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shopcat · 1 month

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there is, Obviously, fundamentally a difference between headcanon and an analytical reading of text, and treating the two as exactly the same is not only wrong but devalues both, but funnily, i've found people tend to forget that both of these things are the product of referencing our real life experiences and applying them where we see fit to make a more interesting way to interact with media. and you can't just like, forget that it's not JUST about headcanons and meta analysis and whatever, because people in real life also still matter. and in real life, there are different stakes and EXPERIENCES, and those experiences lead to thinking the way we do because that's how you Be a goddamn person, which is why it's ironic is all 😭

like, saying zuko atla has to be cis in order to be "properly" gay in order to be Truly Compelling narratively is fucking ridiculous. textually, zuko is not actually gay. he never was intended to be, he never will be intended to be, he was never even subtextually. the assumption otherwise is already rooted in fantasy, and the tongue in cheek assertion that it isn't, which means it has more credence, is ... dumb? childish? admitting to at least yourself that the things you talk about wrt character analysis aren't the intention of the creator is literally half the point of doing said analysis – you're MEANT to throw away the intended interpretation in order to give it a new life through different keyholes without entirely divorcing itself from the text. (in the same breath, insisting the creator truly meant One Thing when they absolutely would not have/don't care at all, and ignoring that the people who made the piece are going to put their own biases and experiences and background into the media itself and actually MUST be taken into account for things like this is just ... well. Stop That.)

i've personally never been someone to ever claim that The Writers All Along INTENDED to do something that they obviously didn't, like make a character from a 2005 cartoon lgbt+. this doesn't mean that reading doesn't have any substance or cannot possibly hold any meaning, or that it's wrong. if you can't be objective about your own readings what's the damn point... leaning into it being fiction, which changes just by being observed by a different person, is why it's fun or interesting to do in the first place. and yeah there are some basic cookie cutter headcanons people like to fling around, and there can be criticism for that otherwise, but claiming headcanons themselves AREN'T an offshoot of this way of thinking is fucking stupid. like it's plain wrong.

our own thoughts on why a character acts, what they do, what their presentation is, why their personality is what it is up to and including their sexuality, gender identity, religion, JOB, whatever, are made to fill the gaps the text can't or won't provide, and in the case of lgbt ones as long as it's not actively harmful (as in like insisting a lesbian character is bi or something) it is literally harmless seeing as it is fairly solidly a "won't", along with a whole bunch of other hc material that usually don't see the light of day on-screen nonstereotypically. people seeing themselves in characters isn't new but more than that, saying that you know this but then pushing it aside because The Analysis Means More when it's Realistic And Plausible is fucking dumb. and rude. bc the entire point of drawing the line of connections this way is how WE see them. being all like "oh well, your own personal identity is still valid otherwise, don't get your feelings hurt bc it doesn't matter," is moot if you've already asserted there's only One real way to be... plausible 🤨. which is to be NORMAL ! duh.

like, the read that zuko IS gay (and cis) relies on extracting parts through the lens of our own gay perceptions and is why cishet fans don't pick up on it, but you can ask pretty much any other lgbt fan and they'll agree. zuko's narrative arc IS compelling with the read that he is gay, from the way he is ostracised by his family, neglected and abused, the "punishment" he receives and then continues to become his own warden of, the order of his death and the banishment itself, sozin criminalising homosexuality, his inability to connect with others especially his own age, his inability to seamlessly interact with girls, his literal externalised viewing of seeing himself as someone with Two Sides, them being good vs evil, realising he can change the damn world through love and acceptance, striving for peace, being the face of change for his nation, relearning what it means to be who he is once he is free from his past, the shame and humiliation rituals, the claim of his father that he is worthless as a prince and person, AND MORE... and i cannot express enough here how fucking little it matters if he's specifically gay or WHAT THE HELL EVER 😭.

to claim in no small way that it's impossible for a trans person, or a bisexual person, or anyone else lgbt, could ever line up his narrative with their own personal one is so beyond ridiculous it gives me a headache. no, "plausibly", i don't think zuko is like, transmasc. yes, plausibly, he could be gay. plausibly, he could be amab nonbinary but no one seems to actually give a fuck about that for some reason (i wonder!). nothing would change in both cases, because he's not actually either, so i really don't see the point in making fun of or being frustrated by one to lift up the other because you want cisgender boot soles to brush the back of your throat THAT badly. the implausibility of thinking any way about a fictional character should be taken into account to an extent, sure, but at the end of the day neither of us are doing anything truly worthwhile, and no one is claiming that it's the intent from the beginning to say otherwise, so what's the point here. why are we doing this. let's go skip in a meadow together before i kill someone with this rock.

#🐾#tldr i am actually just so sick of people saying the word plausible #it's not plausible for this character to be trans. well OKAY. THARS NOT THE FUCKING POINT IDIOT #not every fucking thing people do is for the sake of furthering the fucking plot holy shit what is wrong with you #these people will never know joy or happiness and forever be miserable bc they're just OBSESSED with trying to rationalise.. art?!#LIKE ITS NOT GONNA HAPPENNNN 😭#even if it is a plausible trans read people will pick it apart. I Know. i've been there. people do not and i hate to break it to you #like trans people. even other trans people. SHOCK HORROR. jesus christ #this is a real torture dungeon of my own creation #also my two cents personally i think the sum of who zuko is as a person is first and foremost autistic and gay. and everything else is as #an abuse victim. and i honestly don't care if he's trans bc it doesn't matter in the way ppl need to be tantruming over #but it still would be just as significant if not more so. acruallg definitely more so what the hell. my family doesn't hate me bc i Like #Boys .. OR GIRLS.#and YEAH sokka does read more trans sure. but he also is the one who got made fun of for at least like matching his belt and bag #or liking shopping or being feminine ..#is this what people mean when they say that... that katara would be transphobic to her own brother 😭#well probably not. anyway.#if we're being textual sokka literally IS the one with some sort of gay subtext just FOR being the victim of the charming 2000s lightly #homophobic joking. not zuko. no one gives af about zuko #it does not break my arm to say zuko got banished for being too much sowmrbing and not enough something and got to be himself afterwards #in the slow journey that that took. this could mean literlalt anything. so who cares #he's lgbt all at once. There. bitch #also these ppl bc it was a whole bunch ofc. seemed to just mostly be mad bc zuko got the hc more #like how is that everyone else's problem now. just make sokka trans more ... idiot #☆

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little-peril-stories · 11 months

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LPS: Blog (Re)Intro

Little Peril Stories | Kate | adult | she/her

Masterlists:

The Queen of Lies (ongoing): AU for The Prince of Thieves—sheltered, rich sad girl meets snarky criminal; chaos ensues; whumpy, Victorian forbidden love vibes with a side helping of angst and girl power

The Court of Rogues (work in progress): sequel to The Prince of Thieves; details to come 2024.

The Prince of Thieves (complete): guy and gal get arrested and tormented by super cool, totally normal constable while pals on the outside freak out and make bad decisions; fun 1800s prison vibes with a side helping of angst and chosen family

Blood Garnet (side WIP, low priority): girl gets lost in magic woods and gets chased by her hapless cousin and a grump hunter; awkward magic man tries to help; supernatural(ish) romantasy vibes with a side helping of angst and betrayal

Man of Letters (UNRESOLVED; part of Whumptober 2023): awkward scholar boi tries to save the girl he falls in love with and gets way more than he bargained for; light romantasy paired with heavy emo vibes, with a side of helping of angst and torture

Fen and Freddie (complete): gal gets kidnapped, dopey cinnamon roll with hopeless crush tries to rescue her and fails; vague superhero sci-fi vibes with a side helping of angst and pining

The Curiosity Collector (complete): sweet non-confrontational magic boy gets kidnapped and needs rescuing by bf and sis; witchy, autumnal vibes with a side helping of angst and falling in love

✨ Check out: OC & WIP extras (mood boards, lyrics inspo, tag game creations, and more!)

This is a whumpblr/writeblr space! Sometimes I’ll post/reblog writerly posts, memes, etc., but a lot of the posts/RBs will be about whump. I post original writing and reblog the work of others that I enjoy, gifs, tropes, prompts, and other such things.

I’m down with asks and tag games but may not respond right away. If I seem to ignore you, it’s not personal, it just means real life is taking priority at that moment.

I love comments and feedback on my writing and welcome them with open arms.

A note on age: I know I can’t actually stop you from accessing this blog, but I do not wish to interact with people under 18. It’s not personal, I’m sure you’re great, but it has everything to do with my job IRL. Please respect this boundary and come back on your 18th birthday.

Check out: My Most Common Tropes

My favourite elements of whump have to do with power dynamics, intimidation, dread, and angst. I love captivity-with-a-cause: kidnapping for ransom or as leverage over someone else, prison (in fantasy or historical settings, less so for modern settings though it’s not a hard rule), and the like. Fantasy presents so many creative versions of this trope, so I do love me some fantasy whump! It also gives lots of opportunity for dungeons, shackles, and other fun implements like that. Gratuitous tying or chaining up is always delightful to see. Pining, desperately trying to protect a loved one (…and failing), and self-sacrifice are other big tropes I love, so expect to see lots of those!

As for characters, I love it when they are as far as you can get from perfect, pure, and innocent—when they’re good enough people, but whose flawed or maybe even problematic decisions lead them into trouble. Always, always, I want my characters to have a hand in their own fates. Pure-hearted victims of the narrative who simply fall into a whumpy situation are cute and fun, but not what I tend to write.

A few odds and ends I’m such a sucker for, so you’ll probably find them in my writing:

Sibling relationships

Allusions to songs, books, folklore, and musicals

Nature and weather helping to set the scene (oh my goodness, how many times can I work snow into one story?)

If romance, either slow burn or instant attraction

…with a sprinkling of “huh, I don’t understand what I’m feeling, wtf is going on??”

‘In the nick of time’ rescues

Painfully awkward moments

Fluff and comfort, but only once they’ve really earned it

Almost kisses

Hard choices

Happy endings

You probably won’t find much gore or explicit noncon here, but there might be some elements of those in my stories or in reblogs. I don’t write BBU or pet whump.

My original “whumpy things I like” post can be found here.

Anyway, thanks for reading! 💕 Happy whumping!

#blog intro #whump intro #writeblr intro #this is a reintroduction #whump community #writeblr #whumpblr #pinned post

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vintageseawitch · 1 year

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if there are any twilight book sequels written then published, i promise to look up spoilers because if i find out the Volturi decide to create hybrids of their own (🤢🤮) then i will refuse to read let alone own them. as curious as Aro may be about it, it's horrendous that he would try it out himself. the creation of hybrids is legitimately terrifying body horror to me & even Aro's "indifference" towards humans doesn't automatically make him a psychopath about this sort of thing.

Aro, despite his penchant for ruthlessness, is a softie, too. i like to imagine the thought of putting a uterus-owner through such a specific & horrific form of torture fills him with revulsion & guilt. yes, humans are red-eyed vampires' food, but even humans get disturbed at the thought of animals they consume going through needless pain especially for selfish reasons.

at this point the canon of this silly franchise means approximately shit to me so if smeyers decides to make her refined, considerably more interesting clan of vampires into true monsters, she can fuck right off because they deserve better than that. they're not villains simply because they're doing what is natural to them & the Cullens are a creepier cult than the Volturi will ever be. at least everyone knows that the three kings are dangerous. the Cullens are too busy being gentrified hypocrites (completely beige & lacking a good, old-fashioned dungeon & set of coffins... the dark drama is what draws us to vampires in the first place & someone like Forever Emo Teenager McWalking Red Flag scoffs at such things like a good little boring creeper on top of them actually not giving a damn about humans considering how in midnight sun it's clear they wouldn't have batted an eye at killing bella because said little boring creeper - or the prodigal son 🙄 - can barely control himself around her like it's her problem to deal with. glob i hate that & his losing control around her would make their "lives" a Little Bit Uncomfortable lmao) with Whatever The Fuck Weird Dynamic they have going on.

if anyone would be cruel anyways, it would be Caius out of the three kings, but i refuse to believe even he would go that far. a part of it is the thought of needing to be close to a human like that would disgust him but another is at least when they feed it's quick. if anyone is to endure a terribly long torture it would be Nahuel's biological father because he's a real monster. like, yes, somehow the Volturi never found out about hybrids, but they never went & tried to find out what would happen themselves.

i like to think the more the three kings researched it the more horrified they would be, but that could just be my biases & preferences showing. bella & edward's daughter displays disturbingly similar compulsory "abilities" or however one would describe them like Immortal Children because everyone's sudden pull to her after she touched them is WAY too similar to the enchantment vampires experience around the latter type of child so i think the Volturi (especially Jane) would be weirded out by that connection considering how long they've studied them.

i'm not saying every hybrid is like bella & edward's kid, but i'm pretty sure Aro noticed that neither she nor the rest of the family really like or trust the Volturi that much PLUS the Romanians are some of her favorite vamps. pretty sure that has put the Volturi on their guard (so to speak) (also Carlisle what the FUCK why are you being so weird about the Volturi. why tf does edward have his stupid attitude about them whyyyy make them your enemy especially considering the drama in new moon & eddie blatantly disrespecting the ancient group by expecting them to be Suicide Assistance as though that's what they're there for & have nothing better to do & Aro doing you a MASSIVE favor). ya know, as pretty as he's portrayed in the movies, i'm liking him as a character less & less (he's the biggest hypocrite of them all & playing a dangerous game of delusions - like hun, sorry, but no matter how much you pretend, you are not a human any longer & maybe you don't realize it (or WANT to) but you totally think you're better than humans seeing as you bend their rules especially if it's for your extremely problematic red-headed "son" - but THEN AGAIN you're certainly good at wiping out local wildlife like big predators so maybe you're more like humans than you think & i mean that as a slur).

i totally get derailed in my little rants on here & i'm only a little bit embarrased since this is pretty much how my brain works & how i talk lmao so tl;dr if the Volturi become the worst kind of monsters in future books when it comes to hybrids (aka "making their own" 🤢🤢🤢🤮🤮🤮), smeyers can fuck right off some more & the Cullens & their creepy cult & creepier hybrid kid are the worst. i still like Emmett though even if he chooses to stick around the problematic bunch (pretty sure Carlisle has a gift as well; it's amazing that so many vampires are not only able to live with each other peacefully but rigidly stick to a diet that is unnatural to their kind - a kind of creature that follows their instincts above almost most things. oh Carlisle, you certainly transferred your wild need to repress almost too exceedingly well).

