a weight down your chest, feeling the ineptness, dismay and shame for even suggesting lechorous behaviors that made you feel shameful because you think that it was rejected; thinking he rejected you.

He bedded tons of women. So, what makes you different?

You probably just weren't worth it.

"You don't mean that," Geralt lowly grumbled, his robust shoulders moving from how deeply he was breathing; ceasing himself from doing anything more further as the witcher continued to dispassionately utter, "---I don't deserve it,"

You hardly ignored the shame trying to strangle you into feeling such tightness around your throat as you unlatched your arms around his shoulders, skeptically eyeing the witcher who avoided your eyes, "What do you mean you don't deserve it, Geralt? You do,"

Were you desperate? Was the irresistible sensations making you act this way? Maybe. Howbeit, you would never regret every little thing you do for Geralt because it was what your heart has been telling you to do and not just your impulsive decisions.

Yet, the more he'd talk; it felt like as if the only thing you would regret was asking him what he meant.

Geralt heavily swallowed, jaw tightening as he apathetically muttered, "I'm guessing it's the Djinn's work that is talking,"

His response to your question ignited such ferocity inside your heart, shooting straight to your mouth as you couldn't believe what you were hearing. Did you misunderstood everything he has said when you were important to him? Deeply thinking that him and you were actually in the same page when his gestures and words right now seem to be the opposite?

"Are you saying that what I feel about you isn't true?" you questioned in disbelief. The scoff automatically being done as you've seen the tight scowl that Geralt has managed to put up again, "---That it's all...magic? The thing happening between us?"

You've tightly bit the insides of your cheeks, watching him stay silent and cease from opening up to you as he went on in avoiding your gaze and looking like he was the one who'd been rejected when it was you.

Thus, a continuation of your vulnerability went on despite of his stillness, your honesty probably will rue once it was said and done, "---before the Djinn even happened, you've been clouding my mind since then," a breathless pause. "---Since the first day I've been here, it felt like I was bound to fall for you, Probably, because the reason why I'm here is because...you are also here,"

Your candor has gotten the best of you and when Geralt was about to open his mouth for whatever that he wanted to say, your anxiety has managed to take over as you stood up from the bed in haste, feeling your palms tickle in humility from how everything that has been planned went down the hill because you misunderstood everything.

"Midget---"

You tightly swallowed the tightness stuck in your throat, finally feeling his gaze on you but you chose to look away; eyes now downcast as your toes fidgeted inside your boots, voice cracking when the apprehension was starting to take a toll as it was harshly plucking with your heart strings, "It's fine. We're just probably not on the same page yet and I understand why. Who would want me even?"

Geralt has been ruffled by your sudden assumptions, yet he chose to stay silent and be upset by whatever lies he'd been hearing; only having the actions to grit his teeth together as you restlessly tried your best to steer clear of your own dismayed feelings.

You shuffled on your feet, briskly walking towards the door before giving him a faltering gaze of yours as you awkwardly pointed at his perfectly braided hair while you stammered and tried to get a hold of yourself from the mortifying, stinging shame, "It's probably just...the genie effects doing these effects on me---I'll go apologize to Jaskier or something---Don't take that off, okay?!"

Hence, Geralt could only watch you leave as it was obvious that he'd upset you by his complicated behavior. Thus, leaving his heart stinging as well; feeling the same way as you.

Y’ALL ARE PROLLY CURSING ME FOR MAKING AN ADDITIONAL CHAPTER 13.1 AHONHONHONHON XD (Strikethrough means I couldn’t tag you, buddy! Please do check your settings, bb! Thank you!)

Taglist: @alyxkbrl @himarisolace @barkingbullfrog @ayamenimthiriel @hellodevilslittlesister @vania-marie @spookypeachx @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us @nympeth @amirahiddleston @gabethelobster @dreaming-about-starfleet @uncoolcloudyhead @melaninstylezz @psychosupernatural @missjenniferb @dance-dreamer @marvelousell @kingniazx @angelias134 @tapismyforte @chook007 @covid-donotenter @winter-moons @cheesecakeisapie @silverkitten547 @angelofthorr @carrieannewaywardson, @plantingmum @stuckupstucky

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beesatthedisco · 4 years

Text

How does this even work...

Okay, so I’ve been on tumblr since before the first time they very slightly changed the shade of blue and I hope that in and of itself is enough to help y’all know... I’m ancient. (I’m 27, and will only rp with ppl 18+, sorry friendos)

Somehow, despite being on tumblr and despite having made about a million accounts for various things in my day, I’ve not made an RP account, and don’t really know how to get started. I guess I’m just gonna put down what I know about myself and what I’m looking for here and hope for the best, but I’d be open to any kind of protips from those of you who have been using tumblr to find rp for much longer.

RIP to your eyes ahead of time, this is a long post. If you want to skip to the part where I share my Original plots, pairings, and fandom cravings, please just scroll to the end and accept my humble apologies. (Highkey I copied this out of my google doc, don’t shoot me.)

I enjoy writing both original plots and fandom stuff. When RPing within a fandom setting, I'm open to playing as canons, as ocs, or any combination of both. I'm open to co-creating settings inspired but not based in fandoms, and open to playing AU or canon settings as well. When originals are involved, I prefer co-creating our worlds together, so we're both invested in the landscape that our characters inhabit. Speaking of characters- I'll play as any gender and in any pairing type- I hope that this is the same for you. I love writing a broad spectrum of characters to keep things interesting for myself and to practice viewing the world through different perspectives. I feel it's difficult to do this when being forced or pigeonholed into writing as a gender you DEMAND of me. However... I can be flexible, and if your ideas are interesting enough, I may just give you what you ask for anyways, haha. I'm perfectly open to playing multiple characters, whether it's a broad interactive cast of mains and background characters, a system of noninteracting or separate sets of doubles, triples, you name it, or whatever other configuration of multiple-character-playing you prefer.

I'm not too terribly concerned about post lengths and am open to writing with people who might be new to the RP scene. I'm pretty flexible about how much I'll write. A good rule of thumb for myself is that I tend to respond with more when I have more to work with. That doesn't always mean that there are more words on your post for me to respond to; instead, I mean that if your post has enough ideas, inspiration, and momentum, I can go buckwild with my posts. My comfort zone seems to be around 4-6 paragraphs per post, but I've been known to write either a lot more in particularly thrilling rps. If I'm writing a huge post- don't feel daunted or expected to match length. I love all sized posts!!! I'm just overly enthusiastic and get carried away sometimes. (This means you can also at any time tell me to chill out on how much I'm writing. ) When it comes to writing style, I only have a few hard expectations of you- I do not engage in roleplay featuring the 'would' style of writing. (For example: "She would pick up the rock and inspect it closely.") I don't exactly know why I dislike this tense so much, but it pulls me right out of the immersion of writing/reading and tends to entirely destroy my interest in the story. I'm sorry. Next, I care at least a little about punctuation and spellchecking. If you're roleplaying online, you have access to ways to make sure that you're not just submitting gibberish. If you need help finding those resources... feel free to ask!

I'm open to the idea of making profiles for our characters, but I'm okay without making them too. I'm also vaguely ambivalent to 'beautifying' our posts, should we do them somewhere that allows that sort of thing. I'm fine with any style of reference images, or with not using them at all. I can't promise I won't send you songs and images and memes that remind me of our story, though! Also- I'm super down for dice systems if we decide to go that route (and prefer dice systems if we include combat of any variety in our story.) I love romance, but it doesn't necessarily have to be the drive of our plot if that's not your style. My favorite genres to write in are science fiction, any variety of fantasy, horror, drama, historical settings, wild western settings, and mysteries.

Last but not least, I tend to like making friends with my writing partners. I prefer writing with people I actually get along with, so for me, the plotting phase is the most important. It helps me get to know your personality a bit more, and you mine, so we both know whether or not it's a good match to write long term! I'll write on most platforms, so let's discuss what makes the most sense for us. Finally, I generally only write with folks 18+, for the safety of everyone involved. Thanks for understanding.

Well, as I said, I've got a big ol list of ideas, if any of this strikes you as 'good writing friend' material, so send me a DM and I'll get back to you asap! Feel free to share your ideas too!!!

Original Ideas

- There's something dire down in the mines to the east of this old Western town. Folks keep goin' in to investigate, disappearin' for days at a time, then comin' back all different-like with the lights gone from their eyes. What could be happenin' out there, sheriff? (horror/western)

- A high-fantasy world's balance is shattered when the source of magic is destroyed. How will the people of this mystical land navigate a now mundane life, and how can they survive when so many magical devices go defunct and awry?

- A no-magic world is suddenly spun into chaos: an apocalyptic event leads to the sudden introduction of magic into a world that had previously never known it. In the post-apocalyptic (and mystically-charged) ashes of a world that once was, how do the survivors compete for resources and control?

- A star falls from the sky! They're rare, and it's dangerous to be one. Are you the star, hunted and lost? Or are you someone who finds a star?

- A lich (my character) is rumored to live in the castle at the foot of the mountains, only a mile or so from your town. It's said they're a true villain, the worst of the worst... but what is the truth?

-Arranged Marriages between physical embodiments of the seasons or planets

-A sailor, pirate, or other seafarer keeps noticing the same shape in the waters near their ship. After a terrible storm, the ship wrecks… now, one’s a mermaid, one’s a sailor, and they’re both idiots trying to find their way back home.

-Disaster has struck! A grisly assassination attempt leads a bodyguard to quickly usher their liege to safety. Drama ensues!

-Stowaways, and the people who catch 'em!

- Androids and more androids! Or... androids and non-androids!

-In a dwindling-magic world, those who cling to the olde magicks and the old way of living struggle against the new capitalist society and its nonmagic technology. In one still-magickal neighborhood where our story takes place, shopkeepers fight against nonmagickal gentrification in an effort to keep their businesses, communities, and traditions alive.

- A wandering traveler gets caught in a storm and chances upon an abandoned home, castle, or manor.... oh no!

- A train hopping crust punk encounters the ghost of a fellow train-hopper who fell under the rails and died.

- A living person's computer, gaming device, or phone is inhabited by a flirty ghost!

- There's a friendly but sad ghost living in a living person's new home! (Can you tell I like ghosts?)

Original (and corny) pairing ideas

fairy or elf / vampire or other dark creature

vampire / human

god / mortal

demon / angel or other dark/light archetypical pairings

dragon / humanoid

naval captain / stowaway

mob boss / citizen

superhero / supervillain

serial killer / investigator

serial killer / citizen

Bounty hunter/outlaw

outlaw/sherriff

outlaw/outlaw

farmhand/outlaw

Current Fandom Interests/Cravings

Pokemon - preferably with ocs and in a custom setting ft. all the ‘mons/us playing as humans

Elder Scrolls - pls, i’m craving this almost more than anything, and have been for years

Red Dead Redemption - it is cowboy time now

Legend of Zelda - i have a couple of cute ideas for this!

Avatar/Legend of Korra

Labyrinth - please please please someone play jareth for me, ill give you my firstborn in exchange

Star Wars - currently a little burned out on playing as kylo for everyone, so please don’t ask me to be him dlfkjdslfj

Game of Thrones

Lord of the Rings

Night in the Woods

Brutal Legend - does anyone but me remember this??? Omfg lets rp in this setting PLS

The Dragon Prince

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journal-of-an-outlaw · 4 years

Text

Price to be Paid - Chapter 25

AO3 link here

You were absolutely frozen.

Of course, of all the trolleys in Saint Denis and all the people to sit next to, you had chosen the spot next to Mary Linton. She looked perfectly pressed in a gown much more suited to her than the one you picked for yourself of a teal blue that made her eyes shine, and hair pinned with such accuracy you knew you could never replicate it. It burned your insides to see she was just as lovely as you had imagined even if you had secretly hoped she was ugly and cruel.

Mary watched you with her hand out and you realized how utterly rude you had been.

“YN! YN Moore, pleasure to meet you.”

Part of you had expected her to recoil at your name, scream and start to cry at the strange coincidence you had sat next to her. But instead she smiled widely and let her hands settle politely in her lap as the trolley bounced along the street.

So Arthur hadn’t mentioned you after all.

“Do you come often into Saint Denis?” You asked hesitantly.

Mary shook her head, watching the buildings pass on by. “No, just came to chase down my father. It’s embarrassing, really, but I asked someone for their help and I feel like I’ve taken advantage of what we used to have.”

She had the indecency to look beautiful as a blush worked its way up her cheeks.

“I’m sure they were just trying to help, because of the circumstances.”

You hoped the answer would change the subject as you were in no mood to discuss Arthur with a semi stranger. It felt wrong to know who she was and have her remain in the dark. The imbalance of it all made your stomach upset.

“Well, I knew they would come, and that’s the problem.” She shook her head and looked away from you. “If you ask someone for a favor but you know they are honorbound to say yes, is it really a request or does it become a demand? I, it’s not easy to be a single woman, it’s powerless, and I needed someone with power. Most folks I associate with at home are, well, you know, shallow and wouldn't help someone out unless it benefited them in some way.”

Mary looked a bit desperate as she spoke as if she was looking for your approval. You weren’t in the mood to give it willingly but you would listen, and maybe begin to understand.

“Depends on what you have with this person, I would guess.”

“I’m sorry,” she played with her skirt ruffles while she spoke. “I don’t mean to speak so openly, you’re kind to listen. This person and I used to be engaged. Part of me still wishes we could go back and change the past, ignore my father and just follow our hearts. But every time I play it out it never would have worked; I couldn’t live the way he did, my family would have disowned me, and I would have isolated myself from every possible avenue of a life resembling what I had always known. I was young and naive to think that things would just fall into place, but being around him makes me think maybe, just maybe, we could take on the world together. I know that isn’t the case, I don’t love him like I used to, but it’s the intoxication of being swept up in that fantasy.”

“I used to be engaged, when I was young as well. There’s something about a first love that never really leaves you, even when you know it isn’t right anymore It’s...hard to move on and accept that life turned out the way it did, but sometimes the best choices for us aren’t the easiest.”

Mary watched you with a focused look while you talked about Henry. It wasn’t the same situation, of course with Henry dying suddenly, but things were starting to make a little more sense as to why Arthur and Mary were drawn to one another. It wasn’t true love, or any kind of love at all but more the echos from when they were younger. They had a bond, and as much as you didn’t like it, it wasn’t something that would just go away and if you were to take Arthur into your life, you would have to accept it.

“It looks like you made a good choice now! There’s a beautiful ring on your finger.”

“Yes, and he is good and I love him.” You beamed down at your hand, knowing what you had to do. “Miss Linton I’m afraid I haven’t been completely honest with you. I didn’t know you before except by name, and I truly am sorry for barging next to you on the trolley like this. I know you met up with Arthur Morgan earlier, and I have to tell you he’s the one I’m engaged too.”

The trolley bell made a loud clang as the two of you sat in silence. Mary looked out to the street of Saint Denis as you passed a park with families strolling by. You thought she wiped a tear from her eye but couldn’t tell as she refused to look back at you for a moment.

“Miss Linton, I’m sorry to spring this on you -”

“No. Don’t be.” Mary finally faced you, a smile on her face. “I...you know I was talking about Arthur, then. I am sorry to have dragged you both into my affairs, I never meant to, I just didn’t have anywhere else to turn and in truth took advantage of what we used to have.”

“It’s actually alright, Miss Linton. You are not a bad person, just a person stuck in a bad situation. I started out today in a foul mood but after getting to know you I strangely feel better.” You laughed at the absurdity of what just came out of your mouth. Mary Linton had been a hateful, deceitful hag in your mind until you sat down on that trolley and you hadn’t realized just how happy you would have been to keep on living that lie.

