#solo writing

[damien-gray-ffxiv]

The days following the altercation Cordelia had left an eerie echo within the stone walls of the Gray Estate. The pair had gone to almost every angle to avoid one another. Alain and Laurant were keeping Damien informed on Cordelia's whereabouts within the estate and if they were unsure of her location, one only needed to search for the Ala Mhigan brute that was attached to Cordelia's hip now more than ever.

His presence only remained within the walls to ensure that his belongings were accounted for and packed into the trunks and cases he had arrived with. He was quite certain that should he leave without anything, it would not be here should he ever return. Cordelia had done a quick job of scrubbing the estate of his family's presence there upon Ambrose's death and given that she had much more disdain for Damien than his elder brother, there would be even less time wasted.

The only thing that had remained, was a visit from the chirurgeon to redress and evaluate the rather gruesome wound to Damien's wrist. One would not easily assume that a hairpin could do such damage but it had torn through the flesh of his wrist just as easily as a sharpened knife. While the puncture had not gone all the way through his wrist, it was evident that it was not merely a simple scrape. The flesh around the sutures had swollen and the movements of his wrist and fingers were limited. Though he had been told to keep the afflicted limp wrapped in clean linen to prevent a worsened injury or infection.

Both Laurant and Alain had expressed their concerns of Damien riding to his lodgings in the Western Highlands but his pride had been wounded enough in recent days. The amber haired man would've made it out there one way or another on his own. After the wound had been redressed, Damien had confirmed that his belongings had been loaded into the cart that awaited and his exit was swift from the estate. He'd given the stone walls one final glance after settling into the familiar leather saddle before he had turned away from it.

The weather in Ishgard was always a sort of bitter cold. There was only so much you could grow used to it. His wrapped hand had been shoved into a large mitten instead of his usual lined leather gloves due to the swelling of his fingers and the mitt was certainly less effective. He was unsure whether the pain emanating from his hand was simply from the injury, the cold or both. The smoke rising from the chimney in the distance had been a welcome sign for him after he had lost track of how long they'd been riding.

His primary concern was tending to his personal avians and raptors that were in a covered portion of the cart. The cover provided relief from the wind and snow but wasn't significantly warmer. The thick and ornate feathers on the birds kept them rather insulated, but they were still susceptible to the elements just as anything else. He had grabbed the iron handle atop one of the cages before he had entered the modest manor.

"Lord Gray," a female voice was heard as he had crossed the threshold and she stood in the doorway of a small dining room. "We were not expecting you tonight. Alain's missive had relayed that you were in no state to ride. We've not prepared anything."

"It's quite alright, Renae." He'd reply in a hoarse tone. His voice cracked slightly from the exposure of traveling after the sun had set and it would take some time near the hearth to warm his body up once more. Golden hues had peered through the doorway to note that the remainder of the staff who were on hand at the manor sat around the table. Outside of Renae, that consisted of a stablemaster, Castile and Castile's teenage son. They had all paused in various states of their meals, some taking to the hot food more than others but all seemed apprehensive to continue in Damien's presence.

"If you could fetch me a hot tea with whiskey, honey and lemon then I'll leave you all to your meal." He would offer a curt nod to the familiar beings around the table before he carried onwards deeper into the manor. There was a small study at the end of the hallway with a large stone hearth built into the back wall. A lone chair with a high back sat in front of the fire on an angle with a simple circular table next to it. A perch stand was near the hearth to feel its warmth but not be a danger while a much larger cage was against one of the walls.

He'd hiss in a quick bout of pain as he removed the leather glove and mitten from his hands and tossed them to the side so that he could undo the latch and remove the black bird from the cage and place her upon the perch. A steady breath was drawn in as he stood in front of the fire. The dancing flames had a habit of creating a trance like state for the watcher and he'd only been broken from it with the clearing of Renae's throat.

"Lord Gray," she breathed as she placed the request drink down onto the table near the chair. "I'll ensure that fresh linens are placed on your bed and turned down for you this evening." She'd offer him a slight curtesy before she had disappeared out of the room once more.

Honey irises had flicked between the dancing flames of the fire and the bird on the perch. There were no clocks in this room and it was clear that time had clearly gotten away from him. The cup with the drink mixture had been long empty and the lemon slice was now cold. A hum would sound from his lips as he pushed himself up from the chair so that he could transfer the falcon from the perch to the cage.

On his way from the room, his fingers would wrap around a thick fur lined cloak that hung on a rack near the door. It was chocolate brown in color and clearly left there for days where the cold bit through no matter how stoked the fire was. He'd found solace in the weight and warmth that the cloak had provided as his feet brought him to a large and sturdy wooden door that exited through the modest kitchen. A slight walk outside, though covered, brought him to the roost where his avians were primarily kept.

Damien had slunk down into Castile's desk as he rummaged through the drawers for a blank piece of parchment. A moment later, he'd begin to scrawl.

Valeria, I have departed from the Gray Estate for an undetermined amount of time. Tensions between myself and Lady Gray have escalated to what I perceive to be a point of no return. I would be surprised if your sister had not already gotten wind of such altercations. I will send Alain to the edge of the Cress grounds in several days time to provide you with my location should you wish it. I've included a token of mine that I consider to be of equal value to your necklace. It is yours to keep and do with what you will. Should you wish to respond, please feed Davina and return her with Clotho. She prefers fresh fish. Yours, Damien

The parchment was folded over on itself several times and he had reached to grab a leather pouch from Castile's desk. The pouches were regularly used to hold small items if they were included with a missive. He tucked the parchment into the pouch as he pulled the ring from his index finger that resembled an eagle. It was a gift from his parents at Castile's request. A testament to Damien's passion and proficiency with the creatures. Golden hues would regard it for a moment before he had placed it within the pouch and tied the leather straps tight to seal it.

He'd carefully approach one of the sleeping birds. The large deep brown raptor slept in a nest comprised of sticks, leaves and hay and was gently roused by Damien's urging. This bird was larger than the falcon that Damien had brought in with him earlier and significantly larger than the young birds that Damien had gifted Valeria and Vahalia. The pouch was affixed to one of the legs of the bird just above the large claws and he ushered the bird onto his forearm. He'd approach a platform that had a slightly larger than normal set of wooden windows which he opened before sending the creature on its way.

[@spirit-speaking]

Mentions: [@promethea-silk] & [@vahalia-cress-ffxiv]

#solo writing #story telling

[silentarborseeker]

The Azim Steppe

Inah's adventures in the east continue. After spending some time with the resistance in Yanxia, assisting respected comrade and friend Yugiri with the Doman liberation efforts. Now, they move further east to the Azim Steppe looking for for one particular man, and the hope he will bring to his homeland.

Despite feeling a sense of urgency, there are quiet moments, where Inah can slip away from her companions and ever-mounting responsibilities and just be. Upon entering this new land, she was immediately taken with its vastness, its emptiness, the pure size and scale of the jagged mountains reaching into the wide blue skies. Climbing onto a large boulder just outside Reunion, she took a moment to appreciate the sun on her face, and strong wind rushing through her ears.