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self-loving-vampire · 2 years

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Having played Daggerfall for at least half a dozen hours now, here are some of my thoughts.

1- The character creation is actually pretty cool.

I don’t mean this in the aesthetic sense, of course. The most you can do there is select a face out of a handful of presets.

But you can do much more than just set your stats and skills in this game. You can set your HP gain per level, raise or lower your starting reputations, go through a section where you determine your backstory (with mechanical effects based on your choices), and even give yourself both positive and negative traits that can have major effects. For example, you can make yourself regenerate HP while in darkness or forever ban yourself from using certain weapon types.

I would say that as a general rule a character creation system enters the higher tiers when it lets you play around with things like interesting traits and backstories like that.

2- I have mixed feelings about the spaghetti dungeons.

I actually like their size and how some of them involve things like environmental hazards or locations where you can put your climbing skills to use and so on. They also feel appropriately dangerous at least at my low level (my build is not even close to optimal either).

However, they fail in a more fundamental way in that they don’t feel like real locations at all, and I feel like a lot of the better RPG dungeons should.

The dungeons in Daggerfall (or at least the non-story ones) are very clearly the result of procedural generation. They lack sensible layouts and while a lot of the rooms do have identifiable purposes (some are clearly torture chambers, for instance) they are still not really organized in a way that makes sense and loot is just strewn about randomly.

Since the dungeons were crudely randomized they also lack particularly interesting encounters.

3- I don’t like the open world design.

It is not original to say that Daggerfall’s open world is empty and devoid of meaningful content, but it is still true.

Some people get something out of the sheer scale of the world, but I personally prefer smaller worlds that I can become intimately familiar with over the course of the game. Gothic 2 with its expansion added felt very close to perfect in size as far as my personal taste is concerned.

4- Sadly, a lot of the cooler factions in the game seem to be underdeveloped.

The Dark Brotherhood doesn’t seem to have much of note going on, but the real disappointment is the vampire clans. There are 9 of them, with their own territories, enemies, and special gifts.

However, their quests don’t seem to be anything particularly interesting and the mechanics are also kind of lacking. Surprisingly I did not find mods that fix the more fundamental problems with vampirism in Daggerfall.

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blahblahwoofwoof · 3 years

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Safe

So like many I am a big fan of the brilliant Witcher AU The Accidental Warlord and His Pack by the incredible @inexplicifics. One of the signs of an excellent writer, besides their ability to weave great stories and enchanting depictions of canon characters, is the creation of OCs that you can’t help but fall in love with and who capture your imagination immediately. In this case, Milena, Livi and now Aleksander- just to name a few.

This is a little idea inspired by Aleksander in Into the Light Out of Darkness. Thank you @inexplicifics - I hope this is ok!

Rating: Gen Warnings: Some light torture and gore (brief), vomiting Summary: “Hello Livi,” he purrs, “hold still now, I need to do this for your protection.”

The torches lining the walls of the dungeon flicker slightly as Aleksander closes the door behind him. He moves towards the stone table in the middle of the room where Livi is restrained, leather straps across her ankles, wrists, torso and neck holding her painfully immobile. Aleksander picks up the dagger lying on stone table and leans over her, looking into her wide eyes.

“Hello Livi,” he purrs, “hold still now, I need to do this for your protection.”

“Please, Sasha,”, Livi pants, struggling against the bonds but barely able to move, “protect me from who?”

“From me,” Aleksander smiles at her and, holding her head firmly with one hand, uses the other to slowly slice her face open, marking a line from her brow, through her eyelid and down her cheek. He drinks in her screams and sobs, stepping back to admire his handiwork.

“Little wolf, please, stop.”

Aleksander turns to the cage behind him. Aiden is pressed against the bars, reaching out to him, emaciated, scarred, bruised and bleeding —

Gasping Aleksander bolts upright in bed, flinging an arm before him as to ward off the images from his dream, his friends tortured by his own hands, the visceral memory of cutting dear Livi’s face, of enjoying it. Bile rises in his throat and he scrambles to get off the bed, feet tangling in the sheets as he falls, retching and vomiting onto the rug.

When it seems there is nothing left to bring up and the heaving finally stops he sits up, drawing a shaking hand across his mouth. Well, that was the end of sleep for the night. Disentangling himself from the sheet he stands up carefully, taking a moment to breathe deeply before fetching an old shirt and, using water from the jug by his bed, cleans up the mess he’d made of the rug as best he can.

He sits on the edge of the bed trying to find calm, but he is overcome by a sense of claustrophobia- suddenly he can’t stand being here a moment longer. It is the work of a moment to throw on a fresh shirt and sleep pants and flee his rooms, heading up to top of the keep.

It is a full moon night, the parapet illuminated before him. Aleksander breathes a sigh of relief and steps to the wall, looking out at Kaer Morhen and the mountains laid out before him, bathed in the moonlight. Still. Peaceful. Safe.

Even though it is the height of summer, Kaer Morhen is always cooler than Aleksander was used to, but now he relishes the chill of the breeze that blows over the battlements and straight through his light clothing. He shivers slightly, trying to breathe more slowly, and pets the rough stone beneath his hands, focusing on what he can see and hear and feel, trying to quiet his mind and push out the memories of his dream.

“Good evening.”

Aleksander startles at the quiet words, turning to see Aiden standing a few feet away, holding a blanket and watching him with a strangely intense look on his face. Aleksander is startled but not surprised by Aiden’s appearance - it seems the handsome cat Witcher is everywhere Aleksander is these days. Always with a kind gesture or friendly words, making him feel welcome, like Kaer Morhen could be his home. Like he was safe.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? He wasn’t safe. Far from it.

True to form, Aiden drapes the blanket around Aleksander’s shoulders. It’s only a light blanket, warm enough on this summer’s eve, but it feels impossibly heavy on Aleksander’s shoulders. He closes his eyes and swallows heavily.

“You shouldn’t,” he pauses, can feel Aiden’s puzzled head tilt even if he can’t see it.

“I don’t deserve it. I’m not… I’m not safe.”

“No one will hurt you here, you’re safe, I promise.”

Aleksander feels the laughter bubble up inside him like madness. He barks out a despairing laugh that is more of a sob.

“No, no, I’m not safe - you’re, you’re not safe from me, your brothers aren’t safe from me, Livi’s not safe, Milena’s not safe! I’m a monster Aiden! I have that monster’s blood in me. He was my grandsire, I came from him, that evil lurks in me!”

His hands have scraped against the rough stone and blood dots the torn skin. He holds it out in front of him, showing Aiden, look at the poison, look at this tainted blood!

Aiden looks up from his hands, staring right into his eyes, drawing him in, just as he does every time he looks at him. Aleksander can’t look away.

“I have literal monster blood inside of me. That’s how they make Witchers, Sasha. The Trials use magics and monster parts and potions to change us, give us the powers we need to defeat real monsters. I’m not human, Sasha.”

“Don’t, that’s, that’s not the same, and you know it!” Aleksander was close to sobbing now, tears running down his cheeks. “You are so good, you do good in this world, it’s a better place for having you, all of you. I’m the monster, you should have —“

“No.” Aiden shook his head firmly and stepped closer, taking Aleksander’s hands and pressing them gently to his chest.

“Never, Sasha, don’t say that.”

Aiden looks at him sadly and Aleksander feels his self-loathing increase. He taints everything.

“Lambert came here quite late as a child, he was almost eight years old when he started training to be a Witcher.”

Aleksander frowns slightly at this non-sequitur.

“He was a Child Surprise, but not before his father first tried to sell him to the Witcher, for only a few orens - enough to buy another night of ale. His father,” Aiden pauses, a dark and painful look flashing across his face, “His father beat the shit out of him nearly every night. His poor mother suffered by his hand too. If that Witcher hadn’t claimed him, there’s no doubt Lambert wouldn’t have survived. His mother didn’t.

“And then they made him a Witcher, Sasha - did monstrous things to him, made him strong and powerful and deadly. A life of violence, of killing things, the ability to take a human life in the blink of an eye.”

Aiden smiles gently.

“He’d be the first person to admit he’s an asshole, but there’s not a cruel bone in that man’s body. He’d never harm a child and you know he’d never lay a hand against Milena.”

Aleksander shakes his head - Aiden is right, Lambert would sooner die than harm Milena, and he’s noticed how Lambert looks out for the trainees.

Aiden removes his hands from where they are holding Aleksander’s, placing them instead over Aleksander’s heart. It’s such a gentle touch, but Aleksander feels warmth seeping into his chest and spreading into the rest of his body.

“That’s no accident, my dear. Lambert is his father’s son, he has that man’s blood in him, he bears the scars from that childhood, but every day he makes a choice. He chooses not to be that monster. He chooses to be kind and loving and good. Just like you did when you chose to write that letter. Just like you do every day, like the wolf you are.”

Aleksander can’t look away from Aiden, held tightly in his sure gaze, the warmth in his chest soothing his stuttering heart. Doubt and fear wars within him, but Aiden is so sure of what he is saying that Aleksander can’t help but follow along.

“You’re safe. I promise.”

How can he argue with this incredible man? The answer is, he can’t. He’s just going to have to live up to Aiden’s expectations. Make the right choices. He laughs and the tension bleeds from his body. Suddenly he is very tired.

Aiden’s hands move from his chest to his shoulders, drawing him into a firm hug. Aleksander nods into Aiden’s shoulder, breathing out in laughter.

“Ok, ok,” he laughs, “you’re right. Thank you.”

Aiden switches to a one armed hug, leading him back inside.

“I know,” he says smugly, “We Cats are known for our intelligence, not like silly Wolves…”

#The Witcher #fic #accidental warlord au #i would die for these OCs #i heart them!!!

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brahkest-fr · 3 years

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CW: trauma, maggot/worm imagery, blood, general violence | Titan n Chimera have a moment

Titan rushed down the hall, long tail flailing mercilessly behind him, tripping cursing guards as he sprinted through ancient corridors that reeked with the stench of dust and mold. Another tundra stood at the end of the dungeon, old eyes cold and weary, not at all surprised at the other’s sudden appearance. He crossed his arms as Titan approached apprehensively. He didn’t meet his gaze but the elder bore through him with a fire that could raise the dead.

“Let me see her,” Titan demanded, rare harshness in his voice.

The other tundra squinted. “Be my guest. She will be dealt with by the morning,” he spat and pushed past him, frail old shoulder barely nudging Titan’s massive frame but the sentiment was there. “I told you something like this would happen.”

He waited until the other left before gingerly opening the wooden cell door, its creaking overwhelming the deep, pained breaths from within. His jaw slacked as he gazed over the hunched form of Chimera, kneeling on bare stone, arms folded behind her and chained to the wall. She peered upwards, head heavy and swaying. Her vision was blurry but made out Titan’s broad shoulders, haloed in the dusty light of the door frame. Angelic. She thought she was dying.

Titan conversely became aware of the dull, raspy sound of Chimera’s wheezing and the utter nothing coming from his own throat. Knees buckling, Titan faltered to the floor, hand grasping at the stone as he crawled towards her in a silent frenzy, hesitantly cupping his dear friend’s face with soft paws, head pressed to hers. Her breath quivered, recognizing the gentle touch and glimmering fur that encased her trembling form in a warmth that seemed foreign and unbelievable. He smelled like spices and sun, strong on her dull senses that have been subjected to the stale, putrid jail cell. She mouthed something weakly, spittle dribbling down her chin. He wiped it away, running his hands gently down her shoulders.

She shuddered, gray and melting in the dark of his shadow.

Chimera always saw beauty in bruises. Never was anyone more moved by the blossom of welts and the flush of cut flesh. He briefly wondered if she would have thought the way she appeared now, broken and stiff, was pretty.

She would. Even this dark place - she would.

“I’m so sorry Chimera...I should have stopped you sooner. I should have been with you before-” he gasped as he nuzzled her forehead, ignoring the blood oozing from her cuts.

Should. Should. Should. He always should have something.

“Titan,” she hissed, “It’s not your fault.”

He felt her cool blood seep into his fur, a jarring sick wetness.

He lowered himself, peering into her sickly yellow eyes that struggled to flutter open. They were pussy, glassy - tired. He ran the pads of his thumbs across her cheeks, wiping away thin tears she didn’t realize had fallen. He kissed the wedge of her snout, nauseated by the coldness of her skin, the stillness of her body other than minute flinches. He wrapped his plush tail around her, fur coated in the filth of her blood and sweat. She collapsed into his body, for what little slack the chains gave her. Pressing gentle fingers to the base of her spines, he massaged her neck, earning an exasperated choke from her.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked in the smallest voice he could muster.

Chimera’s eyes widened, manic and fearful though her body remained defeated and limp. She pressed her face into the crook of his neck. “The same. Always the same...” she sobbed.

He constricted her body, desperate to hold her pieces in place. “Where are you?”

Chimera grit her teeth, “It’s all red. All red and flesh and fog. She’s watching me again. But her hands are around me... I can feel her nails-” she heaved into a wailing bob back and forth, Titan pressing her to his chest.

