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#resurrected heiress
turnaboutsisterz · 5 months
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in the mall in the nighttime
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4lph4kidz · 2 years
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Ok random shower thought:
Jane from the epilogues but instead of becoming a fascist xenophobe for no reason at all she develops her sylph magic, becomes a detective, and solves murder mysteries. Later resurrecting the murder victims to check that she got it right.
jane is a maid, not a sylph, but she still very much has the power to resurrect people anyway jfdnvnn god that's funny
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shrimpimage · 1 year
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how 'bout today, you try eating someone else for a change?
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nooomagnus · 9 months
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black irises in the sunshine (a noir au)
a @tlt-big-resurrection fic! ft. art by @rhywhitefang @nakji and @ellevenstar and cosplay by @abhorsenkatiel!
Nova & Co Private Investigations is the best damn detective agency in all of New Canaan—and strictly a one-woman operation. No one can match Harrowhark’s sleuthing instincts, commitment to uncovering the truth, gritty aesthetic, or willingness to sleep in the office every night. But when Harrow gets shot (again) while working to expose corruption at City Hall, her friend Palamedes goes behind her back to hire her some muscle. The person who shows up on her doorstep is mouthy, annoying as hell, and distractingly attractive: exactly the opposite of what Harrow needs. But when an heiress with a mysterious corpse and a hefty purse takes a liking to her new bodyguard, Harrow is forced to keep Gideon Nav around. The good news: Harrow only has to work with Gideon until she’s cracked the case. Once she’s busted this thing wide open, they never have to see each other again….right?
coming this friday (8/4) to an ao3 near you!
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rhyaxxyn · 3 months
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writeblr resurrection (mind the gap, i'm still filling the grave back in)
about rhyaxxyn…
❂ my name is rhyannyn (ree--uh--nihn), but i go by rhys or rhyn
❂ she/her
❂ 21. last time i was here, i was totally 19 (maybe?)--and now I can do adult things??
❂ infp/infj - t  |   leo sun... i don't know what that means anymore, but i am ambitious to an awful extent, and creative to the point i feel like i'm dragging ideas around by their throats 24/7
❂ of native american and polish ethnicity. unfortunately i didn't grow up very connected to my native american culture so i don't claim it in my books though i do include aspects here and there (just little things i remember my dad telling me as a kid), but a lot of my polish heritage shines through in my writing.
❂ i work customer service and it drains me--but i love all my coworkers and would do anything for them
❂ i'm pretty sure when i wrote my last writeblr intro i said i love mac and cheese. things have changed for the worse and now i'm very allergic to dairy. tragic, i know.
❂ per usual, my little mentally ill bones give my writing inherent spice
❂ i have a partner (everyone clap), and he has thankfully made me realize how toxic some of the relationships i used to write are :D so many of the couples you may have seen if you've been following me for a while are OUT. but you know what's in? my sweet meow-meow boys. just you wait.
what do i write?
❂ many of my works are religiously inspired or have religious themes. yes i used to be catholic. yes it sucked. now i tear down those systems which took advantage of me in my works.
❂ i still don't write yucky relationship dynamics, especially now that i realized that I DID. but, i do write women who stand up for themselves, i write girls who discover that they deserve kind lovers, and i write men who aren't incompetent when it comes to the women they love. and being queer and dating a queer person, i write healthy wlw, mlm, and nonbinary inclusive relationships.
❂ i love complex characters. i love main characters who do awful, terrible things that are justified by the outcome. I love antagonists who fight against the protagonist because they've only seen the terrible means. and i love haunted characters who are stuck in cycles of evil which they see no way out of.
❂ in the regards of genre, i still only write fantasy. in variations, of course, but i'm a beast of habit
here's what you came for; the WORKS IN PROGRESS >:)
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In the wake of a god being mysteriously killed, the Nameless War has waged between the gods and humanity for fifty-eight years, killing that which is mortal and immortal, and creating constant battles for territory between the divine Creator military and the human Revolutionists. As hope for future peace between the species wanes, the fate of the war lands in unlikely hands.
Pandora, a goddess, the lost creator, nameless and chained to the Earth because of duty, yet still running from her true power.
Quinn, a god, the skijic and Creator High General, desperate for the memories of a life lost and the familiarity of a purple-eyed goddess.
Natia, a girl, heiress to one of the Republic of Valentulus’s most powerful cities, and slave to the Revolutionist Snake General.
Loyalties whither, fear awakens, and stories collide as the Nameless War reaches its tipping point. It is up to Pandora, Quinn, and Natia, each of them sworn against one another, to challenge the boundaries of their duties—and their pasts. The only thing that might change their opposing fates is the truth, letting the past fly free could very well set the darkness loose.
Infinite Tangents rewrites the definition of divinity, the gods of legends remembered and lost no more than a species without a home. The fight between deities and humanity is made equal, and the fate of the universe unsure.
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Billions of years prior to the events of Infinite Tangents, the planet of Kaleis, and the Kaleidoscope Suns' kingdom is in the peak of its power, guarded by her Divine Majesty Heather and her Phantom Suns. However, in the wake of an attack on the Light God's holy temple, they come face to face with the dark, and the reality that the universe will always call for balance.
Now Heather must navigate the dark, the light, and the truth that good, evil, demonic, and divine may not be so easy to define as she led herself to believe.
All empires must fall, but how much of herself must Heather lose in the process?
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Aita Hunt is a ruinsome, good for nothing orphan. With no one to rely on in Requiem, one of twelve glass Orbises launched into Earth's orbit in the wake of its enigmatic destruction, Aita suddenly finds herself fallen into a world of politics, deception, and magic which has little to no patience for a girl who is changing the world by mistake. Bound to love the man who abandoned her; bound to kill the woman with enough money to buy Aita's assassination--she must be scrappy, and quick-witted, and foolish enough to take any handouts offered to her.
Even those given by her makeshift god and Teller of the Requiem.
Aita has never known her odds to be fair, never known a kind touch since her mother drifted into her eternal sleep, but even if it is a dangerous, powerful man granting her a chance to survive, she'll take it.
And if she must be more ruinsome than her divine masters can take, Aita will learn to pray for forgiveness.
(applause here)
if you've made it this far and would like to watch me struggle and scream into the void and hopefully finish these projects, i'd really love a reblog/comment/follow so i can reach out and follow back. seeing others write and pursue their passions pushes me to pursue my own. plus, i love having new writer friends who enjoy void-screaming too.
well then friends, that's it... sort of. i have plenty more ideas to spout at you all but these works will be my main focus. unfortunately for those of you who followed me in the ancient days and are now watching me claw out of a grave like a disgruntled corpse, i will have to pull a bit of content for Infinite Tangents and the world of The Natural Orders in general. for good reason though, as i've started researching literary agents in the hopes of publishing the first book! yayyyy :')
all of this is very daunting, and horrifying, and so much as looking at my list of agents makes me feel like i wanna throw up--but i do remember and am so thankful for the support of everyone who i so much as came across on the writeblr community. without y'all i wouldn't even be trying, so thank you.
to anyone who does remember me, welcome back to my page and sorry for the metaphorical dust. things will get clean i promise. and to anyone new, intrigued, or even skeptical about the crazy things i come up with, please feel free to follow or question me. though, i don't promise the answers will make much sense either.
