♦ ♦ Keith's Chronicles // Tavern Storage (ɴsғᴡ) ♦ ♦

Keith Logan · May 17, 2023

Here in this journal, you'll find the collection of some of my notable roleplaying memories, ooc quirks and moments of inspiration.

Each dedicated player feature thread can be dynamically updated over time.

May you emerge from this archive entertained.

Fair warning: Links might be nsfw. Might encounter mild nsfw content on the main entries too.

Keith Logan · May 17, 2023

Old Sample Writings - Slice of Life (Links potentially NSFW)

**Note: Most of the sample writings here came from plots that were not listed in my selection of ideas. If you find yourself interested in pursuing the setup of any one of these samples, I am also happy to talk and work out something with you.

Inactive threads
No Good Deeds Goes Unpunished.

"Wish to get dressed already? No."

Keith smiled calmly, before he shoved Claire over between the two golden vertical golden stands of the cloth hanger, and got her kneeling down onto the marble slab, as she was made to face the pole stand closest to the mirror, in turn, allowing her the opportunity to stare down at her own body and state in its full glory by the reflection.

He began his nimble act, first muffling her mouth shut with a red ball gag, tightly secured in place. He first wrapped a bundle of rope around her waist, making sure her frontal skin pressed down against the cold steel. A second bundle made a round on each end of her shoulder blade, before streaming down to her hands, clasped behind her back. The ropes began binding her elbows tight to one another, down to her wrists, effectively arm locking her limbs in place. A third bundle made rounds around her mid thighs, lower thighs, upper calves and lower calves, forcing her legs to clasped shut and tight. This in turn, forced the definition of the two steel dildos of her Chasity belt stuck deep into her, to feel very tightly pressed down onto the entire circumference of her pleasure canal, as her clenched muscles wrapped around it.

The true torment was delivered by the fourth bundle of ropes. It binds her lower arm and wrist bonds to her ankles, around her feet, and around her toes. The toes were then slinged up into the air by the tension induced from it being strung to the binds on her elbow, and lastly, her hair bundle.

Keith touched up his work of art, by pinning two hard wooden pegs on each of her nipples.

The end product was Claire being strung up in an uncomfortable state all over her body (NSFW). Her knees were made to support the weight of her body. Each time she would wobble her knees to ease the pressure, her body movements would cause her sex canal to grind down against the steel balls deep within both her pussy and ass.

"I know. It must really be frustrating to not be able to relief that growing inch in you."

"Thus, I've took the time to compose this just for you as a reward. This should ensure that you get all the stimulation that you were deprived of over the last month, make up for lost time and return them ten folds."

Keith smiled, before he stroked Claire's cheek tenderly for a bit. He eventually got up, placed a remote control down onto the carpet ground right smack at the middle of the mirror, along with a wireless headphone to the side of it.

"I'll come back and pick you up for lunch. About 2.30pm? It's about 10.30am now. Happy cumming."

With that, Keith slipped through the curtains along with a random piece of male coat he conveniently picked from the store earlier, and made his way out of the cubicle, but not before being confronted by the female staff.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yup. Did my girlfriend already left the changing room?"

"I don't think so. I thought she was with you?"

"Nah, she was by the female cubicles testing out her stuff. She said she was gonna head out to return them cause it didn't fit."

"Ah alright, I must have missed her then."

With that, the two pairs of footsteps trailed further and further away from her cubicle, soon, leaving her in isolation.

Matthew McLaren was first made senior partner alongside Christopher Hanover some four years back when he turned twenty-six. Back then, he was the talk of the city for months - probably the youngest ever lawyer in Florida and the neighboring states to have his name plastered on the firm's name alongside a founder. It was a highly unusual jump, given that he first joined the company at the tender age of twenty-two.

In truth, some element of luck was involved in his ascendancy. Pieces to the various consecutive high-profile cases fell in the right places at the right time. That is not to say that Matthew had no skills. But Matthew had the knack for making the most out opportunities presented. He is adept at riding the waves of spontaneity. Plus, he set a high bar for himself. By default, Matthew does not aim to be content with settlements in all of his cases, but eager to ensure that he delivers a clean knock-out to attain maximum value for his clients. He was raking in serious money.

As his reputation spiked over the years, there came a flood of clients that specifically asked for Matthew to take on their legal woes. It eventually came to a point whereby he knew he needed an assistant...

...and he dreaded the thought of that.

Matthew is a perfectionist.

If he were to hire an assistant, he fully well knew that there is a very high chance that the assistant will not be able to keep up with his required level of detail and meticulousness. The assistant could also very well become a hinderance instead. He had on a few occasions, mind wandered at the thought of a potential research or clerical error by a novice intern that could sabotage deals with high stakes. In all of those times, he could feel goosebumps emerging from the surface of his skin - even though he was literally imagining something hypnotical.

Christopher had to sit Matthew down and convince him otherwise. And even before Matthew agreed to the idea of hiring an assistant, Christopher already took the initiative to publicize the opening. The second Matthew was swayed, Christopher smiled and smack a clipboard containing names and contacts of potential hires right in front of him.

"Good. I've already got to saving you the trouble of putting up an ad. The interviews will begin tomorrow morning."

"I'd expect that you pick yourself a good mate by the end of the day."

By midday, Matthew was desperate to end the search of his right hand. The list of intern applicants that was handed to him supposedly consisted of the cream of the crop. Yet, none of the 17 interviewees that he has spoken with so far impressed him. Each of them had stellar academic track record along with an impressive display of extra-curricular achievements. But that was not quite what Matthew was prioritizing. The 15 spent more time talking about what they have accomplished but offered limited insights to what they could offer to him in the months ahead. Some even went on a cringeworthy display humblebrag. Some were mechanical in their interviews, with their answers clearly rehearsed in advanced. He even ended a few interviews early within 10 minutes on at least 5 applicants.

The trauma of having to sit through mediocrity without break for the day was arguably even more mentally draining for him than some of his cases.

When Jessica Bancroft stepped into his office at about 4.30pm, his mind was already thinking about rewarding himself proper wine and steak at the two Michelin stars restaurant just a few minutes' drive away. He even reckoned that he deserved to leave the office a little earlier than usual.