It was routine for him, holding her, talking her through her delusions. It was the same story each time but progressively getting worse, an assault he couldn’t stop. A nightmare he couldn’t end. At first he thought Chimera simply had many peculiar fears here and there, bad dreams and the like as everyone does. But when her tough facade melted away into pure terror, screaming into the morning because she thought the hand reaching from her throat was real, Titan couldn’t pretend it was nothing. He wished it was nothing.

He loathed to be helpless when he shook her awake, failing to convince her she was safe. How the paralysis of sleep and fear would take her - how his very touch would send shock waves up her spine and out her maw as whines for help. How he was a sailor lost in the midst of her storms, throwing him wave after wave into her darkness. Drowning always inevitable. But the sun would rise and she would be there, resting on the railing of their sinking ship. She’d be pale in his nightmares. Dead. But he would hold her, tell her she was really alive and really there with him. The dark would come and swallow them whole. A story he knew the end to. He’d wake up and in a mad scramble would find Chimera sleeping restlessly in the guest room, tangled in ripped sheets. He’d breathe and slide down the door frame. Content. A moment of relief betrayed by continued suffering.

Titan was her rock though crumbling.

In all their years together, she could only cope with his hands stroking the whole of her back as the terrors would keep her up at night and plague her throughout the day with visions she couldn’t understand nor ones he could ease away. Chimera was always her strongest out in the city where she put on a brave face that day after day cracked slowly, along fault lines that he knew too well - the pinches to her forehead, the distant look in her eyes, the smile that was painfully fake. She tried her best to avoid being a burden though Titan would never consider her as such. It was hard to convince her that this nightmare was his own as well, something he chose to participate in, something he wanted to help heal. She’d look at him like a bug to flick away but like a tick he stuck to her side, sharing in the cursed blood. The gods awful nights and tortured days. The unholy body in alien skin.

Often Titan’s thoughts looped back to Sorrow, the vile witch they visited years ago for some semblance of an answer. It was said she knew everything. Foolish of them to think they would get a straight answer from a creature who delighted in the plights of dragons. The snowy, angelic imperial whose divine body was draped in silk and stars smugly sneered, a soft hand trailing down her own neck to chest, indulging in the deliciousness of their desperation.

“The gods certainly like to choose their favorites, don’t they? How cruel of them,” she laughed sweetly, predatory evil behind cold alabaster eyes.

It was hardly an answer but answer enough. Chimera was a victim of divinity, an ant under a magnifying glass. But what solution they could muster would elude them.

It would break them.

And now sits Chimera, kneeling under a shadow of death, oblivious to the world around her except the all consuming thoughts worming holes in her mind since childhood. Squirming like maggots in a wound, hungry to burrow and fester, their chafing claws scratched at her ears, throbbing rustling heartbeats haunted her sleep and peeled away her resolve. She’d pick at them like dead skin, indulging in habits that would only give her seconds of relief. A fight here. A fight there. Hours of physical training. Her mood was always electric and frenzied, focused on the next thing that would distract her. The worms hollowed the space just under her skin, slithering like plump veins in sickening patterns only she could see. Scratching. Wriggling. Squirming.

Titan often had his aristocratic duties and she knew that’d she’d have to cope alone, avoided by neighboring dragons too fearful or annoyed at the ridgeback who stalked the streets with a fervor that danced on the edge of violence. She suffered in silence, other than her wails that verbalized at the cusp of dawn in the arms of her friend who forced her to share his home, worried what such terrors would make her do. What they did make her do.

The grand library was dead silent. Dark. Titan's feet froze on the cold marble floor that could not be a more obvious sign to leave. She’s gone, he thought briefly - unwillingly - and shook his head. No. No. He can help her. She’s here and he’ll help her.

He found her deep in the basement of the library, surrounded by books meant to be locked up now lay open faced, ghostly runes visibly tearing themselves from the pages. Screaming wails from nowhere bounced off the walls as Chimera sat in the middle of a magic circle, muttering a language not even the Shade knew, lost in thought. Possessed. He yelled to her, held back by an invisible force of her own creation and she turned, face wet and screaming, desperate to end her torment. While an ancient tongue left her lips, she mouthed, help me.

Please.

Titan, filled with a fury and desperation that puppeteered his movements, tore through the magic barrier with a feral violence masked by the ghostly paleness of his face: a visible trace of doubt should he fail.

Why couldn’t he be here sooner.

He pulled her away from the cursed tomes but not without a fight as she flailed, child-like and dangerous, claws narrowly digging into the scruff of his throat. In this effort he forgot how strong she truly was, tangling themselves in a heap of limbs. In a last attempt to summon some gods’ forsaken horror, Chimera flew to a book, screeching its words like a siren until Titan grabbed her by face, tearing her away along with a vibrant strip of flesh from chin to eyebrow. Reeling back in pain and blinded by blood, she collapsed, pooled in sweat and sobs as she held her cheek, crying for it all to end, for the maggots in her brain to cease their chatter. Her back arched and she tore at her scales as if covered in ants, rolling along the cool floor to disperse the heat in her muscles. Titan loomed over her, hands unsure what to hold, how to touch. It was a piercing self awareness of his vulnerability in that moment. He heard yelling from above, likely guards posted outside. Chimera kept screaming, scratching, panting, crying. He shakily stared at his paws, fur now sticky with sweat and blood and grime. He wiped his hands in frantic motions, desperate to clean himself of the viscera he drew but it only smeared and matted his fur in pungent red. It was all wrong. Everything was wrong. He didn’t know what to do.

He didn’t know what to do.

He was beside her again now, no more confident than before but he could hide that, for now. His arms wrapped around her shoulders as she wailed, biting into his flesh, drawing crimson over his sunset fur. The pain was dull and fleeting while his thoughts were scattered and distant in the love he wished was enough. Her ribs cracked as she heaved in coughing fits, delicate and ready to burst. He wanted the floor to fall away, enveloping them in a comforting darkness - a place of attractive nothingness. He wished for a lot of things in that moment.

His tailed tightened, python-tight and unwillingly to let go. The torn flesh cutting across her eye festered, swollen and red. He forced himself to keep from turning away. You did that. Her sobs slowed and she was coming back to the present, away from the pit of worms who for now would slumber, buried deep under her skin, ghosts pricking their nails in anticipation against her bones. He stared at the chains bolted to the wall. Brittle.

“Chimera?”

She hung her head. Resigned.

“I want you to run.”

#I wanted to cry writing this #chimera and titan's relationship is so important to me and ugh #slam dunks my feelings into a trashcan #anyway I like commas can you tell #chimera #titan #fr lore #flight rising #trauma #blood #maggots #my art #tundra #ridgeback

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shreddedparchment · 5 years

Text

Pseudo Princess Pt.04

Officially Family

10/03/2019

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader Word Count: 4,265

Warnings: Language?, a wee bit of angst, sexy blonde kings wearing floofy shirts

A/N: So, this chapter was actually intended to be joined with what will be the next chapter but I think having them separate will do better. There’s a lot to digest in this one, so I hope it reads well even though it’s a little on the shorter side (for me). Let me know what you like/love/had to think about whatever! As always, if you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work. xoxo

It feels like a dream, sitting in the carriage as your new life looms closer and closer with every turn of the steel and wooden wheel.

Across from you, his Majesty is staring at you. Sussing out your lack of reaction to what happened last night.

~~~~~~~~~~

Happy has your arm, carefully leading you down further and further into the castle. Deeper than you’ve gone yet, and when he finally stops, you’re sure that you’re in a dungeon somewhere because there are no windows, only diffuse candlelight every few steps.

You can hear the subtle drip of water and the scurrying of tiny feet.

An echoing meow tells you that it’s probably just cats and their kittens inhabiting the deep parts of the castle.

“Why are we down here?” You ask, frightened that maybe his Majesty really is upset with you.

What if Happy lied? What if King Rogers was not happy with you and because you failed to entice him, King Tony is going to have you chained up in a cell?

“His Majesty’s other office is down here. Just at the end of the hall. I’m not supposed to go with you, so...” He hesitates in letting your arm go. “Can you make it there on your own? You’re not going to faint again, are you?”

You look down at your pretty white gown with its pink underlay and the way even down here in the dim it seems to shine like a pearl. The bottom layer is dirty now, both from your fall and from dragging it down along these dirty floors.

“No. I’m fine.” You think.

Happy lets you go. “Just straight ahead. Last door at the end of the hall. Don’t bother knocking. He’s expecting you.”

You watch as he turns away from you and with one final glance back to make sure you’re alright, he disappears up along the gray stone steps to the daylight above.

Fear will get you nowhere. So, you shove it aside and march straight for that door at the end.

You give yourself one moment of hesitation to take a deep breath and prepare yourself for what might be a trap but as the heavy door swings open, you find yourself facing a golden mask, devoid of humanoid features save for the glowing blue eyes of what you’re sure must be magic.

You take a deep breath, a scream working its way into your throat before the golden face shakes its head and then it speaks.

“Wait, wait, wait. Don’t scream.” His Majesty’s voice says. He throws one hand out towards you and you watch the slit of his metallic lips that do not move as he speaks.

Somehow, despite there being no real opening, his voice is amplified. The golden armor, which you now see is to accentuate the massive amounts of red that he’s wearing, extends down to his sternum, shoulders, and arms.

It’s there in his arms that the armor begins to weave with regular leather plate armor, deep red. In his hands shine two large orbs of light like that which comes out of his eyes. At the center of his chest is a glowing blue circle that you suddenly realize is the design you’d first noticed on his servants’ armor. The coachman and the footman.

The rest of his outfit is thick, sturdy red linen and cotton, black leather belts around his waist that match the darker shade of his leather pants. Golden boots rise high up to his knees where golden shin guards with red leather beneath complete the look.

He reaches up behind his head and with a small click, there’s a hiss and he pulls off the heavy metal mask and then pops it underneath his arm as if he were holding nothing more than a child’s ball.

“This probably won’t be the worst thing you’ll catch me doing.” He teases, then moves towards you.

You almost step back, but you remind yourself at whose invitation you’re in the castle and that this man is no longer just your king but your father.

“Please, say something.” He rolls his shoulders nervously, dark brow drawn together.

“You’re the Iron Knight.” You gasp, nearly breathless.

“It’s not really Iron. It’s a new metal. Lighter than iron. Titanium is what they called it where I found it. I added some nickel. Makes it easier to move in. Here, try it on.”

He holds the mask out to you, and you take a step back, this time simply refusing to wear the mask not fearful.

“No thank you.” You frown at him, wondering what he’s playing at offering to let you try it on.

“It won’t bite.” He chuckles but puts it down on a table which finally draws your eyes to the rest of the room.

In essence it is a massive dungeon. It’s tall and wide with a vaulted ceiling supported with thick stone pillars. There are also countless tables along two of the walls, some metal, some wood. So much gear is stacked on each table. Different shin guards and boots, shoulder guards, and wristlets. There are a few chest pieces like the one he’s wearing, works in progress.

He’d been standing right at the center of this collection of tables, a target dummy made of straw and burlap sacks at the far end of the dungeon room, singed at the head.

“I think I’ve finally got the aiming down.” He tells you, and you wander over behind him as he lifts his hand and aims it at the dummy. “Careful.”

His warning makes you step back, but he puts his hand out towards you to make sure you’re safe.

There’s a subtle buzz. A hiss, like fire but not exactly fire. It reminds you of the initial crackle and spark of a fire but it’s chaotic in its power. It buzzes louder and louder until there’s a loud fizzing sound as the blue light explodes from his palm.

It lights up the room but soars across to strike the dummy right in the center of its chest.

“Wow!” You nearly yell, the booming in your ears deafening still.

His Majesty turns towards you with a smirk, a cat’s grin as he peels off the gauntlet he’s wearing and with it the chest piece it’s attached to.

“Is it magic?” You ask him, hearing going back to normal.

“Science.” He counters, piling his armor up on the empty table where he’d placed his mask. “And a little bit of magic, yes.”

“What kind of science?” You wonder, knowing nothing about science, your curiosity is peaked.

“Chemistry. It took me a long time to figure out the right combination but a little copper sulfate, some special water, a few other ingredients and of course, the magic that gives my little light show a nice blue glow.” His Majesty says.

“And the magic?” You ask him, desperate to understand but already completely lost. Copper sulfate?

“It’s a root. Nothing I’ve ever seen before. Grown by one of the witches in the East woods. She taught me how to do it and how to use its properties.” He explains.

“You got instructions from a witch?” You wonder, shocked by this revelation more than knowing that he is the Iron Knight.

“They’re not all bad. Some of them just wanna be left alone. It’s her own creation. The root.” He places the last bit of his armor aside then massages his wrist.

“Does it hurt, your Maje-”

“Ah, ah.” He frowns at you, his bearded lips contorted into a small pout.

“Father.” You correct yourself. “Does it hurt?”

“I’m alright. And it’s Man, by the way.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Iron Man. Not Iron Knight. I don’t want people to think he’s of noble birth.” He explains.

“Oh.” You think. “But you are of noble birth.”

“Yes. But I want people to feel like anyone could be the Iron Man. They should all feel like they can take power back in their own kingdom whether it’s from an oppressive lord or a schoolyard bully. My people should be able to stand up for themselves.” He says passionately, moving to sit on a stool and roll up the white sleeves of his shirt.

“Anyway,” He begins, “Let’s forget about the Iron Man for now. Steve has written back about your portrait.”

Oh, man, there are those nerves again. You can feel the lightheadedness working its way back in.

“And wh-what did he say?” You lick your lips and move to stand closer.

Tony reaches into his vest pocket and unfolds a piece of paper before holding it out for you.

“Read it.” He tells you, and hesitantly you take it.

“I-I don’t know how to read just yet.” You admit, feeling shame once again.

“Sound it out. You know how to say your letters, right?”

Damn. Okay…time to give this a try. “First word is ‘I’.”

Easy enough.

“Good.” Father says.

“I ‘C-A-N’ with a t? Can’t?”

He nods.

“Wooo-wuu-wah-it?” You say the word a few times in your head. “Oh, ‘wait’?”

Another nod.

“I can’t wait…t-o..to. I can’t wait to ‘mee-eet her.’” You beam up at him, then look back down at the painfully short note. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

“Okay. You’re too slow. That was torture. Give it here.” He reaches for it and you hurry to hand it to him then move around behind him to look over his shoulder at the words.

“Tony, I can’t wait to meet her. She has nice eyes. Bring her tomorrow. We can marry the day after. Sincerely, His Royal Majesty…blah blah blah…you get the picture.” Father begins to fold up the letter, but you throw your hand over his shoulder gently, reaching for it.

“Can I keep it?” You smile at him, neck and ears burning.

“Sure, kid. Keep it.” He hands it over then gets up and moves to his tables of scraps and projects.

“Did he really say that I have nice eyes?” You unfold the piece of paper and look for the word eyes. How was that spelt again?

“Yes. He says that about every girl though, so don’t get your hopes up.” He says, dashing your dreams.

“Oh.” You sigh, moving to sit on the stool he’d been on.

“Don’t worry, kid. It just means that he isn’t sure what to think. He’ll have more of an idea when he sees you in person. I saw the picture and it doesn’t do you justice. You’ll knock his socks off.” He promises. “You’re my kid, remember?”

You nearly smile but you’re reminded that in two days’ time, you’ll be married.

“I want to make him happy, father.” You sigh, melancholy.

“You will. Just…don’t rush it. Get to know him.” He looks up at you and stares right back into your own sorrowful gaze.

He puts his tools down and moves to you, placing his hands on your arms.

“Look, I know what I’m asking of you. I didn’t even want to let Morgana do this because I want her to have what I have with her mother.”

“It’s okay.” You smile and give him a shrug.

“But it isn’t.” He frowns. “You deserve to marry for love to, Y/N. And I’m sorry for being selfish enough to ask you to do this for us, but-”

“I think I am.” You admit, sadness overtaking your chest to make it ache. “I’ve never met him. I know that he will not be what I’m expecting but Natasha has told me about him. About the person he was before Queen Margaret died and if I’d had to choose the qualities that I would want in a husband, he has almost all of them.”

“But he’s different now. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Are you trying to talk me out of this?” You ask him, nearly laughing.

“No.” Father says, shaking his head, no laughing for him. “No. What I’m trying to say is don’t give yourself to him completely. Not for a while. Keep your guard up and don’t let him break you.”

“Is he really that altered?” You wonder, no more worried than you were before.

“He’s not the same Steve. If you have to love him, love him in secret. Don’t tell him. Don’t tell anyone. Don’t give him that power over you. Promise me that you’ll think about yourself first.”

You know that he means well but becoming King Rogers’s wife…it means dedicating your life to the crown. To your future people. To your husband. Maybe, just to appease him, you can give him a little lie?

“I promise. I won’t let myself fall in love with him completely.” You smile at him and he relaxes.

“Good. Now, about your dress…”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Father…” You begin, “You’ve been staring at me for half an hour.”

He looks at the Queen beside him, Pepper, mother to you now. She’s smiling at him knowingly. She shakes her head at him and then looks out the window.

“Sorry. I’m just…about what you saw last night-”

“I won’t say anything.” You promise him. “And anyway, nothing happened last night. I didn’t see anything, so I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I told you, you have nothing to worry about with this one.” Mother tells him.

“I didn’t think I did.” He replies with a gruff.

“He was up half the night, worried that he’d scared you.” Mother tells you.

“Pepper…” He grumbles.

“I know that this is all for show.” You start, smiling at them as they look away from their silent argument to you. “I know that it all kind of just happened and I was at the right place at the right time, but I appreciate your kindness. It’s been a long time since I’ve had parents and this past week has almost felt like I’ve had them back.

“I know it isn’t real but, you really do feel like my mother and father and I’m grateful. Thank you.”

For a moment, while you thank them, you let your mind think of them as they truly are. Your King and Queen.

They exchange a long look before they both reach out to take one of your hands. His Majesty the right, and the Queen the left.

“From the day that we took you in and until the day that you die, sweetheart, you will be our daughter. We’ve already added your name into our family register. You are now and forever officially a Stark. We can never repay what you have given not only us but your sister as well.

“When we find her, we’ll make sure she knows what you did for her.” Her Majesty says, eyes slightly misted.

“Kind of feels like we’re on the losing end having to lose a daughter we just found.” His Majesty says, and you nod with a smile, knowing exactly what he means.

“Once I learn how to write properly. I will write all the time.” You promise.

Her Majesty gives a small chuckle then the carriage jerks to a stop.

“We’re here, your Majesty.” Peter’s voice chimes in from the front of the carriage.

Time to meet your future husband.