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Title Tales request:
“A boiling darkness lives within”
Gellert Grindelwald/Female Charlus Potter. 😏
When rising Dark Lord Gellert Grindelwald offers Heiress Charlotte Potter the Elder Wand and the Resurrection Stone as courtship gifts, is it any wonder that she accepts?
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A rough timeline of the Irrepressible Heiress's bullshit
This is very late, maybe a bit more unwieldy than is ideal, and has spoilers for Ambition: Nemesis towards the end! However, here it is at last so there's info about the Heiress out in the world.
The Heiress was born to a minor aristocratic family, and grows up as more or less an average grammar or private school aristocratic surface kid.
They don’t really try or engage too much, are all around unremarkable, but have a few friends, but are very close to their older brother, in a kind of “loose admiration, see each other occasionally and always enjoy catching up” way
The Heiress’s brother was a Prefect and generally kind of the golden child when they were both at school - as the younger sibling going through a lot of the same teachers that expectation definitely weighed on the Heiress - their brother told them not to worry, pointed out their own strengths, etc. Everyone else was definitely much more “why aren’t you as good as your brother”, though not always overtly.
Once their brother leaves school, the Heiress ends up putting him a bit on a pedestal and seeing him much more rarely.
During the Heiress’s last year of schooling, word reaches the surface that their brother died on a business trip to the Neath.
The newly-in-line-to-the-inheritance Heiress does not take this well - they don’t quite stop completely but it’s definitely something everyone around them notices.
The instant the notion of foul play reaches them, they blow all their savings, social capital, everything, to get to the Neath
They fully just jump on the first ship towards Italy - by the time they reach the Cumaean Canal they’re broke.
This gives them what is by all accounts a terrible idea - they make the last leg of the journey by picking fights with zailors until they are detained and (after insisting on being tried in the Neath) brought to New Newgate
After their escape, they spends a bit getting in with criminals, doing petty crime, chasing up little leads, just kind of blindly fucking around, as well as doing a bunch of assorted detective work and not really thinking about the contradictions in those last two.
To be honest they don’t really think a lot about their plans or how they got here - they threw everything away for this and are now desperately trying to justify it and navigate the mess they’ve landed in
This is also around when they start questioning their gender and realising a small part of why the expectation to be their brother always stung.
Around this time, they meet the Violant-Scrawling Apologist (@violant-apologia's character), and fall into an ill-fated relationship
Eventually, this coalesces into getting a university position and curiosity about the Neath’s deeper mysteries and weirdness going on, especially as those tie into the fate of their brother.
As they follow more leads and get further through Nemesis, they become more single-minded, more pro-Revolutionary and very fervently Liberationist.
This, combined with the Apologist doing Seeking and shifting towards White on the Chessboard, is not exactly a recipe for a long-lasting marriage.
Right before divorce, the Heiress ends up heading to the Avid Horizon during the Missing Month part of Nemesis, and sees the Apologist’s ship wrecked on the ice. The Apologist is alive - he’s just turned back from SMEN - but it’s around this point the Heiress realises how far apart the two of them have drifted.
When the Heiress returns to London after all that, the Apologist files divorce proceedings. The process isn’t overtly hostile - there’s no fight over property or similar, but political barbs are exchanged and the two of them realise just how opposed they’ve become.
Soon after, the Heiress fights through the rest of Nemesis, culminating in the resurrection of their brother. Whether deliberate malice on Cups’ part, or just some freak occurrence of the process, he has most of his memories but is left persistently unable to accept that his rescuer is the person he used to call brother.
From there, the Heiress helps get him on his feet in terms of lodgings and explanations about the Neath, but the pair’s interactions are rocky - sometimes they have almost that once-lost closeness, sometimes one will make a reference the other misses. Sometimes, he will pause at the word brother, as though trying to work out if it’s addressed to him.
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wormed-woman · 4 months
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After the mysterious death of a B-list movie star Juliet Heartwood, people from her past start looking into her case.
After coming back from the death herself, still not having any idea what happened to her, she finds herself in a tangle involving UFO's, psychics and a mining corporation
NOTE: this is kinda rambly, ill answer any asks and stuff that come my way from this ✌
Setting; 1995 Nevada,
Juliet Heartwood, birthname Juliet Barker.
Juliet was a teenage runaway who left home after an altercation with her mom, where she threatened to send her to a private school if she didn't stop doing ''witchcraft'' with Jack. Juliet ended up stealing Jack's car to run away which broke their friendship.
Years later, Juliet was trying to make it as an actress. She found a partner she was happy with, but he died before their son was born. Grief-stricken and broke, barely being able to look after herself and the newborn, she gave custody of her son Lazlo to her ex-SIL.
Juliet ended up reconnecting with her high school friend Aston Morris, and the two began dating seriously.
While Juliet's future seemed to become brighter, with a new partner and getting a role in a rather notable movie, it was cut short due to her getting killed in a strange UFO event.
Jack Gore (he/him trans woman)
Jack is a psychic who was high school friends with Juliet, planning to help her run away from home together, but their plan was scrapped when Juliet outright stole his car.
After cutting ties with Juliet and finding out that his brother Vinny was moving away because he was divorcing, he decided to join him as a supernatural aid, even thought Vinny was a more sceptic type.
Vinny had ended his marriage to the mortician Heather Jason, after in a paranoid state, she had spent the couple's savings on a nuclear bunker after having a vision which Vinny dismissed.
While on his own, Jack met Jo Tamashiro and had a fling with her. While not an official item, he was her partner and a mother to her child, Cabby.
In June 1995, Jack got some of the worst news of his life. Not only was he going to die from liver failure, but that Juliet had died. Despite holding grudges, he wanted to talk to her a one more time.
Before he could even process everything, the Gore PI agency was contacted by Heather, informing them that she had acquired Juliet's body to experiment on a new form of contacting spirits.
While both were hesitant, they agreed to help her with the experiment.
The initial goal of the experiment was just to contact Juliet's spirit by hooking up a modified spirit box to her corpse, but in an unexpected turn, Juliet's spirit attached itself to the body, not quite resurrecting it, but haunting it like a doll.
While Juliet was now back, she had no memory of what happened to her. Just lights.
Before Jack could make it to the house, an alien creature named the Collection attached themselves to Jack. The Collection, a shapeshifting parasitic entity was sent by the mining company MantiCORP heiress, Midge ''Mittens'' Mantis, for unknown purposes why she was so interested in the case.
Despite seeing each other again, the relationship between Juliet and Jack is cold but volatile, both holding resentment and grudges, but being forced to be around each other to solve the case. It doesn't help that there seems to also be other parties after them for unknown reasons.
Aston Morris, despite being cleared of being a suspect in his girlfriend's death, wasn't so cleared with his boss, Mittens.
Years before, Aston had wanted to become an astronaut, but because of some head trauma he gained as a teen, he was kicked from the program. His anger lead him to jail, but he was bailed out by the heiress. She gave him an offer he couldn't refuse; work for me and you can see space.
The job ended up being a corporate spy and a hitman for MantiCORP. He hated every second of actually doing the killing, but he felt like he was in too deep. Back on earth, Aston found success in a sitcom that lead him to be a successful mainstream actor, eventually leading him to stumble into Juliet again.