When she closes her eyes, for a moment she is transported back to her youth in the Silent Arbor. The breeze rustling the trees, the distinct smell of untouched, vast forests. Inah suddenly finds her heart aching with a distinct feeling--homesickness. The smells and sounds of the Azim Steppe are foreign to her, and yet, despite the thousands of malms she has gone, it hits her with a similar distinct feeling of home.

She has traveled across many lands, trying to discover her true home, and what home means to her, but time and time again she thinks of the Black Shroud. However, the realizations are never clear, always a bit confusing and muddled. Still, when she thinks of the large, ancient trees, babbling brooks, and her adoptive mother's distinct call for her to come back to their tribe's settlement, there is a deep sense of ease that comes over her.

One of her companions calls for her st the base of the boulder, jolting her from her thoughts.

"Are you okay?"

Inah smiles, because yes, she is okay. In fact, she feels strangely invigorated in her cause. While there is still so much uncertaintly in her heart, she also knows why she must continue to fight.

#ffxiv #ffxiv oc #final fantasy xiv #miqo'te #original character #warrior of light #creative writing #solo writing #oc lore #ffxiv gpose

[jolieflows]

—Ostern'; Hasentag—

“Large conflicts make the world feel unmanageable and intangible to us. Nonetheless, there is a brilliant or dim light at the end of the tunnel. The mental tenacity that defines luminosity. If burned too brightly, it will burn out.”

Stepping onto her balcony was Angelina. Unaware that it had been some time since she last visited this specific plain. Also unfamiliar to her but ingrained in her consciousness. She let her delicate hands smooth away any potential rust by rubbing them against the shiny metal of the balcony railing. Standing, existing, and breathing in the air that around her felt almost strange. How brief life is, how it might be, yet how hospitable all the changes have been and will be.

Her blue eyes soaked up the sun's radiance, allowing the light to wash her. The brunette took off her silk top and leaned over the railing to get closer to the sun. Today was Easter, or rather, what Angelina jokingly mistook for "Bunny Day." As the gentle wind chilled her bones, the sun's heat seemed like dancing love coals on her face. What is there to do on a "Easter Sunday" that hasn't previously been done? It's safe to say that the stunning actress had penned a large number of poems, saved her work for her travels, and...had grown more aware of what she had missed. Missed in the absence sense. Her lips twisted into a half-smile as she thought back on the previous days.

“Ich bin verliebt in diese Saison … in das, was ich bin.” The German words, flowed freely from her mouth as she spoke to no one; just herself.

It was true. Angelina had developed a sense of who she was. Including all the complexities of existing, breathing, and loving. She was no longer just an actress. Much more, and it frequently made her afraid. She was now a writer for publications like TIMES, the Wall Street Journal, Global Traveler Inc., etc. But, she was now even closer to the love of her life, which made her giddy with happiness. Yet, Angelina had a strong urge to change with the season today.

Angelina found herself in the flower-filled garden before she knew what had happened. She had taken off her floral skirt and was now barefoot, only wearing her matching silk bra and underwear. Her skin blended with that earthy sensation and the alluring aroma of flowers, soil, and honeysuckle. The actress danced on the uncut, untrimmed grass and weeds, letting her hair blow in the wind. The exquisite flowers, with their open petals appearing to welcome her, gave her skin a slight tingle. The woman tipped her head back and giggled lowly, possibly in delirium, but with genuine ecstasy. It meant so much to her to stop, drop, and roll in this magnificent garden.

Throughout the house, Angelina had left her countless cameras, both used and unused. She looked up at the tempting sun with her legs crossed and her back close to the grass. Its rays are making her more endearing, complimenting her, and in Angelina's thinking, warming and praising her. Because there was no longer the mental pain of a conflict. Naturally, the pouty lip actress was aware that there would still be times when she would barely hang on and the need to lie in the garden would seem like an insurmountable obstacle. Not right now, though. Just her—no camera, no writing instruments. She, the flowers, the Planet, her thoughts, and this Easter Sunday's springtime.

Angelina would remain there, safe in the company of dandelion, rose, tulip, and other wild flowers—a garden of euphoric delight. Her hair was strewn across the grass, her eyes were innocently staring into the sun, and she was thinking only beautiful things. She would lie there on Easter Sunday and perhaps the following "Bunny Day" as well.

“...And if it burns out, it can always be re-lit. Be reignited, reconstructed by all and anything. No stipulation on time, no chain on creativity—and no stain on progress. Life is, in all ways, conflict and strife...but just enough love to make it a life.”

#poetry #angelina jolie #solo writing #roleplay #a feeling #life and love

[nemesissymphony]

Solo | "A final farewell to a beloved mother"

It wasn't that long ago that he had just lost his brother. Arthur had always been his parents' golden son, which didn't bother Harry, because being the second born son gave him the freedom to just be himself without major consequences. But when Arthur left them because he had died unexpectedly, his heart sank. How many times he wished then that he had treated his brother with more respect. But it was too late and he could only address his words to God and hope that he would accept his grief.

His heart was already very hurt, melancholy was his new companion, Catherine of Aragon, who still gave his life a certain lightness, tried to give him good moments for which he was very grateful. She had become a new companion that he had come to appreciate very much. Of course he wasn't supposed to have feelings for her, but he was still young and he couldn't deny that he really did have a crush on her, to the dismay of others.

When the day came when his mother left him and died, he didn't know if he could really carry all that grief on his shoulders. They felt heavy with each more day and his father was very sad as well and lost in his grief. After all, he had lost everything that had been very important to him over the years.

Now Harry was standing there at his mother's grave, touching the stone she was lying under, his mind spinning and, like Arthur, imagining what it would be like to lie there, dead and taken from life. It had to be so unbelievably cold there. It was perhaps stupid this thought but very lively. He now said another prayer, he hoped that God would guide him through the difficult time, he could not lose his father, even if the relationship was very tense.

The feeling he had in his heart area made him feel like he was losing his ground, he was too young to lose his mother. The thought of how he lost her made it even harder. No one understood what was going on inside him, even if he could have talked about it, it was very difficult for him. The tears rolled down his cheek with every thought of his mother. He still wanted to say so much, to spend so much time with her. He missed her very much.

After some time, his grandmother came to him, she did not need to say anything to know where to find her grandson. There were only a few left of the family and the newborn child, which was very weak. They had named it Katherine, so she was the little new sister.

Harry glanced at his grandmother and wiped away his tears, but the harder he tried to hide the tears and sadness he felt, the more it crept up inside him and overwhelmed him, pulling another sob from his lips.

"I pray for my mother and my brother, do you want to pray with me?" He asked her and without saying anything she came over to him and put an arm around her grandson and then she nodded. "We pray together and then we go to your father, he needs us now more than ever." And with that Harry gave his farewell to his mother and thought of her in this prayer and hoped that God would listen to him. 

Prince Harry Tudor: "I don't know how you ever came to England knowing you might never see your mother again. I know it sounds foolish, but I'm afraid that she's... that she's cold down there."

