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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.

"I have the audacity to place my trust in him," she declared as the reverie came to an end. She lay there, patiently awaiting the sound of the alarm clock, contemplating the upcoming day with a sense of disdain. "Yet another tedious and monotonous day," she mused as she rose from her slumber. Anna retrieved her work attire, consisting of pants and a shirt, and made her way to the bathroom. The room was adorned in shades of white and blue.As Anna gazed into the mirror, she observed her long brown hair and captivating green eyes. "Goodness, I detest this appearance," she muttered. After taking a deep breath and rolling her eyes, she chuckled and exited the bathroom. It was already eight in the evening, and Anna was scheduled for an all-night shift at the club. Contemplating her work obligations, she inhaled once more and approached the bed to get dressed.Making her way to the small mirror, she gathered her brown hair into a ponytail and took another breath before applying eyeshadow and her signature red lipstick. Red, the color that defined her lips. Retrieving her bag and earrings from the front door, she stepped outside and locked the apartment. The club was conveniently located down the street, and Anna worked there as a waitress. Tonight, she would be serving high rollers who were visiting from out of town.The unspoken rule was to never ask questions and to feign ignorance if anything suspicious occurred. This was the directive from her boss, indicating that she should remain silent and focus on her duties. Thus, as she entered the club and spotted the high rollers, Anna took a deep breath and proceeded to the back. She placed her bag down, clocked in, and prepared herself for the evening. Pausing for another breath at the door, she adorned a smile and ventured out to begin her work, serving drinks from the bar.As the night progressed, the groups of patrons began to depart, each one inebriated and stumbling out of the establishment. Anna was in the midst of wiping tables when the final group arrived. They were all tall, dark-haired men dressed impeccably in suits. Anna could sense that they were not there for drinks or entertainment. The tall men with black hair, each sporting a tattoo of a snake on their neck and carrying a gun, caused a stir among the girls.Despite this, Anna remained focused on her work until one man at the back caught her attention. His dark eyes met hers, creating a strange connection that she quickly dismissed. As she finished up and made her way to the back, the words "I dare to trust him" echoed in her mind. Standing by her locker, she hesitated, feeling conflicted, until a knock interrupted her thoughts. Startled, she turned to see her boss, who urged her to leave and forget what she saw.Nodding in agreement, Anna left the club and rushed home, locking the door behind her. Sitting on the floor, a tear escaped her eye as she whispered to herself, "I dare to trust him. "

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. 

SIGN THE RULES when you are done reading them if you have already. I WILL KNOW if you have or have not based on how you write with me.   If you add me, YOU’RE ACKNOWLEDGING that you want to interact with me in some compacity. YOU ADD, YOU START. If I add you, expect me to contact you first.    Firstly, real life is real life, roleplay is roleplay. PLEASE DON'T mix the two.   Respect is EARNED, not given out freely.    NO MINORS. This is a 21+ page and if I find out you are younger than 21, YOU WILL be removed. I am 40 years old behind this screen and I DO NOT want any drama about that.     DO NOT START drama on my page. I've dealt with enough of it over the years and I'm to the point where I just do not care anymore. I will say what I want, when I want and how I want. MY PAGE, MY RULES.   Mutes and Number hoarders WILL BE REMOVED within one month of their friend request being accepted. If you are too busy to send a simple plot idea after sending me a friend request, then you are far too busy to write with me.      If your Greeting DOESN’T HAVE any suggestive ideas included in them, I will simply not respond to it. NO suggestive ideas, NO response.    Please keep in mind that I WILL NOT answer to "hi" or "hey" or "how r u" or even small talk one-liners. Please introduce yourself and we can get a storyline going.    WE ARE all from different Time-zones, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE respect your fellow writers’ writing schedule. For Time-zone purposes, I am on the West coast.     I am an adult with a full-time job, as well as a part-time volunteer job, which means replies WILL HAPPEN Tuesdays through Thursdays. If I have time, I may reply on Saturdays.       DO NOT rush me about late messages, comments or stream replies. EASIEST WAY to get the boot is to attempt to make me feel bad when I haven’t gotten back to you in a timely manner.       I have two speeds. Slow af or hyper fixated.    IC only please. OOC communications SHOULD BE limited to plot discussions and activity notices.     Busy, sick or whatever the case is, please leave word, NO ghosting me. Deletion is inevitable if you ghost me.       Any Storylines not moving forward in a month (30 days) WILL BE DROPPED. Active roleplays ONLY.       Persons inactive longer than a month (30 days) WILL BE DROPPED. Active roleplays ONLY.       OPEN TO discussing ideas before writing, BUT FAVORS random starters.        Canon, AU and Crossover friendly WITHIN REASON.      99% Story and 1% Smut. My roleplays ARE PLOT-BASED, not porn-based.      Connections are EARNED, not given out freely.       I like people to write as LEGIBLE as they can, and we can go from there.       English is my primary language. IF English is not your first language, please let me know before roleplaying.      STRITCLY writes in Messages. 1x1 storylines.    NOT a group forum friendly writer. I am mobile and cannot access it so while I understand it's how some write, unless you're willing to move to messages or comments then we won't have a storyline going.    I AM mobile for replies, and I am on desktop for editing. If you see my 'online now' icon, it's probably lying to you because I keep the site pulled up on my phone during the week.     DON'T BLOCK me because you don't like my post or reply. If you don't like something about how I write, simply tell me and I'll fix it.    I WILL ACCEPT 1-5 paragraphs to start our roleplay but nothing more than that.  I ONLY WRITE 1-3 paragraphs maximum. Writer does not have time for more.    Third person, past tense.       NO GOD-MODDING. My character is mine; yours is yours.       Photo comments are encouraged but not required, if you comment, PLEASE do so IC.      I AM NOT joining your RPG.     USAGE of inappropriate gifs will get you deleted.      NO UNSOLICITED d*cks pics, thanks!       NO sexually abusive type of roleplays of any kind.    NO political or religious roleplays of any kind.    I am a Multi-shipper and this is a Multi-verse Account. EACH SHIP will exist in its OWN UNIVERSE. Shipping WILL NEVER be a priority. DO NOT like it? DON’T add me then.      USE common sense. If Wanda is not interested in your character, PLEASE DO NOT force her into anything you wouldn't force on yourself or anyone else for that matter.  Communication and Consent ARE A MUST.      Please DON’T ASSUME you know Wanda, unless we have had prior discussions.      Wanda IS SINGLE upon the start of all Roleplays.      My Muse is NOT GAY. WON'T BE changing this, accept it or move on.     Sexual Roleplays WILL NOT happen unless there is a backstory between the two characters, and it HAPPENS NATURALLY. I WILL NOT accept smut from anybody.      DOES NOT ship with Vision romantically. (Ask to ship).     IS NOT Billy and Tommy's mother. (Ask to do).     I am Discord friendly upon request, but I will LIKELY be inclined to add you on discord if we have already interacted in some compacity.      If you ADD me on Discord, please tell me who you are.    