Mittens is the heiress to the MantiCORP mining company, which she had to fight for due to her family trying to swindle her out of her fortune. She first started with the recruitment of the Collection (experimenting on the assassin behind her father's death) and Becky, who would later become her wife.
Coll was always Mittens' right hand man, but after massive screw up at the job, she demoted them and made Becky their overseer.
After Becky disappeared after a recovery mission, Mittens kept Coll's current position due to the lack of evidence that they had anything to do with it.
While this whole thing is mostly ramble-y, I do plan on elaborating some of this. I am working on the comic version of this, but this is all the lore that hasn't been elaborated on. TY for reading!
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kaira-diaries · 4 months
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Chapter One: A Senators Retreat
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Part One of: The Heiress's Dilemma
Note: this story is over on Wattpad under kairadiaries
Warnings: threats of death/attempted SA
story summary: Elara Voss, a former galactic senator, finds herself at the heart of a crisis that threatens her family's legacy and the very essence of their honor. As she grapples with the fallout of her decline in the political world, she's forced into hiding with a mysterious bounty hunter. Together, they embark on a perilous journey to retrieve a relic that holds the key to Voss's redemption while avoiding enemies at every turn. Little did she know, this journey would unlock the emergence of a love she never saw coming and leave her stronger than she ever was before.
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The scorching twin suns of Tatooine shone relentlessly over the desert terrain, where the ever-shifting sands concealed the echoes of ancient legends and the remnants of forgotten civilizations. It was uncharted, unexplored and your court hadn’t ever found much use in it.
You cursed yourself now, as you rode with purpose on the back of a speeder bike, guided by a cryptic message that led you to the outskirts of a small settlement. Your destination, marked by the silhouette of weathered buildings, appeared like a mirage on the horizon. You flexed your gloved fingers, tightening them on the handles of the bike, weary in fear of the unknown monsters that lurk in the dried elements of the sand dunes.
The heat was oppressive, even at high speeds, offering a consistent gust of wind. You lick your lips, in hope of relieving them of the painful exhaustion of the breeze, only to find them painfully chapped.
You wipe your soaked brow, frustrated.
As the young senator of a newly constructed Mandalore, you were acutely conscious of the risks inherent in your position, accepting the inevitability that one day those risks might escalate to a critical juncture. And maker, did they.
Reflecting on the incident, you recalled the sequence of events that pushed you to the brink..
The elegant corridors of the Galactic Senate echoed with the usual hum of political discourse, but an undercurrent of tension continued as you navigated the complex dance of diplomacy. Your recent outspoken stance on independent capabilities had earned both allies and adversaries, and the shadows of political intrigue had begun to cast a threat over the once-groundbreaking career that continued your family lineage with pride and success.
You championed the strengthening of the independence of the new Mandalore, advocating for a course that emphasized self-reliance and sovereignty.
As the weight of political responsibility rested on your shoulders, the stakes were high. The decisions you made and the path you charted in the turbulent waters of politics weren't just about the fate of Mandalore; they were intertwined with the survival and prosperity of your family name. The honor and legacy of generations rested on your ability to navigate the complexities of the political arena, making every move with the awareness that the consequences reached far beyond the confines of the Senate chamber.
History revealed the tragic chapter as The Empire, hungry for power and resources, swiftly destroyed Mandalore. You aimed to showcase that those oppressed by the Empire could rise up, demonstrating resilience and returning stronger than ever.
The galaxy needed it. Even with the Empire gone, leaving vast worlds in a painful quest of putting themselves back together, witnessing a disintegrated race like Mandalore resurrected would serve as an inspiration for countless others. The resurgence of Mandalorians wouldn't merely be a regional triumph; it would be a symbol of hope, showcasing the spirit of a people determined to rebuild against all odds
Opposing factions within the Senate grew uneasy. Splitting the room in half. The delicate balance and inclusion you sought to maintain became a source of contention. Whispers of dissent circulated, painting a target on your back.
Your heart hadn't understood why, until it did. Hidden agendas. In the intricate web of galactic politics, there were always clandestine forces with their own agendas. However, now, those forces ran counter to Mandalore's independence. These unseen actors viewed you as a threat to their interests. You were wise enough to understand why. Many had sought to control such a powerful culture. They sought to build armies, utilizing such skills to get what they wanted. Yet, in your heart, after years of growing up on Mandalore and witnessing its downfall, you knew Mandalorians were more than mercenaries or hired killers. The essence of Mandalorian culture ran deep, rooted in honor, resilience, and a sense of identity that transcended the manipulations of those who sought to exploit it.
An anonymous transmission reached your quarters the very next day after your proposal. A distorted voice, shrouded in secrecy, warned you of the consequences of pushing for disarmament. The chilling words hinted at a well-orchestrated assassination attempt, sending a shiver down your spine.
In the following days, the threat manifested in subtle but unnerving ways. Unmarked speeders trailed you on your way to the Senate, and ominous messages were left in your private quarters. Mercenaries, clad in armor appeared on the periphery, their intentions veiled in mystery. It became clear that your dedication had disrupted the delicate equilibrium of power, provoking a reaction from those who preferred the status quo of criminal activities.
The heat of the two suns beating down on your head brought you back, no doubt burning your scalp.
Your heart sensed the presence of evil in these sands, a chilling warning that whispered of the nefarious forces entwined with this desolate planet.
Despite your current complaints, you still found yourself on the run, guided solely by coordinates that promised to lead you to the only bounty hunter willing to protect you — for a considerable price.
Approaching the settlement, you couldn't help but observe the paradoxical signs of life emerging from the decay that surrounded it. Amidst the dilapidated structures, a more vibrant building stood out, teeming with signs of life. Hopping off the speeder, you approached cautiously, a silent mantra urging you to maintain your composure.
As you stepped inside, your gaze lowered, and you observed the beeping of your navigation system. It confirmed that the coordinates precisely aligned with the building—a bustling bar.
The pulsating rhythm of the music reverberated through your entire being as you entered. Dancers skillfully adorned tabletops, their energetic performances earning them credits from the inebriated patrons who surrounded them. The ceilings, surprisingly high, were adorned with breathtaking chandeliers that cast a warm glow across the lively scene. A silent prayer passed through your mind, hoping those chandeliers weren't made of glass, as the energetic beats threatened to dislodge them from the ceiling.
Two bar tops came into your line of sight, each stool occupied by customers reveling in the vibrant atmosphere. The incongruity of such a lively scene in the heart of what seemed to be a deserted area lingered in your thoughts, adding an air of mystery to the situation.
The lively ambiance surrounding you seemed to heighten your sense of exposure and vulnerability, leaving you with an unsettling feeling of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
The crowd and the thriving atmosphere made you suspicious that a bar like this could be a hotspot for dealings and underground businesses. And the nagging question echoed in your mind: Why did the coordinates lead you to this particular place?
The realization struck you then—self-defense hadn’t been in your skill sets for years, you’d hardly remembered a thing.
A heavy weight settled on your chest, you were on your own right now, making every breath feel like a struggle and fear gnawed at you, the thought of being an easy target for criminals skyrocketed the sense of terror.
You compelled your legs to retreat toward the entrance, and as you moved backward, you collided with a rock-hard chest. A pair of large hands firmly gripped your shoulders, halting your retreat.