“If it makes you feel better, he really does love you.”

You looked over at her surprised. That had never been a doubt in your mind but something in her tone made you think he had proved it to Mary somehow.

“I, oh lord, forgive me, I asked him to run away with me just before I got on the trolley. I don’t know what came over me, I just blurted it out like an imbecile.” Mary was quiet and as you listened you felt your temper rising, but forced it down in an effort to maintain some decorum. “He of course said no, that that part of our lives was over and he had someone who loved him flaws and all, not despite of them. And that must you.”

“He saved me, in more ways than one. And it’s not always easy. There’s a lot of outside factors but at the end of the day he’s a good man, just…”

“Like he’s wrestling with a giant,” she finishes your sentences softly.

The trolley drove by a street corner where someone yelled about a cause they were supporting, asking those walking by to donate anything they could. The sun filtered through the trees and cast odd shaped shadows on the cobblestones that had been worn down by each passing thing whether it was a horse or a street car. What a strange city, you thought, so full of life and color and heartbreak. Things hadn’t turned out like you thought they would but from what you had learned, that was usually okay.

“I think we’re more alike than we could ever guess, Miss Linton. Which probably says more about Arthur than it does the two of us.” Mary gave a startled laugh, hiding behind one hand as the trolley slowed to a halt. The conductor announced this was the end of the line and that after five minutes it would head the other way. Mary stood and asked how to get to the train station as you filtered out with the crowd.

Charles wasn’t at the stop so you waited for Mary to exit and join you on the sidewalk. She smiled and quickly fixed a strand of hair that had loosened from her bun, enjoying the feeling of the afternoon sun. With no escort she seemed nervous, so you offered to walk her over to the train station.

“I will tell you, if you had told me that all of this would happen today I wouldn't have believed you in a million years!” She seemed giddy walking down the street.

“Miss Linton…”

“Mary, please.”

“Mary,” you tried again with a smile. “I still feel awful, like I deceived you somehow. Please know that was never my intention.”

Just as she opened her mouth to respond someone called out your name, a low, gravely voice you instantly recognized. There was a small crowd behind you but Arthur and Charles sat high on their horses, a strange look on both of their faces. Arthur climbed down and threw the reins to Charles before approaching with hesitation.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake Arthur it’s alright, I won’t bite.” Mary said flatly. You were sure he was panicking inside at seeing the two of you together.

“YN, I didn’t know you were in the city.”

“Charles didn’t mention it?” Arthur shook his head. “That’s alright. I came after you, but we ran into someone and I then found Miss Li-, Mary on the trolley. We actually had a lovely conversation and were walking to the train station to see her off.”

Arthur stood frozen, like if he moved the illusion would break. It was funny, really, but you didn’t laugh as you let him process whatever was racing through his mind. You were sure seeing his old and current betrothed together was a strange and terrible sight.

“Arthur, should we…?” You motioned to the station and he snapped back from his momentary lapse. He cleared his throat and walked up next to the two of you, unsure of whether to offer his arm or walk in silence.

The rest of the walk only took a few minutes and it passed by in comfortable conversation between Mary and yourself. She told you about her home and her brother who she was quite proud of, and how he was looking into going for schooling after something Arthur had convinced him of. Your fiance snorted, causing both you and Mary to give him a dirty look, and he mumbled something about how it would be good for Jaime to get out in the world and be stable.

A strange pang shocked your heart at their casual intimacy and chatter about Mary’s brother. It was something you didn’t share with Arthur as any questions about your family had been deflected and you hoped he wouldn't bring it up. You realized now that was foolish, and one day he simply wouldn't take a distraction as an answer. The unfortunate bond to your parents would need to be brought to light soon as your father kept reminding you by popping up at every turn.

The train whistled loudly, steam pouring onto the station platform and signalling it was ready to leave. Mary thanked you both and stepped up to the car, but paused halfway up and turned back.

She took your hands in her and gave a soft squeeze. “I genuinely wish the both of you every happiness in the world. I, it’s nice to know Arthur has someone like you looking out for him.”

“Mary, if you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to write. It’s not easy to get by on your own, you do have support if you need it.” Arthur smiled and tipped his hat as the train let out another blast. Mary waved and stood frozen safely on the stop step as the train pulled out from the station.

You and Arthur watched as the train faded into nothing more than a blip on the horizon.

“That was...how did you even…”

Arthur stuttered at your side trying to comprehend what happened. You smiled up at him.

“I came after you to apologize. I was wrong Arthur, very wrong, and never should have tried to stop you from helping Mary. Charles came with me into the city and we tried to find you, but he spotted some Pinkertons and we had to escape. He took the horses and I jumped on the trolley next to a very surprised Mary Linton. We actually got along very well, she told me about how you helped her and it just solidified my thought that you are one of the best men I’ve ever met.”

Arthur blushed at your words and looked around. Spotting no one, he swept you up into a brief hug, resting his head in the crook of your neck and squeezing.

“Truth be told I only did it because I thought it’s what you would have done. Helping people out...that’s your thing. Being kind, y’know.”

You laughed and linked your arm through Arthur’s. All feuds forgotten, you strolled back through the city to find Charles. He told you about chasing Mary’s father all over Saint Denis; the meeting at the stables, chasing down the loan shark, and after all that Mary’s father still escaped their grasps. You laughed and gasped dramatically as Arthur retold everything, feeling like he wanted you in on the secret of him and Mary’s relationship, whatever it may be. It was a good feeling, being accepted and wanted. After he finished you told him about Brother Dorkins and how Charles saved two poor souls who were being held captive.

“Oh, I met him. The Brother, he was with Charles I guess after you got on the trolley. Walked them back to their church and made sure they weren’t followed.”

So Charles had diverted Arthur from running into your father. What a nightmare that would have been, but the thought of Agent Milton moving about somewhere in the same city brought your fears back and you suddenly wanted to be out of Saint Denis more than anything. Your eyes scanned everyone who passed by for the possibility of him running into you and what that would mean. You hadn’t spoken about your parents in nearly a year and the topic still made your stomach turn.

What would Arthur think when he found out?

Charles whistled from across the street. You and Arthur crossed to meet him and leave as soon as possible. Arthur asked if everything was alright as you took off through the streets, trying to put as much distance between you and Agent Milton as possible. Your only response was a smile as words were not able to form for you at the moment.

“You’re back! And just in time, too. We need to prepare for a ball, Cinderella.”

Dutch greeted the three of you at camp with the strange sentence and you cast a confused look at Arthur. Hadn’t you just been to a dance in Rhodes?

Arthur grunted. “Dutch, you know I hate dressing up…”

Dutch laughed and approached the two of you. Swinging his arm around Arthur’s shoulder to steer him over towards Hosea you heard him say, “Just think of it as a practice for your wedding. Now, what we have here is a change to get on the good side of Angelo Bronte at a party the Mayor is throwing.”

You chuckled watching Arthur’s panicked face throw you a glance for help but you just waved him off and started brushing Eclipse. Her hair was dirty from the smog of Saint Denis and she made appreciative sounds as it slowly became clearer and clearer. Kieran hadn’t brushed her in the past few days so she was overdue. The other horses nearby looked dirty too, like Kieran hadn’t been keeping up with his duties.

The next week moved at the same pace set by the heat lingering around Shady Belle; heavy and unrelenting in its molasses slow pace. You helped cut more vegetables, wash more clothes, and sort more herbs than you cared to remember and more than once you and Karen snapped at each other purely for something to do. She may not always get along with you, but as someone who worked hard for the gang she respected you and you felt the same towards her.

Days started to feel repetitive. While it was wonderful to have a routine and sleep under a roof, not everyone agreed that you deserved it after such a short time with the group. Micah certainly made it known that he should be in your and Arthur’s room, not you, but someone usually told him to quiet down if he got too rowdy.

One day, Dutch’s plan finally came into fruition.

“Gentleman! Tonight is the night we set off, hair brushed and oiled, shoes shined, and dressed to the nines so we can charm the pants of this god forsaken shit hole called Saint Denis.” He waited while people laughed at his show, then continued on. “Hosea, myself, Bill, and…” his eyes crossed the gang. “Mary Beth will be off to the mayor's house.”

It was not lost on you how quickly Dutch’s eyes flitted past you.

Mary Beth balked. “Me? You need some pick pocketing done?”

“No, nothing like that. We just need a woman who can move about precisely in high society is all.”

A disgusted noise came from Molly as she threw a rag down and stalked back into the house. Dutch just huffed and turned back to the younger woman.

But Mary Beth was still confused. “I ain’t like the others, you could take YN or Abigail and dress them up. Why me?”

Micah annoyingly stepped forward to answer. At his first step Mary Beth crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “Because, Miss Gaskil, you’re beautiful, and young, and good enough to distract people into thinking they have a false sense of security when in reality we’re robbing them blind.”

“But I thought you said -”

“Enough.” Dutch had his spotlight stolen and was incredibly frustrated by how the events had gone. It was his story to tell why was no one listening?

“Mary Beth. We ain’t robbing. It’s just a dinner party and we figured a pretty young girl like you should experience the finer things in life. YN went to that ball back in Rhodes and Abigail we thought wouldn’t want to leave young Jack so soon. Plus, with John not there, things could get out of hand.”

Arthur’s eyebrows shot up to the top of his hairline. Clearly this was something he hadn’t discussed with Dutch and you know they all watched poor Abigail flail about feeling stuck in her position.

The look on Dutch’s face said the decision was final. You were strangely okay with this as you had no desire to dress up and preen about the high society of the men who kidnapped Abigail’s son. But Arthur clearly wasn’t.

“Dutch, if I’m going so is YN. That’s final.”

Dutch sighed, looking exhausted. “My boy, if that happens then I’ll have to -”

“It’s happening. We can find a second carriage.”

“Fine.” You watched the scene, frozen. Not wanting to push any boundaries you opened your mouth to speak but Dutch silenced you with a look and you waited for him to continue. “We are guests of Angelo Bronte and will clean up before heading out. That means you all bathe, yes, even you Bil, and for god’s sake wear a suit. We will meet after supper and head in together, as Arthur so eloquently said, in two wagons.”

A flush worked its way up your chest and face. “I don’t want to make trouble, Dutch.”

“What’s done is done. We will all head in and be on our best behaviour and make this worth our while! Be ready by seven.”

Arthur balked at the older man and joined you near Pearson’s wagon. “Never seen him like that. Wonder why he put up a fight about bringing you along.”

“Well, he was right. Mary Beth is beautiful and charming and...younger.” You wrap your arms around your middle, suddenly self conscious. Arthur laughed softly at your expression, which earned him a dark glare.

“You ain’t old, darlin’, you’re younger than me and even so there’s nothing wrong with it. Dutch has been strange lately, that performance included.” He looped your arm through his and walked over to the house. “Let’s go into town, take the day to get ready for that party tonight, hmm?”

You nodded and allowed him to drag you away. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Molly dart out of sight as you as Arthur approached and a pang of guilt hit your chest.

As soon as your bag was packed for the day you closed the door to your room and promised Arthur you would be down shortly. Something was drawing you over to the small sitting room next to Dutch and Molly’s room. It was a quiet afternoon and the sun filtered in through the wooden blinds casting beams of light to dance around the room.

“Hosea?” The older man grunted as he looked up. “I think Molly should go tonight instead of Mary Beth. I know she’s not...I think it would clear the air, make things a bit better between her and Dutch, which in turn means better for us. You know she would charm the pants right off of those society men and get a chance to flex her uses.”

Hosea blinked in response. He seemed to ponder your words for a moment, scratching his chin while his eyebrows pulled together. From somewhere downstairs Arthur called for you, so you told Hosea to consider your idea and waved goodbye.

The ride into town was uneventful. Your mind was racing with thoughts of a real bath and nice clothes to be focused on the dusty road below you. Arthur was talking to you about something, but suddenly the thought of being in town reminded you that just a week ago your father had been there and almost caught you. If there was a chance he would find you or Arthur, things would turn bad very quickly.

"...and Hosea told me once about mixing flowers and herbs together to make poultices, like for medical purposes, and how Bessy taught him."

You took the pause in his speech as a chance to reply noncommittally with a nod.

Arthur saw right through that.

"He also said that if you bathe in the waters of Saint Denis that your skin would turn as green as grass."

You looked around the bridge entrance with a sharp eye. "Uh huh, wow, he's so smart."

"And eating yellow daisies under a full moon will let you turn into one of them, but for a day."

"Hmm, wait what did you say?" You turned to find Arthur stifling a laugh by looking away from you but it wasn't working.

"Something on your mind you want to talk about, sweetheart?" His voice was low as he asked.

“I’m just,” you sighed dramatically, “worried is all. Did Charles tell you about the Pinkertons we saw?”

Arthur nodded. “Met that Brother Dorkins character, too. Not sure what to make of him. Seems nice enough, genuine, but all those religious types do, right? That’s how they get you.”

You laughed and chastised Arthur for mocking the man and in turn he told you he was only joking. Brother Dorkins was a good man; he put helping others above all else in his life and truly committed to the selfless way that he had been taught. You felt good about how you and Charles had helped him the other day and were glad Arthur had been able to spend time talking to him.

Once the horses were tied up out front you headed into the tailor shop together. Arthur was quickly ushered over to the men's side and you followed a young woman to look at dresses.

It was all breathtaking. The glamor of what life could be like stared you down in the reflection wearing a low cut deep red dress. It whispered about high heeled boots and soft, elegant gloves that would accompany you on a night out to see a show. It sighed in your ears to the sound of string lacing up your back and the tug of the corset that restricted your movement. The sweet symphony swelled with the swish of the dressing room curtains and you took center stage, ready to present the illusion to Arthur.

He spit out the sip of water he had just accepted from the shopkeeper.

Quickly the man jumped into action to clean up the spill and you simply arched an eyebrow. The woman next to you knew she had done good work from the reaction and you smiled at her like you shared a secret. The burgundy material clung to your chest and hips, billowing out behind you like a cloud. It was large and overdone, but even you could see through the poshness of it and admire the way you looked like a dream. No one could stand in your way with this dress, not even Arthur and his dapper looking tuxedo. In which he looked stunning as well.

“See something you like, Mr. Morgan?” You rested a hand on your hip as you sauntered over, enjoying the way his eyes ran up and down you languidly.

He ran a hand over his eyes to hide the obscenities that flew from his mouth. “Only you could make that dress look like that, I’m not so sure I want to buy it for you.”

“Why not!” You pouted, sticking your lip out.

You could see him restrain himself as he took your hand gently and turned you around. He pretended to fix something on the back of your dress and suddenly you were very aware that both of the workers were watching you.

“If anyone so much as thinks about you looking like that I’d put a bullet between his eyes before you could stop me.”

After you both changed back to your street clothes and paid, you decided to walk to the hotel to bathe as it wasn’t as far as you had thought. Arthur let you hold onto his arm and point out things you liked along the way, like the small birds singing in the air and the way the horses hooves echoed streets away from the trolley car. It was vibrant and new and you loved it, oblivious to the way Arthur never took his eyes off of you.

The clerk at the hotel was bored and barely paid any attention to the two of you as you paid for baths. At the last second Arthur purchased a room for the night for you two to stay in after the dinner, and you almost missed the wicked glint in his eye.

You moaned louder than you should have as you sank down into the beautifully hot water. Any aches you had before were gone in that weightless space and you watched the dirt from days and days simply scrub away. You had been trying to clean yourself every few days at least but living in the swamps made it difficult. Between the bugs and the sweat and the need to bring someone with you in case an alligator had its eyes on you, the actual bathing amount was questionable. Laying in the bubbly bliss was pure heaven.