~~~~~~~~~~

Father gives you a new dress. Beautiful silk sky blue fabric with white lace sewn in at the bust and wrists. The top of the sleeves are slightly puffed, and the skirt flows out, more lace along the bottom. It hugs your figure and Natasha ties your corset extra tight today, if only to accentuate your bosom.

“Maybe he’s a breasts man?” She shrugs.

Your neck burns.

She leave your hair down, as instructed by his Majesty, your father, long wavy curls left to flow down along your shoulders.

On your head she places a simple diamond tiara, small sapphires spread throughout the base to accentuate the blue of your dress.

All too soon you’re moving with hastened steps behind Natasha towards a room called the council chamber.

As you walk, you take the opportunity to look the castle over.

You’ve been in such a rush that you hadn’t really allowed yourself a proper look. You know that there are large round towers made of pink granite, the main structures of the castle are white marble. The roofs you can see a you pass yet another window—as they are numerous in this castle—are a dark blue slate. The colors go well together and make an aesthetically pleasing palette.

Inside the colors are darker, with deep chocolate oak wood walls and dark gray floors and ceilings. All the light fixtures however are in shades of silver and gold, bright colors to illuminate the darker tones of the interior.

There are also plenty of colorful carpets, pictures, and vases with flowers. Your future home is very warm in its décor and if it is any indication as to the style of the man you are about meet, you may not have anything to worry about after all.

You find Peter already waiting inside the room with Mother and Father also standing off to the side. Natasha shows you in, straight to the center of the room before a large high-backed chair embellished with golden etchings along the arm rests and back.

As Natasha fusses over your dress and hair, the rest of the room is absolutely silent. The nerves in the quiet are enough to drive you mad.

You wish someone would say something. Anything.

You’re already dying of nervousness. Why can’t they try and alleviate your mood?

Wringing your hands nervously, you turn to look at father who gives you an encouraging smile, mother also looking kindly.

Peter is chewing on his lip and Natasha moves to slap your hands away.

“Stop that.” She gasps.

“I’m nervous.” You admit, grieving silently.

“Me too.” She agrees.

“What?!” You gasp, quietly.

“What?” She shrugs. “I’m nervous for you.”

“I thought you said you knew him?”

“I did. Before his wife died.” She sighs. “He’s changed since then, and I don’t know what he’s really like anymore.”

It feels like you’re about to burst into tears when the large double doors behind the tall chair—which you now realize is a type of throne—open. Instead of the blonde you’ve been itching to finally see in person, your heart relaxes when a familiar long haired and blue-eyed knight enters the room.

He stops beside the throne and looks at father first, hand on his sword while the other is straight at his side.

“Your Majesties.” He bows politely, then turns to you. “Your Highness.”

The smile he gives you is one of encouragement and you appreciate it.

“His Royal Majesty, King Rogers, wonders if he and the Princess might be left to meet alone?” James meets Natasha’s eyes and you can see a quick silent communication between them before she’s reaching down for your hand.

“Listen, don’t speak until you’re spoken to. Smile if you think you should. Don’t mention the old Queen, and definitely don’t slip up about…well, you know. Keep conversation light. No swearing.” She’s rushing through these instructions and fussing with your hair and dress.

Your heart begins to panic.

“You’re leaving me?” You whine.

“Just for a few minutes.” She promises. “I’ll be right outside that door. Okay?”

“Nat…?” You swallow hard, wishing your nerves away. “What if he doesn’t-?”

“He just has to marry you.” She reminds you. “Nothing else matters. Once he’s married you, then you can worry about making him fall in love with you. Alright?”

“What if-?”

“It’s time.” She smiles. “Once step at a time. Good luck, your Highness.”

She pulls her hand out of your own firmly, and follows your mother, father, and Peter out of the room the way you’d first come in.

As the doors close, Natasha sends you one last smile before she’s out of sight.

“Nervous?” The deep familiar voice asks, and you turn to James with your breath held.

You nod. He’s wearing an outfit similar to when you met him two days ago, only today it’s dark blue instead of black.

“Don’t worry, Princess. I was there when he saw your portrait and-”

“Please don’t raise my expectations, Sir James.” You sigh. “I can’t stand it.”

“Bucky, your Highness, if you please. And if that is your wish…I will show his Majesty in now.” He offers, and gestures to the doors he’d marched in through.

You nod and watch as he leaves the room again.

For sixty long seconds you stand alone at the center of this large room where chairs line the walls. You consider making a run for it because anything is better than this waiting and then suddenly, he’s there.

Behind the chair, he walks in, wide steps made by long legs. A narrow waist hidden underneath a form fitting aqua blue vest, silver trimmings embroidered along both sides of his wide chest and collar. Underneath the vest is a plain white blouse cinched at the wrists with a small ruffle around the base of his hand where it then puffs out slightly. He looks cool, as if the fabric were flowing with a relaxing breeze.

His lower body looks powerful, muscled and thick covered in dark gray trousers, but your eyes linger there for only a moment because you’re already searching for the kindly blonde face you’ve been staring at for days in the portrait you have.

What you find instead is long blonde hair, not as long as Bucky’s but long enough to flow in waves along the sides of his face, parted along the middle. The clean-shaven face from the portrait is covered in a thick neatly trimmed beard. It all comes together to make a manly visage. He might tear solid logs in two if he tried, he looks that strong.

He’s older than he’d been in the portrait you have and there’s a sadness in his storm blue eyes that is there instead of the blue sparkle of curiosity you’ve come to expect.

He walks with his hands behind his back and stops a few feet in front of you, staring at you just as you’re staring at him. Appraising you.

He’s just as beautiful as he is in his portrait but still a little different.

Suddenly, you remember yourself and you quickly curtsy, averting your gaze down to his black boots.

Neither of you speaks as you bow and the endless minute that you just endured spreads into a few endless more.

The silence is deafening and when your legs finally begin to ache, you shut your eyes to force yourself to remain in position.

“Stand up, your Highness.” He says, his voice is deep and even. Full of authority and impatience. A little colder than you expected. “I trust your trip went well?”

Slowly you stand up, finally tearing your eyes away from his feet to look back into those storm blue eyes. They’re not sad anymore, rather, they look slightly annoyed. Angry? No. Irritated.

“It was a very good trip, your Majesty. Thank you for asking.” You reply, a little too quiet because you haven’t been breathing.

More silence. He stares at you. Relentless. No smiles. No hint as to what he might be thinking. Only a scowl, thick eyebrows drawn in at the center, eyes brooding and sad. Like he wants to say something but won’t.

Finally…

“Why are you doing this?” He suddenly asks, taking a step towards you.

“Your Majesty?”

“This marriage. This whole thing, why? You could have anyone. You’re a princess.”

“I…” How do you answer that honestly? Natasha did say you’d have to lie on your feet. You hadn’t expected for it to be this soon. “I want to-to make my father happy.”

“Mm.” King Rogers says, understanding this reason but also unsatisfied. “Any other reasons?”

And as you stare at his handsome face, you know that what you’re about to say is most definitely not a lie, so you’ll tell him. At least there are some things you’ll be able to be true about.

“When I saw your portrait…” You begin, wondering if this is giving away too much. No…it’s good for him to know where you stand, right?

“My portrait? What portrait?” He asks, taking a step towards you but not moving forward.

You hurry to grab the compact from your dress pocket and unhook the clasp to show him.

He moves in closer, the heat of his body overtaking you and momentarily dulling your mind.

“When I saw it…I decided that I…I wanted to make you happy.” You admit and look up to find him staring at you, brow furrowed even deeper.

His stern expression makes your hope waver. What does it mean? That intense glower?

“That’ll never happen.” He tells you, his voice hard, defensive.

“Your Majesty?” You ask, slightly confused.

When he speaks, his voice is intimate, quiet, and sure. He says it right beside you, close enough that his whisper is as loud as a shout and it hits you just as hard. The pleasantness of his voice making your skin pimple while the harsh truth in it fills you with dread.

“You will never make me happy. Never.” He promises, then moves away from you back towards the doors behind his throne. “We’ll get married in the morning. Tell Tony I accept his offer.”

As he vanishes from view, taking his beautiful brooding face with him, he leaves behind the tiny shreds of your hope, completely eviscerated by his cool declaration that you—specifically you—will never make him happy. Never.

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geckolady · 3 years

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Skulduggery Pleasant: Raising Cain - Chapter 6

Chapter 6 - Escape attempt

Stephanie woke in a small, dark room in the freezing cold sometime later. Resting on the floor in an extremely uncomfortable position, she tried to see if anyone was with her. She couldn't hear anyone and she honestly couldn't tell the difference between eyes open and closed.

She struggled to sit up as her hands were behind her back but managed it just as the door to the cell, and she was sure it was a cell, opened with a bang against the wall.

The sudden light after so much dark was almost blinding and she didn't see who dragged her up and out before she was halfway down the hall. It was the same man that had run in the room right before she'd passed out. Her thoughts went to Wolf, to her other friends. She hoped they were okay.

"Where are we?" She asked the man.

He snorted. "Do you really think I'm going to tell you that?"

"It's not like I'm going anywhere," she pointed out. "Also, that cut of yours looks infected." He reached out and yanked her hair sharply and she yelped out in pain. "Fuck you!"