Name: Mary Jane WatsonNick Name(s): MJ (Give her some)Alias(es): Spinneret, Jackpot, Black Cat, Carnage, Spider GwenSpecies: HumanAge: 25Sex: FemaleGender: FemalePronouns: She/TheyHeight: 5'10"Weight: 110 lbsHiar color: RedEye Color: Green Sexual Orientation: Pansexual Relationship Status: Single (Multiple love interest open, chemistry required)Job: Multiverse fixer, Model

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."

SwitchBeing called Daddy,Babyboy,Princess,Kitten,Bunnychokinghair-pulling using toysbondagegagging sharing his partnerPublic sexPet Names

Sisters"Come on Lorraine.. you can do it."Lorraine Moran was the apple of her father's eye—a true daddy's girl. The same could not be said when it came to her mother Georgianna. While Georgianna was a good mother, she looked after Lorraine's physical well-being, she was always fed, clothed, and mostly safe. Something was lacking when it came to their emotional relationship. A lot of it had to do with Lorraine. She was a very well-behaved child, quiet, respectful, and very sweet. However, there were incidents, many incidents where she claimed things, and said things, that just couldn't be true. Lorraine had gifts, she could see and hear things others didn't. And while her father just attributed these incidents to an overactive imagination of a child, it truly drove a wedge between Lorraine and her mother. One that got in the way of their relationship, of their bonding, and having the kind of closeness most mothers and daughters did.Marie Moran was Lorraine's sister, her older sister by three years. Where Georgianna lacked in motherhood, Marie picked up the slack. She and Lorraine had a very typical sister relationship on the outside. Marie often teased Lorraine, lightly of course. Sometimes she was a little harsh with her but always she was her defender. When their mother would get too much, or children at school would truly tease and taunt Lorraine for being different, she was Lorraine's defense. No one messed with Lorraine but her.Today was Mother's Day and while it should have been spent with Georgianna she was currently in the hospital, unwell. Another reason Lorraine and her mother never quite bonded. Georgianna had many health issues, nothing life-threatening but if often had her hospitalized from time to time. So Lorraine was left alone with Marie. Their father was at work and after that he'd no doubt be at the hospital to visit his wife on this day, leaving his girls to manage themselves. Lorraine and Marie's father Robert had a lot of trust in Marie, knowing she'd look after herself and Lorraine.Marie was ten, Lorraine seven, today they had a good day with each other. Little to no arguing, they had even baked cookies. Now they were outside of their home. Lorraine loved days like this, days spent with Marie that were happy and fun-filled. It meant more to her than she could ever express.Playing outside was not something their mother would normally allow Lorraine. She could be oh so overprotective of her sometimes but Marie, even at this young age wanted to make her sister tougher. She knew she needed to be tougher. "Come on Lorraine.. you can do it." She said as she helped her sister. Currently, they were climbing a tree. Both girls were a bit dirty and had light scrapes here and there."I'm trying.." Lorraine said softly, struggling to finish the climb to the top. Looking up she took Marie's hand as she offered it. After a few more moments both girls had made it to the top. "Wow.." Lorraine whispered. From this spot, they could see their home and the entire neighborhood. "Pretty huh?" Marie asked, Lorraine only nodded. "Yeah.." she said softly. Sighing happily Lorraine slipped her arms around her sister and rested her head against her shoulder. "I love you." Lorraine said quietly. Normally Marie might make some kind of joke to Lorraine, to brush off such a heartfelt moment. Smiling though she nodded and rested her cheek against Lorraine's head. "Yeah, I love you too." She said sincerely. For years to come Marie would offer that emotional support to Lorraine that Georgianna was just not capable of giving."Yeah, I love you too." template credit.