A soft knock at the door was followed by a voice asking if you wanted extra assistance but you declined. The bar of soap was easy enough to manage and you plunged your head below the water to begin attacking your hair.

You eventually left the small paradise you had found and dried off, impressed with the result of one simple bath. It was something you would need to indulge in more regularly.

Arthur beamed at you as you entered the small room and motioned to the bed where he had laid out your dress. It was approaching time to leave for the mayor’s and you had too many buttons and laces to be able to dress yourself. Arthur kissed your neck as he helped you dress and looked at you again like a wolf stalking its prey. It made your stomach flip and flutter as you thought about what the night held in store.

Dutch greeted the two of you with a harumph as you entered the carriage outside. He chomped down on one end of a cigar and looked sour until Arthur found a glass of champagne. Dutch was dressed to the nines in a beautiful black suit and matching top hat. Someone, you guessed Hosea, had stuck a white flower into his lapel and he leaned back in his element. It didn’t take long for Dutch and Arthur to be howling with laughter at thoughts of the old days and how ridiculous it was to be headed to a mayor’s ball, of all things. You sat squished across from Bill who avoided your gaze and opted to stare out the window, throwing back the glass of champagne Dutch handed him instead of savoring it like you were.

You asked Dutch if he wanted you to lift anything as there was likely to be good value in such a high society.

“Oh, no, no, no, no! No pickpocketing. We are here to make some real contacts. We have to find what we can at this party where the guest of honor is the worst crook in town!” It wasn’t long until he and Arthur and Bill were howling with laughter at this again and you watched on amusedly.

The men cheersed their drinks just as the carriage arrived outside of the manor gates and came to a slow stop. Someone opened the door and you exited first, excited to be around new people. Arthur held his arm for you to walk you down inside but stopped in his tracks and stared as another carriage pulled up behind yours.

“My god, she actually came…” you whispered.

For as wonderful as you looked in the dress from the tailor, you had nothing on Molly O’Shea. She stepped forth a queen in a stunning green jeweled dress dotted with accents of gold and black and red and perfectly matching jewelry. Her hair and makeup were flawless as well and made you wish you had brought at least a lipstick with you.

Her Irish accent was silky and slow as she took in her companions. “Evening, fellas. And Miss Moore, that’s a stunning dress you have there.”

You held Arthur’s arm, frozen as well, and watched as she and Dutch took their place in front of you. Hosea walked next, a smirk and a wink thrown your way as if to say he had finally come around and listened to your suggestion.

Bill huffed. “Well. This night just got a whole lot more interesting.”

The walkway was lined with white canvas tents stretched high above you and twinkling lights across the lawn. The house was a stunning two story building with Roman columns and a balcony that seemed to stretch around the entirety of the second floor. It was beautiful and matched the bold taste of those in the higher class of Saint Denis.

“Luca here will take you to Mr. Bronte.” A man at the front door accepted Dutch’s paper invitation and invited the crowd in, eyeing the number of people that entered in a way that let you know you were pushing the limits.

Luca was a smaller man, an inch or two below even you. He walked with a strut that made up for it as he guided the group into the foyay and spoke about the extensive history the house held as a jewel and a staple of Saint Denis. He lost you somewhere after you passed the chandelier, the sparkling beauty nearly stopping you in your tracks. Luca led you past the double staircase and multiple servants.

‘Hosea, Bill, YN, you three join the party. Signore Bronte does not want a crowd I am sure. We will meet you down here shortly and meet you out back after we pay our respects.” Molly clung to Dutch’s arm a little tighter, learning she was of importance to meet the guest of honor. Arthur simply rolled his eyes at you and you smiled back, not bothered by the slight.

Bill whistled as you stepped back out into the night air. “This sure is a pretty place. Like the...lights and such.”

Hosea told him to go find drinks while the two of you stood at the top of the stone staircase, a good spot for observing the party.

“Hosea, I’m flattered to even be here. I know Dutch seemed against it at first. He’s bee strange lately, have you noticed?”

The older man paused before thinking, mulling over the words running through his mind. “You look lovely tonight YN. Sure picked a dress that could bring a man to his knees.”

“It’s not too much?” You fretted.

“Not at all, my dear. And as far as Dutch goes, I’ve noticed something is off as well. Let’s keep that to ourselves however, not everyone would agree with our observations. Might think we were going against him.” Bill held out two drinks for you and headed back into the crowd to play the part of upper society. You clinked your glass gently against Hosea’s and enjoyed the taste of whatever it was you had sipped.

The garden below you was wide stretching, with trees and fountains and gazebos dotted around the grounds in an elegant arrangement. The same stringed lights from the front of the house were draped all around the backyard as well giving the evening a mood lighting of excitement and dreaminess.

You still couldn't believe it was all real. A few short months ago you were being held hostage by a savage man, and now you stood at the height of society, drinking and enjoying the view you had from the top.

It wasn’t long before Dutch, Arthur, and Molly joined you on the balcony. Dutch and Molly looked quite pleased with themselves, talking about how enchanted Bronte was with Molly and her beauty. Arthur seemed hesitant and motioned for you to come stand by him as soon as Dutch was done retelling the riveting tale of working with the man of the hour.

“I think we should get outta here. These people, they ain’t like us. They’re liars, and awful tricksters who do terrible things for a laugh.” Arthur shook his head, pointing out some people in the crowd who Bronte had mocked.

“Native Americans? What do they need from the mayor?” You mused out loud.

“Alright, go ingratiate ourselves. And remember,” Dutch gave you a pointed look, “steal nothing. Unless it's information. Find the mayor and stay outta trouble.”

Arthur gave your arm a tug and together you headed into the crowd. You knew finding the mayor was the target, but to be honest you were mostly interested in meeting the Native Americans who were somewhere out in the gardens.

You and Arthur waltzed around to see what you could find, but most of the people were simple folk looking for idle conversation. It took an hour to make your way around in a lap and at the end you felt none the wiser. Sure, the caricature of Saint Denis was more vibrant and colorful after speaking to more of its residents but you knew that would be enough information to sustain Dutch.

A conversation behind you grabbed your attention and you turned so Arthur could face them men and join in.

“It ain’t complex, Lemieux. And only an idiot like you would try to make it so.”

The small group of men stood near the fountain seeming to poke fun at the Frenchman. “I will not deny idiocy, sir, but perhaps now is not the time. You are drunk, Ferdinand.”

“I’m not drunk, you fool!” The loud man laughed and rocked backwards, grabbing the man next to him in order to remain standing. “But this man! This man loves darkies.”

You blanched at the slur and Arthur took this queue to grab the man’s shoulders, turning him away from the group. It didn’t take him long to lead him away before anyone could get too upset. You pretended to fan your face with your hand and draw the attention of the men back to you instead of watching the scene behind them.

“Your husband, madam?”

You blushed. “Betrothed. A good man, Arthur. My name is YN.”

Arthur rejoined the group and shook hands with the other men. “Thank you, sir. Henri Lemieux, I hope you are enjoying my party. Do you know Evelyn Miller?”

The name sounded familiar as Arthur’s face lit up. “My lord. The writer?”

“Well,” the man chuckled good heartedly. “We seem to have another deranged drunkard in our midsts.”

Behind Mr. Miller a loud boom echoed through the streets of the city. You winced and looked away from the bright lights exploding in the sky, unsure of what to think. Arthur placed his hand on your back and whispered that they were fireworks and you watched in awe. Flashes of light were met with oohs and ahhs from the crowd so you figured you must be safe, even if the air reeked of gunpowder.

A man in a white servants uniform pushed through the group towards the mayor, pulling him to the side once he had his attention. A sharp whisper brought the words ‘Cornwall’, ‘fool for trusting him’, and ‘sign it’ carried across the air and you locked eyes with Arthur. This was a lead, something he should look into.

Dutch seemed to appear out of thin air. “He say something about Cornwall? Find out what.”

Arthur placed a chaste kiss to your cheek and slunk off into the crowd and off into the dark. You stood alone until Molly joined your side.

“Miss O’Shea, that gown is...breathtaking.” Molly smiled, a rare motion for her.

“I’m glad tonight worked out. Hosea told me it was your idea to bring me along instead of Miss Gaskill, and I wanted you to know I’m grateful. Dutch and I...we used to be so close but I’m hoping he sees my worth after tonight. This dress was supposed to be for another type of party with me and Dutch, but I don’t see that happening anytime soon.”

You smiled sadly at her, unsure of what to say.

“Do you ever miss Ireland?”

“Constantly,” she answered without hesitation. “It’s a beautiful country, and Dublin is a gem that these cities don’t hold a candle too. I hope you visit one day, see the green for yourself.”

“I’d like that.” Arthur returned to your side with a sly grin thrown at Dutch and a pat of his coat pocket. Dutch tipped his hat and watched the rest of the fireworks show with a wide grin.

Hosea and Bill find their way over and express their disinterest at staying any longer. On the walk out Hosea whispered to Dutch about a plan he had devised to rob the city bank, something someone at the party had brought to his attention. Dutch countered with a plan to rob the trolley station that Bronte had mentioned to him and Arthur. The gang seemed to just need one big score before they could be free, whatever Dutch meant by that.

Lenny drove up with the first carriage and you saw his eyes nearly fall out of his head at the sight of you. One look at Arthur snapped his neck forwards without daring another glance, but you laughed at the exchange and felt good about how the night had gone. Dutch, Bill, Molly, and Hosea climbed inside as you and Arthur remained on the sidewalk. He clapped the side of the wagon without a word and Lenny took off, a curt nod cast somewhere in your general direction.

“Well, Mr. Morgan, what should we do now?”

Arthur met your gaze with a low growl and a hungry look on his face. “Girl, you better run back to that hotel room because I know exactly what we are doing tonight.”

You squealed with delight and took off, hiking your skirt up around your knees to let you run. Arthur barked a laugh and chased after you, showing the upper society of Saint Denis that it couldn't tame you no matter how hard it tried.

#price to be paid #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #fanfic #I know #two chapters in a week #who is she #well #she is stuck in quarantine and happy to be writing again #arthur morgan #female reader

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sarumansorkorphanage · 5 years

Text

It’s weird being on here again realy.

I don’t think I actually wanted to leave this plattform at any point.

One moment I just realised I had.

You see- I don’t really see myself as a tumblr person and this might be because I’m awefully biased against all of you guys without even really evaluating you.

I just asumed there were certain characteristics to a tumblr person- which I am sure the majority should have- amongst which you could find a certain level of narcissism (not the clinical form, you know, just higher levels on the personal trait-scale) and psychological issues. Or some really intense form of fandom. Or both.

So yeah- while that may or may not be true, these are the reasons why I didn’t want to be a tumblr person. I just didn’t feel I had any major psychological issues, maybe a certain tendency to fancy attention or something, but we’d all be sub-clinical on that, and my degree of fandom was in my humble opinion not worrysome at all.

So you see- no judgment whatsoever, I could even list a couple of good traits amongst which a high intellect, a certain degree of empathy and creativity (though this might be due to my filter bubble).

Now- rest assured- I did have nihilistic thoughts before and I didn’t have any suicide, self-loathing or self-harming fantasies. Not at all. So I don’t quite understand what I’m doing here, but the fact is my head seems rather troubeled and I need an outlet, so- I just felt I should come to a place where people would see me as a bit weird maybe, but most wouldn’t be either detrimental or judgmental. Even though they might be just mental.

(Yeah the pun just came and I won’t cut it because I feel it’s kinda cute.)

So- maybe it’s time to re-introduce myself. My name is- well, Saruman for you guys, sorry ^^, and I haven’t been on tumblr for about half a year or so- and actually I didn’t really plan on coming back, nor do I pan on staying now.

I am a fan of Tolkien’s work, you know- all that Lord-of-the-Ringish, Hobbity, Silmarillionesque stuff. I did use to write poetry in up to three different languages, some were good, some were bad and some I like or dislike depending on the mood, but I usually didn’t edit too much. Maybe out of a sense of self-importance and a weird grasp on creativity in art- or you can just call me lazy if you will, either will do and I’m sure I have hown all those tendencies at some point or another.

Why did I leave this place where you can get little haertsies for pouring out your sad emotions, your happy emotions or any form of emotion in any text there is, really? I don’t quite know. Honestly I like the concept, it’s utterly shallow, sure and I won’t become a great writer of you al support my lazyness and self-importance (which I actually don’t really want to), but it’s also profoundly human. It’s a little utopia. A little shire, if you want to come back to Hobbitses (and this is official Gollum-plural). This is beautiful.

All those fucked up souls and mental wrecks here, or at least those who pretend to be such get positive feedback in their actions- or even better, moral support. Which they probably can use better, for some of their striving s disturbingly detrimental and not going to help them in any manner.

If you were looking for reasons to leave, sure there would be plenty: This place is shallow and cringy at it’s core, full of pretentious little artists amongst whom I have counted myself and I can proudly say- I still am a pretentious little artsist from time to time. People here honestly think brainy is the new sexy and take a Tony Stark as an example. Yeah he plays a brainy arrogant prick, but he mostly is rich, that’s the sex appeal. Same for Loki, the Hiddleston guy.

And I know. I come just back here on this plattform, ranting a bit becaus eit feels good on short notice and actually I don’t contribute to harmony etc. right now.

Actually I might have said a few things which have seriously offended one or another person- if that is- anyone has read this bullshit text.

So why’d I come back? I’m not back in that sense. It’s a note in my journal, that’s what it is. And this is not an actual journal, it’s a metaphor for me leaving something here and probably never reading it again.

Am I a bitter person?

Well sometimes I am, yes, so have I observed. Though I do not think of myself as such. I used to be a positiv child, that is my belief and- what child is not positive at some point in its life? Most children have every reason to be positive about... things.

To the point:

Yesterday I looked at myself and realised- let me use another Tolkien metaphor here even though I am aware I have extended the privilege quite enough: I am not only not the young bright Arragorn I imagined myself becoming as a kid, but I am rather turning into a Gollum creature tacked back in the misty mountains cave off my room, with the one ring of Netflix and losing even the taste of good food. I haven’t eaten an apple in a long time! Though I had an avocado yesterday and a really good salad before that, so I think this is where the comparison might stop.

You know I did use to do martial arts- not to worry it was only for my own content- and I did get a rather appealingly shaped body, I wasn’t strong or ripped or anything gorgeous like them fitness guys bloating around like coqs (I’m fairly sure this is the French spelling, I can’t seemt tom remember the English one) on an animal farm. But I was in rather fine physical shape. And my body was... probably appealing. To some. Not the great majority, I wouldn’t go as far, but some.

And now I don’t du martial arts, I eat a lot less well than I used to- miracle- this isn’t my mom’s stove anymore so I cook when I had time and the grace to make an effort. And so my muscles are fairly thin, I lost about half my strength and it only shows a little bit, but I’m convinced in training I would soon come to realise my limits have shifted.

And that’s a bad thought.

And honestly i have two easy ways to feeling better: I could get out and do something for myself or I could get to work in here and - oh look, it’s raining, suddenly it’s more appealing to stay and studdy for university instead- but I get locked up in front of... books and series... and movies... so I don’t do shit in the end.

And at the same moment I feel this reticance... why do you care? why should I care? Couple thousand years ago and I’d have been living about half my life, so what’s the deal? And yeah, I’m 20 experiencing the pressure of puberty, feeling like I can look through the whole system including the ridiculous part that I play myself. And that’s the point.

I am hyper aware of my actions and their consequences, I am aware of other people’s actions, I am aware of a big chunk of modern society and I could now write you an essay about how to achiev in the system I live in. But I’m too lazy to care and I don’t feel like it.