He growled at her and pushed her up the steps. Stephanie stayed quiet and tried to think of what she could do. Until she knew if her friends were here there was no point leaving. Then again, if they were all here she would need to escape to get back up. She tried not to panic and followed the man despite the growing anxiety clawing at her stomach.

They entered a large room with at least twenty of the paper men and a few real men she didn't know lined up against the walls. No females of any type except herself. In the middle of the room stood Serpine. Stephanie was brought a few metres in front of the man and forced to her knees.

"Ah, I've been waiting for you to awake," Serpine said. "I think you might just know what I want."

Stephanie refused to say anything and glared at the small scar above his eyebrow. She hoped Skulduggery had given it to him.

"I have a little bargain for you. I know Pleasant and his Dead Men have decided to take you under their wing and make you their newest member. Usually, I'd dismiss anything they thought, but then I met you," he said, stepping forward slowly, looking her over. "You are young and weak now, but you show a lot of potential. You killed one of my men. Did you know that? Oh yes, he died quickly from his wound. I expect you would make a great apprentice and under my mentorship, you can help me take over this world and crush those that don't believe in us, that look down on us. Doesn't that sound better, my love? Doesn't that sound better than following muddy dogs around like a stray they took in to feel good about themselves?"

Stephanie tried to look blank faced. Gordon had written that that was a good thing to do.

"But with me,” he continued, “I will mentor you to your absolute greatest and you will aid me in completing all my dreams. You can be my daughter. I can be your father, and I will love you as my own. One day, they will look at us as saints and the beginners of the enlightenment. Do you want that, my daughter? Don't you want greatness?"

His hand came around and cupped her cheek. She glared into his eyes. "The Dead Men love me. And Gordon is my dad!"

He laughed deeply and struck her cheek hard enough for her eyes to water. "Would you listen to that? She thinks they love her. Darling, they will use you and hurt you until you can't stand and then feed you to their enemy as bait for their own ends. I will give you one final chance to join me before I am forced to torture you to death."

She pretended to think about it. "I'm afraid I'll have to pass."

"Oh?" He chuckled. "And how's that? Are you going to negotiate?"

"Yes. I will get you the Sceptre, but you have to let me go."

"And why would I do that? Do you not think that I won't know you'll run off?"

She shrugged. "Well, I don't exactly have anywhere to go. If I try and run, you'll find me and even if I do try I won't get far without magic and a passport."

He stared deep into her eyes and a grin slowly spread across his features. He leaned in close enough she could smell the coffee on his breath. "You are not in a position to bargain. Take her to the dungeon!"

Stephanie was yanked to her feet and followed the man willingly out the room – she didn't like all those paper men, and Serpine wasn't helping.

But what now? She was away from those eyes but she was still with her guard. She couldn't act like her friends were all free, or even one of them was, or even that they knew where she was if they weren't in the cells around her. She needed to get herself out, though knowing if she had to break out someone else would be good too. She expected Wolf would be but she'd already gone through the maze of the dungeons and didn't expect she could find him. And her fighting wasn't good enough to take down these people and she didn’t even know any magic!

"You're annoying," she told her guard.

"What?" He said. "Shut up. Stupid kid."

"Can't you tell me where we are now? What if I guess? We're at Serpine's house? Mansion? Wait, is it a castle?"

"How'd you guess that?" The man asked, looking at her.

"Castles have dungeons, dummy. What about my friends?"

"I can't tell you anything kid," he said. "Just stay quiet and keep your head down. You shouldn't be involved. You're a kid."

"Well I am, so tell me if my friends are safe."

"I don't know."

"So they're not here?" She asked.

He hesitated.

"Some of them are here? How many? I bet Wolf is."

"Who the hell is Wolf?" He asked.

"Dexter Vex," she clarified. "Is anyone else here? Are the other's safe?"

He shook his head, but she didn't think it was an answer more so than in annoyance. They came up to her cell and she was pushed into it. "Wait!"

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "What?"

She hesitated. "I need to pee."

He gaped at her. "What do you want me to do about it?"

She bit her lip. "Put my hands on my front. Then you can leave."

"I know I can leave." He said but got a set of keys out and came into the cell to move her shackles around. She waited until he had to move around her to reattach the cuff before striking – she twisted and punched him in the neck as hard as she could, and he let go of her other hand to stumble back and she stepped towards him to deliver a blow to his nose. He cried out and she wrapped her cuffed hand around the spare cuff and used it to punch him with the metal in the temple, which was strong enough to get him on the ground and it was just a simple matter of stamping on his head three times before he stopped moving.

She breathed hard and listened carefully. There was no sound except the slow drip of water elsewhere and the quiet breathing of the man on the floor. Quietly, she searched his pockets and found several cuffs, a flip-knife and of course the keys. She also took the chocolate bar that had melted slightly but since he had captured her, she felt she deserved it anyway.

She put everything in her various pockets, thankful for Wolf's advice already and of Panda for his amazing creation. She closed the cell door on him and locked it. She had no idea where her friends would be, or if anyone would come looking. With everyone upstairs, she figured that her guard would be expected back soon with either one of her friends or else for a meeting, or just by his fellow guard friends. She started looking through the open peek-hole on the doors, going through aisle after aisle of cells. She was beginning to give up hope of finding Wolf when she saw a cell peek-hole closed in the distance. She ran to it and carefully opened it.

Wolf and Snake looked up at her. They grinned.

She put a finger over her lips and got the keys out, looking left and right as she did. The cell was opened quickly, and she got them out their shackles. Luckily, it was one-key-fits-all.

"How did you get free?" Snake asked her in a whisper.

"No one expects to get their ass handed to them by a girl half their size. Come on, we need to get the others."

"Are they all here?" Wolf asked.

"I don't know. Snake, did you see anything?"

Erskine shook his head. "I know Skulduggery is here. I heard him with Serpine, but I don't remember who was hurt or not in the fight, they dragged me from the room at the start."

"Alright. Where do you think Crow is?"

They started scouring the cells together and came across Skulduggery whistling in his cell.

"Come to – oh hello," he said when they opened his cell. "How did you get free?"

"Tell you later," she said, unlocking his shackles as Wolf and Snake kept an eye on the halls. She could see them acting as a team now, as a unit. It was very privileging seeing a group as close as this able to protected her, to see them flow together so well. She desperately wanted to learn how to fit into that flow and learn them so well she could work without words too. "Who else came in with you?"

"Saracen and Anton got free but I know Ghastly is here. Any idea on times?" Crow informed them.

"Probably none. I got free at least ten minutes ago. The guard was probably expected back with someone," she said. "If we get Panda we might be able to fight our way out but there are a lot of people up there."

He looked at her sharply as they left the cell and the other two closed around them. She closed the door to make it seem like they hadn't been there. "You went upstairs?"

"I was taken. Let's talk later."

He nodded, and they split into two, Stephanie sticking with Crow, and they searched the last few rows of cells. He wasn't there though, and they were forced to do a running check back through the cells just in case. Stephanie rounded the corner just as four paper men went around the corner of the next aisle and she almost fell to the floor stopping Crow running passed her, and had to throw herself in front of Snake to stop him running passed too.

They waited a few moments as the soft rustling and thud, thud, thud of the paper men moved through the cells. Slowly, Stephanie stepped forwards and crouched down, looking around the corner. The paper men had stood outside a cell. She crept back.

"Guards," she said. They frowned. "At Panda's cell, I bet."

They nodded, and the three men looked at each other before Wolf and Snake jogged silently to the other side of the aisle of cells to come from the other side. Crow held up three fingers. Two. One.

They raced around the corner at the same moment as the others and rushed at the paper men. The four split and Stephanie was quick to simply run passed them and get the door open. Panda was unconscious but even after she got his cuffs off and patted his cheek he didn't so much as flutter an eyelid. She looked up to see Crow looking into the cell. There was a sudden shout from somewhere else. Their time had run out.

Wolf pushed in and pulled Panda onto his shoulders and pushed Stephanie out the door with his leg. She ran with the others to the stairs. At least twenty people must have entered the dungeon, but they didn't see anyone as they’d scattered to find them. They waited a moment for Snake to check the hall and then made a run up the stairs.

They were confronted with forty paper men at least and the three able to fight immediately began to rip into them but with no weapons they were soon choking in the gas, except for Crow who stood in the middle of the group pulling arms until he had a pile in a circle around him and he had to step high to get over the bodies. They ran from the last few who were slow to run after them.

Stephanie didn't see any way out at first but as soon as she saw the window she pulled her jacket off and let Snake grab it from her roughly and sprint ahead to jump through it.

They all followed and landed badly, though Crow did use magic to make their lands a bit better focusing on Wolf since he had Panda who was still out cold. Stephanie fell to the floor badly and felt her leg pull but rolled and started running after the others. Crow was the one who kept back to stay behind her and keep her safe, the others getting far ahead much too quick for her to keep up with. She looked back quickly before they went into the trees and saw what could have been thirty paper men and at least a dozen other guards running after them.

She squeaked and ran faster after Wolf and Snake, taking far too long to get to a big wall. Stephanie saw Wolf, with Panda, scale it in just one jump, push himself to swing over the wall, flash a grin at her, and fell from sight. She turned to Skulduggery and he kneeled with his hands together and she was in the air, flailing and then was grabbed by Wolf, sans Panda, and hauled her the rest of the way over. Wolf almost stumbled but Snake was there to steady him as Crow landed to their right.

A van was on the road with the door open and a man in white carried Panda into it. Stephanie looked to Crow but he put a hand on the back of her neck and pushed her gently towards it and the doors were closed behind them just as she heard the shouting of their pursuers.

They drove faster than Stephanie had ever experienced, and she couldn't help but grin and high-five Snake and Wolf.

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slytherinknowitall · 5 years

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Potion Fumes and Cauldron Leaks

Chapter 10: Oh, How Intimate First Names Can Be!

(Click here for chapter 9!)

(Click here to start from the beginning!)

Disclaimer: I don’t own the “Harry Potter” book series. The story of “Harry Potter” is the property of J. K. Rowling, it is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

Severus cut her off before she could even get a single word out.

“Miss Granger, today, you will be preparing a rather easy potion which you have already learnt about during your early years at this school: the Cure for Boils. As I will be instructing the first-years in how to brew this particular potion tomorrow morning, I thought that it would be wise to have some ready-made phials of it on hand. After all, we both know how foolish and dim-witted some students can be.” He was, of course, referring to how Neville Longbottom once had made a cauldron melt while unsuccessfully trying his luck at this very concoction.

“Now, when you first learnt how to brew the Cure for Boils, you used a formula from Magical Drafts and Potions. This time around, however, you will be working according to the instructions found in the Book of Potions as that version does not consume as much time. As you can see, I have written the directions on the blackboard. You may take the required ingredients from the storage room and get started.”

As Miss Granger obediently and – by the grace of the gods – for once wordlessly got down to work, the Potions Master sat down behind his desk. He pulled up some essays to correct; however, he couldn’t concentrate on them no matter how hard he tried. He stared at the letters and words written in smudged ink for what felt like hours, but his mind couldn’t seem to form coherent sentences out of them. It appeared as though this was becoming some sort of pattern for him; he hadn’t been able to be productive for weeks. Whenever he would try to do some research or even just to read a book, his head would start to fill with images of a certain insufferable know-it-all.

Severus was hopelessly distraught. He was beyond disgusted with himself for acting like a teenage boy going through puberty all over again. It didn’t matter whether he was eating in the Great Hall, teaching in his classroom or walking through the castle’s ever-busy corridors – whenever there was a quiet moment, he couldn’t help his thoughts wandering to his apprentice. To combat this, he was trying to keep himself as busy as possible and had even began to lash out at the student body more than he usually already did. But his desperate attempts proved to be fruitless; once he would lie in bed at night, the darkness engulfing him, he couldn’t put a stop to his imagination anymore.

His mind would be plagued by mental pictures of the Gryffindor Princess, some real and some nothing but chimerical. Miss Granger in his private laboratory, bend over a cauldron, small beads of sweat running down her slender neck into her cleavage. Miss Granger in his sitting room, spread across the fluffy carpet in front of the fireplace, reading one of his beloved books while only scantily clad. Miss Granger straddling him on his bed, a cheeky smile on her face as she moves in to kiss him with those luscious lips of hers.

Worst of all, he couldn’t help his body’s reaction to these forbidden thoughts either, and that made him feel like a complete sicko.

Severus knew that he was doomed. Why oh why did this have to happen to him out of all people?! The Head of Slytherin – a former Death Eater and more often than not referred to as the greasy git of the dungeons – lusting after Gryffindor’s on-site smartass who was half his age; could it really get any worse? Had he honestly gotten so desperate for female touch that he had to resort to fantasising about a girl still wearing her school uniform?

He had only been in love once in his life and that had ended in tragedy. Except for some random encounters with witches he didn’t care for, he didn’t really have any experience when it came to the opposite sex. And so even if his silly, little crush weren’t so immorally wrong, it could never work out anyways. The Dungeon Bat wasn’t exactly what one would call a chick magnet. His nose was disproportionately large, his skin was almost sickeningly pallid, and his entire body was battered and scarred from the torture he had had to endure as a follower of the Dark Lord. A smart girl like Hermione Granger could never love an old wreck like him.

NO! Who was even talking about love?! Severus was simply getting turned on by her admittingly rather shapely form, that was all – he was a man, after all. Yes, while he had had many good-looking students walk into his Potions classroom over the years – with some of them even having being stupid enough to try to offer themselves to him in exchange for better grades – none of them had ever caused such a reaction before; but that was probably just due to the fact that the war was finally over now. With him not having to constantly fear for his life anymore, his body was seemingly starting to act “normal” again and that included his libido, too. With not many options available to him cooped up here in the middle of nowhere, it was no surprise that he would eventually stoop as low as to desire someone as annoying, overzealous and pesky as Granger. Mind you, she had indeed grown up to be a beautiful and attractive young woman. Him suddenly not getting irritated anymore by the constant flow of questions leaving her mouth and instead thinking about that very mouth in a perverted way meant absolutely nothing; he was simply horny.