Matthew only truly paid attention to the 18th interviewee for the day when she settled herself right across his table even before he extended an invitation for her to do, as he customarily did to the other lads earlier.

... Brazen...

Jessica was the only female applicant that he was going to assess. No words were spoken within the brief span of time since she entered his office. But the non-verbal expressions were coming in at an abundance. Jessica already left more impression than most other applicants without talking, within the period of less than a minute.

"I'll be honest with you. I am extremely exhausted after having sat through a marathon of child's play interview. So, unless you're massively confident about your chances of impressing me, I suggest you not waste both our time."

By the end of the interview, Matthew pulled the remaining candidate papers from the clipboard handed down to him by Christopher and fed it into the shredding machine, right in front of Jessica.

And he got her to pen down her signature on the spot.

The drive to the company's Alaskan lodge was painfully long. And if not for the heavy snowstorm earlier at first light, he would have had the luxury of being ferried over to the lodge situated in the heart of the wilderness by a chartered helicopter. Afterall, a helipad was constructed just beside the lodge and that was initially meant to be the primary form of transport to and from the airport.

Five to eight years ago, Matthew would have cursed during the course of the journey. Now, as he is due to turn 30 years of age in a few weeks' time, the years of gritting through all forms of tremendous stress and navigating through time-sensitive cases and issues that came in all forms of modality, he has learned to expect the unexpected. His patience and resilience have grown, while he was numbed towards most effects of negative outcomes these days.

The lodge was necessary. A recent purchase by HML, Matthew was moving into a new niche - handling industry cases involving the extraction and use of natural resources in the vast untouched lands of Alaska. This was the gold rush of the 2020s.

The one solace he had was the display of luxury right in front of him and the promise that he can at least indulge in it during whatever spare time that presents itself over the course of the next month... or three...

... or six.

He has not informed Jessica that there is every likelihood that the trip may be extended. It much depends on the outcome of the various cases that he was supposed to deal with. If it does get extended, he was well aware that it will eat into the final year of her academic pursue. He also has not informed Jessica that he was pretty much convinced over the past 6 months that he was ready to convert Jessica into a full-time employee - he just did not want to let her know of that yet, just in case she turns complacent. Jessica was performing at optimum level, and he wished for her to uphold that standard and consistency. If the trip does get extended, he was ready to provide a letter of endorsement to her college to convince them that they should allow Jessica a sandwich year to concentrate on her internship.

And while Matthew hasn't really spoken to Jessica much since he hired her on the fateful day six months back, their correspondences were endless through electronic means. With the extended reliance on email and the net, Jessica Bancroft over time could very well pull off the identity of an extremely intelligent AI bot rather than an actual human, where Matthew just needs to chug whatever kind of task that needs to be done, addressed to Jessica Bancroft, and it just magically gets done by or before the stipulated deadline.

Whoever who invented Jessica Bancroft was a genius.

Matthew turned off the engine to his black Porsche. Dressed in leg-con fresh and new looking black trousers and a pair of heat-tech beneath and a matching suit, with a white V neck T underneath and a third layer of heat-tech shirt beneath, he trudged his way through the above-ankle high snow in his polished dark brown leather shoes.

Much to his surprise - or non-surprise - was Jessica Bancroft, in person, already present by the main living space when he opened the door, greeting him.

... the hell? I did not even prewarn her of my arrival. She really is a bot!

Matthew only tilted his head slightly to one side when Jessica extended one hand to initiate a handshake, his hands still passively tucked to the side of his body. He looked mildly amused.

"A handshake, really?"

"You should have offered that on the day of your interview, not six months later."

Admittingly, he understands to a certain level, why the offer of a handshake was a reasonable choice of action. Nevertheless, there was still a lingering sense of awkwardness considering how much they have corresponded with one another albeit through non-physical means to be this formal.

"And what is this, dress down Friday?"

While the oversized black knit sweater looked cute on the young woman, it was nothing compared to her top-notch sense of office fashion back in Florida. The lady obviously has a stunningly fit figure, and she knew just how to flaunt and accentuate all that she has without compromising on her professionalism. Her pencil skirts were not too short, but they were tight. Her blazers and blouses were body-con fit but struggled to conceal the pair of bosoms that she possessed, enticingly busty, but just about proportionate on the high end of the spectrum to her body. Her calves and thighs were very toned and hinted of the kind of vigor and stamina she might potentially possess to a wandering male mind. In his private thoughts, he was bound to be disappointed at being denied the eye candy that he was so used to. Interestingly however, was how he noticed that Jessica looked quite different without her makeup on. She did not look any less appealing, but certainly showed another side of her that Matthew was less acquainted to. She looked... quite a bit more youthful, more jovial than the professional (smokey) front that he was so used to.

He tried to maintain his supposed disdain and firmness for as long as he could, before eventually breaking the act, lifting one clutched hand to for an invitational fist bump, along with the faintest of grin on his face.

"I'm pulling your leg."

He has had a long journey. He needed some form of release. Jessica just so happened to be the first subject that he could toy on for his amusement.

"So, have you got the first case file ready for me?"

"Just so you know, in the event if you smash this for me, I can't quite offer you financial incentive as a bonus since it is an administrative nightmare to sort that out when we are so far away from HQ."

"I can, however, whip up a good medium raw sirloin."

Matthew had the fridge by the adjacent open concept kitchen open as he spoke, showcasing the well-stocked, inventory. Clearly, the company has hired a housekeeper to ensure the place was in tip-top condition before it was to be used for this extended assignment.

"Valid enough incentive for you, Lass?"

That was probably the closest Jessica has gotten to bruising Matthew. He got played, and then his wild attempted threats didn't work. And for all the composure that he was able to maintain on the front, his posture of equanimity, he was fuming within. Jessica has driven to him to an edge none of his exes, and even his present partner, albeit a shaky one, was capable of doing so. And even more embarrassingly, Jessica was just his intern. Has she gotten so complacent, so comfortable with him that she does not realize a great deal of her future is still pretty much in the grasp of his hands?