So yeah- I am angry at myself. Probably. According to myself I am, so I must be right? And I know I don’t need to be. Same as...

Actually that’s a good point, I’m in puberty, I ddon’t like it, I write because I feel like I suck and I know I don’t or at least I don’t need to cause I could just walk out here and perform, but I can’t because... brains be brains, right?

And I don’t like people expecting me to do anything. And I don’t like competition either. I don’t like competing about grades, jobs, money, social status or female encounters. Which the last one I luckily don’t have to anymore, I just have to keep being myself, which I find a slightly more odd form of cometition because my competition is my self.

You know all those boys talking “Tell me about women?”. Ya, well tell me about boys. Tell me about myself. Seriously, I like when people try to get a grasp of me I used to like the part of myself, where you can’t stick me in a box, cause it’s like putting water in a basket.

“I shall remain freeee!” - And never seize my freedom because puberty forces me to take a harsh looka the manner in which I seize my oh so well accomplished freedom. Uhhh hate my brilliant brain (it’s just above average, not brilliant, my IQ is about 120, or was last I checked).

So this pittyful document of my puberty shall remain here until some company tries to get a grasp at me. Good luck trying guys ^^

No I seriously usually am a nice guy, I just don’t get a grip on myself lately, but even now I perform according to task. Or almost.

Should I check my spelling, because I just couldn’t have cared less while writing? Ahhh meh.

#duh #puberty #tell me about it #hashtags suck #i should serously stop swearing #and why do i keep doing it when i write in english?#pop culture has gotten a hold on me #good to know anyone has #i certainly haven't #hahaha #why do i just keep writing my text in the hastags?#idk #anyway #better get going #^^

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mellieartcorner · 6 years

Text

The Princess and The Prince Thief-Chapter Four

Summary: Princess Marinette of the Kingdom of Creaturae was very happy. Her reasons?-The notorious thief Chat Noir was locked up, her 21st birthday was soon, and she was going to become Queen. That is, until it was decided that she had to marry the mysterious Prince Adrien of the Kingdom of Mortem in order to become Queen. To make matters worse, Chat Noir escaped from jail and is visiting her almost every night. Having to run a kingdom is bad enough, but falling in love with a thief and a prince is the hardest part of all.

Genre: Fiction-Fantasy/Romance AU

Rated: T for Teen- Ages 15+

Patreon Supporters get Chapters a whole day early! For only $5 a month, you can too! Patreon.com/mellie711

Words: 2,510

Ao3

Fanfiction.net

Chapter Four

-Gathering Intel-

Nino waited patiently right by the entrance of the gardens, just out of the way not to be noticed, but just in range to keep an eye on Adrien. He leaned against the stonewall of the palace, eyes closed, the sounds of a nearby fountain humming in his ears. He could hear Adrien and Marinette talking, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. His charge, his liege, his best friend. The news that someone spotted Chat Noir last night put Nino on edge. This mission to find the ring was so important to Adrien, something that Nino knew would help stop the back-stabbing and the lies King Gabriel has been flooding the kingdoms, since the death of Queen Emilie Agreste. If Adrien could get the ring and place it on Gabriel’s finger, no more could the tyrant threaten the black death upon people. Adrien could then use it to control his own powers and prevent the cycle from repeating. Nino’s family’s hands were tied, but his own weren’t. He wanted Adrien to take the throne, and this marriage to Marinette will only help strengthen that resolve.

Of course, it doesn’t help that once Adrien took the throne, Nino would be able to take his own kingdom back and actually help Testudo, instead of his cousin, Bulla, working with Gabriel. Curse this traditional arrangement.

The door to the palace opened beside Nino, causing him to crack open an eye and meet Lady Alya’s worried gaze. They bonded over their mutual love and support of their charges, talking last night and at breakfast about the mess the young couple has caused so far. Nino quite liked Lady Alya’s determination and focus. She made sure Marinette was adequately prepared for become Queen, like Nino had to get Adrien ready to take over from his father when the time came.

“Hey, they are still talking, uh?”

Nino nodded, checking over to make sure the couple was still standing near by. They were now walking back towards the entrance of the gardens.

Nino responded, “Yeah, how was damage control in there?”

Alya sighed, “Well, King Gabriel has requested to speak to Princess Chloe and King Andre, King Tom is now at the morning patrol meeting, and Queen Sabine is knitting some small blankets.”

Nino raised an eyebrow for her to elebroate.

“She thinks that grandchildren are soon,” Alya shrugged and grew serious, “But I think we should be preparing for a massive outright war. I don’t trust Gabriel talking with Chloe and her father. And with Chat Noir here, I definitely don’t trust him.”

“Why’s that?”

“I have reason to believe Chat Noir is working under the influence of King Gabriel. He started in Mortem, has hit every Kingdom so far, gathering intel and only stealing to hide his cover,” Alya drew a fist, losing herself in her words, “When I heard he was spotted, at breakfast this morning, I felt like I came to the right conclusion. He has got to be here to ruin the wedding.”

Nino kept his face clear, playing along, “I highly doubt that, I mean, he only steals objects that are cat-like or have cats on them. If he was only doing it to hide his cover, why those objects?”

Before Alya could respond, the young couple approached; Marinette holding a single rose and Adrien fidgeting with his scarf. Both had big love-bird looks, but awkwardly looked away from one another. Nino mentally let out a deep breath. ‘Don’t fall in love, you idiot! You need to use her and find the ring,’ he wanted to say to his charge.

They stopped in front of their mentors, and Alya placed her hand on her hip.

“Glad to see you two getting along now,” she commented, causing them both to grow pink in the cheeks. Nino was glad though; Alya was now focused on something else, and he didn’t have to keep lying to her. He liked her too much for that.

“I am going to go do my daily studies,” Marinette said, breaking away from Adrien and going towards the door, “Goodbye to the both of you, for now.”

Alya wrapped her arm around Marinette’s, leading her inside and closing the doors behind them.

Nino looked over at Adrien, who was watching Marinette walk away, his face brightly lit and full of light. ‘Well, at least he is happy, for once,’ Nino concluded, feeling a little bad popping the prince’s metaphorical bubble.

“Have you searched more for the ring?” he asked, placing a hand on Adrien’s shoulder, “And you know that you can’t get attached to her. She doesn’t even know who you really are.”

Adrien’s shoulders immediately fell, his face darkening.

“Speaking of,” Nino continued, “You have got to be more careful. Lady Alya is suspicious of Chat Noir, too, you know.”

Adrien made a sour face, “She is? Shit. I wonder who spotted him last night, too.”

Nino grunted, “Who ever it was, be glad they didn’t find out about you. Now, why don’t you head to the library and I’ll go into town? I’m sure one of us will be able to figure something out.”

Adrien nodded, sighing heavily. Creatuae had one of the biggest, if not the biggest, library in all of the seven kingdoms.There was bound to be something in there about the ring’s location. Even if it was just a fairytale his mother used to tell him before she passed away.

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Lady Alya walked through the corridors of the palace, her attire casual as the evening was approaching fast. She spent the majority of her day helping Marinette with her studies, and of course, gossiping about her incoming feelings for Prince Adrien. Now that she had some free time, Alya wanted to get to the bottom of something that had been bothering her. What Lord Nino said earlier tugged at her mind. Why is Chat Noir only stealing cat related objects? If she was to prove her theory correct, the best place to start was the royal library. She passed by Rose, on her way to Marinette’s room of course, with Juleka by her side; close by her side. Alya and Marinette knew they were hiding the truth about their relationship from everyone else, but Marinette made sure to reassure them that when she is Queen, they could get married and be open. Alya had to just make sure Marinette becomes Queen first.

Through the palace grounds, adjacent to the gardens, stood the dome library. Home to artifacts, rare books. manuscripts, and the entire history of the royal family and even other families from different kingdoms, Alya knew she would find exactly what she was looking for here.

The library welcomed her with the smell of books and soft music, playing from a bard with a cello visiting from Ovium. The front desk stood at the center floor, with two spiral staircases on either side reaching up four floors. Shelves upon shelves upon shelves of books, tucked away in order, decorated the entire area. Not many people came and went, but those that did had piles of knowledge in their hands. Alya came up to the front desk, seeing the assistant librarian, Mylene Haprele, reading through a rather large book. Her hair was designed with braids, with different colored feathers and beads intermingled. A small brown beret sat on the girl’s head, with the mark of The Kingdom of Ovium resting on it; the sheep. Alya was glad to see her and not the head librarian, Madame Mendeleiev, who probably wouldn’t even say hello, let alone let Alya search alone.

“Good Evening, Mylene,” Alya said, smiling.

“Oh!” Mylene jumped, “Lady Alya, what a surprise! Two royals in one day! The last time that happened, Princess Marinette had to be escorted here by her mother after that incident with Princess Chloe and the fountain.”

Remembering that day well, Alya laughed and then realized what was just said, “Wait-two royals? Who else is here, Mylene?”

“Oh, Prince Adrien,” the young girl pointed to the right, towards the study area, “He hasn’t brought back his books yet, so I don’t think he has left. But, he said he didn’t want to be disturbed, so I don’t think I can let you go see him.”

Alya studied her options for a moment, bringing two fingers to her lips. She released a soft whistle, at a high enough pitch for Mylene to hear. A faint orange glow illuminated her fingertips as the sound passed through them.

Suddenly, Mylene stood up quickly with a shocked and frightened expression, “I am coming, Ms Mendeleiev!” She turned to Alya, “ I am sorry, Lady Alya, but I have to go now.”

Hating having to use her powers, Alya waved goodbye to Mylene as the poor girl ran towards the voice she thought she heard. Alya walked over towards the study hall. An area full of chairs, papers, ink quills, and sectioned desks, Alya searched for blonde hair. She found him, behind a fortress of books of different shapes and sizes. He looked tired, eyes red from the ink pages, and his hand resting his face.

“Need some help?”

Papers flew, books tossed on the floor, Adrien fell off of his chair with a thudumf.

A giggle couldn’t help but escape Alya’s mouth, as Prince Adrien looked up at her with annoying eyes, but then realized who she was.

“Lady Cesire! You scared me,” he began, getting back into his seat while cleaning up the paper trail. “I told Mylene I didn’t want to be disturbed, too.”

Alya sat across from him, studying his messy attempts at research, “I am sorry, Your Majesty. But I was just thinking you look like you need a second pair of eyes. Maybe you can help me too.”

Adrien gazed at Lady Alya with a raised expression and a smirk, “Are we bonding, Lady Cesire?”

She played coy, tapping the prince on the nose, “Call me Alya, and yes; I’m looking for objects that are related to cats.”

Adrien’s eyes flashed something Alya couldn’t explain, but then he grinned, “Well, I was looking for something similar, actually.”

Excitement and hopefulness raced through Alya, as she stood up and braced the table between them. “Are you going to try to catch Chat Noir in the act too, before he ruins the wedding?!”

Adrien paused for a second, then nodded in excitement, “Why, yes I am! I want to make sure the wedding happens without any problems.” The Prince reached for a large black cover, beaten up old book, handing it to Alya. In golden letters, the front read, The Miraculous FairyTales of The Seven Kingdoms.

“I know these!” Alya began, flipping through the pages and seeing pictures of all the gods, heroes and monsters, “My mother would read these to me at night, and now she reads them to my younger sisters.”

She looked up, bewildered, “Why did you give me this, though?”

“It seems Chat Noir may be looking for The Ring of Plagg,” Adrien suggested, quickly adding, “Based on what he has stolen previously, it seems.”

Thinking back, Alya recalled the story, “ The Ring of Plagg, so named because it belongs to the God of Destruction and Chaos? Supposedly gave your family their powers due to a curse? That is a fairytale story! There is no way it is real.” Alya flipped through the book until she found the picture of the tall, handsome God of Destruction, who was basically half-man, half-black cat. A sketch next to the God was of a black and silver ring, with a green paw print at the center of it.

Adrien grabbed another book carefully, this time a leather bound old diary that looked well preserved, “Well, Master Wang Fu found it, according to these journal entries.” Alya tried to reach for the book, but Adrien pulled away, “I’m sorry, Lady Alya, I promised Mylene I wouldn’t let anyone else touch this. It took a lot of convincing to let her even let me look at this, let alone read through it.”

“But Master Wang Fu was the one of the Draconus Lords, the first one, in fact. He was even around during the foundations of the Seven Kingdoms. Those writings have to be well over 1,000 years old,” Alya tapped her chin, her thoughts racing.

Adrien agreed, bracing his face on his hands again in a form of defeat, “But, that’s about as far as I got. The trail stops there. Master Wang Fu simply says, ‘I placed the ring within the land that can not die, giving it to the Lady of Luck.’ There is even a mention of something called The Earrings of Tikki that Master Fu gave this ‘Lady of Luck’.”

Alya dropped the book she was holding and gasped, “The Earrings of Tikki! Those are Marinette’s families prized possessions! They are given to the new Queen on her 21st birthday! The day she is crowned! They get placed back into the vault about a month before the next Queen is expected to take the throne. ”

Adrien’s eyes went wide, the realization hitting him squarely in the chest, “Are..are you positive?” Alya picked back up the book of fairytales, turning the page. She spotted what she was looking for.

“See?” she began, turning the book around and pointing at the page. It showed a elegant, beautiful woman, with a ladybug mask and a large gown decorated with ladybugs. Even ladybugs themselves danced around the woman. A pair of earrings, red and black spotted, were sketched next to the lady. “That is the Goddess of Life, Tikki. It is said that Marinette’s family are descendants of her. That’s how they have the powers of creation. Since those earrings are real, it means that the Ring of Plagg is real too!”

Adrien stared blankly at the page in front of him, lightly brushing the face of Tikki with his fingertips. He looked lost in thought and conflicted emotions clouded his face.

Alya lightly coughed, jogging him back to reality. She grabbed the book and looked at the page again, trying to catch a glimpse of what Adrien could have seen.

“Sadly, I don’t think Chat Noir can get his hands on that ring. If it is locked up with the earrings, only a female from the House of Cheng can get inside the vault,” Alya causally stated, closing the book with a loud thud. “Which means, I really don’t have anything to worry about.” She flashed a bright smirk, standing up. “Thank you, Prince Adrien. I was worried since you were the son of your father, that you would try to manipulate Marinette like King Gabriel did to my mother,” she patted the prince’s hand in friendship, “But you really do have Marinette’s best interests at heart.”

Alya left the Prince and headed back the palace, wondering why he looked so sad at her parting words. A purple butterfly fluttered away from a nearby open window as Alya walked away.

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dailythranduilproject · 6 years

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Today it’s @floranocturna turn with being interviewed! I would like to thank you for sharing with all of us! - Mirky.

General Questions: Username(s) we can find you under: Floranocturna and The Real Floranocturna (FanFiction.Net)

What Media do you create? Fanfictions, sometimes image edits

Are you self-taught or did you go to art school? I have a Masters degree in Literature (and History) and writing is indeed my job, but writing fanfiction and fantasy stories is my passion.

Which artists have influenced your style? Mainly Tolkien and Rowling, but there are numerous others along the way,which have shaped my style into what it is now.

Which are your favourite artists? Fragonard and Boucher (yes I love French rococo) and in the fandom my favorite artists are Kinko-White and Bohemianweasel.

Where can we find your work? AO3, Wattpad, tumblr, FanFiction.net, Quotev, DeviantArt and Inkitt.