At least that was what Severus was trying to tell himself.

To make matters worse, he had gone completely overboard with that stupid birthday gift. After having been forced to play along with this silly tradition, Snape’s mind had been completely blank on what to get his apprentice. Following a frantic one-hour search of his rooms, he had still not been able to find anything suitable for an 18-year-old girl.

“Well, she is a bookworm …” he’d thought after finally deciding on his volume of Long-forgotten Secrets of the Mayan Wizarding Culture – Potions, Spells and More. Severus had never been a huge fan of this book to begin with; while it was certainly a good read, he had always thought that it was completely overrated and therefore not worth hanging on to. Still, Miss Granger would probably get some enjoyment out of it somehow.

He had only realised his mistake once he had already sent off the owl. Even if he himself didn’t think much of the book, the witch would surely be bewildered as to why her teacher would gift her something so rare and valuable. There was no doubt in his mind that she would start to question his intentions sooner rather than later.

Severus let out a small grunt. He would have to find a way out of this misery. From here on out, he would try to further limit his contact with Miss Granger; continuing to outright ignore her during class and giving her tasks to complete elsewhere instead of holding their apprenticeship lessons. He could also do some research and look for a potion that would help suppress his bodily desires. Worst case scenario, he would simply have to pay a quick late-night visit to the sketchier part of Diagon Alley and find a willing Galleon-seeking witch to take his sexual frustration out on. Perhaps he could also have a talk with Albus and ask him to reassign Miss Granger to –

Suddenly, there was a loud blast coming from the other side of the room. Alarmed, Severus looked up from his papers, but all he could see was a half-destroyed cauldron and a lot of dark blue smoke – there was no sign of his young pupil.

His heart leapt into his throat. “HERMIONE!” he cried out before sprinting to the scene of the accident. With a quick flick of his wooden wand, he at once got rid of the chaos, and it was then that he discovered Miss Granger lying on the cold dungeon floor, covered in a mixture of unfinished teal-coloured potion and what he suspected to be blood. Her head of curls was a fuzzy mess and her face was completely drained of colour.

Severus immediately dropped to his knees and grabbed her by the arms to pull her onto his lap. Thankfully, the brunette was still breathing; however, the blow of the explosion seemed to have knocked her out.

He feverishly thought about what could have caused such a catastrophe; brewing Boil Cure was a simple task after all. With a brief glance at the blackboard, it finally dawned on him: He had forgotten to add a warning to only stir the potion very gently after adding the pickled Shrake spines; otherwise they tended to get “overexcited” and therefore become explosive. The Potions Master had obviously assumed that Miss Granger would have known this already, but it seemed as though even the knowledge of Hogwarts’ most brilliant student wasn’t all-encompassing.

Severus couldn’t help but to silently scold himself for this rookie mistake as he swiftly conjured up a cushioned stretcher on which he then carefully laid down his apprentice. After a quick visual assessment of her injuries, he was sure that the damage wasn’t too bad apart from some cuts and bruises. As a next step, he ripped open her singed and torn blouse, trying hard to ignore her now visible frilly bra. Using some basic cleaning spells, he made quick work of the sticky potion and blood mixture before focusing on the main problem.

“Vulnera Sanentur,” he whispered as he dragged his wand along the wounds on her chest and arms. He had invented this very spell during his own years as a student; and while it had originally been intended to mend severe injuries, it had become his go-to healing spell over time – because naturally, he had always had the most faith in his own creations.

A quick Repairing Charm later, Miss Granger’s tattered clothing was back to its original state. Severus then disappeared into his storage room just to come back out a few minutes later with a crystalline phial in one hand and a small jar of ointment in the other. He placed the latter on a table nearby before yet again kneeling down next to his patient. Supporting her head with his left hand, he poured a few drops of Wideye Potion down her throat; it had come from the very batch they had brewed together not even two weeks earlier. Sitting back on his heels, all he could do then was to wait for her to wake up.

Soon enough, Granger started to stir and eventually let out a muffled groan before opening her brown eyes, seemingly disorientated. It was only when she attempted to sit up that her teacher spoke up.

“You shouldn’t try to get back up quite yet … unless you enjoy feeling lightheaded, of course,” he said with an icy undertone as he stood up and moved back to his desk, sensing her questioning look following his every move. He sat down in his black leather chair and waited for her to speak.

“What happened?” she finally managed to ask, her voice still husky.

“It seems as though I have overestimated your brewing abilities greatly, Miss Granger, as you appear to have disregarded the required safety precautions concerning the use of Shrakes in potions, subsequently blowing yourself up. As a result, you have not only forced me to interrupt my work and come to your aid, but I will now also have to utilize my free time later this evening to prepare the required potion for tomorrow’s class. For this unbelievable foolishness, I shall deduct 15 points from Gryffindor.”

A tiny tear started to slip down her left cheek, but whether it was caused by the pain from her injuries or his cold words the wizard did not know. The incident hadn’t been completely her fault, of course; but Severus didn’t care. He told himself that she should have better than to make such a ludicrous mistake. Now that he knew that she would eventually make a full recovery, worry and shock was replaced with sheer anger – anger over his doom-laded error, anger over how distressed the sight of her unconscious and wounded body had made him, anger over how he was nothing but a slave to his primal needs and anger over how he had frantically called out her name just minutes earlier. He was practically seething.

“I will let you know that I expect better from someone who is not only this school’s Head Girl but also my personal apprentice. I expect a lot better … Now, I suggest you take this jar of dittany,” he commanded sternly, pointing to the small tin sitting on the desk to her right. “As I am sure you know it prevents scarring. Or maybe you don’t. Who could be sure after such a grave mishap?”

Apparently, he’d gone a step too far with his mocking, because the young woman’s crying promptly turned into uncontrollable sobs. Standing up abruptly, still a bit unstable on her legs, she bolted from the room, leaving the ointment as well as all of her other belongings behind. Snape grabbed the pieces of parchment covering his desk and flung them against the dungeon wall in blind rage. Damn Hermione Granger, damn those oversensitive Gryffindors, damn his own emotional turmoil!

Later that night, Severus was lying in his bed and staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep.

“Hermione,” he whispered, letting the name roll off his tongue in a hushed voice.

For some reason, saying her given name out loud seemed a lot more intimate than any of the deviant, shameful fantasies he’d had about little Miss Granger.

(Click here for chapter 11!)

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killjoy-loveit · 5 years

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A Letter For Those of Us That Need It

A/N: This isn’t kpop related, not in the slightest- and yet I desperately feel the need to share it with you. For a lot of my life I’ve been in a dark place mentally. Only recently, in the past year and a half or so, have I been feeling better- that I’m growing and becoming an actual person again. For years I hated myself and questioned why I was even alive, I didn’t even think I’d make it past my eighteenth birthday. But I did. And I wrote something, I’m not sure exactly what it is or what it should be called, just that it is what I used to feel. I know that other people have been in a dark place mentally, so deep it feels like you’ll never make it out- and this story is for all of us that have been there, or are there now. It’s a story of desperation, the desperation to leave, and the desperation for someone to make you stay. I think hope is too bright of a word for the ending, I will always think of it as desperate. It’s me being desperate for you, for us, to stay. To stay here and not leave too early. I’m posting this in the hope that it helps, so that you know if you feel this way you aren’t alone.

*******TRIGGER WARNING: Please be aware that this story deals strongly with DEPRESSION AND SUICIDE, please DO NOT READ this if you feel you cannot handle it. Please, if you do start reading it, try to make it to the end because it gets better.*******

Not good enough. Worthless. Trash. They hate you, how could they not? Waste of space. Nothing- that’s what you are. All eyes on you, watching you fail. Ruin everything you touch. Words are daggers, slicing every bit of you until you’re left bloody and alone in a darkened room. Nothing makes sense, a world spun upside down. Built on hatred and pain. A new dark world order to ruin everything. A dungeon of your own creation. It’s home in your head.

Words unspoken to you, but whirling about your head nonetheless. Bricks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me. What nonsense. Words are the only things that have ever brought such immense pain. Any physical injury dulls in light of the damage twisted words have on a mind. On a person’s being. Word’s can be drummed up from anything, can spring from nothing- something you can’t see coming.

A hidden attack on your psyche. Like small assassin’s taking their sweet time in killing you. To the point one wishes the end would just come faster. It’s too much. Too dark and lonely here in this prison. Chains binding you in place. The chains of every single thing ever done wrong. There’s no escape it seems. One really is in a prison of their own creation.

In the darkness there is no light, for it’s not something that should exist in such a place. But a voice can be heard. Not yours, because that’s all you ever hear- throwing insults and degradations, wearing you down into a spineless creature. This voice, the one that isn’t yours, is trying to reach you. But it’s just a faint whisper on the edge of your consciousness, barely there. You thought nothing could reach you here. The voice, yours, wants to ignore the intruder. Screams over it. But that faint whisper makes you curious. Why is it here? What is it saying? What does it want?

Because surely it isn’t set on your ruin as your own voice is. If you listen closely enough, you can hear it. I miss you. I want you to be okay. I need you to be okay. I… Need you. The desperation of that voice is level with your own, if not more. But why is it so quiet? Maybe your voice needs to take a moment to be quiet. Struggling to hear more is a trial, little demons trying to cover your ears.

It’s a fight but you manage to hear more despite the tiny claws shredding at your skin trying to distract you. How can I help you? I love you and I hate seeing you like this. I wish you could hear the words I’m saying to you. This is my prayer for you. I won’t leave. I’ll stay by your side. A shred of light breaks through the darkness in your prison. Chains loosening to a bearable extent. Someone wants you. Someone needs you. Enough to reach you in this dark place.

But your own voice reminds you. No one could ever love you. It’s just an illusion. After all, who could love someone as broken as you? Such a poor creature, one that doesn’t deserve anything it has. Curling back in on yourself, you almost give up. The other voice has done nothing to gain your trust. You are your only constant. You are your own prison.

As time passes, the light stays. It refuses to leave just as the other voice does. It’s stayed for a while, whispering to you when your voice takes it’s short breaks. Enough light shines through now, the chains binding you weakened. Maybe it would be easier now to free yourself from this prison. This other voice seems to want to help. It’s trying.

Do you understand when I say you aren’t allowed to leave me? I will hold onto you until the end of time. You’re never getting rid of me. Do you hear me? I said you will never be free of me. I will be here, dragging you back to me until you’re okay. Why? Because I need you. Because I love you in spite of all your faults. And you love me despite all of mine. These words were too real. The kind that pulls you from your dark reverie. Breaking the chains.

Clawing at the demons trying to keep you imprisoned. Shouting in defiance at your own torturous voice. “Someone needs me!” Tears dripping down your cheeks. Someone needs you. They love you enough to hold onto you. They won’t let go. “Let me go!” You shout and kick and scream. Surely it can’t hold you down forever. You can and you will get out of this prison.

A dungeon of our own creation is meant to be destroyed. It holds no power unless we allow it to. The darkness refuses to leave because we don’t make it. We let it linger. But don’t you know? You need to fight it. Because you’re needed. We need you. I need you. If you hide in that darkness forever, you’re dooming the rest of us. You’re saying we can’t make it either. That the darkness is meant to consume us and there’s nothing we can do to stop it. You need to show us that it can be stopped. We need you. We love you. Don’t let go. Please. If you need to be held, say so. If you are feeling weak say so. If you need help just ask.

Because I want you to stay. I don’t want to see you on the news, cast as a tragic death. I want to see you on the news as a bright light, the kind that’s leading the way for others. So, please, don’t go. I will hold your hand through the pain. I won’t let you fall over the cliff and into oblivion. I won’t forget you.

#i cried while editing this #because it truly is desperation- it's a plea #for everyone that thinks they can't make it- i know you can #it's a plea for you to stay you and stay alive #if you need help just say so- please #i don't know if this truly qualifies as a letter #but i hope that it helps #a letter for those of us that need it

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fyrapartnersearch · 6 years

Text

Lookin' for Lady RPers!