"Well, well. What do we have here?" Your body was swiftly spun around, and you found yourself face to face with a man whose eyes gleamed a vivid purple. "You are just darling." His pointer finger traced a line across your cheek. "What's your price, sweetheart?" A gasp escaped you in sheer terror. "Oh, I'm not a—"
He silenced you with a shush, a finger coming to rest on your lips. You recoiled from the overwhelming scent of alcohol that clung to him. "Oh, but we all are, sweet thing. We just sell different parts of ourselves."
Your heart sank into the pit of your stomach as he attempted to drag you toward the back room. Summoning every ounce of strength, you will yourself to fight back, pushing him away with all your might. In the struggle, you remained oblivious to the fact that your once-tight long-sleeved tunic was being torn apart by his prying hands.
"There you are," a voice called out. It had a filtered, almost droid-like quality, devoid of any discernible human emotion.
You and the inebriated man turned, your eyes landing on a tall Mandalorian in silver armor that gleamed like a freshly minted coin under the bright lights of the bar.
He approached with large, purposeful steps, reaching out to pull you away by the arm. "I've been looking for you," he said, looking up at the man, "thank you for finding her for me." Your attention snapped toward the man, who seemed to have sobered up instantly at the sight of the formidable bounty hunter. You recognized the unmistakable look of terror in his eyes as he hastily scattered off into the crowd.
Slowing your breathing, you became aware of the rip in the collar of your shirt. Before you could utter a word, the bounty hunter skillfully guided the two of you out of the bar and into an empty alley.
He gripped your shoulders, leaning down. "Are you okay?" You nodded.
He stood back up straight, with a sigh, he said " We need to get out of here.." His eyes scanned the surroundings, vigilant for any potential threats, and you took the opportunity to thoroughly inspect him. His helmet gleamed under the twin suns, reflecting their radiant beams. Clad in the all too familiar beskar armor that shined like it was freshly forged, he looked well-equipped, armed to the teeth with an arsenal of weapons.
After giving careful consideration to staying out of sight, given the bar situation, the two of you navigated the desolate town with caution, making your way towards his ship stationed on the other side. He handed you his soft brown cowl, and you wrapped it around yourself, concealing your face and the large tear in your shirt that exposed too much of your chest.
After what felt like an abundance of twists and turns, you finally arrived at his ship, and it appeared grand—much larger than any ships you'd ever seen back on your planet. The awe on your face was undeniable, and you stumbled up the ramp into the hull. Inside, you observed a spacious armory stocked with just about every gun known to man. Small living quarters, a bathroom, and storage containers filled with maker knows what.
You barely noticed the Mandalorian brush past you. He was swift, shutting the ramp, and climbing up the ladder into what you assumed was the cockpit. A moment of indecision hung in the air—do you follow or stay down in the hull? You didn't want to be in his way, but your curiosity outweighed your judgment, and you found yourself climbing the ladder after him.
The cockpit was compact as you came upon it, adorned with expansive windows that offered the bounty hunter an extensive field of perception. Taking a seat in the co-pilot position, you broke the everlasting silence, "Your beskar looks newly forged." The remark, perhaps could be taken as admiration or scrutiny, acknowledged his pristine condition.
Punching in coordinates and lifting off, the bounty hunter deftly switched to autopilot. Swiveling his chair, he looked at you. "Yes," he affirmed. You hummed, an uplifting smile tugging at your lips, crossing your legs with your hands in your lap- a habit. "I've never seen such a signet. A mudhorn, isn’t it?" You paused, your gaze fixating on the symbol adorning his shoulder. A potent representation of identity, "I'm glad to know after all this time signets still remain," you remarked, expressing a sense of gratefulness. He sat still, his head turned towards you. If he sought to uncover more about your knowledge you hadn't known, he gave no indication. After a brief moment, he swiveled back around, the enigmatic figure maintaining a stoic demeanor.
With his gloved hands hovering over the controls, he remarked, "You're a senator."
It wasn't a question, but a statement that hung in the air.
You hummed. "I was.” The simplicity of your response carried a weight. You dug your chin comfortably into your shoulder, finding solace in the connection between you and the expanse of space around you. The wondrous streaks of starlight zipped by every second, a mesmerizing display.
Continuing, you said,"Until the beliefs I had for the greater good of my planet made me look like a fool..made my family name look weak," you lamented, revealing the profound impact of your convictions on the legacy that preceded you.
"Last I checked, honoring your beliefs is anything but weak," the Mandalorian stated, his voice resonating with a firm belief that underlined the strength found in unwavering principles. His claim reflected his culture, your culture, one that esteemed honor above all else.
"Try telling that to the rest of the Senate. Most of them have their hands so dirty that any threat of exposure to their underground workings will send you six feet under," you remarked, your tone tinged with a cynical acknowledgment of harsh realities. "The greater good of the galaxy means shit to these people." The weight of your words lingered, encapsulating the system where self-interest often overshadowed noble ideals.
Silence rang in the air after that. The Mandalorian sat still as a statue, and you only stared out the windows at the shooting stars, counting as many as you could. What occupied your thoughts, though, was what the future held for you. Your mind bounced a mile a minute from question to question—would you be on the run forever? Would you eventually fall prey to those who sought bloodshed? Would this Mandalorian stay true to the deal? Senator or not, things are different now; alliances change. For the first time in a long time, you felt that sense of hopelessness you hadn't experienced since that night of destruction. The uncertainty of the path ahead weighed heavily on your shoulders, providing a palpable tension in the silent journey through the cosmos.
****
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harmonyckrs · 13 days
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Day 11 of Twisted Strangetown: The Police Are Actually Doing Something
THE PREVIOUS DAY
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NAME: TYBALT CAPULET
LIFE STAGE: TEEN
STATUS: UNKNOWN
SPECIAL NOTES: The most recent victim of the disappearances, and the the eldest child of the surviving Capulet family.
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Dear Diary,
Tybalt Capulet is missing.
Because of this, school has been moved online. Grandpa decided to install some security cameras around the house, and Juliet and Mercutio won't stop spamming each other with insults in our homeroom's group chat.
I've also been hearing a lot of police sirens lately, which is strange considering Tybalt isn't even the first person to disappear. Why did it take him disappearing for people to sudden give a shit? Is it just because he's from a rich family that people care about or something? That'd be really fucked up if that was true.
Grandpa also got a call from Olive and I overheard them talking about Tybalt for a bit, saying all those dumb flattering words that people usually say about dead people before Olive mentioned that she noticed him leave the house at 3 am and turn towards the area with the condos. I'm not sure why Grandpa decided to put the call on speaker, but maybe he's losing his hearing and either way it helps me a lot. Grandpa and Olive started talking about the condos and its residents, consisting of the Curious family, Dina's sister, some guy whose wife disappeared a while ago, Ripp and his family, and a gym bro turned mythologist.
And that made me remember something! That mythologist was named Cyd, and Ms. Broke said he would have info on fairies. But Grandpa was being paranoid about me potentially disappearing, so I decided to try to get in contact with him. Unfortunately there's like no info on him at all besides some stuff about him being the founder of the "Dognatchi" technique, which I remembered doing with Dad as one of the few moments where he acknowledged my existence without yelling at me. I guess I have him to thank for that lol
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After this I decided to call Ripp, only for it to end up voicemail along with this random guy telling me not to call again. Weird ass voicemail but whatever. Since Ripp wasn't available to investigate Cyd, I decided to just call Dirk only to find out his dad's trying to suck up to Kent in order to see if he can use him to get Dirk into private school, and Dirk's trying to befriend Ms. Heiress herself since Kent brought her along.