Quote from the Spanish Princess, The Battle for Harry | S1.E4

#triggertopic #funeral mention #historical rp #the spanish princess #roleplay #Young Henry Tudor #tudor rp #Henry VIII #21+ rp #21+ only #mdni #solo writing

[aniplaysthelonggame]

Books and books and books as far as he could see. Reds and cobalt blues, blacks and browns, thin books and fat books of every height humanly possible. Dust-lain shelves sat empty in the dim light of the old hanging lights, waiting to be burdened with the weight of the books to be put on them, and hoping that they'll stay so long the ply of their shelves bends with time. Glowing yellow lights hung from the ceiling not too low but just low enough for him to see the bulbs glowing just a little bit more right on their edges.

There were no sounds of the people's chatter, no sounds of the cars honking tirelessly. There was no sound of even the metro, which passed right beside the giant underground room. No lights moved with the momentum, none of the floor boards creaked.

He didn't realize until he paid attention, that somebody, on the far side of the library, had been softly playing the old piano the entire time he was there.

#my writing #a.para.for.you #non fandom #solo writing #writblr #new writing blog

[thereadingbud]

Writing an Autobiography: Solo Journey vs. Professional Help

Embarking on the journey of writing your autobiography is a deeply personal and profound experience. It’s a chance to narrate your life story, to reflect on your experiences, and to share your unique perspective with the world. However, one of the first decisions you’ll face is whether to undertake this journey alone or with professional help. This article explores the pros and cons of both…

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#amwriting #Autobiographical Writing #autobiography #Autobiography Tips #Life Story Writing #non-fiction writing #Personal Storytelling #Professional Writing Help #Solo Writing #writing #Writing Autobiography

[verendxs]

A Sollenté’s Secret

   Even when Elessar’ah became a goddess, the pain didn’t stop.  Not when the world flourished to life in front of her.  Not when she found her brother.  Not when the old gods took pity on her and made her a new sollenté.  He – Olorian – was every bit a perfect match for her – or so they said.  But even he could not rid her of the pain in her chest.

   The goddess’s heart had turned to stone.  

   Every day that passed, she withdrew further and further into herself, searching for the tools to break apart the stone, only to find that the stone itself still had feeling.  Pain still surged with every attempt to chisel her heart free.  The stone was alive, but nothing soft could touch it.

   Calloused and weary, Elessar’ah spent her days behind a mask of benevolence and love.  But where others acted as if this mask was real, there was one who saw through it and another who felt through it, and one day they conspired together, unable to ignore this festering stone any longer.

   “I hate this, Ruvenel,” Olorian lamented, his head in his hand.  “I feel it in my own chest, and yet she says nothing…  How can I ease her pain when even she does not know?”

   “My sister has always been this way,” Ruvenel explained.  He paced back and forth in front of Olorian, arms crossed.  “Though in the days long before you, her heart was not stone.  I can only guess that losing her first sollenté and then finding none to take his place until now has stunted her healing.”

   “It was supposed to kill her…”  Olorian shook his head.  “I suspect she hated having her life in the hands of another, and so every rejection made her heart grow harder… tougher…  I bet even losing me would not move her.”

   “It would move her, friend… but you’re right.  It would not kill her.”

   “What do I do, Ruvenel?  The sollenté bond should be leading me through this, and yet I’ve hit a wall.”

   “Perhaps… if she knew that we knew, things might be different.”  Olorian stared across the room, brow furrowed.  “I mean… everyone else operates as if she is this savior, this… big figure who couldn’t possibly carry anything else after achieving godhood.  But Elsa was once mortal, and her mind remains so in many ways.  We should tell her that we know… and not let her run and hide behind platitudes when she tries to deny it.  You especially…  If you feel it, then it means you are her sollenté.”

   “But she knows that already.”

   “Does she, friend?  You are a good man to her.  A good lover.  But you cannot fear the sollenté bond either, and what it means for either of you.  Perhaps there is something in your heart that stops you?”

   Olorian finally lifted his eyes to Ruvenel, who was still and peering down at him with an intense gaze.  It sat out of place against his soft features.  “My true mother, Angola, told me that I was made for Elsa, and yet I feel… wrong, somehow.  Like a cheap replacement.  I want to make Elsa as happy as she possibly can be… but I am not Rain.  Nor am I the men she lost in her long journey to bring this world back to life.  I am the one who comes in the aftermath, the one charged with fixing all the wrongs committed by others, and I know not where to begin.  Elsa has never been a first choice, except for Rain… and now she is mine.  But I never had a choice.  Perhaps that is the problem.  I am incomplete.”

   “And what do you think you need to be whole?”

   “I wish I knew.  Perhaps I feel that I am unworthy, in spite of what I am.  That for all the time I’ve spent in this world, it will never mean anything to Elsa, who has seen countless worlds and–”  Olorian covered his own mouth with his hand and sighed.

   “Do you feel that you alone do not have the power to heal her heart?”

   “Maybe…”  Olorian pushed himself to his feet and raked his fingers through his hair.  “I want to punish the men responsible for hurting her.  I want to bring their life force before what they gave up and watch them squirm as Elsa destroys them.”

   “That is perhaps the darkest thing I’ve ever heard you say.  Come…  Perhaps plotting such revenge will make us feel better.”

#solo writing

[ghostbsuter]

Very much inspired by this !!

—

Phantasm crashed into the side of a building, the rest of his team- the TeenTitans- stayed back. They were otherwise occupied, with the rest of the H.I.V.E. five attacking them.

They'd gotten a new member, one with a similar, nearly identical power set of their own new member.

Phantom.

Phantasm and Phantom, two mirror look alikes, they went absolutely feral whenever one was in sight. It was driving Robin mad, Beast Boy had joked about cloning but after they started to actually consider that option.

"Well, well, well." Phantom mocks, glowing green to Phantasm's red.

"Shut. The fuck. Up." Phantasm charges again, throwing the other into windows with a growl.

They kept bickering, hitting and injuring each other, until—

"Stop being so annoying!" Phantasm shouts, baring his fangs. Phantom, in return, stuck his tongue out.

"You're just jealous I got the Villain role!!"

At this point, their respective teams had called a draw and watched them fighting.

"You're a lousy villain!"

"I'm having the time of my life beating the shit out of you actually."

"I'm calling jazz."

At that, Phantom starts glaring. "I thought we agreed on not bringing this up to our sister?"

#dan picked the hero stick #danny the villain #dan now is handicapped as fuck bcs hero role #danny is having the time of his life on the other hand #joined H.I.V.E. and everything #meanwhile dan has to deal with robin hood and hos circus band #he wanted to act solo BUT NOOO #he got recruited #dcxdp #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #fic prompt #writing prompt #dc x dp prompt #dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc prompt

[ackee]

friend sent me this and ive been steaming over it all day fr

#I WANT 6 CGS IN MY DEMO #THEN I REALIZED... I GOTTA DRAW THAT SHIT #[goes back to writing lest i die] #txt #so called solo indie dev has to do everything solo. this is so crazy

[omtai]

got too crazy last night & made a fake Gerard Fangoria cover... 🧛‍♀️

📸: Jess Gleeson

#omtai art #mcr #mcrsydney #i had a dream i got a cease and desist from tumblr if i posted this... #But its literally fine and nobody cares and jimmy from fangoria said its fine #my brain so wack #anyways. making this was so so fun #the bordering on the logo is really fucky btw so dont look too hard at it #cuz i couldnt find a highres vector anywhere so i had to screenshot the svg off the site 😭 & then magicwand it #but the site didnt have the border so i had 2 add it myself #and its too thick and wraps weirdly but Deal with it i dont have photoshop i made this in csp #also god bless the people at mcrchive for making clean drumhead writings. i was fully prepared to just do it myself #i did for the 'in the swarm' tho its really hard trying to digitally mimic drip markers... #i wanted to put the guys in the boxes on the side but the photographer didnt post any photos of frank #if they took any #and it was like 4am at that point i dndt wanna go hunt for a frank photo from that night #So this is the gerard solo cover. enjoy #blood

[damien-gray-ffxiv]

The Leviathan Flows

Three days was all it took for the peace at Damien’s abode to be disturbed. Very little might have known where the man had been residing, but since the letter had been sent to his dearest Valeria, it could have just been about anyone. One might speculate that if it wasn’t someone they had expected, announced, or planned for then his missive might have been intercepted.