He could pretty much fire her as and when he wished to. But it was increasingly coming to a point whereby firing her just wouldn't bring him enough satisfaction. She was long due, a proper lesson on obedience and discipline, of being reminded to know her place. Jessica was pushing dangerous boundaries. Above all, as much as he would never explicitly admit, it hurts his ego that intern Jessica was and is willing to dance for probably any man, but him. As Jessica sauntered out of the theatre with her laptop in hand, while further dampening the mood of the night by reminding him of work tomorrow during his leisure time, his mind could only think of ways he would tie Jessica down onto a barbeque stick and watch her slowly get roasted alive above a figurative fire.

None of them knew just how much their vengeance for now another, was feeding one another, spiraling deep into the depths of an ominous abyss.

And for once, Matthew could not figure a witty last word in time before Jessica could walk out on him.

Work was unusually dull and uninspiring.

The clients may be different from case to case, but the zoom call at noon pretty much exemplified what virtually all of his clients wanted. They speak and demand of the same thing. His reputation meant that rich clients with difficult cases often requested for him to take on their case. And rich clients with difficult cases oftentimes meant defending the devil.

For all the prestige and glorious virtue of justice that the root of his profession was based on, ironically, he was helping criminals thrive for the most part of his portfolio. And his wins for these criminals would mean further increase in reputation, further increase in figures in his bank account. It was mutually beneficial.

Matthew probably didn't even need to take on the zoom call for he was fairly able to anticipate the contents of it. His schedule for the day was packed, but in terms of productive value, he was essentially rushing for nothing.

He internally groaned at the need to meet up with the Attorney General (AG) for dinner. He was probably going to question him on some nitty gritty details of a case that he is currently involved that has matters involving National economic security - the siphoning of Alaskan natural resources out of the country which would directly benefit a certain political competitor. For a moment, a record breaking latest first smirk of the day that occurred only at 3.05pm in the afternoon happened, at the thought of how he, a 28 year old lone individual, has actually got a certain degree of influence over the great powers of the world. The outcome of this case was in his hands...

... And yet he could not even bend Jessica to his will.

Fuck.

Why would Jessica pop into his mind out of the blue?

If Jessica has somehow managed to etch her presence into his mind permanently, Matthew knew his life ahead will no longer be as calm as he would like before.

Matthew managed to ensure that the fate of the case was still pretty much well in his turf. The AG was the one extending the invitation for the meal. He said it was just going to be a social catch-up. By the end of it, one thing led to another, and he was pretty disillusioned. He has swiftly maneuvered around leading questions that were deliberately and delicately set out to catch him out, on the record, via a concealed mic that recklessly peeked out from his suit, over a meal. That was one way of ruining a three Michelin starred experience.

When the AG excused himself to use the washroom, Matthew was already more than looking forward to return to the comfort of his Alaskan wonderland, even if it was located in a god-forsaken location.

Jessica, Jessica, Jessica.
Oh fuck off. Keep your mind off her for just a day.
She is irrelevant.

Jessica, Jessica, Jessica.
She strings you better than Geppetto could ever do with Pinocchio.
What even is this randomness?

Jessica, Jessic...
Fuck off.
Alright fine FINE.

Matthew pulled out his smart phone, and launched the smart app for the lodge's security and amenities control. At least he can take comfort in the fact that Smug O' Jessica was careless enough to not realize that the main interior and exterior areas of the lodge had security cameras installed. After all, the lodge was a massive investment and expenses should be spent when its due when it comes to protecting one's high stake property. To give her the benefit of the doubt, perhaps the craftsmen had done a great job at ensuring that the cameras were well concealed in their respective areas. Concealing lens would mean reduced area of coverage. But money was never quite an issue. All that was needed, was to simply install more cameras at more angles to make up for the rigidity.

Matthew swiped through the immense array of camera display, searching. He has never been this pumped up since the start of the day.

Matthew McLaren graduated Magma Cum Laude and was the cohort's valedictorian. Four years back, the decision to leave his home town was painful. But on hindsight, it has been, in the grand scheme of things based on all that he knew about his life and the people closest to him presently, worth it. He had even secured himself an esteemed job in a law firm that was, like his University, was located many hours away on the other end of the continent, in a commercial city that never sleeps, where the elites of the many industries were gathered in one unifying place. Matthew was so good with his job interview that he managed to negotiate a six months break upon graduation to allow himself a much deserved break, before he returns to the hustle and bustle of life that he seemed to have an affinity with.

It was a Saturday morning, but it did not really make much of a difference to the free man whether it was a weekday or a weekend. He has got a half year ahead to do whatever he wishes without needing to spend a single moment worrying about deadlines. It was a luxury never before possibly afforded since he began elementary school. Born to a modest, upper class family, he has been bombarded with tuition and extra curricular activities by his parents for as long as he could remember. Perhaps he is who he is today thanks to his very successful but demanding parents.

The man was weary after having sat through an international red-eye flight that flew across the channel. He barely had any sleep, but he has been eager to start the day, to do anything other than to sleep. Like a little boy who has just got his hands on a brand new toy, his fingers gleefully unwrapping the present called freedom. He had hastily dropped his luggage back at home half pass six o'clock in the morning into his room where his parents were still soundly asleep. He did not bother getting a shower, and instead only got his teeth brushed. He was not going to sit around at home and wait for his parents to get out of bed. And thus, a gave himself a few spritz of his musky, slightly fruity day cologne over his plain white V-neck that wrapped so fittingly across his broad, athletic torso frame, as well as on his leg-con blue denim jeans that despite the thickness of the material, was able to showcase his toned leg frame.

He replaced the simple black blazer that he wore for the flight with a black raw hide, broad collared leather jacket instead, zipped himself up, before he headed out into the open.

The fresh morning air was such a treat, one of the few things he missed about this quaint neighborhood and town that was greener than most other typical urbanised regions. He made a quick stop to his favourite local bakery, picked up two pastries with a cup of freshly brewed coffee, before he set out to the first place that he thought, would make the perfect first stop over - his ex, Elise's place, where she used to stay with her parents.

When he did arrive at her doorstep, he rang the doorbell, before he was greeted by the familiar face of Elise's mother.

"Matthew?"

"Yes, Mrs. Becket It's been so long! How have you been? Is Elise around?"