Good for Mr. Dreamer! I didn't think there was anything more to him other than liking art and fantasizing about a married woman, but it seems like he's not a total loser!
Unfortunately that does mean there's nobody else who can investigate for me. Angela's further away than I am, and considering how Dustin is right now I'm not sure if it's a good idea to ask him. I guess I'll just wait until tomorrow.
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Meanwhile, somewhere else...
"Congratulations, Brandi, for being the first to befriend a fairy. As a reward, I can grant you a wish..."
THE NEXT DAY
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turnaboutsisterz · 2 months
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chihiro fujisaki is getting good at this.
[she/her pronouns for fujisaki]
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violentvaleska · 2 years
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𝑫𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒅
ᴏɴᴇsʜᴏᴛ
ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴊᴇʀᴏᴍᴇ ᴠᴀʟᴇsᴋᴀ x ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ
sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴊᴇʀᴏᴍᴇ ᴠᴀʟᴇsᴋᴀ ʜᴀᴛᴇs ʙʀᴜᴄᴇ ᴡᴀʏɴᴇs ᴏʟᴅᴇʀ sɪsᴛᴇʀ. ʜᴇ ʜᴀᴛᴇs ʜᴇʀ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ʜᴏᴡ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ, ɪɴᴅᴇᴘᴇɴᴅᴇɴᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴇʟɪᴄᴀᴛᴇ sʜᴇ ɪs. ʜᴇ ʜᴀᴛᴇs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇs ʜᴇʀ. sᴏ ᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ ɪɴ ʜᴇʀ ʀᴏᴏᴍ, ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ʜɪs sᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋᴏᴜᴛ ᴏғ ᴀʀᴋʜᴀᴍ, ᴄᴀᴍᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴀʟ ᴛᴏ ʜɪᴍ.
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: sᴍᴜᴛ, ᴅᴜʙ-ᴄᴏɴ, ᴀɴɢsᴛ, ᴄᴀɴᴏɴ ᴛʏᴘɪᴄᴀʟ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴇxᴘʟɪᴄɪᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ
ᴀ/ɴ: ᴀʟsᴏ ᴀᴠᴀɪʟᴀʙʟᴇ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3
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Jerome Valeska usually digs the crazy ones. Those with a certain kink or lust for killing to be specific. He likes knives, is into the more extreme stuff and gets off on gaining or fighting for control. Yeah that's his type. Sado-masochism if you must put a name to it.
So it's not surprising that he got a little confused when his heart started beating faster at the pure thought of (Y/N) Wayne. Last time he saw her must have been a year prior, due to him having plans that maybe involved killing her younger brother after he got resurrected. He is not quite sure what death did to him, but after having a physical, violent fight with her and little Brucie, he quickly caught some warm feelings for the young lady if you will. When he was in Arkham he would start hoarding newspaper articles about her and hide them in his bed side table. He would also collect pictures of her, cluing them into his diary. So when Jerome broke out of that freak show called asylum, the thought of visiting the Wayne heiress came only natural to him.
It has been a nice evening so far. Considering the stressful events lately, (Y/N), her brother Bruce and their butler Alfred had a rather relaxed evening. Bruce worked on some stuff for WE with Alfred while his pretty and older sister sat alone in the library and read a book. Her brother has been at the GCPD the whole day, feeling responsible for Jerome Valeska's actions and the Arkham Asylum breakout. Reading over papers from Wayne Enterprises is truly a way to calm down someone's nerves, he thinks.
"I will be off to bed now." The words of his sister make Bruce lookup at the clock, noticing how late it has gotten.
"Alright, have a good night."
"You too, don't overwork yourself." The concern in her voice is typical for her, she's been trying to play the part of the older sister since their parents murder, but it's hard. She has responsibilities and had to grow up way too fast, at least that's what Alfred would tell her. "Wasn't planning on it." Bruce's answer is short and simple,making clear that he is busy. (Y/N) rolls her eyes and closes the wooden door behind herself when she leaves to go upstairs.
The walk to her room is long, no wonder it's basically on the third floor and the library is right at the other end too. After a few minutes she enters her, surprisingly cold, bedroom. Turning on the light, she can't help but to notice that the window is wide open. 'Alfred must have forgotten to close it', she thinks and locks it, pulling the curtains shut as well. (Y/N) is feeling strange though, like she's being watched. This may occur more often than she likes, so it's probably only what's left of her PTSD from last year's events. She shivers at the thought and makes her way into her small bathroom. A shower would be a nice way to end the day, it's her way of dealing with the stressful events of Gotham. She starts to unbutton her satin blouse and gently puts it over a seat. She hates to iron her shirts and blouses, which is why she treats them with care. Her skirt follows, leaving her only in her underwear and stockings. That's when she looks up into her mirror, planning to investigate herself with critical eyes, but instead she notices a different pair of eyes on herself. They are ocean colored and belong to a scared face with red hair. Her lips split open and for about ten seconds she doesn't dare to move. The color trains from her rosy cheeks and her breath is getting caught up in her throat. That's when she strikes.
With a swift turn, (Y/N)'s fist aims for his face, he blocks it, again she tries to punch his throat, he caughts her arms in midair. When she tries to kick him, he pushes her to the floor, hovering over her with an amused smile.
"What the fuck-" she groans and tries to tackle him off of her, but he's too strong. She can tell that he build up muscles while being imprisoned in Arkham.
"Hush now, we don't want to disturb Brucie and his oh so dear work, right?" Jerome's voice is harsh and raspy, which is probably a side effect from his death. Knife to throat does it's damage, (Y/N) notes.
"Let go of me." The young woman demands and struggles in his tight grip.
"Nah, it takes two to tango, doll." Visibly confused, Wayne frowns and stills in his grip.
"I don't want to tango, what the-" he lets go of her left arm, just to shut her down with his hand. He smiles at her yet again and is about to leave another snarky comment, when she uses that moment for her advantage. Hugging his hips with her legs, (Y/N) turns them, pinning him to the ground instead. A cackle of misfit leaves his scared lips, when she breathes heavily on top of him.
"What are you doing here?" She demands to know and glances angrily at the criminal, building up all her strength, just in case he would strike back. But when she notices his eyes wandering over her nearly nude form, the reddish blush comes back to her face, making her feel embarrassed.
"Fuck, that wasn't my plan I swear, but I'm not complaining, damn." It's clear that the girl is at a loss of words when she stares at Jerome in a hace. She feels all hot of a sudden and she truly blames her hormones for that.
"I mean look at you princess, life's been treating me good lately." That's enough, she finds the courage to punch him directly in the face, but Jerome is used to pain directed to his face now, so when he humps his hips up, to shove her back to the carpeted floor, the pleasure is truly more doing to him than the numb pain.
Landing on her side, she fastly tries to get up and run, but Jerome is yet again faster and simply hugs her into his stronger and taller body, tracking her against the nearest wall. A huff escapes her still parted lips and a soft, but noticeably painful yelp leaves her lips.
"Though, I like this position much better, what do you think, eh?" He's too cocky and too close to her shivering form. The cold air is catching up to her now and really challenges her cold stare directed at him.