Once more the knocks came at the face of the door, a little louder than usual this time, and there in the cold of night, the stranger stood with cloak and hood drawn over their eyes to shield them from the elements. The shape of the hood where the ears had been could have left one to believe that the visitor was Elezen. Far too tall to be a Lalafell and not quite sharp enough to be considered Raen and Xaelic horns.

The hour had come where the manor had certainly wound down for the evening. The members had tended to the fires within the home to ensure that they were controlled throughout the night and had retreated to their respective chambers. Damien had thrown an extra log on the fire within his quarters before he had changed into a pair of warm sleeping pants and a loose-fit linen shirt that was only buttoned up about half of the way. 

Sleep had called him for easily with the help of laced tea that Renae had brewed to quell the pain within his hand. Though the knocks had stirred more than Damien from his slumber and he’d exited the bedroom with a knife in his unharmed hand at the same time that Alain and Renae had exited their bedrooms. “I’ll look into this,” Damien offered and provided a firm nod to Alain before he had a chance to question the fire-haired male. His steps were quick down the wooden staircase as he made his way to the door and undid the large bolt before pulling it open just enough to get a glimpse of the hooded figure. “State your business,” Damien spoke through the slight opening in the door. His tone was wary and he’d drawn the knife closer to the small opening but still out of sight in the event that he’d need it. 

A pair of crimson eyes peered from under the brim of the hood towards the door when it had cracked, “Forgive the late calling but I’ve been tasked to meet with you. Travel has been a slog on behalf of the climate taking a poor turn. I’ve come on behalf of my Master with a proposition.”

The eyes blinked, never straying from Damien at the door. It was hard to deduce the features with how little light there had been and the viewpoint but they seemed to be feminine in nature, even if the assumed woman was a little taller than average. 

Apprehension was shown in his eyes. That much would’ve been obvious had the hooded figure been able to make out the man’s features given the shroud of darkness. He’d draw in a breath before he exhaled, “Just a moment.” The door would close as he tucked the knife back into the sheath tucked it into the waistband of his pants and then pulled the shirt over it. He’d gesture for Alain and Renae at the top of the stairs to come down before he reached for the large fur-lined cloak by the door. He’d tug it over his shoulders and then decided to pull the door open. 

It was, perhaps, unwise to allow a stranger into his home with how Cordelia’s behavior had been but with Alain already down the staircase, he was willing to take the risk. “In here then,” Damien would speak as he gestured to the small sitting area to the right of the doorway. “My staff will stoke the fire.” After the words had left his lips, Alain had gone into the sitting area to begin to rebuild the fire as Damien had followed to take a seat in one of the comfortable chairs. 

Heavy boots brought the stranger into the house and for the most part, they looked harmless enough. And didn’t seem to have any large weapons on them save for the pair of daggers that were neatly stowed away at their belt and a bag slung over their shoulder. Just outside had been a saddled chocobo, “Could I bother someone to see that my mount gets something to drink before I take my leave in a little?” the voice feminine as a careful hand reached to pull back the tawny-colored hood that had veiled much of their face.

It was a woman. To her curious gaze she noted the others within the abode but merely offered a nod in greeting to them. Elongated ears pricking out from long pale locks, there was no doubt that the woman was a halfbreed. Following through with Damien’s instruction she stepped into the seating area, removing the shouldered bag from her person.

“I won’t take up much of your time.”

Damien had relaxed back into the plush chair as he moved to rest his elbow on the arm of the chair and draw his unharmed hand just under his chin. The half-closed sleep shirt had tugged slightly farther open to expose the necklace that Valeria had given him though now modified to sit below his collar bones just between his pectorals. Upon noticing that it was exposed, Damien had tugged the lined cloak tighter around his frame. “Alain, please see to our guest’s mount when you’ve finished.” Honey hues had shifted to the dark-haired man who had brought the fire back to a roaring blaze. 

Once more the stranger nodded to the few within the house, a silent thanks for the hospitality. After a moment, Damien’s gaze shifted to the woman who had removed her hood. Brows had furrowed as he took in the woman’s visage as a means to gauge her. “I’m curious as to who your master could be,” he paused to cant his head to the side slightly. “And what kind of proposition that could be important enough to deliver in the middle of the night.” Damien’s features would return to normal as his fingertips drummed along his chin for a moment. 

“I had hoped to come sooner, once again I do apologize for the late call.” The woman busied herself by dipping a hand into the bag. First was a small scroll she had removed and unraveled to read through, “I was given a list of things to ensure everything is to go smoothly…for both of us.” she added.

“I’ve been tasked with making you a proposition on behalf of my Master. I won’t offer you my name, you can just refer to me as the coordinator if you must. Who I am is little to no importance, this is simply between you and my employer which I’m simply here by proxy.”

Reaching into the bag once more, she held another scroll out to Damien, this one hadn’t been sealed but it looked as if an older seal had already been broken. On all accounts, it looked as if the seal and paper itself was weathered to time and certainly had seen better days, “Please, feel free to read through it and appraise it if you would like.”

While the woman remained vague, Damien’s curiosity had been piqued enough for the halfbreed to have his undivided attention. His brows had knit together at her explanation to deny him her identity and further down into a conversation where he was unsure where it would lead. His gaze on her was broken as Renae entered the room with a tray that had held a teapot, two cups, and a small bowl of sugar cubes. “Apologies, m’lady, but we don’t keep much tea on hand here so there’s not much of a selection.” Renae excused as she had placed the tray down on the table between them and excused herself to stand idly near the doorway. 

“No apologies need, I assure you. Thank you.” the woman spoke with a sincere smile up to Renae, “I’m thankful for the warmth and simply the moments to speak with me.” the coordinator looked back to Damien as she watched on. 

When the scroll was offered to Damien, he had carefully unraveled it noting the age and fragility of the document. The initial scan of the first page had made it obvious that the paperwork was a mineral deed to a silver mine near the Skatay Range. The second page was yet another deed to a significant parcel of land. The title of this land was authored as Benchmark which was written at the top of the deed below the title. The third page consisted of what he assumed to be a crudely drawn mix of a map and building plans. The mineral deed was within the land parcel and the plans had illustrated potential buildings within the area. 