What would you say you are best known for in the fandom? My writing

Do you have a favorite pairing? *ahem* I ship Thranduil with me of course XD

Do you have a favorite creation of yours you are especially proud of? My ongoing Thranduil story *The Secret of the Forest*, which I have recently rewritten into a Thranduil/OC story (it used to be a reader insert before). I have been working on this since 2016 and this story is very close to my heart.

Do you have a favourite fictional character, besides Thranduil of course? Severus Snape, because I really love how his character is neither good nor evil and the astounding amount of depth Rowling gave him.

What other fandoms are you part of? Harry Potter, Game of Thrones, Avatar

Do you do commissions? Nope, sorry, no spare time left.

Any advice/words for others in the fandom?

First: Be kind and respectful and always remember that we are in this fandom to share our love for Thranduil and not to fight over him.

Second: Do not steal other people’s hard work. This is something I had to experience myself and it is NOT nice! Create your own works and if you cannot do that then support the artists by sharing their work and encouraging them with likes and comments.

Third: If you are a writer getting started I would like you to remember that only practice makes perfect. Keep writing, keep searching for that voice of yours and keep reading! Read books, read stories and then read even more! And then sit down and write again, let the words flow and don’t think about what others will think of it. Write for yourself and only when you feel comfortable with it, then put it out there for others to see. Don’t take criticism personally, but try to see it as a possibility to grow as an author.

Personal Questions:

If you could name a song (or two or three) that would describe you or your life, what would it be? ‘Unknown Legend’ by Neil Young, ‘Lost Direction’ by Beecake, ‘Resolve’ by Sleeping At Last

Favorite color? Green

Favorite Book? Since I cannot choose only one here go my top choices: ’The Silmarillion’, ‘The Lord of the Rings’ and ‘The Hobbit’ by Tolkien, Harry Potter 1-7 by Rowling, ‘Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell’ by Susanna Clarke.

Favorite movie? ‘The Fall’, because of its absolutely stunning cinematography, magical storytelling and of course Lee Pace and the adorable Cantinca Untaru.

Do you have a pet peeve? Ignorance and rudeness.

What country are you from? Austria, that place where the hills are apparently alive with the sound of music ;)

Who do you think you might have been in a past life? I have no idea, but hopefully someone remotely cool.

What do you like to do in your spare time other than create the media you work on? Photography, cosplay, reading and I enjoy taking walks alone or with my dogs while listening to music and thinking about new plot twists for my stories (yeah I can never really turn off the writing)

When did you join the fandom? I have been in the Tolkien fandom for a while (since the LOTR movies) and I have been a fan of Lee Pace already before The Hobbit movies (because of ‘the Fall’), but I started being more active around 2014/15.

TheMirkyKing’s Questions:

What is the hardest part of writing for you?

This is a difficult question, because many parts can be hard depending on my inspiration or the lack of it. The easiest part is usually the dialogue, because I just listen to what my protagonists say in my head and write it down. What’s hard is to keep track where everyone is standing, walking, moving around. Sometimes I think that my characters take on a life of their own and keep walking around and then I don’t know what are they doing. Sounds crazy, but it does happen! And actually sticking to my decisions regarding the plot is hard for me too, because I keep constantly having new ideas.

How do you fell about the upcoming series based off Middle-earth?

I do have mixed feelings about this. On one hand more Middle-earth is always a good thing and maybe a fresh take on Tolkien’s writings might bring a whole lot of characters and events to life on screen. But, and yes there is always a but, I honestly hope that the producers will not try to drag Middle-earth to Westeros, wanting to have a share in the success of Game of Thrones. Tolkien is not Martin and as much as I like Game of Thrones — hey, why do we have to wait until 2019 for that final season? —, I do not think that trying to imitate something that is successful in its own way is the path for this new Middle-earth series. Finding a new voice maybe even away from what Peter Jackson has set as standard might be a more logical and creative way to go.

If you could travel to Middle-earth, where would you want to call home?

This is an easy answer: Mirkwood of course. I would love to see Thranduil’s kingdom, especially after the War of the Ring, when the darkness has been destroyed and the forest has been renamed *Eryn Lasgalen*, the Wood of Greenleaves. I want to see the beauty of this primeval forest restored, the sunlit canopies of green and gold, the peaceful glades, flowers and trees growing in a new spring. Maybe even catch a glimpse of Thranduil’s new elk, which I am sure he will have. I’ve written about these woods so many times in my story that I somehow feel at home there although I’ve never even been there. Well, my heart is there and that is enough for me.

Follower Questions:

From @moonofmorrigan - How did you conceive the idea for your story, The Secret of the Forest?

This story started out quite simple because of my love for Thranduil, but it has grown into a much more complex project. I first had the idea of a romance, a love story with many obstacles involving an elf and a human. Over the course of 1,5 years many more layers have been added to it. I really love exploring Thranduil’s past, finding a credible backstory for his wife’s death and the many hardships he has suffered in his long lifetime, but I also have discovered that I enjoy playing around with my own characters, like the brothers Amardir and Faeldir. And the best part is that the readers like them too! This story is not just a fanfic about a beautiful Elvenking, but it is a story about love and loss, grief and sacrifice and the search for absolution. There are some universal truths to be found in this tale showing us that elves and humans might not be so different from each other after all.

From @moonofmorrigan - What things inspire you to continue writing it, and your original story about the dark elf?

Thranduil is the one thing that continues to inspire me every day to keep writing this story. But also all the readers and their comments, kudos, likes and votes keep me going. I am still overwhelmed by all the support I have gotten and the nice people I have met along the way in this fandom! My original story *The Enchanted Spring* about the dark elf Andor is my new ‘baby’ and I have a complete plot laid out already. It is quite different from my Thranduil story, although it does feature another beautiful elf. It is much darker and closer to folk tales and folklore. What I love about it is that this is all my own creation, no boundaries, no given facts. I can do whatever I want and play god in my world *evil laughter*.

@bellevox asked- I loved the fact that your husband made a song for your story. He’s a very talented musician! This is real love! If you do not mind, could you tell us a little about your family? If you do not want to, you do not need to.

I am really blessed to have such a loving husband! Not only does he support my writing, but he is also extremely patient and listens to my ramblings about plot twists, character arcs and synonyms. He has written 2 songs for my story (Nameless Lady and Thranduil’s Lament) and he keeps asking me for the next poem ;). As many of you must have guessed around here, I am a bit older than your average tumblr user, but hey, one is never too old to be passionate about something. I am a working mum of 5 (in between the age of 20 and 7) and we have 2 dogs (Yavanna and Nenya) and 3 cats (Mina, Zuko and Sansa). Our kids are growing up with Tolkien, Harry Potter and fantasy in general, Gandalf is a household name and even the little one can sing ‘They’re taking the hobbits to Isengard’ ;).

@beelovesbutterfly wanted to know- What is one cause that is dear to your heart?

As a mother of an angel baby, miscarriage and stillbirth are causes that are very close to my heart. These topics are still widely a taboo in our society and yet it happens to mothers all the time. I strongly believe that it is important to offer those mothers help and support and to let them know that they are not alone in their grief.

@beelovesbutterfly - What is your favorite flower? Daisy (it’s small, simple and perfect)

@beelovesbutterfly -Do you have a bad writing habit? I write too much. Just kidding, but no, seriously, I can deviate too much from what I want to say and I can spend hours researching synonyms and searching for that perfect word instead of just going ahead with the story. I’m trying to keep my sentences short and focused, but it’s difficult. And I have the tendency to get enamored with specific words, says my husband ;)

@beelovesbutterfly -Who is your Hollywood crush? **ahem** Lee Pace (obviously ;))

And from @eldritchmage - What story would you want to write about your favorite king that you haven’t written yet?

In have lots of other ideas about possible stories with Thranduil. I’ve been thinking on a story with an elvish OC, just to give it a different twist away from the dichotomy of mortal and immortal. But what I really would love to write is a humorous story, something light and funny and completely different from the angsty romance I am writing now. Possibly even a modern AU with Thrandy running a beauty parlor or something like that ;). I’m sure this would be loads of fun!

#interviews #floranocturna #themirkyking #dailythranduilproject #interview 3

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gotgifsandmusings · 7 years

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Quick asks roundup

I’m going out of town this afternoon for labor dabor, and probably won’t be around much during the weekend. Thought I’d answer a few asks below--just a grab bag, with a vague focus on S7. Should be able to do a video one of these next week, and Julia and I are eyeing a UBS podcast episode pretty soon too.

Anonymous said to gotgifsandmusings: Have you read David Benioff's book City of Thieves? I'm curious how it compares to GoT.

I haven’t, no. I’m not sure if that’s something I want to subject myself to (it has been mostly positively received from what I know, though not across the board) when there’s so much I’ve been putting off reading as it is.

Anonymous said to gotgifsandmusings: Is cerseï pregananant in the boox?

She’s actually gregnant.

Anonymous said to gotgifsandmusings: Just read your criticism about Fair Game and wholeheartedly agree. You touched on the core of why your (and Julia's and Caroline's and Jess' and Turtle's) GoT analysis are so great: they understand the intersection of narrative flaws and social issues. Sure, some people may complain that they don't want "SJW" stuff, except, y'know, you don't stop being a feminist when you write a review. As you say, media is not produced in a cultural vacuum. Sadly, I admit I feel reluctant to...... Actively criticize GoT with people around me because the ones who dislike it also dislike ASOIAF and fantasy/sci-fi ("The show is bad because GRRM is a bad writer who isn't really character-driven, but it's not surprising since genre stuff is awful"). That sucks :(

Yes, exactly! This is in reference to this piece by myself and Julia, btw. That’s really depressing about that perception of genre fic, especially given what Martin does being so unique. I’ve never particularly understood that attitude; I want to read about cool places and stuff happening as much as I want to read about weighty character journeys, and why scoff at any that pull off both? Though Julia has a piece on that too.

But absolutely, as we said, it’s asinine to ignore the ways culture shapes media and vice versa, and often the reason the writing is so poor is because it’s so sensationalist or reliant on shitty tropes and stereotypes. “Just enjoy it (or critique) without focusing on social issues” is the ultimate sign of privilege, and it drives me crazy because it’s tossed out as an appeal to “objectivity.” IF YOU’RE IGNORING PEOPLE’S EXPERIENCES YOU’RE ALREADY NOT BEING OBJECTIVE.

Anonymous said to gotgifsandmusings: I'm curious why you guys interpret Cersei's internalized misogyny as nothing to do with gender dysphoria. All because Cersei doesn't break down during her period doesn't mean you must read her as cisgendered. She treats femininity like her least-favorite subject in school, not like part of herself. You're welcome to read her story as about women internalizing misogyny, but her thoughts feel familiarly trans, and outright denying that reading closer-to-earths her

This is really interesting, and my assumption would definitely a result of my own distance with that experience. Are there any metas on it? I haven’t really considered this before (I’ve seen the case argued for Brienne), and I’m not very convinced Martin had much intentionality here, but that’s a reading of her character I’d definitely like to learn/think more about.

Anonymous said to gotgifsandmusings: How can Euron "Crow's Eye, Terror of Pentos" Greyjoy come across as such a wimpy villain that I'm missing Ramsay? Hell, effing Joffrey could have torn that cuddly pooh bear a new one.

But...he’s the storm. You weren’t quaking in your boots when his fleet armada magically descended on Yara’s?

Anonymous said to gotgifsandmusings: I haven't seen anyone else comment on this, but did you notice Cheryl says "You expect me to command our troops to fight beside foreign scum?" almost immediately before telling Jaime she's bringing the foreign Golden Company from Essos to fight beside their troops? Do you think the writers ever make it to second drafts or do they just knock out the first on the back of a Hooters napkin over Natty Ices and fist bumps and say, nah, we're good bro?

A showpologist would tell you it’s clearly demonstrating what a horrible hypocrite she is and actually rather cutting commentary.

It’s really, really hard for me to imagine a world where Operation Capture a Wight received a look-over. A whole lot of what they do feels thoroughly unedited.

Anonymous said to gotgifsandmusings: Hey, I really appreciate all your GoT analysis. 1) Is Cheryl's assistant actually Ezri Dax? 2) Did you see Linda's episode review where she called D&D "smug idiots?" 3) Is it possible to enjoy GoT as schlock? I can't and don't, but It is certainly bad enough and dumb enough. Thanks!

Thank you :)

1) According to wikipedia, Ezri Dax’s actor is currently starring in “Corrupt aka Trust No One” and “Where’s my Baby”, but I’m glad you made me look her up, because the resemblance there is quite uncanny. The maid is played by Sara Dylan, and has actually been a consistent, recurring character since Season 2. Apparently her name is “Bernadette” because why not.

2) Was it her newest review? I do listen to those in the background of work when I’m doing spreadsheet kind of stuff, so I may not have caught that exact phrase, but I did hear the part where she basically said “just don’t even bother writing a plot. Only write battles because everything else is terrible.”

3) I mean, the people enjoying GoT are watching schlock, so it must be possible. I happen to think the ardent defenders/honeypotters aren’t the majority, and most people turn it on to watch dragons for 60 minutes, then talk about how cool the dragons looked the next day at work. It’s just that GoT comes with a stamp of “SMART ADULT SHOW” for reasons that will never cease to amaze me. So yeah, totally, but for me, I have a hard time enjoying something when the more you think about it, the worse it gets.

Anonymous said to gotgifsandmusings: I would bet my right hand that someone in the GoT writers' room probably rewatched season 1 which is why there's so many callbacks to it like Arya's "that's not you", Dany's infertility, Bran's "I told you not to trust me", etc etc. Like it just seems so obvious that they realized they ran out of content and decided to just revisit past seasons to make themselves seem smart and like they planned ahead so much.

Oh 100%. Season 1 was this year’s Lord of the Rings, which they had obviously binged before last year. I love it because then all the critics are like, “ohh my god it’s so well-planned and deep.” But no. It’s essentially grinning into the camera going “remember when?”, completely on par with Gendry’s boat joke.

Anonymous said to gotgifsandmusings: The writers gave up 3 seasons ago, but it feels like no one was really trying this year. The cast looked bored. The wigs were trash: Dany's fire-proof wig is also boatsex-proof and freezing wind-proof. The costumes were either too anachronistic for a so-called prestiege Medievalesque Drama or straight up uninspired: Cersei's modern office wear, Dany and LF are shopping at the same department store, Lyanna S dressed up for a college roman-themed party. I guess the special effects were ok.

I’m very, very hesitant to call out costuming because I know Michele Clapton is like, making up these immaculate honeypots and ordering the finest fabrics from Lithuania to pull everything together. But...yeah, as a viewer everything was kind of clearly ridiculous (Euron’s jacket), and EVERYTHING WAS BLACK with the exception of Deadpan’s coat, that was, I’m sorry, objectively hideous. The reason people fawned over it was because it was actually contrasting the blah they had been seeing all season.

As for the cast, I mean...I think these guys are decent actors who get into their roles when they can. But who could get into anything happening at this point? Stuff happens, don’t question it. The directing was probably fine (I don’t know enough about that stuff), but when the script is fundamentally lazy and uninspired, it’s going to bleed into everything.

Anonymous said to gotgifsandmusings: (Regarding episode 7) So the only leak that didn't come true was "Cersei's" bed of blood prediction and I'm wondering if she'll miscarry next season because morally evil incest women like Cheryl don't deserve babies while morally good (with the help of our friendzoned Saint T🙏) incest women like Deadpan get to conquer infertility and birth a Targ with the help of Jonny Cardboard's magic seed. That would be one boring Aegon 2(3?) infant. Thoughts?