For how cordial he used to remember Mrs. Becket was to him back in the days, he felt a noticeable difference this morning. She was particularly ambivalent, if not, a little cold and reserved at seeing Matthew at their doorstep after all these years. She always treated him like he was her son then. Now, it just felt really distant and strange.

"Long indeed. A lot has changed since you left. Haven't you-"

Mrs. Becket abruptly stopped her speech. Yet, she looked like she was still dying to complete her sentence. But clearly, something was holding her back. Perhaps she had a reason why she decided to discontinue her words. No, there must have been a very good, legitimate reason.

"Elise is no longer staying with us. She has grown a lot since you left and needed some extra space for herself. I will let her know you came by the next time I see her, alright? I hope you have a great day ahead."

"Wait Mrs. Beck-"

With that, the woman closed the door behind her like Matthew was none other than a door to door salesperson. It also served as an awakening for the man. He knew Elise was devasted about them ending their relationship four years back. But he did not realise the gravity of the situation, as hinted by Mrs. Becket slightly inimical responses. Was it really his fault that they needed to end their relationship? Had he been too selfish, prioritising his future over their future? He had initially hoped to rekindle at the very least, some kind of friendship with his ex. But he now realised that it could very well be a mountainous task ahead, more difficult than he has previous imagined.

Matthew had tried dating during university. There were two, both of which did not last quite long, and he then resigned himself to the rare, occasional flings just to get by the void that has been left behind since he and Elise had to part ways. No girl was as attuned to him as much as Elise and it was difficult for him to replace Elise when she has set the bar so high.

He remembered that second last night before he had to leave for University, where the two of them were on the last day of their planned road trip, a trip to mark a bitter sweet end to their amazing relationship. Perhaps it was the circumstance of things that led to the night, and against Elise's usual prerequisite, they decided to make passionate love - without a condom, for the very first time. The sex was mind-blowing. It was the first time he did it raw with Elise, or with any girl for that matter, and it certainly was something different. They went at it for hours, through the night, as he managed to pull out in time successfully for the first three of his orgasms. By the time first light was out, he remembered how they never looked like they were keen to stop, despite having stayed up the whole night.

The memory was still well etched into his mind. Elise was riding on top of him, her youthful body rocked back and forth him with zest and unparalleled endurance. He warned her that he was going to cum, again, if she was going to keep going. And against all logic in the heat of the moment, Elise doubled up her intensity.

"Wait, wai-.. Nghh."
"Eli-Elise, I can't."
"Hold up, stop sto-"

He came, hard, the hardest he has ever had. His entire musculature frame tensed, his back managed to arch even against the weight of Elise pressing down on him. He wasn't one to moan liberally, but he let it all out at the moment. He remembered how it took them at least a good five, maybe ten minutes of absolute silence, of her body piling down on top of his chest, heaving from the immense exertion. His heartbeats along with their deep recovery breaths were sure to be the only things audible, accompanying the sight of the sun rising from the horizon from the distance, beyond the window of their landlord-less Airbnb accommodation.

"Are you... safe?"
"I should be."

Before he knew, he found himself mindlessly walking into a very familiar park, one of significance, one that where it all began. It was then when he realised that even after all these years, that he thought he might have moved on, after going through a few failed relationships, and the sleepless nights that he was able to fully focus on his university assignments, that if he truly given it a good, deep thought, that he actually still very much missed Elise.

He needed to see her.

And then beyond his thought-blurred vision, sat the lady that has been bothering his mind for the past few hours.

Matthew held his breath. From the distance, Elise looked quite a bit more mature, but still possessed that air of elegance and innocence at the same time, the kind that has always made him want to give her a tight embrace for as long as he possibly could. Normally confident and well assured of himself, he found his heart unusually pounding. He also knew it was now or never. Mrs. Becket never looked like she was going to pass on the message to Elise that he has dropped by earlier, and he has for whatever reason he cannot quite even fathom now, why he did not transfer her contact number over to his new phone when he changed it three and a half years back, effectively loosing contact with her.

The man then picked up his steps, bent on ensuring that he was able to get to Elise before he lets her disappear once again from his sight.

"Elise...?"

Matthew's voice came from the side of her, as he fast approached from the distance.

"Oh my god. How have you been?"

The man had a genuine smile showing from cheek to cheek, before he leaned in for an embrace - not just an embrace, but one that he made sure that his arms were well wrapped around her entire torso frame, just like old times.

"God Jason! You feel so good."

That was as best a comment a man could receive from his woman. And it was not just her compliment that was doing the work, but the way she was moaning. It was so loud and uninhibited. And the way her body was contorting, her face wincing in seemingly uncontrolled, irregular intervals made her seem as genuine as it could possibly be. Jason has never seen Cassandra so… wild. That led to the curious question as to how many times had Cassandra been faking it in their past encounters. On hindsight, if this evening was the epitome display of what true pleasure entails for Cassandra, then he was starting to doubt the many of times when Cass put on a flawless vocal display, but were lacking the facial and body accompany that was present this night - like a rock band piece with vocals, but without the backing presence of drum beats and electronic guitar strumming.

It was 11.20pm and Anthony was prepping himself for bed time. Typically, his bedroom has always been exceptionally tranquil, with the glass panel windows doing a fine job at pretty much keeping out all noises coming from the city. This night however, he heard a noticeable but muffled female pitching coming from the wall behind the headboard of his bed. This was the first time he had encountered such an instance, and the first time that made him realise just how hollow the wall that separated his room from the one next door was. For how stunning his condominium looked on the outside, it was in features like this that the property developer did to cut the cost of production. The exterior was just a façade, to make the place look grand. At the end of the day, all the tycoons really cared for, is to make a marvelous first impression, grab the money, then dash for the door.

In his next immediate musing, he began to wonder how often then, did his neighbour have to deal with the sounds of lust coming from his bedroom over the last few years. He tried to spatially imagine the layout to figure out which poor neighbour of his was the unfortunate victim. As it turns out, to the right of his apartment, was Jason, Cassandra's fiancé.

Oohhh. Looks like someone is having fun tonight.