"Now don't be so prude, babe. It's not my fault that you decided to undress while in my presence."
"Fuck you, don't blame this on me, you perverted bastard! Why did you break into my bedroom?" To her surprise she sounds steady and strong, but deep down she feels weak, tired of fighting him.
"Am not!" He argues childishly. "Plus I didn't break in per say, the window was already open." His hot breath hits her face and she finally starts to register her surroundings again. Jerome Valeska is squeezing her half naked body against a wall, while his heart beats fastly against his chest and something in his pants stands up in excitement. But (Y/N) doesn't feel disgusted, this whole situation is more confusing to her. She shouldn't have lingered her eyes on his pants, because Jerome took it as a sign to take what he's been guiltily thinking about the past year. Grippin her chin between his clothed fingers, he moves her head up a little, while he leans down, his eyes sultry observing her reaction to his actions. Before she is able to protest or reject him, he lets his lips catch hers.
To say that (Y/N) Wayne is shocked truly is an understatement. Her eyes are wide open, she isn't able to breathe or move, it's like a sleep paralysis. But sleep paralysises don't make her feel all giddy in the gut. Or perhaps she misunderstands adrenaline caused by anxiety. Those two often come hand by hand. She doesn't kiss back, nor does she push him away. She's overcome with shock and simply lets him have his way. 'It's better to not anger him' (Y/N) thinks and simply closes her eyes in agony. When he lets go of her, his cheeks are a little bit flushed and a cheeky smile is plastered on his lips.
"Ha. That was fun." He comments and brushes his hair back with one hand, while his body weight keeps her pinned against the wall.
"Why would you do that?" She wonders out loud and looks up at him in disbelief. The whole situation is unbelievable, unrealistic.
Even Jerome is perplexed, to say the least. Sure it was just a simple kiss, nothing special about it, except for the fact that it feels like pure ecstasy. It feels illegal to be this close to her and Jerome likes to break rules, after all they are made to be broken. He pushes himself even closer to her small frame and closes his eyes, while he rests his head in the nap of her neck. He feels her stiffen and a shudder runs over her body.
"I couldn't help myself." The ginger whispers and slowly twirls a lock of her hair in his fingers.
"I fucking hate you." He groans and digs his nails into her hip bone, making her leave a cry. She's definitely more delicate than her brother. When stapled Bruce's wrist he took it like a bro, his sister on the other hand not so much.
"Hate you for what you make me feel." When his lips start to slowly suck on her sweet spots, he can feel her slowly losing it.
"I hate you Wayne. Hate how beautiful you are, I hate that you are so independent and I hate that you deserve better than me." Jerome doesn't notice the tears in her eyes, when his knee squeezes itself between her legs. She's conflicted and overwhelmed, but her stiff nipels betray her body's clear attraction to him. The sheer fabric of her bra and panties turns him wild. Before he can even comprehend what's happening his hand wanders from her hip to her breast, slowly kneading it in his hand. His pelvis keeps her in place, while he starts to devour her, as if she is his prey, which, in his mindset, she definitely is.
"Jerome~" her voice keeps trilling him to continue his act of desperation for physical contact. He's attacking her, violating her mind, not her body though, her body reacts positively.
"Please." He stops himself from continuing and looks down at her.
"It's wrong, we can't-" his finger on her lip shushes her while he slowly places himself between her legs, forcing her to spread them even more.
"Hush now. Don't want to spoil all the fun."
She is nearly hyperventilating, the tension makes her knees all weak and she's slowly sliding down the wall, the only thing keeping her up is him and right now, there is simply too much of him. "No, Jerome. You don't understand-" named man lifts her up and turns them. With a swift motion he rams her against some furniture and hungrily holds her down onto it? Her back stings and she closes her eyes in fear.
"I don't understand, what exactly my dear? I know how you feel about this being wrong, but tell me-" with their noses barely touching, she feels his chest heaving against hers.
"-isn't it worth the thrill? Don't you like it? Eating from the forbidden fruit, I mean?" (Y/N) doesn't answer him. She simply looks at him, biting her cheek.
"You want a taste doll?" Swallowing, she nods her head, watching him while he opens his pants and pulls them down. When he is about to pull down his boxers as well, she looks the other way, not daring to examine his lower regions. He likes that shines and he shamelessly uses it against her when he roughly pulls her panties down. While she tries to close her legs, Jerome acts fast and pushes forward, pinning her down yet again.
"Getting second thoughts, hugh?" His smile is sickening, making her feel unsure about this whole ordeal.
"Jerome, we can't-"
And from one moment to the other she is silent, feeling something pressing slightly into her. Her eyes roll into the back of her head, when she feels an unbearable pain for a few seconds, the whimper leaving her mouth can only be described as pornographic, leaving Jerome astound. "Oh fuck, you are tight." He moans and slowly enters her further. She's a mess underneath him, shedding tears, yet begging him at the same time. His hand entangled in her hair and for a moment he relaxes in her, pulling on her hair.
"Am I your first?" Not that the question came as a surprise, but she still holds her breath for a second.
"Yes." Her answer is simple, but yet Jerome feels pure relief. He can still form her, he will always be her first and she will always remember it. With a quick fuck he could care less about what his partner is, but with her it's different. He can teach her his ways, make her used to him and only him. She will be his.
Sex is weird, at least that's what she thinks. The furniture her upper body lays on is uncomfortable, and the feeling of him pushing into her is raw and new. Sure there is pleasure in pain, but (Y/N) is not able to spot it just yet. What they're doing is something entirely different. It's the pain that will always stay between them, the pain will always outlive their pleasure and Jerome knows it. His movements turn quicker, his breaths heavier.
"It hurts." She complains and tightly grips his shoulders.
"Then take it." That confirms her suspicions. He's not doing it for pleasure, this is another fight for him, a game, something he can most likely win. Biting her lip she tries and concentrates on the pleasure and to her surprise it's working. With every second he pushes into her it feels more intense and slowly she starts to whine louder. Jerome's hand closes over her mouth, a proud smirk on his lips.
"Now we're talking." He spits and sensually starts to rub over her bundle of nerves. She can't help but notice how his demeanor changed. He appears exhausted, unstable and deeply rotten to the core. It makes her wonder if he realizes what he's doing.
"I hate how much I love you." He groans, while his movements turn more irregular. She closes her eyes in ecstasy and moans into his hand. She likes the way he uses and mistreats her in the most intimate way possible. It's like he said; he gives her a taste of the forbidden fruit, which makes her feel guilty and desired at the same time. They are enemies, yet she lets him have so much control over her.
Jerome cums with a satisfied sound leaving his lips and a shaking body. His member throbs and the feeling of warm liquid shooting into her makes her break as well. She curses under her breath and sees stars when her climax hits her hard. Slowly her grip on him loosens and when pulls out of her, (Y/N) sinks to the ground in pure exhaustion. She feels humiliated.
"You need to leaf." The young woman mumbles and pulls on her panties, ignoring the way he stares at her.
"But-"
"Spare it Jerome." With that she is about to walk to her bathroom to take a well deserved shower, but his hand catches her wrist in a strong hold and he pulls her flush against him.
"You don't tell me what to do, got it princess?" Her hateful gaze shocks him a little, but he shows no emotion about it.
