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Burned BoundariesBurned Boundarieswww.roleplayer.me/1959615The copy room at Ziven Marketing always carried a certain electric charge whenever Daniela Torres stepped inside, sashaying past Benji as if the cramped space brimmed with sexual tension. Her dark eyes would lock onto his, lips quirking devilishly as she brushed against him to grab fresh reams of paper. Daniela’s intoxicating floral perfume made the air thick and heady, sparks practically singeing the air between them.For weeks, that familiar spark smoldered with every lingering glance, every brush of their fingertips as they reached for the same pen during meetings. Daniela’s wedding ring seemed to mock and tempt Benji simultaneously…until the day the flame truly ignited. He still remembered the feverish clash of their lips in the dim stationary closet, her sculpted body arching shamelessly against his as their self-restraint incinerated into ash.What followed was a searing, high-stakes affair conducted in hushed whispers and empty offices after hours. Daniela revealing herself as the wildfire to Benji’s gasoline, their passion raging unchecked for several incandescent weeks. Every tangled knot of limbs and breathless gasp threatened to expose the inferno they could scarcely control.Yet for Benji, no blaze burned quite like the one Daniela stoked in his soul. She consumed his thoughts, his dreams ‐ until the day he watched her slip that golden band back onto her finger with a look of hollow resignation. Her fire had banks it couldn’t transcend. Not this time.In the aftermath, whispers and sidelong glances from colleagues made the marketing bullpen feel like an inescapable pressure cooker. Daniela’s fire no longer warmed, only searing Benji’s skin with its inevitably burned boundaries. He tendered his resignation without a word, knowing he’d never be able to look at that damned copy room without feeling the phantom scorch of their wildfire romance.Daniela had branded him in a way Benji hadn’t foreseen, her lesson scorching into his soul - some fires demanded too unquenchable a price. From then on, he would guard his boundaries with other women as vigilantly as one averts a deadly blaze. Burned once, there would be no more igniting flames where they didn’t belong....   template credit.

Wildfire Embers Wildfire Embers www.roleplayer.me/1959615 When Benji first met Natalia, he knew she'd awaken a wildfire that would blaze through his soul and brand him forever. Even amidst the teeming mass of students on UCLA's campus, her radiant smile and warm whiskey-brown eyes drew him in like the oldest siren song. From that very first study group turned midnight taco truck bender, Benji and Natalia burned ferociously, desperately making up for all the lost time those years they attended the same high school yet ran in separate orbits. Her uninhibited laughter reverberated through the walls of Benji's creaky apartment, mingling with the smoky vestiges of last night's bonfire on the beach. In those hazy, languorous college days, nothing could extinguish their fervent flames. Somewhere between the neon flashes of Hollywood's grungy underground party circuit and Natalia's dreams of settling into a rose petal-strewn bungalow, their searing love branded them as soulmates. They were the wildfire that would never gutter out, trailblazers hellbent on leaving the world singed by their passion. Yet even as Natalia carved her name into his tawny skin with desperate nails, part of Benji's restless soul knew he couldn't simply exist as smoldering embers - at least not yet. He needed to chase the inferno to its ever-shifting horizon, explore new frontiers that would feed the wildfire with fresh oxygen before it dwindled. By the time senior year rolled around, Natalia beaming at him beside the fountains where they first locked eyes, Benji's longing for new horizons began suffocating the cozy spark in her soul. When she accepted that corporate finance job in Boston, teardrops hitting the familiar eagle emblazoned on Benji's faded sweater, he understood their wildfire couldn't withstand the separation. Some loves did better as banked embers, cherished memories to revisit rather than consuming infernos. While Natalia's brilliance inevitably rekindled in the form of her loving husband and children, Benji couldn't resist fanning those glowing embers with wistful reverence. In quiet solitary moments, he'd pull out the faded Polaroids and inhale the last smoky traces of their wildfire - a hazy reminder to appreciate the rare, beautiful times his soul found its searing other half. ..   template credit.