Damien’s lips pursed as he breathed in a hesitant breath. “Renae, please prepare our guest with some rations for when they depart.” His instruction was kind but the point of his words was to isolate himself and the stranger without prying eyes or ears. “Who owns this?’ He asked firmly as he lifted his hand to gesture with the paper. 

“Those who owned it before are now with the lifestream, blessed be they but…” the blonde-haired woman ilmed to the edge of the chair and peeked at the top portion of the deed, “I suppose now you could say this belongs to my employer. They has requested a decision on the matter. They have an offer to make you.”

Picking up the details of what the stranger had to touch on, she read through her notes once more and nodded to herself to confirm, “The offer is this: they are offering you all that you hold in your hands right no with no charge to you or your family. However, there is a clause, that they are to receive a portion of the profits made from the mine itself. I’m here to negotiate that offer on their behalf, Damien.” She settled back into her chair and went through some of her own paperwork, once more taking what she needed from the bag, “They’re offering 20% of profits on sales on all ore that is to come from that mine, should you take this and choose to make money from this venture. It is an offer, Lord Gray – I do assume you know how to negotiate, yes?”

Damien had placed the paperwork down on the table between the two of them as he had reached for the cup of tea. A singular sugar cube was dropped into the cup as he dropped the small spoon into the glass mug and he settled back into the chair. He’d hold it between both of his hands to allow the warmth to course through his injured hand. The linen-wrapped hand and wrist were made visible to the stranger for the first time since her arrival. There was still significant pain in the limb and between the swelling and the Ishgardian climate it remained frightfully cold. Holding a warm beverage like this would help temporarily before the warmth would create a pestering stinging sensation. 

“And the drawback?” He asked with bated breath as he brought the mug to his lips to savor a drink of the tea. He was never quite sure what exactly was within the concoction and only that Renae had sourced and dried the leaves and herbs herself. “One does not simply offer such a wealth of land and ore with no charge and a small margin of profit.”

“Isn’t it obvious? You would be out the profit they would make but you would also have a sizeable portion of income under your name, land, and opportunity. I believe there is more drawback to be had in refusing the deal than making it.” she picked up one of the cups, making silent note of the injury but given what she had been told, she simply chalked it up to a possible accident with a tool, “My employer is endowed enough as it is, perhaps you may consider this a stroke of luck or good fortune, a favor to later be repaid if there is one – which none has been explained to me – and perhaps it is merely seeing an investment and potential in someone who might do something with the land instead of watching it rot.”

The coordinator took a sip of tea and settled the cup down, “In any case, favor is resting in your hands, it’s on you on how you decide to approach it.” 

If there was anything that Damien knew when it came to life, it was that there was no such thing as luck. Odds were either in your favor or they weren’t. Games were either rigged or they weren’t. He was having trouble initially deciphering whether this was one of those rigged situations, but the nagging feeling within the back of his head had led him to believe that there was very little rigging here. It required no buy-in from Damien, at least with the situation that the pale-haired woman before him presented. 

He would trade the mug for the papers once more so that he could flip through them again. This time slower and clinging more to the details of the wording. He had settled again on the third page with the plans. He was unsure what had actually been built on the land or if this was all some grand idea before it had been ceased and the reasoning of that was still unknown to him if it had been the case. His fingers would scratch at the line of his stubbled jaw with pursed lips. “Tell your master that given the size of the land parcel and estimated wealth of the mines that twenty percent is an unfair scale.” His hand fell away from his face so that he could prop both elbows up on the arms of the chair and steeple his fingers together. “A counter offer that I deem to be more fair is forty percent for the first five years, thirty percent for five years after that for a total of ten years and then we will settle on the twenty percent from there out.” 

“I believe they would find that to be favorable. A moment if you would?” the woman brought out a small piece of writing charcoal, scribbling something along the notes she had within her grasp which didn’t seem to be of significance comparatively to the papers Damien had been holding, there was a few nods and a small hum, “You’re either a generous man and seek to share investment on to my employer as good favor or you’re really bad at mathematics. I believe they will accept this, yes. Most certainly.”

There was a tick to the woman’s head and she couldn’t help but ask, “Do you mind if I ask why? Most would be keen to cut the deal as low as possible to get the maximum allotted to them with little payout to another.”

He allowed her the moment she had requested as his steepled fingers dropped and he reached for the mug once more. “Perhaps I am a bit of both,” he’d reply in a coy manner as a slightly lopsided smirk etched itself onto his lips. It was only visible for a brief moment as he’d take another drink of the tea. He’d savor it for a moment before he placed the mug onto the arm of the chair but still supported it with his fingers around the width of the glass. “Unless there is more to your words, you specifically said the mine itself. Which meant that your master, the mysterious owner of these parcels, is entitled only to the percentage of the raw material from the mines.” His lips would purse momentarily before he offered her a cunning smirk. “There was nothing included in this agreement about what could come from the raw materials or what could be erected on the land parcel and turned into another means of profit.” His tongue would click as he paused. “While it still places me with the upper hand in these negotiations, it certainly levels the field more and whomever this land belongs to is aware of its wealth. The low offer was likely a test of character if anything.” 

“Correct, just raw materials with the exception of ingots should you choose to utilize that method for transport.” The woman smirked, “See, not as bad as you thought, hmm?” dipping a hand into her bag once again the woman removed yet another scroll and a calligraphy pen, “If you sign the contracts, you may keep one for yourself and I take the other back to my employer and the deed and details are yours. Upon your signature, the negotiations will close and you will be the official owner of all we’ve discussed and I will take the finalized details back to my employer. You could very well wake up a very wealthy man tomorrow morning Lord Gray.”

A quick shift of her eyes drew around the room they sat in and then settled back to Damien, “Perhaps no more cold for you should you come to love the new area.”

“One thing,” Damien paused as he watched her quickly remove another scroll and the pen from her bag. “I’d like the signed copy from your master as well.” The woman had been secretive the whole night and while he was receptive and respectful of that, Damien was also aware of various workings against him at present. This was a situation where he did not feel he could take the chance. “Give the wealth of the land and the minerals, I do not need any questions as to how I came to be in possession of these deeds. The identity of the owner will remain anonymous and I will have the copy vaulted, but I wish to have the security should anyone of importance investigate this matter.” 

“Would you settle for the name offered to you on a piece of paper before I leave here this evening and to receive a signed copy by them at a later date?”

He’d nod briefly before he finished off the remainder of the tea. The mug was loosely within his grasp as he brought himself forward in the chair so that he could place the mug down onto the table and then hold his hand outwards to her for the pen. “That would suffice, yes,” he finally offered as he waited for her to place the contract before him and the pen within his hand in which she had done so without pause.

As he saw to his own script, the coordinator took that moment to pull a small beige piece of parchment from her bag, charcoal once more going to work as she wrote the name down as she said she would in exchange for the signed contracts.

He had traded the calligraphy pen back to the woman in exchange for the parchment that she had scrawled on just prior. Honey orbs had read the name as he hummed to himself in a contemplative curiosity. The parchment would then be folded over once and then once again to conceal the name within. “It seems that my suspicions about the test of character were well placed,” he’d comment while he pushed himself up from his chair. It was just in time for Renae to return from her work within the kitchen. She had a brown box within her grasp that had been tied with twine. “M’lady, as Lord Gray had requested there are several tarts and minced meat pies within for your journey. I’ve also prepared a flask of warm tea for you as well.” Renae had shifted the box to be held in one hand as she removed the strap from her shoulder that was connected to the large, hardened leather flask.