"Why isn't that what you came for? To fornicate and humiliate me? You've got what you wanted, now leave." He sees it in her eyes before it actually happens, salty tears. Jerome hates when women get too emotional over nothing, his mother was a parade example.
"Oh you think I did this to hurt you?" He cups her cheeks, hard and pulls her close.
"Listen Wayne, and listen good. I did this because I felt like it, alright? Because I hate the feelings you cause in me." He pushes her away again and closes his pants.
"And next time I feel like it, you better come crawling on your knees to me and make up for the way you make me feel." (Y/N) swallows and watches him with sick fascination. He confessed something to her, something that shames him. It's when she realizes that she has as much power over him as he has over her now. They are equal. They are both damaged.
"So, ugh, see you." With that he leaves, back through the window into the deep, dark night.
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raphael-angele · 2 years
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Damian Wayne Can Do Magic and Y'all Can't Convince Me Otherwise
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Just hear me out
If you know Weiss Schnee (left), it's somewhat similar to her semblance (superpower). If you don't, here's a quick explanation.
Weiss Schnee is a deuteragonist in RWBY. She is the second child of a high class family and the heiress to the family's company. (Sound like Damian yet?).
Her semblance (AKA powers) is the ability to form glyphs. Unlike most semblances in the show, her semblance is hereditary and can only be passed down onto the daughters/heiresses of the family. (Which is relatable to Damian being born to be the heir to the Demon Head).
I can’t explain it properly so here’s a video link to Weiss using her powers and this to actually explain the powers
Now, how does Damian fit into this? I'll tell ya.
Around Issue 10 or 11 of Robin 2021,it was revealed that the Lazarus Pit was created with magic. Not entirely, but still. There have also been multiple time where it was evident or implied that Al Ghuls (mainly Ra's and Mother Soul) can perform magic. I’m still waiting on Issue 16 of Robin 2021 to explain as to why Damian’s heart/blood is important and powerful, but I’m gonna go on a limb and explain what I understood.
From what I understand, Damian’s blood and anyone who’s been in the Lazarus pit more than once, is contaminated with the waters of the pit. Lord Death Man said that The Blood of the Demon is more powerful than Lazarus Resin which leads me to question two things:
Are there different kinds of demons? Raven, as we know, is a magic user type of demon. Is Damian a different type? He is what I believe to be a Blood Arts type of demon (yes, the term came from Demon Slayer). Although Damian isn't ACTUALLY a demon, I'd like to believe that he's part demon considering his blood is contaminated Lazarus and that pit contains only who knows what. And since his blood is (currently) the only thing that connects him to being a demon, his blood is what activates his magic. So, yeah, he needs his blood to perform it.
Damian’s blood can resurrect people. From what I understood with LDM’s statement that his blood is stronger than Lazarus Resin, I’m wondering if Damian’s blood can actually resurrect people like the original Lazarus but the question now is, how? Like, do you inject it into their blood stream? apply it on the wound? is there a whole ass ritual that has to be performed as if it was a sacrifice to the devil?
I’ll explain other things in a different post cuz this one’s already too long
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valorums · 4 months
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ALTERNATE UNIVERSE WEB WEAVES [ 1/?]
ENDA, THE LOST HEIRESS OF HOUSE SERENNO : stolen at birth and hidden in plain sight amongst the ranks of the republic’s elite. JENZA and SIFO-DYAS live on, resurrected from the dead to haunt their murderer through their daughter’s soul. she is a LIVING GHOST, prophesied to forever tip the scales of balance in favor of the SITH.
originally developed through writings with @fallesto
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falling-turtle · 1 year
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Little Stratford - custom shopping district for Veronaville
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Little Stratford is home to many businesses, newcomers and established merchants alike. How is life in this little community going to continue?
Have you ever wanted more Shakespearean Sims for your Veronaville and/or a shopping district that’d fit Veronaville’s theme? Well, I wanted the same thing, which is why I sat down and created this little suburb so you can enjoy more Shakespeare-inspired families in your neighborhood!
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Features:
9 households inspired by Shakespeare’s plays The Merchant of Venice, The Taming of the Shrew, Macbeth, The Merry Wives of Windsor and The Winter's Tale.  There are 22 playable Sims in total (plus one cat). There are also three deceased NPCs that are resurrectable and have correct memories.
8 business lots - 6 owned by some of the families who live in this subhood, 2 unowned. There is a general store, a pet shop, clothing store, a restaurant, a bookstore, a salon and spa (which works as a venue), a bakery and a furniture store.
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The neighborhood name when you download it is BLST so make sure you don’t already have a subhood by that name.
The hood is built on the Riverblossom Hills template so you shouldn’t need a camera mod to view the lots.
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MODS THAT YOU WILL DEFINITELY NEED:
50 new lifetime wants for Sims 2 by Lamare since some of the Sims use those lifetime wants
Lifestyle Build Bundle (the second link in the top post; extracted from Lifestyle Stories by Argon)
Fix Subhood selection by Mootilda
RECOMMENDED MODS
Veronaville 2.0 by Delijume is what I prefer to play instead of the original Veronaville, so if you want even more Shakespeare than what the original Veronaville + my subhood gives you, I recommend you check it out! I chose Sims for my neighborhood specifically so they wouldn’t clash with playables from Veronaville 2.0 (although a few of the townies have the same or similar name as the Sims in my neighborhood).
DOWNLOAD
Meet the families of Little Stratford!
Belmont
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Portia has recently inherited her late father’s business. She’s confident she will be able to manage it just fine... as long as she has the support of her best friend Nerissa. But with her wealth, will she ever be able to form genuine relationships or is she going to be surrounded by vultures?
Friends
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Bassanio has moved in with his best friend as both of them look for ways to get wealthy. Bassanio has his sights set on a wealthy heiress while Antonio is struggling to get his business off the ground. Will the friends be successful in their endeavors?
Minola
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After his wife’s death, Baptista was left to manage his business and raise his daughters alone. Will he manage to be a good father to both Bianca and Katherine as well as keep the business afloat?
Lartius
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Just moved in, Hortensio and Petruchio are looking forward to their new life in this town.
McBeth
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The McBeth sisters have just moved in! Verona plans to open a shop and sell her potions, Bellatrix mostly wants to cause mischief and Esme is trying to keep things from falling apart. This family might seem a tad wyrd, but the sisters have a strong bond.
Falstaff
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John is looking for some new love; ideally for someone wealthy enough to financially support him. He has his sights set on two women in particular and is fully confident he will manage to woo at least one of them. Is he right?
Page
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George and Margaret have been married for years and still going strong! Will young Anne manage to find such a strong relationship one day? And will William ever manage to fix his terrible grades?
Ford
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Alice and Francis are content, but are they truly happy together? Will they grow closer or more apart?
King
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Leontes and Hermione have been happily married for years but recently, Leontes has become convinced that Hermione is cheating on him. Will his jealousy destroy the family?
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Note
I will admit, I have... many questions about the Pureblood Culture 'verse, so please bear with me here. Most of these will undoubtedly be about non-binary wixen, because I'm curious.
In a few of these, I mention birth sex. By this I mean essentially the gender/sex assigned to specific genitals in babies.
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What is the non-binary equivalent to heir/heiress? Is it heir for both males and non-binary wix?
How is the non-binary nature of a wix discovered? Is it determined at birth or discovered later in life like in the Muggle/our world?