My owes:I owe:They owe me:Updated Date:  

WARNING: This scene is a little different from all my other ones. Our characters willl be jumping into smut fairly fast. It's basically building their physical desire for each other whereas the emotional one needs to develop. This scene will have a lot of drama and side plots to build their relationship as wel as lots of smut. I also want to say this just in case someone confuses it. All these characters are over 18 despite the setting. And I DO NOT want any sort of non consensual or rape like elements to this scene. Yes, my characters are dominating but forced just does not appeal to me, so please do not try to sneak that in. I think this scene will be very fun, but if it does not appeal, feel free to check my other scenesThe two of them had known each other since they were kids since their families were close friends. They did everything together and used to always say they were going to marry each other once they were older, which everyone else thought was cute. Oh how wrong they were... They were each other's first kiss except it really didn't mean anything at that age because they hardly knew what they were doing. Things changed once they got older and fell into different crowds. He became friends with the wrong people who were not at all happy of how close he was with her. Maybe it was because they wanted a shot with her themselves. But he was still young and stupid and wanted to fit in, so he pushed her away. However, it did not stop there, and he went out of his way to prove that he was not associated with her whenever he could. Rumors surfaced again of how close they were in their past, and it upset him, so he took it out on her and made her life miserable. Jackson had truly lost himself from what he used to be. Their dynamic had turned into something else recently when his way or treating her poorly had turned into him using her as a way of showing who was the top dog. It was rather ironic to think that his way of conveying how little she meant to him was by f***ing her. Unlike words, when sex was as good as it was between them, it could not be faked. It was a form of passion that showed him when he was most vulnerable. The reason their bodies moved so perfectly together was because these motions literally let their feelings flow through them. Yet, this was still somehow him bullying her at least in his naive thoughts. But this also roused the question of why did she let him do this? Did she still see that boy she grew up with? Did she think she could help him? That there was good in him? Or did it just feel that good that she did not want to resist?It was just another day. She was at her locker, gathering her books to get ready for her next class. Jackson was walking down the hall with a few of his friends when he saw her, and he was not the only one. He could already hear the guys start to mumble and chuckle. It did not take a detective to figure out what those little whispers and remarks were about. No matter how much he proved himself, it never seemed to be enough. So why did it even matter to him? Why did he keep trying to prove himself? That was a difficult question to answer. The male rolled his eyes and pushed a few of his so called buds out his way before crossing the hall towards the woman who was always on the receiving end of this dynamic. It happened abruptly. Shutting her locker, he slammed the books out of her hand without a care in the world for her. Jackson pushed her back against the lockers and stepped in close. His large frame keeping her in place. "Did you miss me?" Such a simple question, but that husky voice combined with their current position could make a woman lose her train of thought.  His friends had already turned the corner after laughing, so why did he still continue this act? Why did he always do so?

Last Updated: 5/16/2024Capped at: 8Storylines: 4/8I Owe You:- Victoria (5/14/2024)- Rebecca 5/15/2024)- Bowie (5/16/2024)- You Owe Me:- Cassidy (5/15/2024)---In Discussions:- Rowena- Luna- August (who's to start)- 

So I guess I need these now. I want to be very clear that the RED RULES are the ones that really should get your attention. Which is why they are highlighted in RED. The BLUE RULES are more like notes on sh*t that I think is important. I suck a writing rule lists... sorry.- DISCORD is listed on my page, don't abuse it.------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ No OOC Drama. I won't put up with it so just don't.- Adult Content plays a BIG part in my writing, which is why this is your one and only warning when it comes to writing with me. I am over the age of 25 and I've lived some sh*t. Sex, Drugs, Alcohol, and Violence will all be mentioned at some point during ALL of my storylines. If you can't handle it, then please delete me now to save me the headache.- SMUT WILL NOT happen on this account. You want that sh*t go find another girl to get you off.- Online Availability will be at my descretion.- Messages will be where all of my storylines happen because of the level of Adult Content in my writing. Nothing that I write is safe to be seen in my comments section.- Comments are for OOC chit-chat and possible discussions? I haven't really decided on that, but for now comments are where you can reach me while I'm writing replies/starters.- Writing is a passion, not a project, or a job. I am a novella writer. I have put a lot of effort into becoming the writer that I am, specifically 20+ years of roleplay writing to get here. I WILL NOT compromise on my writing just to give you a leg up. If you can't keep up with me that's fine, put in your maximum effort and I'll see it. When it comes to storylines I WILL NOT respond to one-liners or anything less than at least two paragraphs, you have to give me something to work with if you want me to shine.- God-Moding is another thing that I won't put up with. If you don't know what this is, it is basically you taking control of my character and making her do sh*t in your writing that she would never do. DO NOT do this, it will get you automatically DELETED from my page. I write for Ithlinne, I decide how she reacts, behaves and thinks about situations so please don't move her around like a chess piece in your storyline. Let me do my job as her writer.-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Yeah, I guess that's the end of the list. Sign em if you want to? I don't really care if you do.