She had just finished packing away her things and slung the bag back over her shoulder and adjusted her hood, “Once again, that is very kind of you and I appreciate the gesture. It will be a nice thing to have on the road, that is for certain. It’s easier to lose people through the woods on a chocobo. I don’t trust many folks these days.” the blonde-haired woman took the offered box. The coordinator carefully adjusted her belongings, knowing full well it was time to set out.

“Oh!” she had stopped herself before mid step towards the door, “It’s probably best you keep this to yourself, Lord Gray. I’m sure you will. On our end there will be nothing spoken of regarding this, it will remain confidential.” she lifted a hand to wave to the few that remained within the foyer of the small abode and opening the door, the woman had left as quickly as she had come.

#solo writing #stories #sanguine court #building of benchmark

[silentarborseeker]

Since arriving in Hingashi, Inah has taken time before her next great adventure to explore all that there is to offer. So far, her favorite way to spend her free time is relaxing in the hot springs found throughout Shirogane.

There is still much to be done, and she is soon setting out to the Ruby Sea and into Othard. But until then, she will relax and watch the sunrise from the quiet springs on a mountaintop.

#ffxiv #ffxiv oc #final fantasy xiv #miqo'te #original character #warrior of light #creative writing #ffxiv gpose #Solo writing

[jolieflows]

𝐃𝐞𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐞~

Her script had previously been altered by The New York Times, which called it a "Folly-wood production." Typical. The War in Bosnia was, of course, a sensitive matter. Any aspect of warfare is extremely illogical and challenging to comprehend. Angelina was aware of that. She also understood that she couldn't anticipate an easy transition into the directing world. The actress was prepared to make her script a reality, though, now that the red tape had been removed.

There were a lot of files, pens, cameras, and storyboards in her home office. She had battled like an animal in a cage for this film to be made. She was certain that her mind had become scrambled from all the writing—and rewriting she'd done.

A good war movie gave Angelina a feeling of reliance, and she adored them. She could only hope that this film, for which she had done beneficial research, would draw a sizeable audience. It would be different to direct it. The devoted actress has collaborated with some of the best filmmakers throughout her career. As time passed, Angelina saw that she was taking notes. However, her brother was the first person she turned to.

Having chosen two separate routes, Angelina obviously appreciated her brothers' advice. They spoke on the phone for many hours, the majority of which were him assuring her that she could accomplish this.

Angelina had agreed to star in two major films between her major debut as a director. It was insane how she ended up committed to multiple projects at once.

The brunette sighed shakily as she glanced over the final script draft that Universal Studios had authorized. This would undoubtedly be different from still photos of flowers, sneaky photos of Brad, and all the other ridiculous things she performed with her camera. Angelina had to begin arranging auditions for the top actors and actresses with the help of her dependable team.

Angelina wanted— no, she needed this film to capture what couldn't be told by anyone else. In her veins, Angelina knew she could do this. She found herself up at night, penning and configuring almost every finer detail. That's just how it had to be.

Angelina pulled her hair back in a loose bun and gathered her screenplay, camera, and passport. Location, location, location. She had been looking for the ideal location to film the movie in order to hone her ability to make it. The US Embassy, of course, had its own restrictions on where she could and could not film.

She would have a full day with 5 to 18-hour flights, photocalls, writing, and solo photography. But she enjoyed it that way. Angelina discovered herself in a time when she needed to keep moving in order for the fire inside of her to be useful. The stunning actress closed the door behind her and turned to her script.

‘𝑰𝒏 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑳𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝑩𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑯𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒚.’

#angelina jolie #roleplay #solo writing #aestethic #writing

[l3viat8an]

Nsfw ♛

Happy birthday Solomon you old ass mf mwah <3

CW: Blowjob, fantasizing / dirty thoughts- Idk it’s basically Solomon having a dirty imagination- light bondage mentioned + Solomon sending you a dick pic- I think that’s it helppjsjs

Solomon had been thinking about it all morning….about how you had to leave early as usual to help those brothers with some minor disaster or another.

How you left him in his big, lonely, bed with only the memories of the night before.

He’s stuck thinking about how good you felt, your lips wrapped around his cock while his hand was tangled in you hair, stroking, guiding, gently tugging every now and then when he felt like you were teasing him too much.

His other hand holding yours, fingers laced with his so you can squeeze if it’s too much. The way you looked up at him, your eyes looked so bright and eager.

“O-oh. fuck… little star, right t-there,” he praised, when your tongue kitten licked the tip of his cock. watching your face relax as you leaned forward taking a deep breath, and letting Solomon buck his hips into your face, your muffled moans vibrating around his cock.

“Fuck,” he mutters, running a hand through his still messy bed head, the other hand slipping under the waistband of his pajama pants, pulling his cock out and groaning as he starts to jerk off.

The things you do to him- just the thought of you tearing up, being on your knees for him and ready to have his cock down your throat has him leaking, soft moans slipping past his lips as he slowed his pace, idly rubbing his thumb over his tip as he lets his mind wander a bit more.

Still full of thoughts about you, maybe a new scenarios? One with him, tying your hands behind your back with your uniform tie.

the light pink material tied, just tight enough to sting, but not too tight that it’ll stop your blood flow.

Gods, the image he had in his head made him want to go and drag you away from the others and just…help him, focus on him.

He can picture it so clearly in his head, you’re not even out of your uniform yet. Already on your knees as you take him as deep into your mouth as you could, your nails digging into his thighs as his hips bucked into your face, his cock making you choke and gag, your face covered in your drool and his cum….

a fantasy he needs to come true. and that’s when he decides to text you, ‘When will you be home?‘ a small pause between his texts, ‘I need you :(‘ ‘Need to fuck that pretty throat of yours.‘ followed by a picture of his flushed red -and still hard- cock.

#as always excuse any typos 🏃🏼‍♀️💨 #1 am thots~ #HAPPY BIRTHDAY SOLO <333 #only OM character I share a birth month with sjsjjsjs #obey me! #obey me solomon x reader #obey me solomon smut #obey me solomon #obey me smut #obey me x reader #obey me #om! #obmswd #om! solomon #om! x reader #x reader #smut #solomon x reader #solo <333 #roro writes #obmswd x reader #obmswd solomon #solomon

[yourstrulyjacqueline]

Dialogue Prompt: "A savage heart for a savage time."

There are times she wonders. Wonders if Eddie wishes she were more like the other women of her station. He says he doesn’t, but still...

Of course, there are other times when she’s sure. Sure that she knows he doesn’t. When the two of them stand pressed closed together in the shadows. Watching. Waiting.

When one watches the other strike. Watches as their knife tears through cloth and flesh. As blood drips onto the cobblestones. She knows then that he doesn’t wish her to be any other way.

That he loves her because she is this way. Because she is his equal. In all things. Ruthless. Savage.

A savage heart for a savage time. He’s whispered it in her ear before. In the shadows. In their bed. She is what their world has made her. And he loves every twisted, broken piece.