Months had gone by when things finally got back to normal as if nothing had happened, classes continued the students working on their education and the X-men every once in a while being called to deal woth a serious situation. Life was great or so it seemed all for except two X-men Logan and Kitty they remembered everything from the life they originally had. Logan being Logan often spoke to the professor about it, their conversation were to be expected since Kitty had sent Logan back to the professor in the first place to stop the deaths from happening to changing their destiny. For Logan he seemed to have adapted to the new timeline it came easy for him. Being able to see Jean again gave him life again Kitty watched him in secret never confronting him about it.  She was to busy dealing woth her own demons and became distant with everyone around her especially Bobby.Bobby died on her she was informed by Rogue that he was gone and she was left alone, bleeding to death and saving the human race all on her own. The images of the two of them for three years they were together came flooding back every memory and romantic gesture rushed her brain as she tried to hold it together. Tried to teach her classes the best that she could  with out breaking or worse falling apart. The hardest part was to see the man she still is madly in love with back in the arms of Rogue. Of course he wouldn't remember a thing why would he? Rouge and Bobby were together before she dated Bobby. Time took her back when rogue and him were a couple and she hated. Kitty knew their relationship was alot further than most expected in her timeline bobby and her got married in secret when things started to go bad they had the professor exchange their vows. Now things were off and she couldn't stand to be seen with the man she loved, Kitty chose the ignore/avoid scenerio. Giving Bobby and Rogue their blessing and moving on..the friendships were gone. At this point in her life she contemplated on moving back to Illinois too the only family she had left which happened to be her aunt. After the deaths of her parents her mothers sister was all she had and they only spoke during holidays or birthdays. Kitty was home sick and as the months went by the thought of going home got much stronger she had nothing left at the school to care about or strive for. So the decisions were to be had only she could decide but she had to move out slowly sending her aunt her belongings alittle at time so that it wasn't noticeable. For the time being Kitty began to focus on herself a distraction as you will, most of her time is now spent alone practicing her guitar, writing songs or dabling in her drawings/paintings anything to keep her mind off her pain and agony. The pain and agony was one thing but the night terrors and visions from her prior life became the real problem for her she woke up every night in a big sweat. Often leading her to take long cold showers through out the night, dealing with massive migraines and trying to focus on going back to bed. Month after month things got worse despite her distractions and avoidance of the people around her Kitty grew weak and tired. Professor Xavier took noticed and sought out that Kitty needed time away to clear her head a vaction from the school. The plan was to send Kitty to one of the many safe houses the X-men owned and the particular one was a cabin located in the woods of Maine. The cabin was well hidden amongst the trees and sat close by near a waterfall. The place was well secured by security so protection was never a problem it wss the kind of place a woman in Kitty's state needed to be.

I OWE YOUYOU OWE MELast Update: 

As the night winded down Key’s sipped on her bubbly as she relaxed in the bubble of her spa tub. The soft yellow glow of the candles illuminated the open concept bathroom. Closing her eyes she inhaled the calming scent of eucalyptus and chamomile. As she let her body relax in the warm water her mind drifted off into other matters. She wasn’t one to talk about her problems with others, not even her brother. Even though he has been with her through all the toughest times of her life she still hated putting her problems onto others. As a child they faced many forms of abuse not only from their parents, but from the system that was designed to help children. Even as her twin Kian’s hands weren’t free of blood. Though he was forced to do those things to her by the evil monster know as her Foster Father; she couldn’t void her mind of those memories. He also didn’t believe in her gift of sight. Ever since she could remember she has been able to see the beings that bridged between the worlds of life and death. Not only could she see them, but she could communicate with them. He often thought she was delusional and often told her she needed to get her head checked. She often shrugged it off as him not believing in spirits, though she would never tell him how those words hurt her. He was the only person she trusted in this world and he through she was crazy. So when the spirts came to her she often ignored them or shooed them away. “Keylee… we need your help… you are the only one who can help” Remembering the soft voices of the spirits that begged for help in her lab. Being a forensic medical examiner she dealt with death on a daily basis. This was her way to help the Spirits move on without being considered ‘crazy’. But all of that comes at a price. She can’t turn off the voices or make herself not see the ghosts. Sometimes she doesn’t know who is who. Taking another sip of the bubbly liquid in her glass she sighed. She learned as a young age that alcohol helped drown out the voices. And herbal inhalants relaxed her mind to be able to calm the storms that brewed inside of her head. So she may give off a carefree and bubbly persona, but on the inside she was a hurricane of emotions.