Legal Name: Kitrina FalconeNick Name(s); (Give her some) Alias(es) KittyHawk (Previously), Cat Girl (Current)Age: 18 or olderHeight: 5'4"Weight: 180 lbsHair color: Light brownEye color: GreenSex: FemaleGender: FemaleSexual Orientation: StraightRelationship Status: SingleAlignment: True NeutralFather: Alberto FalconeMother: UnknownAunt(s): All DeceasedUncle(s): Mario FalconeAffiliation(s): Falcone Family (Former), Penguin (Former), Catwoman (Current)Current care giver: Catwoman

https://www.capitalfm.com/news/tv-film/saltburn-oliver-felix-gay-love-sexuality/ https://www.capitalfm.com/news/tv-film/saltburn-ending-explained-oliver-sequel/

Has anyone even seen true beauty before they entered Le Paris, viewing the trickling of the sun as it shimmered in a golden haze upon the cobblestone streets? Each stone laid, whether placed upon the roads or the finely sculpted architecture of the buildings all around. It was the visage of an artist's hand—a dream scribbled on paper brought to life. It was not constructed of marble and solid stone like most cities, wanting to claim glory held in envious eyes at the city of mystique. Instead, each brick was sculpted by dreamers. Their hearts and souls perfected the imperfections that made up the city they brought to life. Fated flaws and jagged lines held the most radiance, whether in the cradle of the day when the sun burst over the horizon. Or as the pale moon bleached the streets below. Revealed yet another layer of her chameleon soul. Was it any wonder why Katherine would be drawn to her time and time again? Music has flowed like honeyed wine in her veins since the time she was barely a knee. Long-lost, hazy days she spent in the forest surrounding her home when the noise all around was just too much to bear. Mother Nature was the composer, and a willow tree was her strenuous dance instructor, carving every movement the ebb and flow of her own rustling limbs. Long before, she would know the mahogany flooring in any dance studio in the finest of cities she would later perform in. La Paris, in all her flawed beauty, always felt like her home. Her music was not contained in just the sacred walls of Palais Garnier. It trickled between the leaves, wisped in the breeze, and danced upon the streams like fallen feathers from heaven above. With a failed baker's attempt at a perfect croissant and a steamy cup of coffee in her tiny hands, Katherine welcomed the morning in as she strolled down the flower-sweet-scented path leading to the gardens in Paris. Artists of all sorts frequented the park in the morning hours. Some with a blank canvas and sketching materials. While others carried musical instruments under their arms. Katherine brought her old, worn ballet shoes. With tiny rosettes barely hanging on by the threading from wear and tear. They were precious to her, and she refused to have them repaired because they were given to her by her very first dance instructor, Celeste. A golden-haired beauty she met when she was just a young girl. She recalls vividly watching her through a dirt-stained window in the small village she grew up in centuries ago. Katherine couldn't afford classes. But Celeste saw the potential and perhaps parts of herself when she caught her dancing between rehearsals. When she passed away, Katherine carried the urn with her wherever she traveled and had no intention of ever parting with it until she felt her voice calling to her to let the gardens be her resting place. A smile spread across her lips, and she could almost feel her instructor around her now, watching and critiquing every artist, but enjoying each moment of watching them blossom just as she watched her. Celeste had been more of a mother to her than even her own one from the instant that they met, and she was not traditional in her ways. She did not believe each dance step was right or wrong. But that beauty, just like the city of Le Paris was perfect when imperfect. Art is often messy, she would tell young Katherine and flick her nose. Just as love is my young protégé. The best of dreams are.