Honestly, I can’t make heads or tails of why she was even pregnant. Larry didn’t need that to stay on her side at all, and the only thing I can think was that it added an extra TWIST for us. Haha, viewer! You thought she might have actually wanted to fight the threat because of her unborn kid and how many times we’ve told you her only redeeming quality is her motherhood, but now she’s EVHUL and even idealized motherhood can’t save her!

I guess it’s...kind of trope busting?

I kind of agree though, I don’t see them letting a BAD woman give birth and mother. At the same time, I don’t see how enough time can even pass where this would be a relevant plot-point to anything. So...I just, I don’t get it. I’ve gotta figure out how to structure my sexism & s7 analysis, and going back and revisiting Cheryl is probably going to be one of the most confused parts of it. I see many paths for how this unfolds, and none of them are really too promising.

Alrighty, gotta cut it here for today. Everyone have a safe labor day weekend (I guess there’s no heightened risk for non-Americans, but a safe weekend all the same), and I’ll talk to you guys later!

#asks #ask roundup

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allhallows-art · 7 years

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Lost Generation // 12

Sorry I've not been posting this. I’ve been trying to get it caught up on AO3 first. Anyways, this silly little idea of a series has come so far and I must admit I’m quite proud of myself as well as thankful for the support. So here’s part 12. Part 13 will come out tomorrow. As always, reblog and like and send stuff to my inbox and what not.

P.S. thank you to @fics4you for just encouraging me to start this thing

Story Summary: The Achievement Hunter boys try and survive their preteen years, trying to make friends and sort out their own problems as well as each others. When will they realise that working together, no matter their differences, would help them all?

part summary: none. it’s a surprise. just read it and weep

Words: 1656

Warnings: couple of swears

MASTERLIST

“I could kill you, Ramsey,” the threat left Ryan’s pursed lips, his harsh eyes staring daggers at the boy sat in the seat next to him. The once busy classroom was now empty, only Ryan, Geoff, and Miss Dunkelman left. Geoff just rolled his eyes at Ryan’s words, shrugging them off. “Sure, you could,” he said, his voice already bored and they hadn’t even been there five minutes. Geoff continuously tapped his fingers on the desk, Ryan’s sight focusing on the hand. “Could you be more annoying?” the question was sarcastic, Geoff not even having the chance to open his mouth for a smart comment before Ryan’s hand shot out and slammed on Geoff’s. “Fuck! You asshole!” Geoff cursed at Ryan, cradling his hand to his chest despite it not really hurting. “Language, Geoff,” Miss Dunkelman scolded, glancing up from her work to see the boys looking as if they were about to launch at each other. “Can’t you two just get along? Surely you have something in common,” she spoke, pushing herself to her feet and walking towards them. Her actions caused Ryan to turn his attention from Geoff; a bad decision. “Geoff!” he yelled as the elder of the two slammed his hand on Ryan’s. As quickly as the teacher had distracted them, they were ready to attack again. Not on Barbra’s watch. She swiftly stepped in front of the desk and hit her palms on the wood, gaining their attention. “Stop being so immature, boys. No matter what, you’re stuck in here for the next hour. So, you either get along or sit in complete silence,” she said, her brows furrowed as she waited for a reply. Ryan sighed and Geoff just gave a small nod before looking at Ryan. “Do you play video games?” he asked, the start of conversation making the teacher smile and return to her desk. At least they were arguing. “Uh, no. my parents say they rot the brain. Although I did play a demo in a store once when shopping with my uncle.” Ryan’s words made Geoff’s jaw drop open, stunned.

“How have you survived without video games?” Geoff was utterly confused as to how Ryan entertained himself especially since he knew he wasn’t into sport after watching him yesterday. Ryan just gave him small a shrug. “Lots of reading, only when I could escape the absolute hell that is youth club,” Ryan spoke and visibly shivered. “Imagine a summer camp but instead it’s just a daytime thing, at a church, where all the activities are all Christian friendly and they practically swaddle you in bubble wrap.” “A summer long Sunday school? Boring,” Geoff grimaced at the thought. “Yeah, it was. Not a single kid my age either. It was humiliating,” Ryan sighed and stared at his desk, a little shocked to realise that he and Geoff just had a reasonable conversation. “What sort of stuff do you read? I’m into like mystery books but I’ve nearly finished Lord of The Rings.” It was now Ryan’s turn to drop his jaw, eyes wide a Geoff who just stared back in confusion. “What? Kid like me can’t read?” he questioned and Ryan just shook his head. “No, I was just…not expecting it,” he mumbled and Geoff nodded. “Yeah, I don’t usually tell people,” Geoff trailed off and glanced down at his hands to see his fingers tracing shapes on the desk. There wasn’t much noise in the room, just the monotonous ticking of the clock along with Miss Dunkelman’s pen scratching across paper. Ryan opened his mouth to speak but the opening of the door caught their attention more, Mr Burns stepping into the classroom with a short looking kid behind his figure. “Sorry to disturb, Barb, but Jeremy here said that Ryan was walking him home as his mom isn’t available to pick him up. Again.” The final word caused Jeremy flush with embarrassment as Ryan’s face flooded with confusion. He looked to Jeremy, searching for an answer or explanation but he just kept gesturing to go along with it. And so, he did. “Uh, yeah, my mom knows his,” he lied, Jeremy surprised at how convincing he was. “Well, I hope it doesn’t matter too much if I leave Jeremy in here until these boys have served their time,” Mr Burn spoke and Miss Dunkelman just gave him a nod. Jeremy took a seat next to Ryan giving him a sheepish smile. “What was all that about?” he whispered, Jeremy just shrugging his shoulders. “I had to make something up. Otherwise Mr Burns would’ve called my mom again and she can’t exactly take calls right now,” he mumbled and Ryan, yet again, arched his brow. He was about to ask Jeremy to explain when he sensed Geoff leering over his shoulder and decided against it. “Fantasy,” Ryan said simply, this time causing both Jeremy and Geoff to be confused. “Excuse me?” Geoff asked and Ryan turned to face him again. “You asked what kind of books I like. Fantasy, mostly but I do enjoy Sci-Fi too.” It brought a smile to Geoff’s face and it wasn’t long before all three were babbling about books and movies and the lack of movies in Jeremy’s life, Geoff getting obviously agitated at the fact he’d never seen Star Wars but knew Face Off perfectly. “First Ryan never playing videogames and now you’re telling me you’ve never even watched Jurassic Park?!” he exclaimed and Jeremy thought for a moment. “If that’s the one about dinosaurs, then I’ve seen it. Not all the way through but the T-Rex was awesome.” By the end of the hour, Geoff was practically hitting his head on the desk whilst Jeremy kept trying to explain the plot of Face Off to Ryan, who had no intentions of listening. Miss Dunkelman looked up from her work and smiled to see them all getting along. “Well, boys, you’re free to go,” she announced and Geoff leapt up with his bag, running for the door. Ryan grabbed his own bag and glanced at Jeremy who hung by his side, raising a brow. “You can go now, you know that?” he said and the smaller of the two bit his lip as they exited the classroom. “I know, I was just wondering if you’d actually walk me home?” his eyes were like those of a puppy dog, staring up at Ryan in earnest. He looked to his watch. It was only 4pm. His parents wouldn’t be home till 6pm. “Sure, why not. I’ve got nothing to do,” Ryan said with a shrug and a smile lit upon Jeremy’s face. And so, the two left the school premises and Jeremy lead Ryan towards his home. As they walked, they easily sparked another conversation and settled into each other’s company. Ryan was sure Jeremy only knew his name from that one soccer ball incident but it didn’t bother him too much, pushing any questionable thoughts into the back of his mind. After all, Jeremy was being a little strange about the whole situation. Maybe it was just something he did back in his home state, as Ryan could tell the accent was strong and not Texan. “And he’s called Rimmy Tim. He’s the best sniper in the crew,” Jeremy said, his arms waving widely as he finished explaining the imaginary gang him and his friends had created. “So, you guys just play this imaginary game?” Ryan questioned, his hands shoved into his pockets as they walked up a path towards a house. “Yeah, Trevor comes up with these crazy heists and we play it out. It’s cool. You should join sometime. I can see you as being as totally psychopathic killer,” he spoke with a chuckle as his keys unlocked the front door and they stepped inside. Ryan’s eyes scanned the hallway before he was dragged into the living room, Jeremy dropping his bag on the floor and Ryan following suit. Jeremy switched on the light and it flickered for a moment before illuminating the room, showing the old leather couch, stained coffee table and ancient tv. “No wonder you don’t watch movies,” Ryan mumbled as he joined Jeremy on the couch. “Okay, Ryan, so you could help me with homework or we plan out your crew member,” Jeremy suggested and Ryan smiled. “Homework is boring. Let’s get me in this gang,” his grin was wide as Jeremy pulled paper and pens from his bag, the two immediately starting to sketch and write. Ryan was just excited to finally have an escape from his parents. He’d been told many times to just “grow up” and that imaginary games were for children. But fuck them. He was still a child and he’d play as many imaginary games as he damn well pleased. “So, Ryan, what would your name be?” the question startled Ryan, having not even thought about it. “Name?” “Yeah, it’s like a new identity,” Jeremy explained. “Probably something menacing,” he noted and that’s when it hit him. “The Vagabond. It means a person who wanders from place to place. And there’s no way I’m settling down. Adventure is in my blood,” he said enthusiastically and Jeremy nodded. “Vagabond it is.” The two continued to play their pretend game, sketching out their characters and their various outfits and equipment, Jeremy having a surprising knowledge of firearms. “So, uh, Jeremy, how do you know so much about guns?” Ryan asked a little warily, and Jeremy glanced up from the paper. “Huh? Oh, my mom’s ex had a big collection and he kept it here when he dated her. He’d teach me all about them but I couldn’t ever actually touch one,” he explained as if it was nothing and Ryan just slowly nodded “Right…so where is your mom, again?” The words brought Jeremy’s hand to still and Ryan saw how his eyes stared in concentration at the paper. “I…I, uh, don’t know.”

#Achievement Hunter #fan fiction #fanfic #ryan haywood #geoff ramsey #jeremy dooley #Barbra dunkelman #burnie burns

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ladytabletop · 7 years

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Hello!! I was the one who asked about where to find a group! I have a new question now, apologies if you've answered anything similar. So my friend and I haven't had any luck finding a grouo to join, so we've decided to start our own! I'm the one most interested in DMing out of our group, but here's the problem; I'm inexperienced. This would be my first *actual* game as a DM and I played one short session as a player once. That said: Any advice/tips/resources? ♡ Thank you!!

Hi there, so sorry about taking so long to answer this!

For your first game, there’s a couple important questions to ask yourself before you start. I will give advice under the assumption that you’ve already chosen the system you want to play.

First, how long of a game do you want to run?

This is important mainly if you’re running something you’ve written on your own. It won’t necessarily be neat and easy, like saying ‘We will play exactly ten sessions.’ But knowing whether you’re looking to run a very long running game vs. a self-contained short can help you the DM when writing plot points and the like.

Second, pre-written adventure or homebrew?

There are tons and tons of pre-written adventures for pretty much every system out there, whether they are published by the company that made the game or by enthusiastic players and GMs who put their own adventures out there in a published format. It’s worth noting that if you like something like Rise of the Runelords for Pathfinder but want to run it in DnD5, it isn’t too tough to adapt something from one system to another.

On the other hand, a homebrew plot can be really fulfilling! It requires a bit more work on your part, but it can be worth it. Keep in mind that you can start with a published adventure and veer into homebrew territory as you get more comfortable running things.

NOTE: a homebrew setting is a whole other beast, and here’s a post about that.

Also another beast: allowing homebrew in your games. If you’re going to do this, please please please talk with your players beforehand and make sure they know that balancing during the game may happen. Nobody likes to be nerfed, but if there’s homebrew that’s just outclassing everyone else, it has to be scaled back. Use your resources online, ask people to look over things you think might be over or underpowered.

Third, what style of game will this be?

Is it going to be political intrigue and espionage? A classic dungeon delving guild style? A Lord of the Rings-esque sweeping fantasy epic? A more modern fantasy fast-paced mystery? Seafarers and ship combat? A really dark game where things are serious, or a funny goofy romp?

All of these are great options, but be sure your players know a little bit about what type of game it will be so they can get on board! No one wants to bring a hardened vigilante elf barbarian with no stealth to a game that’s primarily social challenges and shadowy murders (actually now that I’ve said it, I do. but he would be thematically appropriate and not useless).

Now that those questions are answered, here’s a few more suggestions.

As a GM, it’s important to root for your player characters. If you’re the type of group that likes to play as GM vs. players, this campaign is deadly, that’s fine as long as that’s what everybody wants. But if not, you the GM need to challenge the characters without decimating them. Find out what their goals are and root for them in achieving them, but don’t make it easy! Help them have fulfilling character arcs and try to be familiar with their characters wants, flaws, past, etc. It’ll help you make things more personal in the plot, whether that be by making them run into an old foe or by helping them eventually trust people again, etc. Being familiar with the characters and what the players want for them will help you make the most satisfying game for everyone.

Remember that you’re a storyteller, but it’s not your story you’re telling. You can have plot points you’re attached to, NPCs you love, but ultimately, the story should be about the players. Let them shape it! Try to get them as involved in the heart of things as possible. Don’t make it seem like things can happen with just the NPCs, as though your characters are the bystanders. Let them be in the thick of the plot. This isn’t to say things won’t happen without them - they have to! But when things start really cooking, the PCs should be there, they should care about what’s happening, and they should be able to affect it to some degree.

Be flexible. Improv is a key skill for DMs. Not everyone is great at it, and that’s okay. That’s what online resources and prep time are for! But regardless of how good or not you are at making things up on the spot, you need to be flexible. Your players are going to change the way you think the plot will go. They’re going to surprise you. They’re going to (hopefully) have character arcs that change, and you need to adapt with them. You need to be ready for these things to happen, which honestly means being ready to throw out your prep and throw out the things you’ve worked on sometimes.

That being said, it’s important to do at least a little prep, especially if you’re running a plot heavy game and not a smash and grab dungeon crawl. This can be as simple as using index cards with bullet point NPCs, treasure, and monsters/encounters, or it can be as involved as writing out details about the setting and plot that you can read when it comes to the appropriate time and making huge complex maps and encounters.

Be consistent in your rulings. Sometimes the rules get debated, or you want a house rule at your table, or a spell is worded vaguely and there’s multiple interpretations, etc. In these instances, you get to say, ‘Hey, GM rules this.’ (I only recommend doing this after having heard arguments for why it could be ruled multiple ways). After you say that, stick to your guns! The rule stands, and it stands for everybody. Unless you really really think you were wrong later, in which case you should talk to your players and rectify things, you need to be consistent in the way you adhere to the rules so that no one feels cheated.

My last piece of advice for you is to always have open dialogue with your players. Get feedback on how they think the game is going. Get their predictions about the plot. Touch base about how their characters are feeling, what their goals are. Make it clear that if any players aren’t having fun/are having issues, they can come to you and you’ll do what you can to help. Just be open in your communication. And remember, everybody at the table should be having fun, including you.

Now that I’ve gotten through all that, here’s some resources I like to use for my games.

Donjon RPG Tools - this is my favorite of all time. Tons of random generators, from names to encounters to maps to treasure. There’s an initiative tracker, an xp calculator if you use experience points, and a dice roller. It’s really an all in one tool.

My resource tag has everything from inspirational art to interesting dungeon builds to how to incorporate linguistics into your games to answers to the question ‘How do I start a game?’ answered by other people. It’s really just an amalgam of collected resources.

I enjoy the Obsidian Portal campaign manager, and there are tons of others out there.

A lot of folks use the Same Page Tool to make sure all players and GM understand exactly what’s happening and what’s expected at the table.