Hello! I’m Rensin, and I’m lookin’ for people to RP with. You can call me Rick, Rensin—by one of my character’s names if you would rather, anything at all really! As long as it’s somewhat nice. I live in the central timezone, but I’m around quite a bit thanks to my phone, so time doesn’t have too much of a restraint on me unless we are talking about the other side of the world here, in which case I do have to sleep sometime. However, soon… unfortunately, I’ll be looking for new employment due to company changes, so I’ll have some more spare time on my hands. Now! To the nitty gritty. What I’m looking for. I’m looking for OC RP, though I do like RPing in established universes like Skyrim, GTA locations… anywhere at all really, and I also like to RP completely original type of things. I only like to do MxF with me as the male (Though I will say I’m comfortable with playing female chars in a FxF scenario), and I do prefer to RP with women, though really your gender is no concern to me in the long run. I do however like to get friendly with the people I rp with OOC, so having a nice chat here and there and maybe getting to know my partner in crime is always fun too. If you just want straight RP and have no desire in socializing, I might not be for you! I do have a tendency to be a bit of a flirt OOC as well—if that makes you uncomfortable it’s fine with me as we all come from different walks, but set that line for me—I’ll likely ask you right away on our boundaries to be set when we interact at first. I prefer to RP with single females (If you’re married/seeing someone that’s fine! Just if it gets awkward for me I might bow out, but I’m all ‘bout discussion! Same goes for you, I prefer someone that’s able to talk to me rather than outright ditching) as it’s more of a comfort factor for me. What I have in mind are things like this: Space adventure: First one would be a “Space adventure” of sorts. We go into space, we explore… we get into trouble. My char would have a ship, and we’d both work on said ship doing smuggling, mercenary runs… all those sorts of things. Steampunk Airship: This one is one I’ve worked on for a while. Basically, my char and a lot of others have an airship that’s designed to be fast, and deliver time sensitive and important mail. This one to me is fun because it’s sort of a… well, I guess you could call it steampunk. Airships, odd steam-based technology… war, strife, intrigue. It’s basically set in a world that has been literally torn apart by war for thousands of years. Contact me for more detail on that one! Zombie/Apocolypse/Mad Max-like/Dystopian: I lump these all together because these have always been hit or miss for me. I’ve had RP partners that would RP stuff out in these settings, then immediately leave like a day after. Not saying I’m bad at them, just saying that I don’t think it’s my best stuff—not that I don’t have fun doing them. Modern Fantasy: This goes in the vein of WhiteWolf world of darkness stuff, or even Shadowrun. Modern setting with Werewolves, Vampires, Angels, Demons… what have you. Or elves, orcs, dwarves? I’ll do it. Sounds like fun, set me up. I can come up with some ideas. Crime/Mercenary Group/Smugglers: I mentioned Grand Theft Auto—and this would sort of be like that. Or that crappy APB game. So, there’s an idea I’ve been playing with for over ten years. Basically it’s a group that can be either criminals, or mercenaries… and this group wants to control a strife ridden city. Through either physical force, or money—both ways are acceptable to them. They are hard as nails type of people, that love to fight and fornicate. Along with that of course comes territory wars, disputes with officials of said city, and lots and lots of collateral damage. Dark Science Fiction/Cyber Punk: I love settings like the older Shadowrun, or movies like Bladerunner and The Fifth Element. Gritty scenery mixed with technology and a world rife with problems. Detectives that have seen too much shit and want to move on up in the world, even if that means getting a higher level apartment in the giant glass monolithic towers that pollute the cities. In that sorta scenario we can collaborate and come up with something. I love playing a grizzled detective that’s had a bad past with the local police department, or some sort of bounty hunter. Farm/Harvest Moon-like: Okay, so—I love Harvest Moon, I love Stardew Valley, and I love the Rune Factory games. I would love to RP something that’s a little slice-of-life like game where I have a char that owns a farm, and is trying to get to know people through a series of events. He could also be an aspiring dungeon delver—really the setting could go anywere. This one can be fleshed out more as we talk. Xcom/Earth Defence/Alien Hunters: I think it’d be fun to have an RP where we have some characters (either a couple or a group) that hunt aliens to defend or even take back the Earth. A tight-knit group/couple that use high tech weapons, armor, and other means to take the fight to the nasties that threaten the world. The group gets close, and well… if unfortunate things happen, it could be some real sad stuff to see them go defending not only their home, but the ones they love. Slice of Life: This one is broad. Very broad. Young friends finally seeking romance between each other, or a writer gets to know his neighbor better. Usually I like these ones to be a little smut-heavy to make up for the drama, but it’s always up for discussion how we can spice it up. Story is always up for debate too. That’s all fine and nice Rensin, but tell us about you. Okay! Great. So, I’m a 30 year old man, who is looking for someone that’s 18+ to RP with. I need to know your age, so please inform me before adding me. To me that’s just nice to know, because I intend to get into some heavy subjects. Which brings me to this. Smut? Violence? Yes. I do both. When it comes to it, I love having these things in my RP. Story and good dialogue is a must, as well as humor—but so are adult themes like sex and horrors of life. I will likely ask you what kinks you have, and how we can incorporate them into RP. I don’t again want RP that’s centered only around sex, but I do want to discuss how it will go down when we have it go that way. I don’t have many limits. As long as it’s not pooing or peeing it’s all kinda whatever to me. I could even say that when it comes to the idea of “Dom vs. Sub” that I’d be more inclined to play a dom. I’ve done sub and it just feels… awkward to me, mostly because I want to come out on top? No pun intended. Yes I’m fine with light BDSM, yes I’m fine with “Rape” (Though I’m more a fan of consensual type stuff), and yes I’m fine with -character death- or horrible, horrible things happening to both my char and anyone elses. It’s fine. I torture my poor little creations. I’ll run down more things I want with sexuality in RP as I don’t want to turn this into something not so safe for people to view—and I’ll ask you the same! And what do you play over? Discord! E-mail is too slow and bothersome for me, and I don’t bother with facebook/tumblr too much (Yeah I know, I’m putting an add up here.), so I do Discord. My discord is Rensin#6700. You’ll know it’s me 'cause I’m the picture of the bearded cartoon guy from one of the Harvest Moon games. Depending on if you see this later on, it may change. Let me know what you want to do, your age, comfort levels, if you’re fine with OOC discussion and topics to avoid; and maybe even a little about yourself. :) Chatting a little before, getting to know you is great! I love people, and I consider myself friendly! I look forward to hearing from my fellow nerds, so see you there!

#indie rp #indie roleplay #independent roleplay #oc rp #multiple paragraph #para #semipara #long term #messenger #smut rp #submission

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ciathyzareposts · 5 years

Text

The Kingdom of Syree: Won! (with Summary and Rating)

The king of Questron made me a baron. The King of Syree knighted me. Remind me what Lord British did for me again?

The Kingdom of Syree

United States

Everlasting Software (developer and publisher)

Released in 1992 for DOS

Date Started: 20 May 2019

Date Finished: 6 June 2019

Total Hours: 20 Difficulty: Moderate (3/5) Final Rating: (to come later) Ranking at time of posting: (to come later)

Summary

An Ultima clone right down to the keyboard commands, The Kingdom of Syree nonetheless tells a somewhat original story about a hidden wizard seeking to overthrow a kingdom that has achieved peace for the first time in millennia. In true Ultima style, the player slowly gathers clues from NPCs in castles and towns, collects artifacts, and develops his magic ability. While the game uses Ultima IV-style keyword interaction for NPCs, it unfortunately uses very basic Ultima II-style combat, and its few spells are far more useful for puzzle-solving than for defeating monsters. Although the game doesn’t last too long, its indoor areas are a bit too large, making it difficult to track down every crucial NPC.

***

The Kingdom of Syree isn’t going to be “Game of the Year” for 1992, or even my favorite Ultima clone, but it managed to pull off a few original ideas and surprises before the end, and I concluded feeling relatively satisfied.

The six major steps of the game turn out to be:

Amassing enough gold to afford equipment and transportation

Amassing enough gold to increase attributes in the dungeon Kehol, then trading some of those attributes for wisdom to gain magic points

Finding clues as to the game’s various spells, some of which are necessary to navigate

Finding the Sword of Emara, the only weapon that can kill the evil wizard

Delving all the dungeons to learn the “Dispel” spell

Finding, revealing, and killing the evil wizard

I had accomplished the first three goals during the first two sessions. It wasn’t much longer before I checked off the third goal, although it was a bit odd. The corpse of King Emara in his sarcophagus had told me to ask about the SABER in the city of Coel, but doing that revealed nothing at all. Instead, I found the sword with clues from other cities.

In River Bend, someone told me that “Shepard” said that the Saber was in the Valley of Haunts. I tracked down Shepard in Doe Shameh, and he said that to enter the Valley of Haunts, I would have to go to coordinates 19,42 (just north of Lost) and cast the YASHAB spell, then go as far north as I could, then “die an unnatural death.” I already knew how to do that with the MAVETH spell.

The character kills himself.

YASHAB ended up taking me into a few squares in the middle of a mountain range. I did what Shepard said, went north, and cast MAVETH. The game said that I died, but then I woke up in a completely dark dungeon. Fortunately, in Garrett, the former court wizard (now being tortured for not giving the same information to King Dakar) told me that once I was in the “spirit world,” I should go 20 west, 8 south, 3 west, and 5 north, then search for Emara. I followed those instructions and got the sword.

Finding the Sword of Emara in the dark.

Unfortunately, at this point I was stuck. Leaving the dungeon with the SEQUITU spell just put me in the same mountain squares with no way to get out. It was only by making another circuit through the towns that I found a new NPC in Lost who told me that ANASTASIS was a spell of resurrection. Casting that while in the Valley of Haunts put my character back on the mainland, outside Lost, with the sword in hand.

The rest of the stages took me a while because I misinterpreted the clues to mean that the “Truth” spell (ALETHEIA) is what would break the evil wizard’s facade. In the end, I never found any use whatsoever for ALETHEIA. I suspect it works on one or two NPCs whose advice either I didn’t need or got by simply cycling through all the letters of the alphabet.

“Dispel” turns out to be EMETH, which you piece together by mapping the bottom levels of each dungeon. The last level of each of the five dungeons always turns out to be curiously open, and when I mapped the first one–Mysti–I realized it looked like a letter “E.” From there, it was easy enough to pick up the others. I didn’t know the order to arrange the letters, but there are only so many combinations. (Technically, there are 120, but I could eliminate those beginning with TM, MT, HT, and so forth.) Fortunately, when you cast a spell that doesn’t exist, the game says “no effect”; whereas when you cast a real spell in the wrong location, it says “failed!” So I just had to try combinations of the letters (THEME, HETEM, etc.) until I got the right message.

The three levels of the dungeon Mysti, including the “E” at the bottom.

I already had a sense that King Dakar of Garrett was probably the evil wizard, since he had a torture room where people were boiling in pools of fire. Also, Grover the Terrified in Yew claimed that Dakar was not what he appeared. I headed to Castle Garrett and cast the spell in front of the king.

It turns out that EMETH not only dispelled Dakar’s illusion but the entire castle’s, which was a hellscape of fire, guarded by balrons and dragons. I died the first time when monsters killed me before I found the wizard.

Just in case you weren’t sure where the wizard was.

Things got much easier when I figured out that the wizard was in the far southern part of the city, and I was able to wait until I reached that area before casting EMETH. I doffed my armor to protect myself from his magical attacks (previous NPC clues had told me that skin is the only protection against “unnatural” magic). I killed him with a few blows of the Sword of Emara.

Note that the wizard is said to be inhabiting “the corpse of King Dakar.”

The endgame consisted of a brief ceremony in front of the King of Syree, who knighted me “Sir Chester.” Some final words set up the sequel.

Note that the king has stolen the Sword of Emara from me. I just have a generic “greatsword.”

One unsolved mystery has to do with the city of Phanteo Eifcon, which sits on an island in a lake. The “part water” spell (BADAL) doesn’t allow access to the island–it only seems to work at the Dungeon of Water. After I won the game, I reloaded and edited the save game file to put my character on top of the city. The game wouldn’t even acknowledge it was there. I’m not sure what was going on with that. Maybe the developer never programmed the city. Or maybe I was supposed to find a hidden way into it, and its NPCs would have made some of the game’s steps more obvious.

BADAL causes this land bridge to appear to the Dungeon of Water, but it works nowhere else.

A couple of other oddities have to do with blatantly incorrect information coming from NPCs. For instance, the ghost of King Emara told me to ask around the city of Coel about the SABER to get information as to the location of the Sword of Emara. That keyword got me nowhere, and I learned nothing about the sword in Coel. Another NPC said that the entrance to the Valley of Haunts was near Phanteo Eifcon, which it wasn’t. You’re thinking maybe these were lies that ALETHEIA was supposed to expose, but I tried the spell and it didn’t make the NPCs say anything different.

Aside from those elements, I liked how the plot came together, and how the wizard was literally disguised (although we’ve seen that plot twist in Might and Magic) rather than in an obvious evil castle. In a GIMLET, the game earns:

3 points for the game world. The backstory has just enough detail for a game of this scope, and the map itself is nice. Unfortunately, the game doesn’t remember any of your own actions. I’m waiting for an Ultima clone where NPCs stop telling me where to find the Sword of Emara when I have it in my hands.

3 points for character creation and development. There isn’t much to it, but I liked the way experience adds directly and immediately to your maximum hit points. Using altars to develop attributes worked fine, too.

4 points for NPC interaction, a clear strength of the game. I’ll never get sick of keyword-based dialogue, although I like to see more role-playing opportunities within that dialogue.

2 points for encounters and foes. The monsters are nothing worth commenting on, but the game had some satisfying puzzles.

2 points for magic and combat–definitely a weakness. Combat couldn’t be more basic. While I liked the acquisition of spells via clues, and some of them were useful for navigation, I never cast a single combat-oriented spell.

Specifying “attack” and a direction is about as tactical as this game gets for combat.

2 points for equipment. You have only half a dozen weapon and armor types, some keys, and a sextant.

4 points for economy. It’s not very complex, but it remains relevant throughout the game. When you don’t need money for equipment anymore, the altars serve as a useful money sink.

2 points for a main quest with no side-quests or options.

3 points for graphics, sound, and interface. The icon-based graphics are fine. Most of this score goes to the interface; I’ll always approve of games where each command is mapped to a different key.

5 points for gameplay. Syree has a surprising amount of nonlinearity; you can even rent a boat if you want to explore the world before you can afford to buy one. I found the difficulty and pacing just about right, too.

That gives us a final score of 30, not epic, but higher than I expected when I started.

I spent some time (in vain) trying to track down the game’s author, Thomas Steven Himinez, whose life seems to define the word “eccentric.” He claimed in the game manual that the game was based on the “books by Lord Steven”–a fact amusingly parroted by multiple web sites, as if said books actually existed. To get in touch with the author and pay the shareware fee, users were asked to go through a BBS belonging to a doughnut shop in Los Angeles. “Lord Steven” did eventually publish a trilogy about a couple of tigers, which was turned into a play and an audio drama, and as I mentioned in the first entry, he got involved in the Doctor Who audio dramas. At some point, he changed his name to Thomas S. Lonely Wolf, began contributing to conspiracy and “prepping” web sites, and moved to a remote town in the Pacific Northwest, apparently anticipating imminent nuclear war.