Basic Info ▪️ Full Name: Eztli Tlacotli▪️ First Name Meaning: Eztli Aztec word for Blood.▪️Last Name Meaning: Tlacotli Aztec word for Slave. & Dracula Romanian word for Son of the Dragon)▪️ Species: Dhampirica (Female Vampire/Human Hybrid)▪️Birthday: October 31st, 1996.▪️ Age: 28 Years Old.▪️ Height: 5'8"▪️ Weight: None of your business▪️ Hair Color: Brown (Natural), Dyes it at times.▪️ Eye Color: Dark Brown (Human), Golden (Vampire)▪️ Special Markings: An invisible mark of a dragon head with three claw marks running through it on her forehead.▪️ Personality: Eztli is like her Father with a terrible temper and an insatiable desire for blood, serious, calculating, and mysterious. She only obeys her Father, only due to the Mark on her forehead which marks her as his protector and servant.  Relationship Info ▪️Lord Dracula: Eztli would find out that Lord Dracula was her Father. A Vampire. Though she didn't know about him for 18 years, she was now on the hunt for her Father who had claimed her with an invisible mark of a dragon head with three claw marks running through it.▪️Mrs. Tlacotli: She is Eztli's Human mother. Under strict orders, her mother never told Eztli that she was half vampire, or her true father, until she was 18. Her mother raised her as a human.  Bio Info ▪️ Eztli Tlacotli was born on Halloween, October 31st, 1996, to vampire king and a human mother. Her mother kept her Father a secret, never revealing that she had a relationship with an undead being who walked the night.▪️ However, as Eztli began to reach the age of 16, October, 31st, 1998, she began to feel different, she felt like she was on fire, like someone was branding her over and over again on her forehead.▪️ Though to the human eye there wasn't anything there, to the supernatural there was. invisible mark of a dragon head with three claw marks running through it. A sign that she was claimed by a vampire, who happened to be her own Father.▪️ Now at 18, October 31st, 2000, her mother told her the truth about her Father, that he was a vampire Lord. Though she refused to say who, despite Eztli begging her.▪️ Finally, after a month, she left her home and began the journey to find her vampire Father as well as finding out about the burning mark on her forehead.▪️ On May, 14, 2024, 28 yrs old, the young Dhampirica, would begin her journey to find her Father. Along the way, she would meet others who would either harm her, or help her.▪️ Eventually, she would find the truth. Her Father would be Lord Dracula - himself. She would go on many adventures to find her Father.  Love Life ▪️ Orientation: Bisexual (Men/woman - leans towards men though)▪️ Type: Alpha/Submissive▪️ None. 

The government was becoming rotten from within. They’d once been formed by freedom fighters that wanted to be rid of the rule of terror that the former Republic Chancellor Palpatine had created when he declared the birth of his Empire. At first there were growing pains, but that was to be expected as they fought to rebuild what had been lost. Eventually they found their footing, only to have it taken away when the government shifted to the Galactic Alliance. Over the course of more than one war though they found their way back, reforming the New Republic once again.But with enough time any government can have seeds of corruption take root and grow. Three wars against the Serinan Empire had dwindled the Republic’s forces both militarily and politically as planet after planet, system after system had either fallen to the Krath Empire based on Empress Teta, or willingly joined the Serinan Empire. Some of the seeds of corruption in the Republic came legitimately from within, some had been sown by agents of the Krath. The Republic wasn’t recognizable any longer. It would now remind many of what Palpatine had created years before.During the height of Darth Morana’s reign as the leader of the Neo Krath Empire she planted Krath servants to twist the Republic into something unrecognizable by those freedom fighters who’d breathed life into it originally. It had slowly become her puppet to play with when she had nothing better to entertain herself with. Meanwhile her apprentice, Darth Primitivus and his Dark Descendants would terrorize both the Republic, Serinan Empire, and at times the Fel Empire. Eventually Primitivus and his Dark Descendants would be captured by Serinan forces, ending Morana’s ability to pose a direct threat to the Serinan Empire.A fragile peace had been present between the Republic and the Serinan Empire for nearly three decades now, but rumors were beginning to circulate that the fragile peace would soon be shattered causing the Serinan war machine to once again come alive. First it was Lieda Mothma, the daughter of Mon Mothma who brought reports of torture to the attention of a member of the Serinan Military Council. Lieda had followed in her mother’s shoes all be it very reluctantly, eventually becoming a senator for Chandrilla to the Republic. She’d always hated politics and her mother’s political career, but she was eventually convinced to take up the mantle left vacant by her mother’s death. Lieda had come to the Serinan capital in secret to deliver the news personally to Major Tierce of the Black Guard, that the Republic seemed to have resurrected a version of the Empire’s ISB program, even going so far as to start using a particular recording that they had claimed had been destroyed when the ISB had been shuttered.Within a few days after Lieda had delivered the news to the Serinan capital the Black Guard had received a new shipment of replacement masks for their armor. Various upgrades had been applied to fix flaws they had found in their current masks. What they wouldn’t discover until it was too late was that the shipment had been intercepted and