Anthony grinned to himself. He went over to the corner most window that was closest to the apartment next door, and unlatched it. Jackpot stroked, as he was greeted by the raw, melodious familiar sounds of Cassandra's moans blasting towards his direction, into his room. It was as if he had just increased the volume of his sound system. The man then returned to his bed, and peeled down his shorts to reveal his semi-hardened member. Anthony pulled out his iPad, and launched up the recorded massage video capture from earlier. He fast-forwarded to the scene whereby he was rapidly fingering her, her body swaying to him. And along with the audio complement of Cassandra's live moans, he relied on the visual aid to help him reimagine a different scene of Cassandra moaning to him, for him.

The man jerked his ginormous length, not rapidly, but with strokes of meticulous finesse, covering the entirety of his length. However, Cassandra's moans ended almost as soon as she started - at least, by Anthony's standard. And while it was short-lived fun, he thoroughly enjoyed it. The man was very tempted to go all out and relief himself after feeling the tension building up within him since his spicy encounter with Cassandra earlier, but then eventually stopped jerking off himself.

The man was suddenly inspired.

He was going to save his load.
He was going to ensure that his biological factories were filled to the brim.
So when the opportunity comes for him to unload,
He will be able to give Cassandra his all, as she so deservedly deserves.

It did not take long before Cassandra put on an erotic involuntary dance of her body convulsing under his grasp. He made her dance. And there was something strangely alluring about being able to make and watch one's woman shake uncontrollably, and that he was the cause of it. It was the ultimate display of dominance, which was topped with the ensuing submissive in question approving and surrendering to his will. Jason's self-esteem battery has been charged to the brim, thanks to his fiancée's wondrous performance. Suddenly, his former worry was shoved to the back in his mind. Surely, Cassandra's display meant that she was still very much in love with him, and he might have been foolish to be doubting Cassandra in the first place. She cared enough to be this wet for him. She was psychologically invested enough to be able to cum for him. All in all, his filled esteem battery would be able to last him for a long while before he returns for a recharge.

In yet another milestone, this was the first time in five years that Cassandra actually came before he did. In the early days of their relationship, it was difficult for a stereotypical nerd like him to be able to last long when his partner is one as captivatingly stunning as Cassandra. Just by feasting his eyes on Cass's voluptuously fertile looking bosoms that were still very firmly shaped, her enticing waist concave of her hour glass figure, her toned, pert bubble butt, and her mouthwatering fine toned definitions from calves, taut stomach to her arms, was enough to make his manhood squeeze and release hard on itself on repeat. He might possibly even be able to cum just by running his eyes all over her body and let the involuntary throbbing and twitching of his cock get himself off.

So when Cassandra came before he did, it was an incredible achievement, especially since the odds were well stacked against him. Jason thought he did well, and that the trick was simply to just go a little rougher on Cass, oblivious to the fact that she had been painfully teased by someone else for the past two hours before she was able to even get to this point. Jason had lasted a record breaking twenty minutes one time before and he still did not manage to make her cum then. Today, Jason glanced towards the clock by the bed side and noticed that it took her just under four minutes!

It made Jason feel a bit silly as he thought all he needed to do all those years was to just change his approach.

After Cassandra came, Jason felt incredibly relieved, especially since he was very aware that his own orgasm was just hovering around the corner. And as usual, the Asian gave Cass a few more hard pumps before he pulled out just right on time, his groans loud and unrestrained, his hips careened about in rough circles from his involuntary muscle spasms, to fire his healthy load of four ropes of rich spurts onto her tight stomach, coating it with artistic strings of semen, his hand jerking his cock to ensure that his orgasm followed through completely and he unloaded all that he had to offer for the lady, plating his richness on her belly like a food platter presentation at a michelin star restaurant for her inspection.

Once his release died down, the man reverted back to his gentle default, as the orgasm seemed to have exorcised whatever soul that had possessed him over the last five minutes, out of him. He dropped her legs back down onto the bed with care, then flipped himself around to lie on his back against the mattress right beside Cassandra, arm pressing against arm. He was deeply satiated, and found little need to initiate after sex cuddles, especially since she has managed to spent him so hard over the last ten minutes since the tension started brewing - for Jason. His non-stop pounding for just over three consecutive minutes clearly tested the limits of his stamina, as he was still panting pretty hard at the present moment.

"Fuck Cass...."

"You were really in the mood today, huh?"

"I am glad I was able to make it home in time for this."

"Love you, marshmallow."

His breaths were deep and heavy, but he managed to gather enough strength to shift himself up a little. He lifted her chin with his fingers and tilted her head over to have his lips met hers, before planting a kiss - only a simple kiss. He indulged Cassandra, not by his deliberate will, but that his chest happened to press down against her outer arm as he flipped to his right side to give her that kiss, while his left arm sensually brushed the tip of his fingers in soft circles by her skin just above the site of his cluster of cum. Gradually, his breaths began to slow down and his tracing fingers halted to a rest. And before long, the man exhausted by the day's event, went into slumber, his head, nested into Cassandra's right shoulder.

"Careful, those are some big words you're throwing."

Anthony held his reply in his mouth the whole time after he had her lifted and tossed down onto his bed, collared, spanked before she was dragged to his lips. It was further held in memory even after he reverse threatened her about what he could be capable of.

"We'll see about that."

"Big words from me you say, hmm?"

"Have I disappointed in any of my proclamations so far, Angel?"

And once again, he went back in time to extract earlier snippets of Cassandra. The man has an exquisite memory. He remembered each and every erogenous spots on her body. The prove came in the form of his fingers and mouth already intuitively strumming against the various areas to elicit the movements and sounds he so desired from her over the past hour or two, as if he was a professional player with her body being his instrument.

It begs the question if his excellent memory would serve as a double edged sword, especially coming from a man whose present alter ego gave hints that he was capable of stopping at nothing to get what he wants, to do things however he pleased. As it stands, he has fulfilled both aspects by currently having a strong grip hold of both Cassandra's body and mind despite having previously committed herself, symbolised by her engagement ring. His dispositions meant that the man was also dangerously capable of holding grudges, and that whoever steps on his toes would undeniably feel the wrath of the beast of a man deceivingly disguised as a distinguished gentleman. The man was unpredictably two faced, and he has shown glimpses that he knew just when to play the king the house, and the king of the bed befitting of the circumstance.