#Solo Writing #blood tw

[ashersanity]

Know some people have already done this, but I just had to jump in on the train cuz I’m a sucker for yanderes, especially fem ones, like yeah, please tie me up in your fucking basement and call me your boy. I will instantly melt on the spot.

LI’s as YANDERES

asher style, of course.

you already know the drill, there’s gon be loads of cw! for this one since it’s fucking YANDERES!

content warning! dub-con at best, non-con at worst, manipulation, typical gaslighting, abusive and possessive behaviour, mentions of violence, it gets bloody too, knife play, stalking, somniphilia, y’know, all that yandere shit.

pc and LI’s are gender neutral as always unless explicitly stated otherwise. still included kylar, some of these are soft and cute, some of these are just straight up gross.

this is long. i hope you like long things.. that sounded wrong.

Robin

“I-I’m your first? You saved yourself for me?? Hah, I don’t deserve something so special. Thank you..”

yandere type : two-faced, manipulative, overprotective

Doesn’t show it, trained smile on their face whenever Kylar slots in between the two of you at the cafeteria even if Robin is internally holding themselves back from reaching behind the freak and pulling you in closer instead. Just know that if you kiss Kylar in front of them in that one scene, they’re not running away in tears, they’re internally seething and rushing to the bathroom to calm themselves down unless they wanna accidentally break the loner’s face like Whitney did. (Yeah, Robin is violent under extreme circumstances. Saw that damn brothel scene? Yandere! Robin is even worse)

Gives you the impression of someone cheerful and kind, always well-intentioned since they want the best for you after all! You don’t even get to see the way their eyes flicker and narrow behind your back, holding themselves back each and every time they see you with either Whitney, Kylar or Sydney. Would absolutely lose their shit if they knew the things you do with Bailey in their office in return for an extra day before payment is due.

Breath shaky as they stare at your lips touching the cup, sipping at their homemade lemonade, not even noticing their eyes drilling a hole right into your pretty face. Quickly claims they need to go to high street to get some more ice, all the while bringing the cup you just used with them. Locking themselves in one of the stall in the changing rooms, licking and sucking at the humid lip stains you left on the glass, free hand busy between their legs.

Robin really can’t help themselves around you, sneaking into your room at night, quiet footsteps tiptoeing to your bed, watching your peaceful face, fast asleep. Trailing a finger over your lips, utterly entranced. Started with quick kiss to your neck, collarbone, lips. Now they’re touching themselves to you, hands in their pajama bottoms, soft, wet noises of the orphan‘s genitals being stroked. High confidence!Robin doesn’t hesitate to cum/messily squirt all over you, smearing the fluids across your lips before sealing it with a kiss. Makes sure to clean it up after though, can’t ruin their perfect, innocent image!

Voluntarily puts themselves in dangerous situations, wether it be through Bailey’s punishments, off to the docks or something as simple as getting picked on at the cafeteria. They know you’ll come for them, save and protect them from the danger, won’t you? You always do, you’re their savior, Robin’s protector.. And for that, they’ll never let you go.

Whitney

“..Let me remind you who fucking owns you. Cmon, I want to hear you squeal, bitch!”

yandere type : sadistic, possessive, impulsive

Didn’t even mean to get that attached to you in the first place, but when they saw the way your lips would curl up into that fucking smile, chatting away with Robin at lunch or the stupid freak— Dammit, it’s like Whitney snapped, forcing you to sit at their table, comfortably seated on their lap with their cronies surrounding you. Looks like you’re eating lunch with the bully forever from now on. You don’t got a choice in the matter, slut.

Don’t even try to fight back against them too, you’ll just rile the delinquent up further, visible outline of their hard cock/wet pussy in their pants/beneath their long school skirt as you kick at their stomach, only for them to grasp at your wrists and pin you down. If you do win the fight by pure chance or strength, just know they’re running off to the bathroom to jerk/finger themselves silly, using your own blood as lube (haha, hot.) Licks away at the bloodied mess you left on their knuckles too, smearing it across their lips to savor. they do that little finger sucking thing at the end to really get all that blood inside their system.

Oh? Whitney catches one of their friend hitting you/trying to get a taste of you? They’re not the only one getting punished, you’re getting punished too, bitch. Your fault for being so tempting around others and they’ll make it your own fucking problem. Don’t even try to worm yourself out of it cuz they’ll be waiting at the school gates, dark look on their face, bloodied sneakers from dealing with that one friend that didn’t listen. Expect the roughest anal fucking of your life along with having their cock/strap-on deep down your throat. Even better if you have a dick, you’re getting both, cock/strap-on up your ass and yours in their own, milking you dry for all you’re worth.

Will force a collar around your neck along with a leash that they pull at during sex. Better than your shitty hair since it leaves bruises right on that tender skin they like to sink their fangs into, dragging you around for the whole town to see. Publicly fucks you at the park with nothing but the collar on, telling you to take it well, show everyone what a whore you are for them. Enjoys inflicting pain on you through biting, marking or spanking, relishes in the pained sounds that come out of your mouth. Loudly refers to you as their pet, wants everyone to know you personally as “Whitney’s pet” first and foremost before even knowing your damn name.

Purposely marks you in every way possible that they can think of, leaving hickeys and bite marks over your neck and thighs, making sure your collar is just a tad bit open to expose the bruised skin underneath. Shit, they’ll tattoo their goddamn name right on your chest, rough hand beneath your shirt, tracing the lettering of their own name with a satisfied smirk on their face. Now everyone will know that you belong to them, Whitney’s property, their slut.

Kylar

“M-My love! We were meant for each other all along! IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou!”

yandere type : obsessive, clingy, delusional

Already has a shrine ready for you, dedicated to their one and only beloved, hell, they even went to the tailor to get the perfect size for your suit/dress. How does Kylar know your exact measurements?? Um, don’t ask them! It was by pure chance, just a lucky guess, of course! Maybe they did sneak in at night through the window, somehow not encountering Robin in the middle of their weird session, gliding their small hands over your sleeping form with measuring tape ready.

Goes through your closet when you’re not at the orphanage, stealing and taking in all the underwear that they can find, even goes through the dirty laundry. Yeah, your fucking dirty laundry, making sure they got everything. Now they have your own personal scent with them 24/7, rubbing the fabric of your undergarments against their sex, melding your fluids together, spits right in the middle where it connects with your crotch. Slips it inside your closet once more, hard erection/moistened cunt in their pants/skirt once they force you to wear it, their saliva touching your genitals.

Just as Whitney likes to mark their property, so does Kylar, tracing the silver over your tender flesh, ready to sink in and draw blood, carve their name right where it should be. Maybe they do it while you’re sleeping even! Awakening to a nice, old surprise of your beloved darling’s name etched into your skin, dry blood cleanly licked away, lapped up by the loner’s tongue. Now, no pervert or whore shall try a thing unless you want a dead corpse at your feet, Kylar’s proud smile and expectant gaze on you. Like a cat that killed its prey for its master.