tampered with turning some of the masks into a danger for their wearer. Tierce would be one of the ones who’d unknowingly be given one of the masks that had been tampered with. It was an auditory attack created especially for targeting members of the Black Guard by combining a recording of an order given in the Guard’s battle language with the recordings from the annihilation of the Dizonite children’s massacre. This combination led to Tierce and a handful of others who’d once served Palpatine as Red Guards to lose track of time and behave in an erratic fashion that they had no memory of. The revelation of this attack against the military would become the driver for members of the Black Guard along with members of Kida’s organization known as the Underground to infiltrate the lower levels of Coruscant to track down what intel they could about those who’d tampered with mask shipment. Eventually some members of the Serinan Guard would also join them as reinforcements once the time came to move on any intel they might gather.At first the investigation team consisted of three Black Guardsmen and one Underground member. Once they’d learned the number of targets and locations, they would have to deal with reinforcements were requested. For the Black Guard one strike team was put together for each of the four locations, for the Underground one member would join each strike team. Angel Noroga was left behind in a safe house to provide medical care for anyone injured in the strike. Several members of the Serinan Guard were left with her as a precaution, while a small handful participated in the raid.It was after the interrogation of those captured at the old ISB black sites that they learned the Republic government had in fact created their own form of the ISB and had quietly sanctioned the attack against the Black Guard. After gaining the information all prisoners of the operation were executed. The information was taken back to the Serinan capital to be shared with the military council as well as the empress’ council of advisors. Now the councils would meet to debate how the attack and the revelation of a government sanctioning of said action would be delt with. As a precaution the gears of the Serinan war machine would start turning in preparations for possible war. The questions on the minds of many within the Empire was would this war mean the death of what was left of the Republic, and what other atrocities would be uncovered along the way? Would more teams be sent out to hunt down other misdeeds of the Republic that were being whispered about?

The Nephalem are not Nephilim. They're much more unique and far more powerful than any Nephilim or Cambion. Regardless of how significant their parents are a Nephalem will reach at high levels of power that surpass even an Archangel. A Nephalem is a being that is half angel and half demon. Therefore Nephalem are a angelic-demonic hybrid, born from the forbidden union of an angel and demon. Nephilim are offspring of an angel and human. The Nephalem have a mixture of an angel and demon's power and human soul. This breed is hated both heaven and hell and they're considered true abominations than that of Nephilim. As the children of Heaven and Hell, Nephalem are very powerful hybrids. Those born from weaker angels and demons can match or even surpass mid-level celestial and infernal beings. Offspring of higher-ranking entities may rival or equal Cherubim and Seraphim. Nephalem are considered a threat to both demonic and angelic beings due to their formidable prowess and potential. Because of this, most of them were hunted down and slain by the Archangels.

Security is a novel concept. Many have aspired to obtain it, yet few, if any, have succeeded. Kings, merchants, and generals to peasants. All have sought refuge behind barriers only to discover themselves crushed against it. The sanguinary facets of existence couldn't be denied. And while necessary, it still amounted to a fool's errand—a doomed struggle to keep away the frigid hands of entropy. Valerna had seen it play out innumerable times. The names may change along with the faces. However, the song and dance presented itself as the same. Valerna was no exception; she, too, desired the impossible.While an illusion, safety was a creaturely comfort Valerna didn't take for granted. Her time under the yoke of a self-imposed higher calling was ripe with turmoil. Her motherland, the Verdant Dynasty, was formerly teeming with conflict. The butchery of kin and social upheaval was once routine within that humid hellscape. Turbulence was the currency of the land. Its leafy bosom was painted red, and its animus ran deeper than its roots. Bigotry was commonplace, aimed at one's immutable traits.Ever since she could recall, her father forewarned her of the realm's penchant for discrimination. The augury was ignored, assumed to be the ramblings of a jaded man. However, it wouldn't take long for the Araneae to encounter abuse. The people she met throughout her odyssey were skeptical of outsiders. They regarded her as a monstrosity, an aberration, and an affront against nature.Relentlessly, Valerna was bombarded with invective and physical altercations. The monster with a heart of gold soon discovered that the world would never tolerate her. The dreams of starting a family and interacting with others as equals had long since evaporated. Alone, she faced the unrelenting heat of this truth. Aimlessly, she bounded between settlements, her spirit charred by the inferno of their indignation. To prevail against such a cruel reality, she retreated into her mindscape.It was through the gardening of introspection that she discovered repletion. Those dexterous arachnoid ligaments toiled away at the construction of her webbing. Her thirst for