"You talk big yourself, don't you, Angel?"

Then, he tugged on the leash with his fingers, coiling a few more rounds until the collar was inches away from his restraining knuckles. With her face staring right up at him, he landed sudden slaps across each side of her facial cheeks in alternation, fingers spread wide eagle as his palms landed on full force across the entirety of her respective side cheeks. Then, the free hand cupped her chin to pivot and lock her face in place, to stare right up at him. While and when Cassandra was made to deal with the lingering influx of prior stimulations and emotions, Anthony made full use of the opportunity when her guard seem partially down from distraction to land a healthy pool of clean spit, aimed directly at her upper lips in a bid to land a figurative adhesive to temporary shut her up.

"The only time you get to open your lips, is when you're taking my cock with this pretty mouth of yours, when I allow you to sing those melodious moans of yours, or when I ask you a question."

"You're on my bed, my rules."

"Have I made myself clear, Rag doll?"

With that, he lashed two more smacks on each of her facial cheeks, before renewing a fresh pool of clear, translucent saliva spit onto her lips, if it helps to even keep her hushed for a few moments longer.

<10:15pm> Sweethwang :heart:

: Hey marshmallow, I will be back in about 10 minutes.
<10:16pm> Sweethwang :heart:

: I'll see you in a bit?

Even though it was only the second day, Jason was starting to get used to Cassandra's sudden lack of enthusiasm when it came to replying him.

And that hurt him.

Jason knew there was the possibility that Cassandra would be out of the house by now. But he refused to believe so. His delusion kept telling him that perhaps, Cassandra was just being petty to try to get him to come home early, that she did not actually mean to leave him for the night in preference to head down to Jade's. He could count the number of times he spent a night not having Cassandra by his side at his bed with his fingers, and none of them were resulted from a fight. He was simply not used to it.

Jason has always felt that Cassandra was borderline to moderate clingy for the longest time, and even teased her about that here and there. And it was not just his subjective opinion, as both their friends have casually mentioned before that Cass was comparatively needy against the average. His schedule and previous priorities meant that he was never quite able to match Cassandra's need for attention. It felt good to be wanted by someone else and it was endearing. And Jason took it for granted over the last five years.

Now that Cassandra has suddenly toned down on her grips on him, he should have been happy that he did not need to spend as much effort now pacifying her down. Her attachment level now would have been ideal if she showed that from day one of the relationship. Yet now, Jason could not help but feel depressed at the sudden neglect.

Suddenly, his work that he has spent almost his entire life working towards, did not quite matter as much anymore. Jason actually abandoned some of his crucial work that was due Monday midnight to rush back home, just so he could attend to Cassandra, just so he could see her again. And although he has only just seen her earlier in the morning, it felt like he has not done so in months. The heaviness that was welling deep inside him felt like he could implode from it any moment, any time. Jason was just living on borrowed time in terms of his work. He knew that him going home early this night would mean him needing to spend more hours in the office on Monday. But that was a problem for Monday.

Anthony then shoved Cassandra to her back on the mattress and looked like he was about to double down his aggression on her, when the door bell to his apartment rang.

"... the fuck."

Anthony froze for a good two seconds, before he got off his bed. The man quickly picked out a fresh piece of his favorite running shorts from his pullout drawer of the base of his bed - exactly similar to the one he wore the day before, only that this particular piece was black - and put it on. His eyes fixed on Cassandra, his voice on a deep low, speaking as if he meant business should she not obey.

"You. Stay."

"I'll be back."

With that, the man got out from his room, and made his way to the main door to open it.

And there stood the girl whom he hasn't met in over seven, maybe eight years. His first real love, and as much as he now hated her, she played a real major influence in shaping him to the man that he is today.

Sarah Woods.

"Hey! Anthony. It's been a while. Can I come in?"
"Uh... it's not convenient."
"Of course it is convenient."

Meanwhile, Jason happened to walk pass the corridor as he noticed his neighbour attending to yet, another a lady whom he has not met before. The only two peculiar points of note about this meetup was that it was happening at the time of the night that was definitely past his standard working hours and two, this splendid looking lady dressed with her side boobs along with her bare back blatantly exposed for all to see was clear to him that this was likely, some kind of a booty call.

"Hey Jason, I'll see you tomorrow, yes?"
"Yes, tomorrow. You have a good night."
"I will indeed, hope you do too, pal."

The neighbours briefly exchanged cordial greetings, before Jason watched the lady pushed Anthony by his chests, into his apartment, essentially proving his prediction 'right'. Jason then made his way into his own apartment to the right of Anthony's.

"I've missed you, stud."
"Sarah. We're not doing this again."

Sarah smiled, before she leaned in to peck a trail of kisses down his chest, before slowly getting down to her knees, her lips working his abs. Her hands were just about to reach to peel his shorts down when Anthony held onto Sarah's wrist firmly to stop her in her tracks.

"Sarah. No."

"Why, my big boy? You've never turned me down over the years whenever I showed up."
"You must have had... a really bad day. All the more you should let me treat you like a king that you are."

Sarah was bent on persisting, her feminine fingers softly scratching down against his pectorals as she never looked like she could keep her hands away from the man since she turned up at his doorstep.

"Get out, Sarah. Sick of you using me as your rebound over the years."

"You are not really just a rebound if I keep finding myself coming back to you all these years. Four times? Make it five now."
"I know. You want me to admit, don't you? I'll do it, for you."
"Over the last decade and a half or so, I've had my healthy share of men. None of them has ever matched up to you."
"I am ready now, Anthony. I want to give us a go again, just like the old days of our sweet fourteen."

Anthony scoffed, before he pulled himself away from Sarah's touch, as he began to walk back towards his room, back paddling to face Sarah as he summarized what he had in his mind, before turning his back on her in dismissal.

"We have ended the day you decided to cheat on me on my sixteenth birthday. Me constantly falling back into your little honey trap over the years was a mistake. And this has to stop this time, for good."