I use the DnD5e Spellbook app (which of course is system specific, but super useful).

And other than that, I mainly just have pdfs of the system I’m using, a piece of scrap paper so I can note NPCs, locations, and plot points that the PCs encounter that may be relevant in coming sessions, notecards with stat blocks for enemies, a sheet to track PC ac, initiative, goals, and flaws. You’ll figure out the setup that works for you the longer you GM.

Good luck!!

#the lady answers #long post #that got a little out of hand

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whispersandwhiskerburn · 7 years

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Angel, the Writer: An Interview

This is a post about my writing preferences and habits (my name is Angel, it’s not a show-based pseudonym).

Why? Because my bestie tagged me in her version. And I love @waywardjoy bunches and bunches.

And since I’m a wordy bitch, I’m going to add a read more after the second question.

1. What inspires your work most? (The show it is based on, the actor who portrays a certain character, maybe the character itself? It could even be an experience.)

Can I say all of the above? The complexity of Dean Winchester’s character and my habit of (and training as an English teacher wouldn’t let me stop) analyzing his character led to writing about him, and he wouldn’t have any appeal hardly if he weren’t brought to life by the gorgeous and talented Jensen Ackles. The variety of the show, the ever-changing plot lines, villains, characters, etc., means that even though I’ve always been a loyal-to-canon girl, I never run out of ideas to write about. And then, most importantly, there’s the experience of writing on tumblr--the amazing feedback I’ve gotten from the readers and writers of fanfic on tumblr has been humbling, intoxicating, and it inspires me as a writer more than they probably realize. I do it for you all... and because every time I get a compliment it makes my day. :)

2. What is your favorite fandom to write for?

Supernatural. *See above answer.

3. Which point of view* do you prefer writing in? (First-person, third-person) *I changed perspective to point of view, because I’m an English teacher, and I care that this kind of thing is correct. :P Perspective is who is telling the story. Point of view is the narration style used. Message me if you want to understand this in better detail.

When it comes to fanfiction, I write almost exclusively reader-insert. In that format, I prefer reader’s perspective and 2nd person point of view: “you hugged Dean close to you, as tightly as you could, worried about what would happen if you let go of him.” In that format, I use “Y/N” only during dialogue. When I’m doing the story from Dean’s perspective, I usually do third person limited and use Y/N a lot more. I have experimented with all of them.

In my non fanfic writing, I prefer alternating third person limited. (I know the thoughts of one character at a time, and I switch between characters in different chapters.)

4. Do you prefer writing reader fics or OCs?

Before fanfic, the idea of writing reader insert had never occured to me, so for more that a decade and a half of writing actual stories, I only had OCs. I LOVE the freedom of writing reader-insert, and my audience seems to prefer it. :)

5. Do you prefer writing longer works or one shots?

Almost everything I’ve written for tumblr has been one shots simply for time purposes--both times I’ve done a series (at the 1/3 mark of one right now) it takes me forever to finish it.

I like longer stories; as I mentioned earlier in this post, I’m a wordy bitch, and I live for character analysis. Longer fics allow you to do that. But one shots are more realistic with my adult life being so busy and wanting to post more frequently than once per three months.

It’s also easier to write a smut fic (which most of mine are) if you know you can conclude it after the orgasm without worrying about the morning after awkwardness--probably the same reason my usual spn character Dean likes one night stands.

6. Do you take requests?

Not anonymously. If it’s a friend asking for me to write something, I’ll add it to my to-write list. Sometimes I do a request type celebration when I hit a new follower count goal, and new followers with whom I’m not friends yet can certainly join in then...or just get to know me. I think I’m pretty friendly, and the message box is always open. If you like SPN and/or my fics, then we already have a topic to talk about, so let’s chat!

7. Do you enjoy getting random Asks?

Yes, with one exception--the tag others things. Most of them are sweet: “You’re one of my favorite bloggers and you bring sunshine to others. Don’t let this stop with you! Copy paste this message into the asks of 5 of your favorite blogs!”

Those bug me. I delete them immediately.

I don’t like being told I’m kind/beautiful/smart etc. if the only reason I’m being told is because the person who sent it was passing on a chain message. If you value your followers, think of a nice message of your own, preferably a personal one to either yourself or to your intended recipient, and go put it in their asks.

I LOVE THOSE SO MUCH!!

And they do exist. I can point out several I have received, and I have a policy where I go send between 5-10 to different followers with genuine individual-related compliments and love when I see a bit of anon hate reblogged. It’s my way of spreading some positivity.

Random asks about me I’ll answer depending on how personal they are. I have to keep my anonymity on here because of my real-world job. Random asks about my writing I will always answer.

The ask box is open.

8. What inspires the names for OCs (or extra character names) in your works? Do you pick them from real life or just select them at random? A mix?

Nothing is really random in my fics--writing, analyzing writing, reading, etc. that’s my legitimate career, and that carries over to my fic writing.

I am a HUGE canon nerd. My supporting characters are usually characters from the show, whom I try to bring to life accurately. Even my AU series is only peopled by characters from the show and my reader.

I usually give a little bit of backstory and characterization to my reader persona, so I guess they are partial OCs, and those are tailored to fit the individual fic (an antiques dealer in a cursed object case, a rodeo arena manager on a case where I wanted a cowboy!Dean fantasy, etc.) with a bit of personal flair thrown in--an accent, a habit of mine, a favorite music, etc.

My only real major character OC I’ve ever done was an invented archangel named Sariel, and I got his name from researching angels and archangels online--it hadn’t been used on SPN, but he had an interesting biblical history that I could mold to my purpose for his motivation in the plot of my first series. I gave him an entire backstory drabble where he actually tells the reader his history and plans. His tone and voice were meant to help characterize him.

9. If your story(ies) have OCs, are their appearances based on real people or celebrities? If so, who?

Oops, I think I answered this in the last question.

10. How long have you been writing fanfiction?

I posted my first full one shot on this Tumblr account on March 13, 2016. I think I’ve been writing fan fiction for a lot longer than that though; I can remember as a child trying to write my own story with kids who could shape-shift into animals (thank you K.A. Applegate and the Animorphs series). I definitely tried my hand at a Nancy Drew-esque story in my preteen years. As a young teenager I plotted out an entire fantasy series that was in large part original, but also took a lot of inspiration from my reading of the Lord of the Rings. From late teens through college it was sometimes-paranormal series romances (like the paperbacks I read constantly, and even Twilight when I eventually caved in and read it my senior year of college).

I’ve always been inspired by the fandoms and works that I obsessively read and analyze, and they show up in my writing. Legitimate fanfiction though, where I use the characters and work of another writer and put my own spin on it? That didn’t happen until I made my first tumblr account. Fanfiction sucked me in and intrigued me in early 2015, but I didn’t write any. Then I discovered the smut fics with Spn after I started watching the show in 2015. I wrote a few 100-300 word blurbs for fun on my old account before I decided to write a smutty one...which required the creation of a new account for privacy reasons with my career.

Hello whispersandwhiskerburn. :)

Sorry if you read all of that--I told you I’m a wordy bitch. I’m not going to tag anyone, but if you’d like to share your own answers to these questions, feel free to grab them, create your own post, and do so! I’m sure your readers would love a peek into your writing brain. :)

#In which Angel is a wordy bitch #about me #about my writing #enjoy #everything here is completely honest

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getalittlecountry · 7 years

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Shape of You (2)

GUYS. I just love writing this. I’ve got an idea of where I”m gong and I cannot wait until all the drama and angst unfolds. Here’s chapter two. Thanks for the love =)

Chapter 2

We spent an hour hammering out the details. We got the story down, both of us telling it without faltering. He was right, that would be the leading story, the thing everyone kept asking us once we got to the house. So we made it real, believable considering I didn’t do anything but work and sleep. So we met at the book store, which of course would’ve been oh so romantic if I truly believed in romance.

As we sat there and talked I realized that Cassian wasn't horrible. I could’ve been his friend, before everything happened. Before I closed myself off. I could’ve laughed at his corny jokes and his stupid comments. I might have even been interested in him if the world hadn’t hardened me into this girl I barely recognized.

Cassian was actually sweet and charming. I had to remind myself a few times that he wasn't actually my boyfriend.

The waitress told us we were cute when she brought the check. Luke watched us the entire time, especially whenever Cassian would reach across the table and touch me. I didn’t fight it, I let his skin touch mine to get used to it. I had a feeling he was going to push the PDA things. I could already see how much of a challenge this was going to be.

“See the waitress already believes us,” he said as he paid for my coffee and his piece of cake. I fought him, I told him I could pay for my own food. But he told me it was the least he could do since he was about to making more money than he should’ve off of me.

We were standing outside the diner, awkwardly wondering how to say goodbye. I sighed loudly and then stood up straighter. I had let a bubble surround us while we were sitting at that table. Somehow I had forgotten my walls and Cassian’s charm and infuriating laugh got to me. I pushed it away and put up my guard once more.

“Okay so, I’ll pick you up Thursday morning at seven. It's like a three hour drive," I stood up and rolled my neck, "oh and uh. I know we just met. But thanks. You didn’t have to agree to this and I really. I really appreciate it.”

He gave me that crooked smile again, "don't worry Nesta. I'll make sure they believe you. You’ll get your money’s worth, even if I have to preform a ballad in your honor.”

I nodded, “right well be ready. We can’t be late.”

He gave me a wink and then we walked the opposite direction. I shook my head, my sisters would never believe I fell for someone as cocky and self assure as Cassian. And yet somehow it seemed to work. He was a pain in the ass, I could already tell. But there was something that made him likable. Something I would never admit to him. Not in a million years.

Maybe Rita wasn’t so terrible at picking them after all.

Again something I wouldn’t be telling her that anytime soon.

*-*

Thursday morning I showed up at seven on the dot and much to my surprise Cassian was ready. He was waiting in his driveway, wearing a hoodie and a dark pair of jeans. And sunglasses that hide his honey brown eyes from me. When I got out of my car to help him, I couldn’t help but laugh. He had three bags, whereas I only had one. He threw them into my trunk, surprised I was driving.

“Did you bring your entire closet for four days?” I asked as I fixed the bags so nothing would be sticking at a weird angle.

He shrugged, “I like options and I come prepared. What if we decide we need nice clothing's for an outing? Or what if I rip something? What if you stain something?”

I rolled my eyes, “right so you’re one of those people. I’m making a list. Over planning is on it,” I glanced at him as he watched me, “we’re going to spending most of the time in our bathing suits anyways. I hope you brought a few of those.”

His answering smile, even at this hour of the day, was gorgeous. He knew it too, because he watched me turn away as soon as it appeared, “don’t worry, I brought a few. But I’ve always been a fan of skinny dipping.”

I rolled my eyes, the second time in less than a minute. I had a feeling they would be stuck soon, “cocky and arrogant are actually making it to the top two spots on my list now,” I looked at him and he was still smiling.

“Well I haven’t started my list yet, darlin’. I guess we've got three hours to get to know each other," he yawned and took a sip of coffee, "first things first. I have to have coffee in the morning."

I looked at the cup in his hand and I couldn’t stop myself from answering his smile with one of my own, "of course you do. I didn't take you for a morning person."

He gave me that devil smile, "you don't look too chipper yourself there, Nes."

"It's seven in the morning. Of course I'm not chipper," I slammed the trunk shut and spun around on my heel, "and it's Nesta. I told you no fucking nicknames."

He wiggled his eyebrows as he got into the car, "yes ma'am."

"I'll take away $50 every time you call me something other than Nesta."

Cassian's smug smile made me want to scream, "it might just be worth it. You get this angry look on your face, you scrunch your nose and you glare. Honestly it's the most emotion you show whenever you talk to me."

I flipped him off, "because I hate nicknames okay? Just don't."

Cassian blew out a breath and let the conversation go.

We sat in silence until we made it to the highway. The music played softly in the background and I wondered what it would be like to actually go on a vacation like this with someone I truly loved. Someone I actually wanted my sisters to meet. I tried to pretend that was Cassian.

But it was hard since I didn't know much about him.

My mind wandered back to Feyre's second email. I told her I would be at the lake house by this afternoon. Her response was almost instantaneous like she was waiting for me to email her back. She said she had a very important announcement to make and she wanted me there.

"Nesta. You missed the exit," Cassian's voice cut through my thoughts.

"I know a different way."

I didn't. But I wasn't about to let him tell me the way to the house I had practically grown up in. I'd just take the next exit and hope to find the highway connected there as well.

I was grinding my teeth as I hit the gas pedal a little harder. I held the wheel in my left hand and tried to stop wondering if my sister was pregnant. Or worse if she had done something as crazy as gotten married already. I'd kill her if she hadn't told me that was the plan.

If I stopped thinking about Feyre I started thinking about Cassian. I stole glances at him. He was wearing his dark ray ban sunglasses, the aviators. Of course he would wear those. His hair was pulled back, but a few strand sat around his face. He was snoring softly, which made it easier to focus on assessing him.

I could've picked a worse fake boyfriend. Cassian had the looks and the charm. If he didn't have the job then we would just pretend he did too. After all this entire weekend would be one big lie fest. I sighed and took the next exit, getting back on where the GPS told me to.

I drove for almost an hour and a half while Cassian slept. My thigh burned and my back ached. But the worst of it all was the grumbling in my stomach. I bit my lip and looked at my boyfriend. I had to get used to thinking of him that way. Slowly I reached over and shook his shoulder.

"What? Oh sorry," he jumped in his seat, "did I fall asleep?"

I couldn't help but laugh, "yeah. I um. I'm starving are you hungry? We can stop somewhere for breakfast."

"A woman after my own heart," he reached over and grabbed my hand, "please find a diner. I love diner food."

I looked at our hands, noting the way he didn't let go. Instead he kept ahold of mine, running his thumb over the back of my hand gently. I smiled slightly, trying to tear down at least one layer that guarded me against him.

After a moment of silence Cassian looked at me. I held the steering wheel tighter. "What's your favorite color?"

"That's what you're wondering? Out of everything we need to talk about that's what your start with?"

He shrugged, "the little things matter the most. What if I bring you a towel in your favorite color? Everyone will believe it. Start small and the big things won't look as weird."

I rolled my eyes mostly because he was right. I sighed and pushed my hair out of my face, "green. But don't like light green. It's a dark green. Like grass in the summer."

Cassian smiled, "I'm fond of blue. But not any blue, steel gray blue."

I raised an eyebrow at him and then looked back at the road. I pulled off at the first sign that showed food and we found ourselves at a twenty four hour truck stop. Cassian held the door for me, his hand lingering on the small of my back. I pushed my sunglasses up onto my head as the waitress sat us at a booth beside the big window.

"So you work at a bookstore. What's your favorite book?"

"The ultimate question of every book lover ever," I let out a slow breath, "I have a lot of favorite books. I love fantasy. Give me dragons and demons and I’ll be happy. I love anything that has a girl who can save herself. I love a good plot, a good story."

His eyes held mine, "but you have a favorite."

I couldn't help but smile, "if I'm held at gunpoint and have to answer it would be Throne of Glass. But trust me the list is very long."

Cassian was quiet as he let me ramble. His eyes were wide, "that's the most excited I've seen you get."

I blushed, "I mean I work at a bookstore for next to nothing. Clearly I love books. I um. Yeah I just like to talk about books."

Cassian nodded, his fingers dangerously close to mine, "I'm a fan of fantasy myself. If I had to choose I would sway towards a good old classic like lord of the rings. The hobbit. Maybe some game of thrones."

My mouth fell open as the waitress interrupted us, "what can I get you to drink?"