knowledge couldn't be assuaged. With each discovery, she desired just a drop more. Valerna's dearth of savoir-faire presented itself as a stumbling block. Clumsily, she navigated an unfamiliar theatre. Her spindly appendages scribbled her thoughts in a bid to provide a resolution.The fear of being harmed often fostered sequestration. Her quotidian existence resumed without incident for a time as Valerna vicariously absorbed more and more data concerning what led her to this precipice. It's ingrained in her; Valerna is an explorer of all pursuits under the firmament. She rends the veil between enlightenment and ignorance—the spearhead within the vanguard that is discovery. When she first cracked open the door to perspicuity, she studied prudently into the darkness. Fearful of the wailing horrors that dominated beyond the threshold.She didn't balk, for a glimpse beyond wasn't enough for the mistress of the web. She had long since plunged headlong over the escarpment and set sails across the sea of understanding. In this ruminative stupor, there were no suns by which one could navigate. Nor a moon to guide the tides. Latitude and longitude would not avail her, for the laws of time and physics are unique to the temporal plane.This errant sojourner represented order within an expanse of raucous chaos. And as she broke the murky swells, she discharged spumes or creation before her. The elders were ever anticipatory. The impudence of this mere speck amused them. But she was most zealous and would stand dauntless before these wills. After all, she helmed her destiny. She sought to break the code and discover the truth of her enemy. For understanding is power, and mental oblivion is weakness.The defiled is the riddle unsolvable. The door unopenable, the tome unreadable, the query unanswerable. Nevertheless, Valerna pledged to solve the unsolvable and answer the unanswerable. The secret she searched for was one that even the demons of plague had forgotten and erased from the chronicles of memory.There, within a cave, crystal lighting dimly pulsated. Its luminosity painted the ridges of the rocks. The shadows were repulsed into the depressions darted throughout the earthen chamber's walls. The space was eerily silent, with but the turning of pages to break its spell. Even the moats of dust seemed to be frozen from trepidation.Valerna fell into its orbit. Her spirit rattled due to the reverberations of its gravity. She could feel it. The secrets, yet unlocked, yearned to be opened. That sensation swelled within the back of her mind as if twisting tendrils suctioned onto her sanity and squeezed. The crude pincers clenched her curiosity while snipping away the twines of uncertainty that remained. Her notes filled the heartless earthen pouch she had been camping in with inferential power. The sort of energy that would elude most.While silent to others, Valerna swore it yawned with the fury of a leviathan. The waves of delirium crashed violently against the rocks along the shores of sanity. The foam scoured any fear as the moment passed, and the tide returned to the sea. It brought a eureka moment, one sealed by the scratching of a quill against hemp paper.While she wrote, her arachnoid additions reached out, performing various complex motor functions—organizing her supplies, combing back her auburn mane, and spinning the strings of her bone harp. One thing was clear to anyone that may disturb her meditation. Valerna is within her zone, her very own pocket reality. However, she ultimately would close her journal shut, securing it within a bag of filigree she had spun. The giantess rose after collecting her things and tchotchkes before she crept through the veil of shadows, inching into the light and trekking down the dirt road.The primordial call of her motherland was absent here. Its dearth brought with it a sense of forlornness. The psithurism of the wilds failed to fill the chasm in her heart. The kiss of the sun's rays that perforated through the verdant canopy supplied a mite of elation. The fauna of this world was foreign; it lacked the magnificence of the kaleidoscopic array of her motherland. The ferns were replaced by extensive patches of wild grass mixed with the bushes and thorns of the forest. The soundscape was serene, camouflaging the predators that prowled this labyrinthine wilderness.The trees here were lilliputian in stature when contrasted with the edifices of her ancestral home. The animals she had spotted from the shadows were smaller and no more agile than the behemoths of the Verdant Dynasty. The saurians were replaced with more mammalian critters. And even the air itself emerged as lacking. Everything felt wrong. The biodome was an effrontery to what she had known. Valerna had felt such dismay before. During her time as the eternal voyager, she ambled through many climates. And, by happenstance, worlds.The winks before her materialization here were a blur. The last thing she recalled was being immersed in a bright light. A sense of weightlessness took hold as an extraordinary void lingered for an indeterminable passage of time. She was adrift, bobbing on the currents and eddies of the great silence. Valerna brooked it all, curious to face what awaited at the end of such torpor. She languished but was thankful its permeance wasn't interminable. That's when she slipped into this plane of existence.It didn't take long to thread together that she was far from home. The spider needed only to gaze at the welkin to reach that conclusion. Whatever this globe was, it had a lonesome sol traversing the sky. The positions of the stars were also off, further confirming her fears. Valerna was alone, an inescapable truth she had to accept.A hefty sough divorced itself from her gullet. Her lips parted as that split