Sarah grinned, deciding she was not done with her fight, yet. The rambunctious lady picked up her pace to try to close the gap between them once more, eventually following Anthony to his room, where she had originally planned to be at. Her grin however, rapidly evaporated when her eyes caught sight of another lady - an admittingly gorgeous one - already lying on Anthony's mattress, with her collar that Anthony bought and meant for her for her fifteen birthday, around that stranger lady's neck.

The audacity.

Sarah was raging on the inside. The lady came sure this night that she was serious about them, her and Anthony. It took her a long time to figure that out. But she was now sure Anthony was still best for her. And then this happened.

Anthony was as calm as he usually was, perching himself back onto the bed and positioned himself behind Cassandra, his hands armlock both of Cassandra's arms behind her back horizontally, before he chained her mid forearms together in place with a few coils of the steel leash until the the base of the chain was fully utilized, then holding it in place alongside her arms with his left arm holding on firmly onto her bounded limbs. He then grabbed a large handful of Cassandra's hair, yanking it up to have her face Sarah, as he intended to put on a closing show for his toxic ex in an attempt to shut her out for good.

"Meet Cassandra Davis."
"Beautiful, has a fight in her, more intelligent than you can ever be. She's a Harvard graduate, by the way."

With that, the man pulled his shorts off with finesse, and then plunged his mind boggling 7.8 incher right into the heart of her temple of fertility, trusting that he has done just about enough previously to have moisten her love tunnel to take on his immense length and girth. With that, he began fucking Cassandra at a sudden, accelerated pace and strength while keeping her hair tugged back, her pretty face and body front on for exhibit.

"Look at her, knowing her place, where she belongs."
"It's only her second day, and she's got it right. The gulf of wisdom between you and her, is immeasurable."

Anthony then leaned down slightly, semi-whispering into Cassandra's ear, soft enough to be sensually arousing, but loud enough for the onlooking witness to hear.

".. hey Angel. Will you please tell off the lady over there who you belong to, and where your pussy belongs?"
".. she wanted to steal me away from you for the night."

Anthony.

Naturally, as Cassandra handed him the two glasses to hold and then lifted up her shirt to reveal her glorious hour glass, his eyes were drawn to her body like steel balls to magnet. It was comforting to know that he was still in awe, as if this was the first time she was baring herself for his viewing pleasure. However, the experience wasn't quite as enjoyable this time, mainly because he was feeling a certain heavy weight in his heart that was distracting him from truly appreciating Cassandra for being the woman that she is.

"Sorry I took long, I met a friend who I used to go to high school with and we just had a chat."

"Oh?"

He let out a sigh of relief within himself initially. He was glad that Cassandra had come clean as he had hoped. Well... sort of. It took only a few seconds before he realised that he was actually not as satisfied with her answer as he initially thought he was. 'A friend' does not explain why she was so unusually intimate with him. Either that, or he did not realise that Cassandra might actually be that cordial with all men. If that was the case, that was equally concerning for him and he wasn't sure if he felt comfortable about that. It was not so much that he didn't trust Cassandra, for she has proven to him on multiple occasions that she was a lady of integrity. Rather, him being a man himself and knowing the workings of men's mind, he didn't trust men in general to be around Cassandra if she makes herself that open to people of the opposite gender.

His eyes were on the sea front, mind busy at work, processing, contemplating, when Cassandra turned around her shoulders to check behind her. It was only when Cassandra turned her head back, that he eventually turned his eyes to meet hers, seeing that she was looking... partially flushed? That look was mystifying, but more alarmingly, unnerving, given what he has witnessed just earlier. She has got to be hiding something, surely. What followed, was a brief moment of silence.

"Is everything okay?"

"Hmm."

"If you'd like, why don't you spend sometime with your friend later? Actually, you know what? I insist."

"We have over two weeks ahead for us to spend time with each other. I suppose it'd be nice for you to spend a few hours with your friend if you guys haven't seen each other in a while."

What the fuck? What are you doing Anthony?
You fucking retard.

Anthony figured it was an opportunity to show that he can be gracious. After all, he has been really selfish the previous day and he wanted to show that he is a man who knows how to exercise limitations. Plus, he has already been down to strike two, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to start the morning on a sour note when the objective of the day was to move on into a new chapter of their lives. Confronting Cassandra now was going to make things awkward, especially since Jason went on that brutal tirade over the phone just the night before. He heard how Jason's words pierced Cassandra and he really did not want to be Jason v2.0, even though he very much wanted to be bluntly honest with Cass - in particular, her indecisiveness and her most recent cryptic display were the very things that he detested to the core.

All Anthony ever wanted these days, was to be able to find a woman whom he can live together with in peace. He has had drama his entire life, which were mostly tragic, and he was so fucking sick of them. If Cassandra was serious about progressing their relationship, her propensity for indecision, her lack of ability to put a stop to things that obviously would harm and all the half secrets needed to stop. He wanted a relationship where two parties get to share every inch and facet of their lives with one another, not a ticking time bomb that would blow up as a result of self-sabotage. Cassandra was almost perfect for him. But these two issues, he figured, she really need to grow up, and grow fast.

The circumstances of things meant that Anthony was cornered. Mood was at all time low and the day looked like it was starting to get better for Cassandra. He did not have the heart to ruin the morning for her. And being the older and expectedly more matured person in their new found relationship, he wanted to lead by example, to show that he was capable of compromising, of sacrificing, like she just did for him. He wanted to show that he can learn and be capable of trusting her a little more, that what happened last night in their bedroom, was something that he is able to restrain himself against from this day on, that he can and won't repeat the same outrageous mistake anymore in the future.

"Let's dip, shall we?"

"We'll have lunch, wash up, and you use the next half of the day to catch up with your friend."

"Text me later if you want to have dinner with me, or if you need more time catching up."

Perhaps a very subtle giveaway if Cassandra was astute enough to pick up, was how the non-verbal cues along with his intonation that made it suggest that Anthony knew this friend was a he. There was a certain air of unease - a very subdued one -, when he put forward the suggestion. It was as if he was a bit... unwilling? But he insisted nevertheless. Unpick the signs, and his intention might have been readable.