"Coffee, black," Cassian's answer was automatic.

I sighed, "water please."

She nodded and then walked away. I looked back at Cassian. He was smiling, "you seem surprised."

"Rita made it seem like you didn't have any other interests than girls," I blushed as he kept smiling, "and from the way you look I assumed you spent all your time at the gym. Or staring in a mirror."

Cassian barked out a laugh at that. "Well sweetheart, I'm full of surprises."

I considered for a moment telling him about my dream. I didn't want to just work at a bookstore. I wanted my own. Or better yet I wanted my own bookstore featuring my own book. That was a dream that came after I left the town we were heading to. A dream born out of desperation for something new. Something completely mine.

But I didn't tell him, not yet. I still wasn't sure I would consider him my friend. There had to be a line drawn somewhere right? I couldn't cross it, this was a business arrangement. Nothing more, nothing less.

The waitress came back and gave us our drinks. Cassian fished an ice cube out of my glass for his coffee and then we each ordered. I got waffles and eggs, Cassian picking an omelet and pancakes.

"Okay so favorite book. Favorite movie? I'm a big animation fan. I love How to Train your Dragon and Big Hero 6."

I raised an eyebrow at him, "I have a nephew. So sue me."

I nodded, "I don't really watch a lot of movies. I like shows. Gilmore Girls. Buffy. Firefly. I'm just a closet nerd."

Cassian looked amused, "I like it. It's always the quiet deadly ones who look innocent that surprise you. Alright so what else should I know before the big introduction?"

"Well I'm sure they'll be thrilled to give you all the embarrassing baby stories. So I don't have to. Um. I like jewelry but old jewelry. So if they ask just say that. My feet get really cold when I sleep, so you can complain that I press them against you. I love to swim," my eyes lit up just thinking about four days at the lake with nothing to worry about.

Cassian was soaking up every word it seemed. I blushed, realizing I had told him more about me than I needed to, "what about you?"

He shrugged, "I like to read, I hangout with friends. I drink. I don't have a lot of hobbies, work keeps me busy."

"Work. Yes what do you do?" I asked causally.

"I run a gym."

This time I laughed, "of course you do. I shouldn't be surprised."

Cassian's answering smile told me he wasn't offended, "it's been in my family for years. It's good money and I'm my own boss. Plus I train people. It's not a regular gym though, it's a boxing gym."

"Do you train girls?"

"Of course."

I worried the inside of my cheek watching him watch me. I hadn't been able to protect myself that night. It had been dark and I couldn't see and Tomas had the upper hand. He had been stronger, he had been faster. Maybe Cassian was the answer I had been looking for.

"Who hurt you?" He asked softly.

His voice was so quiet I barely heard it over the pounding of my heart. His fingers finally found mine. The moment he touched me I felt myself come back to reality.

I let him take my hand, the warmth spreading through me and chasing away the nightmare that had come. I let out a slow breath and pushed down the tears. I shook my head, afraid to speak for a moment. I had to put the wall back up. I had to force myself to stop letting him in.

Because once he found a crack in my armor he would hurt me the same way Tomas had. He would use me and then rip what was left of my bruised heart into pieces I could never put back together again.

"No one," I whispered as I sat up straighter, "we don't have to always touch, Cassian. It'll be weird if we do. My sisters know I'm not very.... big on cuddling."

Cassian picked my hand up and kissed the back of it, "well get used to it sweetheart. Because when I'm dating someone, I want everyone to know."

Our food came and Cassian pulled away. The waitresses smiled and we started eating in silence. After the first bite Cassian reached over and took a piece of waffles. I glared at him, hitting his hand with my fork.

"I don't share."

His eyes sparkled as he put the food in his mouth, "well lucky for you, sweetheart, I do."

I stuck my tongue out at him and he laughed again. The sound was so foreign to me. It was deep and rich, like it came up from deep inside his soul. Like he saved it only for the important people in his life.

Somehow we fell into conversation again. No matter how hard I tried not to, Cassian could make laugh with every story he told. And he told me a lot of stories. By the time breakfast was over I felt like I actually knew him.

Cassian paid again. I grumbled and insisted I leave the tip. I didn't want his charity and he rolled his eyes, telling me this entire weekend seemed like a charity case to him. I stuck my tongue out again, childish I know. But I had nothing else to get him back with.

When we stood up to pay at the counter, he grabbed my hand. I didn't flinch, I didn't falter. I let him hold my hand, his fingers lacing through mine. Twenty four hours ago I would've hated this. And yet somehow I was letting myself buy into our story.

I made a mental note to remind myself not to lose reality. But for the moment, for the next four days I wanted to believe in us, in this, as much as I wanted my sisters to believe in it too.

Maybe this weekend wouldn't be terrible. Maybe, just maybe I had found someone who could make my sisters believe there was someone out there willing to love someone as hard and cold as me.

#nesta #nesta acheron #nessian #cassian #nesta x cassian #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acomaf fanfiction #acomaf #AU fanfiction #shape of you

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therevaliir-blog · 7 years

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Announcements: 03-26-2017

Site Changes:

- The Wand (found in Ye Old Sword) has had its description updated.

- Lots up updates to items and their pricings, visit here for the full list and refunds!

- Brittlez has been working tirelessly on a new welcome page that new users will be able to go to as soon as they sign up. This will be separate from the Starter Kit. She’ll be adding a button to go to the starter kit page from this page as soon as she gets done with this. (She’s coded most of this herself besides Telly turning it into an html/css page for her) So be gentle! The New Welcome Page This is for new users so they aren't completely lost when they start the site :)

- We discontinued these items:

Goddess Locket- 250 silver. If the owner doesn't own Cure + Heal we will gift them it.

Changling Brooch- 200 + Incognito

Magician's Hat- 300 + Summon Item

Revealing Monocle- 500 + Reveal

Ring of Purity- 150 + Dispel

Heart-Shaped Amulet- 300 + Lucina's Lantern from the Abed Summer Event

Final Breath- 400, was combined with Resurrection there wasn't really a need to have both.

Poison Field- 80, you can literally just cast poison a bunch of times.

Lightning Field- 80, same principal as above.

Dice- 15

Text Editor:

- The Administration of Revaliir is very, very sorry about the problems with our text editor. Currently, Darros (Telly) is annoyed at all text editors available on the net and he is building his own from the ground up for Rev to use. SO - until that's done we're gonna have to endure the problems this one is giving us. Thank you so much for enduring this terrible problem and we assure you that… THAT IS NOT SCREAMS OF BLOODY MURDER!!!! that you hear in the backend of Rev. (ok it is we're murdering the text editor). But we're trying to get this fixed as soon as possible. Code just takes a long time to write and make sure it works with our current set up. <3

- Anyone who has problems with their posts get ahold of me. Everyone pasting from ANYWHERE even here highlight your post hit the remove format button. Then bit the bbcode button to see your paragraphs disappear. THEN reinsert all of your paragraphs and put in your bbcode. I understand this is a pain but this is a temporary solution until we roll back the old text editor. I've been pulling my hair out trying to figure out why some browsers are having it worse than others.

Firefox + Google Docs = Blank space

Firefox + Word Doc/Libre = Aligning left for some weird reason

Chrome + both = removal of all paragraphs (this is the least worrisome out of all of it)

I don't know about edge though because I refuse to touch it :V

- Darros edited the code on the text editor. It should strip the formatting on paste now.

Two New Gods Announced!:

We debated for a good hour or more and only two choices remained when we were done. Before we go on to announce the chosen for these spots we decided to go into a bit about choosing them. First: We didn’t choose them out of favoritism. Each has the skills we look for. One of them we shot down multiple times and told them to keep applying and how they could improve. Second: We wanted you to make sure that you knew that *I* wasn’t biased in this. You’ll understand when I get to the results. I was most critical of both of our choices and tore them apart worse than the other two Triune members. If anything these choices had it worse than the other applicants making the scales tip in the other applicants' favors. Now we get on to the god selection: Our new gods are: Porthyrius, the Keeper of the Keys and Secrets of Knowledge and the Arcane, The One with the Silvered Tongue. Xunatar, the Chaosweaver and the Lord of Lies. Gypsy(Porthyrius), does an enormous amount of things for Revaliir behind the scenes. She not only draws for us but she has come up with many ideas for the site that we’ve implemented. Every project we’ve ever started she’s joined. Her activity level is second to none (Well maybe myself). She is friendly and helpful to all who come to her. We were worried about announcing Gypsy as well but we believe that her activity and devotion to the site speaks for itself. Brandon(Xunatar), is a moderator on our site. He has been with Revaliir since the June before we opened our doors. He was/is some of the driving force for things we do. He helps all and will rp with anyone. He is the ideal Moderator but we weren’t looking for a moderator when we chose him for this spot. His lore weaving is some of the best I’ve seen(That we have seen). He also have a high activity count, which we count. He can also rp with anyone easily. This is not the first time he’s applied but he has worked on the things we told him too. We’re glad to have him not only as our moderator but as what we hope to be a long standing deity. When selecting him I sat in a different room and he didn’t know a thing about what I was doing. He didn’t know and still doesn’t know that we picked him. This will be the first he’s heard of it despite us living together. Brandon’s selection is the hardest because we worried people would think I was being biased. However, I am only one person out of three and easily out voted. The others saw what I did. An evolving roleplayer who has earned his right to become a deity ontop of his job as moderator. He has an even harder job as I’ll be over him making sure that he gets his stuff done. By no means does he have this easy, if anything he has it harder. I don’t like our deities slacking no matter who they are. Revaliir is our baby and we wouldn’t put any ol person as a deity just because we like them as a person. Overall I owed this explanation to no one. As I hoped that you all would trust in my judgment and trust me to be fair. I’m doing this because I want to be transparent with everyone. Cello and Whitney agreed with that line of thought and we thought this was best. That being said anyone who gets caught ranting to members in the discord or on skype (anywhere it gets reported from) will be issued a warning. We’ve had problems in the past with people thinking we promote favoritism. We don’t. I certainly do not. As I said before those I choose are what I believe to be the ideal person for roleplaying and being an active leader in our community. That’s all I want for this site. However, their applications have to make sense and I won’t sit with rose-colored glasses. I’ve ripped apart their applications down to the single most elusive detail. All in all these two have earned their spots and I’ll be happy to talk to whoever didn’t get the spots and help them with their applications if they want for the future (keep in mind the applications might change for the next round whenever we have them). Brandon’s moderator position will be moved to Xunatar following this announcement. This rounds out the conclave to 6. Unless we see a higher number of people on the site or someone falls this will be the last god selection for a while. Also this interestingly enough rounds out the conclave: 2 good, 2 neutral, and 2 evil.

Just a Reminder:

Rev is getting a whole bunch of new people! We understand everyone is excited but we would like to remind people that they need to read the rules. Revaliir is a high fantasy medieval site with its own lore. We don't go by the real world here nor do we necessarily go by the written lore of others. 1. Only Gods can be Immortal: Lemme explain. There is no rule on age here in Revaliir. We're not talking about THAT kind of immortal. We're talking about being able to take hellfire from another God and living. We're talking about taking so much damage that your body is barely being held together. THAT kind of immortal. That is why Immortal is only reserved for the gods. No mortal(aka not gods) should be able to take that kind of damage and live without an outside source.(say a God healing you) Not dying from illness? Have cure on you. It's a cheap spell. Don't die from poisons (not godly poisons looking at you Dal) but regular poisons? Get cure again. Heck you can't even be killed unless you give permission so your character is practically immortal anyways as long as you don't powerplay. 2. You have to rp with the items in your inventory. We have shops and silver for a reason. This puts everyone on equal footing. Everyone starts off the same. Even the original staff members of the site started out with nothing but their starter packs. That being said your stories don't have to be the same. 3.We are not restricting you. I've been to plenty of rp sites where you can't play whatever you want. We're literally restricting you on one thing, Immortality. The items thing? That isn't a big deal. If you rp a lot and advertise (you get the x3 silver boost for that) you'll have the items you need in no time at all. 4. No one is allowed to have demi-god characters. Don't even Gods can spawn Demi-gods. This makes all characters not gods equal. 5. Even the Triune is equal to the Gods. We get no extra power but the ability to call mandatory conclaves. 6. We restricted our Gods outside of temples to make it more fair for everyone. Hense the 3 god rules. Past those 3 rules we can't do anything to you without your permission. We can't even kill your characters even in our temples. (because that is fair) You guys have free reign to do whatever you want on Rev as long as it's within the rules. You can have your own kingdom. You can have your own guild. You can do whatever your heart desires within the rules. We don't even have that many restrictions on things like that. We aren't being cruel or unfair by setting rules and guidelines. If you have a problem with it talk to an administrator or try and understand why we have it the way we do. Revaliir is one of the most free-form rp sites out there with its own lore. We truly can't help you if you think Rev isn't for you and we also hope you don't expect us to change Revaliir for you. Do not under ANY circumstances insult Rev staff or userbase because you don't get your way. We're all mature adults/blossoming young adults. If you have problems with stuff get ahold of staff. If you think you need something for character building so you can start get ahold of me. I have 10,000 silver I will gladly help you. There is no excuse for not following the rules, being rude to staff members who are doing their jobs, or screaming we're unfair. You being that way makes it unfair to everyone who are following the guidelines and rules. We will do whatever it takes so that our regular everyday users have peace of mind. This is by no means calling ANYONE out. It has happened one too many times and I will start being the one who handles it if this keeps up. You don't want that and I don't either. I quite like being the bubbly lead administration besides the other two who are regularly in charge of being the mean ones(sorry gals I love you). However, I won't watch our staff or userbase be treated like that. I assure you that I am 10x as worse as the others when warranted so please don't make me be that way because I don't want to be. I want to see Rev grow and become better and also not have a toxic community. Now please everyone get along and be understanding to each other! (Also read up the rules. I posted the Welcome page up that would be a good place to start) Also please remember that most of us do this after a long day's work or in between children needing their parents. This is our fun time too. Sorry for being mean, Brittlez One of the Lead Site Administrators One of the Lead Site Administrators

Staff Breakdown:

In order to better serve the user base of the site, here is the actual breakdown of personnel to seek out when a problem arrives. Please make sure that you seek out the appropriate staff members; if not then the problem will be forwarded to the correct parties. Moderators (Green Usernames): For post related problems, issues with harassment from another non staff member, general questions about the site. Administrators (Blue Usernames): For moving actual threads to their proper locations, activating accounts, moving items, issues with the shop, resetting passwords, distributing silver, having issues with warnings and strikes, having issues with moderators. Triune(Golden Usernames): Custom item creation (Angela Rose), issues with another Triune member, issues with an Administrator, event related problems, issues with Deity members, general questions about Deities and lore. *Angela Rose and Dalenesca may be contacted if no Admin is currently online at the time of needed assistance and either of them are.*

News, Updates, and Revivals:

We've added some new stuff to the site to help people out… and we've updated some old stuff/revived it to check to see if there is any interest. 1. Synth Recommendations + Other Info : This has a list of pricing for trades. Info on a bunch of other stuff like custom items, event items, etc, etc. For more info go read it real quick :) 2. Wish Upon a Star : A weekly Synth Ingredient Lottery that will roll every Saturday has been started. Zanetimm92 is my faithful helper. Read up on the rules about it to get started. 3. The Wishing Well : Rules have been updated to include synth ingredients and synth items. 4. Roleplay Roulette : Has been restarted and I am gauging interest on whether or not to keep it stickied. It was previously left alone due to not only activity but Revaliir getting busy. This is a fun way to get a new/old roleplay partner. Read up on the rules!

#fantasy #rp #rpg #roleplay #fantasy rp #announcements

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