oral muscle moisturized them. The woman didn't belong. She stood 13 feet tall, and her body was swathed in spider silk with a bone mold overlaid on top. Its rubicund hue matched the arachnid legs affixed to her back. Its light red hair picked up on the breeze as her armored palm rubbed against the surrounding plant life.The dew streaked across her hand as she kept vigilant and analyzed her surroundings. Whatever caused her extraction remained an enigma. Nevertheless, this wasn't her first foray into such phenomena. Valerna understood the universe had a way of correcting itself. Things that didn't belong would return to their natural point in space and time. It wasn't a question of if, instead, when. And at most, all her measures could do was defer or accelerate that inevitability.Val's sculpture was buxom. Her curves were hugged tightly by the protective veneer. Prematurely, some might be predisposed to assume she was hedonistically inclined. Should such wild assumptions manifest, she'd quickly shoo them away. Her people's culture and mastery over cellmancy would be lost to the people of this province. It wasn't donned to solicit the fickled and short-lived carnality of others. No, it stood as a testament to her proficiency and status in society. A telltale sign that she wasn't one to be trifled with—a woman who had warranted her status via the sweat of her brow.Here, feminity may be taboo. She wouldn't permit the astigmatic perceptions of others to restrain her. Valerna was a matron, a woman whose only fetters were her responsibilities to her people. For heavy is the crown, but heavier is the heft of failure. Risque or not, this spider none would cage. She wasn't responsible for the libidinal hankerings of the dim-witted and close-minded. Regardless, she anticipated it to stand as an obstacle. After all, vainglorious cretins had a way of projecting their moral arbitration on others with little regard for the contrast. That's why, in her mind, most were slaves, subjects crushed under their belief. What wasted passion and effort if only one would be amicable to see the world through the eyes of another? Perhaps then, most of our woes might be circumvented.Eventually, she reached a clearing. Her sharp eyes inspected the disturbed grass. Wildlife frequented this spot. She was famished and required sustenance. Quickly, she spun together a few lines of her web before crawling on all fours and hiding within the brush. She remained silent for some time until, eventually, a doe ran into her mesh. Once her meal had become entangled due to its pointless struggles, Valerna emerged from her nested position.The spider sashayed, kneeling as she planted her hand on the quarry's head. Her eyes stared into the creature's own, seeing only fear mirrored back at her. Valerna's own reflected gratitude. A gesticulation that likely ranged hollow. Nonetheless, she'd present it all the same."Thank you for your bounty. May your life force nourish me. And should the predator become the prey, may my flesh add to the cycle. Rest now; your time to ascend the trunk of the tree of life has come. May you peer down from the leafy canopy and see my gratitude." She spoke in her native tongue, which none here could understand. Her voice was melodic, almost as if uttering a hymn or incantation.Valerna wouldn't prolong the deer's suffering. She quickly snapped its neck before lurching forward and sinking her fangs into the beast. The venom she injected quickly liquified the animal's innards. The delectable soup was quickly sucked free from the body. The shriveled remains were ripped from the web and heaved into the bushes. Others would feast on what remained, guaranteeing the commemoration of the timeless cycle. The giantess kept silent as she removed the twine she had woven and ingested them, recycling the fibers. Now nourished, she'd continue following the traffic the other animals left.Providentially, it led the Araneae to a body of water. She stood silently by the lake, kneeling down as she peered into its reflective and still surface. A weak smile formed across her countenance as she stared at her reflection. It had been too long since she had communed with nature. The anomaly behind her journey was unexpected yet good for her soul. Regardless, she doubted any benevolent benefactor was behind it all, whether mortal or higher.Valerna remained, taking out her bone and spider silk harp as her talons danced across the strings. Her playing sent forth an otherworldly yet soothing melody- a hymn of repletion accentuated by the heavenly voice that accompanied its vibrations across the winds. A flash of solace, while ephemeral, merited appreciation. And she intended not to fritter it away. Visibly, she'd air an atmosphere of collectiveness. Internally, however, she mulled over a great deal. Were there any people on this rock? And, if so, what manner of folk were they?She apprehended that the universe is hostile. That the natural order never favored wimps. Any intelligence she ran into was a threat, no matter its corporeal form. They had reached their position in the hierarchy of the macrocosm through tribulations—an endless bout against threats and fulminations. The tools they appropriated and the faces of their menaces may change. But the stage and play remained invariably immovable.Still, she'd need to tread prudently and abide by any barbs. Valerna wasn't in the position to be antagonistic. It would be wise to observe, study them, and ingratiate herself. Assimilation, while a terrifying prospect, may prove indispensable to her survival. But the point remained. Would they reciprocate the gesture? Would they see the world through a similar lens? Time, as per usual, would serve as the lone arbiter. She need only wait and see how things might unfold.