If the latter, what happens to magic stored in a wix's hair/signet ring up until that point? Does it dissipate, is it sacrificed to Mother Magic, does it transfer to the cuff bracelet? Is it similar for trans people (magic goes from signet ring to hair/hair to signet ring)?
Is there a Courting Gift exclusively for wix/wix Courtships?
Can wixen tend to their sister's hair if invited, similarly to brothers? If a non-binary child is born before a son, do they get the right to tend to their mother's hair instead?
Is there a trend to how wixen tend to wear their hair, similar to the trend among Pureblood Lords?
Can cousins become Magical Twins? What degree of separation is needed for Twinned bonds when so many families are interrelated?
"Polyjuicing as another pureblood without full and knowing consent is considered Magical Identity Theft and is a serious crime." Is it similar for Metamorphmagi taking the entire appearance of another pureblood? Are exceptions made for Auror infiltration missions i.e. infiltrating the Death Eaters/equivalents in worlds where they exist? What is he punishment for Magical Identity Theft?
Is there a wixen equivalent to Morgana's Secret Arts/Merlin's Secret Arts? If not, can wixen practice the Secret Arts of their birth sex?
Can wizards wear ball gowns at formal events? Can wixen?
S there a wixen equivalent to "Morgana!"/"Merlin!"? Or do wixen use whichever is used by their birth sex?
Is Hogwarts located in Avalon or Magical Britain?
Have you decided on an Attribute for the Prince family? (Just curious, no pressure!)
How many known Chosens have there been? Have Chosens existed without the general populace knowing? Were the Founders Chosens?
Is there a wixen equivalent to Covens and Conclaves? If not, can wixen join the respective group of their birth sex?
Are there differences between types of merpeople (Merrow vs Rusalki vs Mermaids/Mermen, etc.)? Are Syrens different to merpeople?
Can oaths be sworn to Mother Magic/Chaos? How would they work? Would they be more binding than other types of oaths?
In stories where TMR becomes High Lord Slytherin, or Harry becomes High Lord Peverell they 'resurrect' the House in a sense, doesn't he? Would he have to build up the family magic again?
What happens when the sole heirs to Ogliarchy Houses Bond? Is it the Lord Potter, Heir-Consort Nott/Lord-Consort Potter, Heir Nott title layout? Or is it something else?
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Thank you for whatever answers you decide to give! They are very appreciated!
I adore your username. 💖
1. What is the non-binary equivalent to heir/heiress? Is it heir for both males and non-binary wix?
A person who presents as non-binary uses the title “High Wixen” in place of the gendered “High Lord/High Lady”, “Wixen” in place of the gendered “Lord/Lady”, and “Wix” in place of the gendered “Master/Mister/Miss/etc.”
2. How is the non-binary nature of a wix discovered? Is it determined at birth or discovered later in life like in the Muggle/our world? If so, what happens to the magic stored in the wix's hair/signet ring up till that point?
In general, I imagine it as being known from birth. However, it's also possible someone will realize it later in life. If that's the case, any stored magic would transfer to the cuff bracelet.
3. Is there a Courting Gift exclusively for wix/wix Courtships?
Not that I've invented yet.
4. Can wixen tend to their sister's hair if invited, similarly to brothers? If a non-binary child is born before a son, do they get the right to tend to their mother's hair instead?
Yes, they can.
5. Is there a trend to how wixen tend to wear their hair, similar to the trend among Pureblood Lords?
However they would like. They needn’t follow the trends of either wizards or witches.
6. Can cousins become Magical Twins? What degree of separation is needed for Twinned bonds when so many families are interrelated?
Anyone can become Magical Twins if they either a) are Twinned by Mother Magic or b) perform the Death-Blood Twin Adoption Ritual.
7. "Polyjuicing as another pureblood without full and knowing consent is considered Magical Identity Theft and is a serious crime." Is it similar for Metamorphmagi taking the entire appearance of another pureblood? Are exceptions made for Auror infiltration missions i.e. infiltrating the Death Eaters/equivalents in worlds where they exist? What is he punishment for Magical Identity Theft?
I don't think a Metamorphmagus could perfectly assume an entire appearance. But assuming someone's face and a similar body shape with the intent to impersonate that person would be a crime, yes.
The Polyjuice Potion is restricted in canon. So, yes, given its strict regulation, it's possible an Auror could be authorized to use it to stop a crime/go undercover.
It would depend on what the Polyjuiced person does while Polyjuiced. But, at minimum, time remanded to Azkaban in a low security wing. At maximum, the death penalty.
8. Is there a wixen equivalent to Morgana's Secret Arts/Merlin's Secret Arts? If not, can wixen practice the Secret Arts of their birth sex?
I've literally never thought about that before. Maybe?
9. Can wizards wear ball gowns at formal events? Can wixen?
Yes. And witches can wear trousers. As long as bust-to-knee is covered, then modesty rules are satisfied.
10. Is there a wixen equivalent to "Morgana!"/"Merlin!"? Or do wixen use whichever is used by their birth sex?
They can use both/either, or “Mordred the Betrayer”, etc., but they're most likely to use an epithet involving "Death!"
11. Is Hogwarts located in Avalon or Magical Britain?
That's a very good question. And my brain says, “Both.” It … sort of crosses the veil.
12. Have you decided on an Attribute for the Prince family? (Just curious, no pressure!)
Nope! I almost never write the Princes so I haven't ever felt a need to do so. But they are Attributed.
13. How many known Chosens have there been? Have Chosens existed without the general populace knowing? Were the Founders Chosens?
I've never considered the first question. Yes, most definitely. No, they weren't. That was just Chaos's second son deciding a school needed to happen and dragging the other Oligarchy into it.
14. Is there a wixen equivalent to Covens and Conclaves? If not, can wixen join the respective group of their birth sex?
Yes. Though, I'm unsure what I would call it. Maybe … a Connex? 🤔
15. Are there differences between types of merpeople (Merrow vs Rusalki vs Mermaids/Mermen, etc.)? Are Syrens different to merpeople?
Oh, absolutely. Syrens are different from Merpeople who are different from Selkies, etc.
16. Can oaths be sworn to Mother Magic/Chaos? How would they work? Would they be more binding than other types of oaths?
Yes, absolutely. They're called Covenants. It'd be a magic, blood, and soul-bound agreement. If you break one, you'll be stripped of your magic. And, frankly, you'll probably die, too.
17. In stories where TMR becomes High Lord Slytherin, or Harry becomes High Lord Peverell they 'resurrect' the House in a sense, doesn't he? Would he have to build up the family magic again?
Nope! Oligarchy family magic goes dormant instead of … dying, for lack of a better word, because the deity that started the bloodline still lives, so even when an Oligarchy House is defunct in Avalon, the bloodline isn't technically dead.
18. What happens when the sole heirs to Oligarchy Houses Bond? Is it the Lord Potter, Heir-Consort Nott/Lord-Consort Potter, Heir Nott title layout? Or is it something else?
So, for example, if Tom and Harry bonded in a world where they're both Oligarchy Lords, it'd be:
Tom Marvolo Slytherin, High Lord Slytherin, High Lord-Consort Peverell and Hadrian James Peverell, High Lord Peverell, High Lord-Consort Slytherin.
Children would not have hyphenated names or titles. They would inherit from whichever Oligarchy bloodline gifts are dominant in them.
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