Why did you wake up all sweaty and warm..? Um, don’t ask Kylar, they wouldn’t know! Not like they slip in beneath the covers with you at night, lowering themselves down to your hips before pulling down the waistband of your pajamas unless you’re sleeping naked? In this town? Either way, they’re burying their face in your crotch, messily slurping and sucking away at your genitals, relishing in the taste of your flesh in their mouth. Does a show of swallowing it all, moving their pink tongue across your parted lips and slipping in.

Remember how you sent them to prison? Yeah? Thought it was over and everything, huh? Kylar now forever gone from your life, not having to deal with that persistent freak anymore, that was the plan.. Obviously fucking not, a disheveled looking Kylar breaking into your room in the middle of the night, still in their prison uniform, dark fringe over their eyes, unable to hide the maddened lust in them. Idiot, you really thought you could get rid of them?? No, of course not! Kylar is here to stay, stay forever and they’ll make sure you know you’re theirs, fucking your face into the mattress with their fat cock/strap-on, imprinting themselves into your skin. You’re theirs now. Forever.

Pure Sydney

“We.. we did it.. I’m so happy.. This means we’re bound together forever from now on.. right?”

yandere type : harmless?, worshipping, overprotective

Harmless? Well, not exactly, Sydney doesn’t even know themselves about their own behaviour, eyes framed behind glasses, always glancing back at the library entrance and waiting for your arrival. After all, they love to see your face in the morning, it brightens up their day, puts a smile on their face, humming a tune to themselves. Maybe they do clutch at the pages of the book they’re holding a little too hard if they see you sit at Kylar’s table instead.. Sinking feeling in their pit of the stomach, clenching teeth. Snaps out of it, confused as to why.

Solely believes that you’re an angel, someone gifted by God, fallen from heaven. You’re perfect after all! Devoid of flaws and if there are some, they’re unable to see it, lovingly gazing at your praying face at the temple in a tender manner. If someone proves otherwise, like those filthy edited pictures they find of you sometimes, they brush it off, it can’t be true. You’re perfect. Utterly perfect, only deserving of the purest of people and Sydney is ready to fill that role, they’re the only ones worthy of it after all!

Absolutely snaps if they ever see a temple initiate or nun’s wandering hand reaching for your behind, smacks it away, red in the face. Now they’re creating a scene right in front of you, shouting and reprimanding the other for that, but no, it isn’t enough for Sydney, honestly. Willing to lie if it’s for you, obviously you didn’t ask for it, you never did, though they’re still going to Jordan, demanding punishment on the filthy sinner for having laid their hands on you. No sick bastard or bitch should ever look your way, only Sydney.

Asks a few too many questions to Sirris about you, the science teacher already picking up on their little crush, teasing poor little Syd about it and they’re blushing furiously now, completely denying it. God, they really should’ve never brought it up, yet they can’t help themselves, constantly asking about you to their parent, wondering how you’re doing in class.. Are there any students harassing you..? In the library? In the hallways? Has Whitney set their sights on you? Don’t worry, Sydney will take care of them. just involves them tattle-telling to Leighton pft

Maybe they do let you quietly drag them to the prayer room, knowing they shouldn’t, but it’s you, you that they can’t deny, never could. Maybe they do reciprocate the kiss, amber eyes fluttering shut, arms keeping you in their grasp. This must be a dream, must be and it isn’t. Pasts the point of no return, breaking their chasity vow for you and you only. Is exhilarated once they find out that you were also a virgin, meaning you both shared this special moment together with them. Now you’re bound to each other! As one.

Corrupted Sydney

“You did it. You defiled me at last. We belong to each other, now and forever!”

yandere type : worshipping, manipulative, overprotective

Much more self-aware in their behaviour now that you’ve opened up their eyes to sin and lust, and y’know what? Do they feel shameful? Absolutely not, they’re not praying to damn anything, not begging for salvation because it’s only right for a lover to be protective over their darling, hm? At least, they use that as an excuse to mark your skin as theirs, purposely leaving their name or cheesy pet names on your forearms or neck, rolled up sleeve or unbuttoned collar to show off their masterpiece to other students.

A lot more assertive and teasing with Kylar. Their childhood friend wants to play that game? Sure, they can do the same, casually swinging an arm over your shoulder, pulling you in closer. Watching on with a smirk on their face as the loner silently seethes into their seat, shooting them a cold glare. Sydney’s obviously undeterred, even going so far as to pull you into a kiss right in front of the other. Yeah, they’re fucking petty like that, eyeing up the freak’s expression as it slowly morphs from one of disbelief to horror. Doesn’t even feel bad if Kylar scurries away in tears, you’re theirs after all, aren’t you? It’s only their right to prove it so.

Amber eyes darkening as they see you with a customer at the sex shop, shamelessly flirting with you at the counter. Quickly pulls you aside, calling out to their parent that you and them are taking a short break. The short break? Involves punishment and marking, if that pesky shit doesn’t understand that you belong to Sydney then they’ll make sure to be more direct about it, tying you up, ball gag in your mouth, uselessly drooling away. Now you’re bent over on their lap, spanking your reddened bum, each slap for every pervert that eyed you up at work. Makes sure you’re left to limp back at the counter, ass stinging and burning, hoping you learnt your lesson.

By god, do not ever break your vow and let the temple find out, Sydney will know, will know that it’s not them. The temple’s punishment on its own won’t be enough, no, they’re also personally making sure you’re never touched by anyone else, but them ever again. Face pressed up against the wooden wall, forced in this uncomfortable position in the tight confines of the confessionary, hissed breath telling you to shut up while they fuck you with their cock/strap-on or riding your cock. Genuinely wants to hear a few slip ups on your part, clueless initiate coming in to confess their sins, a grin across Sydney’s pretty features as they listen to your hitched breaths, struggling to speak.

That one scene where they’re slowly trailing their red marker up your arm, pausing upon seeing Whitney’s tattoo on your shoulder, simply frowning and turning away. Yeah? Yandere! Sydney isn’t just frowning, no, they’re fucking pissed, a scowl creeping up to their face, asking you what the fuck that’s doing there. Stuttering back a reply, unsure how to respond to that. How exactly are you supposed to explain your bully’s name permanently etched into your flesh? Palm placed on your head, pushing you down, making sure the librarian isn’t nearby to see. Now you better be begging for forgiveness on your knees, mouth busy pleasuring their sex with tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, threatening to spill over your flushed cheeks. Filthy sinner, this will be the only time Sydney’s ever visiting Harper for a tattoo removal.

Masterlist

Now I wanna see Yandere! Whitney vs Yan! C!Syd.

Who wins? My bets are on Syd because I fucking said so. The bully would be way too hot-headed, gets provoked too easily whereas the other is able to keep their cool, a bit more than Whitney. Plus Syd has the advantage of being a shameless masochist, would probably be moaning if they get punched, catching the delinquent off guard.

Coming up next, Yandere! Whitney specifically.

yandere! whitney

yandere! harper

yandere! bailey

yandere! shady bastards

yandere! remy

also thanks to @saint700 for the whitney line, it goes hard, hard like my c—

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#sydney rocks whitneys shit #easily solos them in a 1v1 #dol #degrees of lewdity #robin the orphan #whitney the bully #kylar the loner #sydney the faithful #sydney the fallen #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #asher writes