Wildfire.https://www.roleplayer.me/1959615"The most f***ed up joke the universe will play on you..." The hot desert night seared Benji's skin when he first locked eyes with Sienna. She was a wildfire, the spark of her emerald gaze instantly igniting something primal and reckless within him. One look at the sun-kissed Australian model and he knew he'd willingly let her flames consume him whole.What followed were months reminiscent of The Doors blaring through Joshua Tree - deliriously hazy days and scorching nights tangled in sinfully soft sheets, their bodies branding one another with searing kisses. Sienna was his siren, luring Benji out past the breakers with the promise of uncharted pleasures in her deep undertow. He gladly let the former mermaid lead him into her turbulent waters. Benji had finally met his match in Sienna's raw, untamed spirit. She was the wildfire to his smoldering ember, fueling his flames with her zest for chasing sunsets, dancing until dawn, living with careless rapture. Yet eventually Sienna's appetite for new ignited horizons proved too insatiable for even Benji's quench. The morning she slipped from his tangled sheets, Benji watched Sienna's nude silhouette disappear over the crashing waves with a strange sense of serene acceptance. Her wildfire was always meant to blaze ahead, razing everything in its path until the next spark caught her wandering eye.Pulling on his jeans, Benji smiled ruefully at the scattered trail of singed memories - lacy wisps of fabric, empty bottles, the sandblasted impression of where her head once rested on his chest. He'd been lucky to bask in Sienna's searing rapture, but some wildfires were never meant to be contained. All he could do was admire the breathtaking trail of ashes she left in her wake. ."...is letting you meet the right person at the wrong time." template credit.

headcanon drabble ft. ❝beauti𝖋ul delirium. “DON'T NEED A PURSE…” SHE SHAKES HER HEAD, her voice like silk. The stranger draws close, so close that he can see the turquoise veins in her cheek. White, translucent like rose petals. “Your wealth lies here…”Then she is touching him, splayed fingers brushing the fold of his lapel. He is frozen, rooted to the spot.Though he’d tried his hardest to seem assertive, William was under her spell from the very moment she'd stepped into that alleyway with him. The tears for Cecily had barely dried upon his cheeks before he was forgetting what he had even been upset about, enthralled by the beauty before him...“Do you want it?”                       “Oh yes," he says. “God... yes...”He doesn't even know what he is asking for. Beauty is replaced by beast. Intrigue is followed by pain. A pain as such as he has never felt before, or will ever feel again. His life is being tugged out of his body through his jugular into her gluttonous mouth. His knees weaken, and he goes slack, collapsing against the grimy brick walls unto London's miasmic, moist ground. William's vision spins around him—buildings on either side of the alleyway and the deep night sky turn and blur together overhead. The night air is cool upon his cheek."How dare you go off on your own? Now's not the time to hunt. I told you to wait!" A harsh male voice, an Irish drawl. The voice comes closer, sharp whispers sing out. "You are no longer a Fledgling, I won't overlook this insolent behavior!""Not a hunt… A Childe…" the woman who bled him dry replies musically. "I saw a spark."William lulls, his vision is black. He feels as though he might die, surrounded by the metal scent of his own blood fleeing his veins and the wafting perfume of his murderess. Just as he releases himself into the gentle sway of death, warm, thick copper kisses his lips. He doesn't need to be told to drink. He moves with instinct, begging lips clutching to her offered wrist, clinging—suckling like a babe at his mother's breast."That's a good pet, drink up. Drink me…" her voice ever musical as she caresses his clenching jaw. She pauses. "It's not enough." William could hear the plea in her voice. She is right. Life has flooded back into him, but he is still fading, sucking down in greedy dissatisfaction."You can't possibly be considering going through with this…" A new woman's voice joins in. A hint of gold glints in William's blurry vision where the moonlight catches her hair."It's already been done," he answers.The woman who isn't his slaughterer scoffs.William can feel the weight of the man's shadow looming above. His blood is different when it touches William's lips. Potent, older—swimming with senseless evil that William guzzles down to feel alive again. He raises an arm to grasp a sturdy shoulder, the tips of his fingers curling desperately into the velvet fabric of the man's overcoat."Enough!" The man tears his arm away from William's hungry, chasing lips. William can only collapse against the brick, what little strength remained spent on drinking down the life-giving blood."We must bury him. Quickly, whilst we still have moonlight."