We’ll see Lord Steven’s work again in The Kingdom of Syree II: Black Magic (1994) and The Kingdom of Syree III: The Depths of Hell (1998). It doesn’t appear that the games ever stop being Ultima clones with iconographic interfaces and very basic, Ultima I-style combat. But the graphics and sound improve a bit, and by the third game he’s doing some interesting things with still images during cut scenes.

From the character creation part of the third game.

Speaking of sequels to Ultima clones, my random approach to title selection has scheduled Telnyr II next–perhaps a bit unwisely. We’ll see if my patience holds.

source http://reposts.ciathyza.com/the-kingdom-of-syree-won-with-summary-and-rating/

#retro games #dos games #retro #crpg #adventure #amiga #oldcomputers #8bit #16bit #blog #repost

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fyrapartnersearch · 6 years

Text

Lookin' for Female RPer's!

Hello! I'm Rensin, and I'm lookin' for people to RP with. You can call me Rick, Rensin---by one of my character's names if you would rather, anything at all really! As long as it's somewhat nice. I live in the central timezone, but I'm around quite a bit thanks to my phone, so time doesn't have too much of a restraint on me unless we are talking about the other side of the world here, in which case I do have to sleep sometime. However, soon... unfortunately, I'll be looking for new employment due to company changes, so I'll have some more spare time on my hands. Now! To the nitty gritty. What I'm looking for. I'm looking for OC RP, though I do like RPing in established universes like Skyrim, GTA locations... anywhere at all really, and I also like to RP completely original type of things. I only like to do MxF with me as the male (Though I will say I'm comfortable with playing female chars), and I do prefer to RP with women, though really your gender is no concern to me in the long run. I do however like to get friendly with the people I rp with OOC, so having a nice chat here and there and maybe getting to know my partner in crime is always fun too. If you just want straight RP and have no desire in socializing, I might not be for you! I do have a tendency to be a bit of a flirt OOC as well---if that makes you uncomfortable it's fine with me as we all come from different walks, but set that line for me---I'll likely ask you right away on our boundaries to be set when we interact at first. I prefer to RP with single females (If you're married/seeing someone that's fine! Just if it gets awkward for me I might bow out, but I'm all 'bout discussion! Same goes for you, I prefer someone that's able to talk to me rather than outright ditching) as it's more of a comfort factor for me. What I have in mind are things like this: Space adventure: First one would be a "Space adventure" of sorts. We go into space, we explore... we get into trouble. My char would have a ship, and we'd both work on said ship doing smuggling, mercenary runs... all those sorts of things. Steampunk Airship: This one is one I've worked on for a while. Basically, my char and a lot of others have an airship that's designed to be fast, and deliver time sensitive and important mail. This one to me is fun because it's sort of a... well, I guess you could call it steampunk. Airships, odd steam-based technology... war, strife, intrigue. It's basically set in a world that has been literally torn apart by war for thousands of years. Contact me for more detail on that one! Zombie/Apocolypse/Mad Max-like/Dystopian: I lump these all together because these have always been hit or miss for me. I've had RP partners that would RP stuff out in these settings, then immediately leave like a day after. Not saying I'm bad at them, just saying that I don't think it's my best stuff---not that I don't have fun doing them. Modern Fantasy: This goes in the vein of WhiteWolf world of darkness stuff, or even Shadowrun. Modern setting with Werewolves, Vampires, Angels, Demons... what have you. Or elves, orcs, dwarves? I'll do it. Sounds like fun, set me up. I can come up with some ideas. Crime/Mercenary Group/Smugglers: I mentioned Grand Theft Auto---and this would sort of be like that. Or that crappy APB game. So, there's an idea I've been playing with for over ten years. Basically it's a group that can be either criminals, or mercenaries... and this group wants to control a strife ridden city. Through either physical force, or money---both ways are acceptable to them. They are hard as nails type of people, that love to fight and fornicate. Along with that of course comes territory wars, disputes with officials of said city, and lots and lots of collateral damage. Dark Science Fiction/Cyber Punk: I love settings like the older Shadowrun, or movies like Bladerunner and The Fifth Element. Gritty scenery mixed with technology and a world rife with problems. Detectives that have seen too much shit and want to move on up in the world, even if that means getting a higher level apartment in the giant glass monolithic towers that pollute the cities. In that sorta scenario we can collaborate and come up with something. I love playing a grizzled detective that's had a bad past with the local police department, or some sort of bounty hunter. Farm/Harvest Moon-like: Okay, so—I love Harvest Moon, I love Stardew Valley, and I love the Rune Factory games. I would love to RP something that’s a little slice-of-life like game where I have a char that owns a farm, and is trying to get to know people through a series of events. He could also be an aspiring dungeon delver—really the setting could go anywere. This one can be fleshed out more as we talk. Xcom/Earth Defence/Alien Hunters: I think it’d be fun to have an RP where we have some characters (either a couple or a group) that hunt aliens to defend or even take back the Earth. A tight-knit group/couple that use high tech weapons, armor, and other means to take the fight to the nasties that threaten the world. The group gets close, and well… if unfortunate things happen, it could be some real sad stuff to see them go defending not only their home, but the ones they love. That's all fine and nice Rensin, but tell us about you. Okay! Great. So, I'm a 30 year old man, who is looking for someone that's 18+ to RP with. I need to know your age, so please inform me before adding me. To me that's just nice to know, because I intend to get into some heavy subjects. Which brings me to this. Smut? Violence? Yes. I do both. When it comes to it, I love having these things in my RP. Story and good dialogue is a must, as well as humor---but so are adult themes like sex and horrors of life. I will likely ask you what kinks you have, and how we can incorporate them into RP. I don't again want RP that's centered only around sex, but I do want to discuss how it will go down when we have it go that way. I don't have many limits. As long as it's not pooing or peeing it's all kinda whatever to me. I could even say that when it comes to the idea of "Dom vs. Sub" that I'd be more inclined to play a dom. I've done sub and it just feels... awkward to me, mostly because I want to come out on top? No pun intended. Yes I'm fine with light BDSM, yes I'm fine with "Rape" (Though I'm more a fan of consensual type stuff), and yes I'm fine with -character death- or horrible, horrible things happening to both my char and anyone elses. It's fine. I torture my poor little creations. I'll run down more things I want with sexuality in RP as I don't want to turn this into something not so safe for people to view---and I'll ask you the same! And what do you play over? Skype and discord! E-mail is too slow and bothersome for me, and I don't bother with facebook/tumblr too much (Yeah I know, I'm putting an add up here.), so I do Skype. My skype name is rensinx, and discord is Rensin#6700. You'll know it's me 'cause I'm the picture of the dude with short hair and a bit of a goatee (on skype). Depending on if you see this later on, it may change. Let me know what you want to do, your age, comfort levels, if you're fine with OOC discussion and topics to avoid; and maybe even a little about yourself. :) Chatting a little before, getting to know you is great! I love people, and I consider myself friendly! I look forward to hearing from my fellow nerds, so see you there!

#indie rp #indie roleplay #independent roleplay #oc rp #para #semipara #long term #messenger #smut rp #submission

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fyrapartnersearch · 7 years

Text

Lookin' for lady RPers!

#indie rp #indie roleplay #independent roleplay #oc rp #multiple paragraph #para #messenger #smut rp #submission

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fyrapartnersearch · 7 years

Text

Looking for female RPers only!

#indie rp #indie roleplay #independent roleplay #oc rp #multiple paragraph #para #semipara #long term #messenger #smut rp #submission

2 notes · View notes

fyrapartnersearch · 7 years

Text

Lookin' for female RPers!

Hello! I’m Rensin, and I’m lookin’ for people to RP with. You can call me Rick, Rensin—by one of my character’s names if you would rather, anything at all really! As long as it’s somewhat nice. I live in the central timezone, but I’m around quite a bit thanks to my phone, so time doesn’t have too much of a restraint on me unless we are talking about the other side of the world here, in which case I do have to sleep sometime. However, soon… unfortunately, I’ll be looking for new employment due to company changes, so I’ll have some more spare time on my hands. Now! To the nitty gritty. What I’m looking for. I’m looking for OC RP, though I do like RPing in established universes like Skyrim, GTA locations… anywhere at all really, and I also like to RP completely original type of things. I only like to do MxF with me as the male (Though I will say I’m comfortable with playing female chars), and I do prefer to RP with women, though really your gender is no concern to me in the long run. I do however like to get friendly with the people I rp with OOC, so having a nice chat here and there and maybe getting to know my partner in crime is always fun too. If you just want straight RP and have no desire in socializing, I might not be for you! I do have a tendency to be a bit of a flirt OOC as well—if that makes you uncomfortable it’s fine with me as we all come from different walks, but set that line for me—I’ll likely ask you right away on our boundaries to be set when we interact at first. I prefer to RP with single females (If you’re married/seeing someone that’s fine! Just if it gets awkward for me I might bow out, but I’m all ‘bout discussion! Same goes for you, I prefer someone that’s able to talk to me rather than outright ditching) as it’s more of a comfort factor for me. What I have in mind are things like this: Space adventure: First one would be a “Space adventure” of sorts. We go into space, we explore… we get into trouble. My char would have a ship, and we’d both work on said ship doing smuggling, mercenary runs… all those sorts of things. Steampunk Airship: This one is one I’ve worked on for a while. Basically, my char and a lot of others have an airship that’s designed to be fast, and deliver time sensitive and important mail. This one to me is fun because it’s sort of a… well, I guess you could call it steampunk. Airships, odd steam-based technology… war, strife, intrigue. It’s basically set in a world that has been literally torn apart by war for thousands of years. Contact me for more detail on that one! Zombie/Apocolypse/Mad Max-like/Dystopian: I lump these all together because these have always been hit or miss for me. I’ve had RP partners that would RP stuff out in these settings, then immediately leave like a day after. Not saying I’m bad at them, just saying that I don’t think it’s my best stuff—not that I don’t have fun doing them. Modern Fantasy: This goes in the vein of WhiteWolf world of darkness stuff, or even Shadowrun. Modern setting with Werewolves, Vampires, Angels, Demons… what have you. Or elves, orcs, dwarves? I’ll do it. Sounds like fun, set me up. I can come up with some ideas. Crime/Mercenary Group/Smugglers: I mentioned Grand Theft Auto—and this would sort of be like that. Or that crappy APB game. So, there’s an idea I’ve been playing with for over ten years. Basically it’s a group that can be either criminals, or mercenaries… and this group wants to control a strife ridden city. Through either physical force, or money—both ways are acceptable to them. They are hard as nails type of people, that love to fight and fornicate. Along with that of course comes territory wars, disputes with officials of said city, and lots and lots of collateral damage. Dark Science Fiction/Cyber Punk: I love settings like the older Shadowrun, or movies like Bladerunner and The Fifth Element. Gritty scenery mixed with technology and a world rife with problems. Detectives that have seen too much shit and want to move on up in the world, even if that means getting a higher level apartment in the giant glass monolithic towers that pollute the cities. In that sorta scenario we can collaborate and come up with something. I love playing a grizzled detective that’s had a bad past with the local police department, or some sort of bounty hunter. Farm/Harvest Moon-like: Okay, so—I love Harvest Moon, I love Stardew Valley, and I love the Rune Factory games. I would love to RP something that’s a little slice-of-life like game where I have a char that owns a farm, and is trying to get to know people through a series of events. He could also be an aspiring dungeon delver—really the setting could go anywere. This one can be fleshed out more as we talk. Xcom/Earth Defence/Alien Hunters: I think it’d be fun to have an RP where we have some characters (either a couple or a group) that hunt aliens to defend or even take back the Earth. A tight-knit group/couple that use high tech weapons, armor, and other means to take the fight to the nasties that threaten the world. The group gets close, and well… if unfortunate things happen, it could be some real sad stuff to see them go defending not only their home, but the ones they love. That’s all fine and nice Rensin, but tell us about you. Okay! Great. So, I’m a 30 year old man, who is looking for someone that’s 18+ to RP with. I need to know your age, so please inform me before adding me. To me that’s just nice to know, because I intend to get into some heavy subjects. Which brings me to this. Smut? Violence? Yes. I do both. When it comes to it, I love having these things in my RP. Story and good dialogue is a must, as well as humor—but so are adult themes like sex and horrors of life. I will likely ask you what kinks you have, and how we can incorporate them into RP. I don’t again want RP that’s centered only around sex, but I do want to discuss how it will go down when we have it go that way. I don’t have many limits. As long as it’s not pooing or peeing it’s all kinda whatever to me. I could even say that when it comes to the idea of “Dom vs. Sub” that I’d be more inclined to play a dom. I’ve done sub and it just feels… awkward to me, mostly because I want to come out on top? No pun intended. Yes I’m fine with light BDSM, yes I’m fine with “Rape” (Though I’m more a fan of consensual type stuff), and yes I’m fine with -character death- or horrible, horrible things happening to both my char and anyone elses. It’s fine. I torture my poor little creations. I’ll run down more things I want with sexuality in RP as I don’t want to turn this into something not so safe for people to view—and I’ll ask you the same! And what do you play over? Skype and discord! E-mail is too slow and bothersome for me, and I don’t bother with facebook/tumblr too much (Yeah I know, I’m putting an add up here.), so I do Skype. My skype name is rensinx, and discord is Rensin#6700. You’ll know it’s me 'cause I’m the picture of the dude with short hair and a bit of a goatee (on skype). Depending on if you see this later on, it may change. Let me know what you want to do, your age, comfort levels, if you’re fine with OOC discussion and topics to avoid; and maybe even a little about yourself. :) Chatting a little before, getting to know you is great! I love people, and I consider myself friendly! I look forward to hearing from my fellow nerds, so see you there!

#indie rp #indie roleplay #independent roleplay #oc rp #multiple paragraph #long term #messenger #smut rp #submission

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