You fucking, fucking, fucking idiot.
Shut up. I'm learning to mature.
Your naiveness is going to cost you.
This is the price I have to pay.
My insecurities have hurt Cass.
I have to learn to fix myself.
You have became weak.
You've lost your identity,
that made you who you are today.
You always fought to get what you want.
I will set her free.
If Cass truly belongs to me,
she will come back to me.

A magnanimous lover, or foolish blind faith?

Hardin.

Hardin smirked when he saw Cassandra immediately turning her head away from him when she saw him he caught her staring right at him. His narcissism convinced him that Cass looked at him because even after all these years, she still missed him.

She might say that they should not see each other. But he believed Cassandra was just trying to fight against the inevitable, that they were always meant to be together, and Cass was simply delaying, wasting time, all because she thinks she needed a man who could 'provide her a stable relationship.' Hardin didn't know exactly how much Cassandra has changed over the years. But as far as he remembered Cassandra, he knew she has got a certain taste for the dark side, the dysfunctional love. Like a drug, consumption makes one incredibly euphoric. But at what expense?

Hardin had only previously ordered himself a pint of Kronenbourg after he dismissed himself from Cassandra. He was downing pretty quickly, and was down to the last quarter, when he felt someone, slightly shorter, most likely feminine, leaning in, pressing in against his right bicep. Intrigued, he turned to look at this stranger.

"I hate her."
"I'm sorry?"

"And you hate him."

By now, Hardin winced his eyes. The talk was short, but the phrases released the floodgate to a barrage of questions. The lady was looking fine. Stylish, a semi-translucent thin red sarong wrapped around her waist, dressed in a matching set of skimpy bikini that left her side boobs and a generous amount of her firm bubble butt exposed. A healthy light tan, a pretty face. If not for Hardin's fixed obsession with Cassandra that has clogged up his emotional space, the lady would have captivated him enough to make a move on her.

On the night that Anthony made Sarah watch him fuck his new lover, rage was seething in her. But the lady has the unworldly ability to think with a clear head despite how clouded her mind could be. She was sharp like that. She could easily think at the tip of her feet. That was why her enemies feared her. The woman of venom was always concocting a plan or some sort every single minute when she was awake, be it to address her plans for the future relevant to her goals, or to plan to exercise vengeance.

When she stomped back out into the living room that night with the lewd moans of Cassandra echoing from the corridor behind her, she spotted Anthony's phone by the bar counter beside the main door to his apartment. Swiftly, the award winning high flying sales lady picked up Anthony's device. While there was a passcode, she knew he has always be lazy with it. 1234. 9876. The first guess was wrong, but she managed to get it right the second time round. Quickly, she installed a tracking app that was part of her sales catalogue of her company that she was familiar with, and hid it beneath folders of folder.

Once it was downloaded and hidden in place, she placed his phone back onto the counter, before she made her way to the exit. The whole process took no more than two minutes.

Ever since that day, Sarah had 24/7 surveillance of Anthony's movements.

Eventually, she peeled herself off from Hardin. She then tilted her head to give the gangster of a man a sweet, sweet smile.

"We'll make a great team."
"Free to talk?"

x Cassandra aka @Intrusive (RT)

Keith Logan · May 17, 2023

Old Sample Writings - Fantasy, Post-Apoc, Sci-fi (Links potentially NSFW)

**Note: Most of the sample writings here came from plots that were not listed in my selection of ideas. If you find yourself interested in pursuing the setup of any one of these samples, I am also happy to talk and work out something with you.

Group Roleplay:
Dawn Chorus

Vadel is a prosperous, resource-rich kingdom. With prosperity however, the kingdom became a natural magnet for vikings, raiders and the occasional supernaturals. The defenses and wealth of Vadel is presently unmatched in the continent. But Vadel could not afford a moment's rest, for power and knowledge are always growing at an exponential rate. All it takes, is an alliance among the rest of the regional tribes and lesser kingdoms, coupled with a timed opportunity, and all that the people of Vadel have built over the last 387 years could be plundered and razed to the ground. Vadel needed to keep up with arcane progression and research to keep themselves in tip top condition. More concerning however, is that should Vadel fall, one of the 12 active magical wonders known on the planet world of Mytridon can and will fall into the wrong hands.

Every magic wonder in the world of Mytridon is associated with a unique magical element or type like teleportation and healing. While spells have evolved, branched out or been augmented through human experimentations over time, the root of every single magic spell casted on the planet of Mytridon was birthed from one of the magic wonders. While there are currently 12 active wonders, there are another 12 that have either mysteriously turned dormant for millenniums or has been artificially locked up and suppressed over generations because the magic they possess were deemed too catastrophic and goes against the virtues of humanity. Each of the current 12 active wonders scattered across the world are controlled by an esteemed kingdom - at least, in the context of the age of the War of the equilibrium that ended some 400 years back. The faction of the light triumphed over the faction of the dark, and the victorious side decided to seal a select number of wonders for the greater good of mankind, for the sake of peace. It was agreed that the remaining 12 active wonders were distributed over to the 12 most influential individuals, all of whom played a massive role in the outcome of the war. Due to the vast size of the planet, maintaining connections between these 12 individuals on a regular basis over the years was no easy feat. Things were made even more complicated when each of them eventually formed their own kingdom; each were increasingly held up by the natural ensuring internal politics. Updates over the changing intentions and ambitions of the different kingdoms, if any, were not well communicated. And while the world is still experiencing an unprecedented pace of progression and peace, not much is known about any change of heart/s that could threaten the dissolution of the golden age.

The kingdom of Vadal was built right beside the Anduin wonder, also known as the obelisk of water magic. The first ruler of Vadel that was assigned to Auduin has ever since, been harnessed the energy it provides. An entity that harvests the energy of a wonder receives a massive boon of the element or magic type the wonder is associated with. And for as long as the core of the planet burns, the energy generated from these wonders are essentially boundless. Anduin allows its harvester to control and manipulate water, with water closest to the harvester capable of being utilized in devastating ways. This was one of the main reason why Vadal has always been difficult to penetrate for invaders across the centuries. More importantly, Anduin has transcended the teaching of water magic to an unparalleled level, and mages of Vadal are extremely adapt and creative with how they manipulate water. One of Vadal's historic moment, was that the young Uldin once conjured an immense tsunami from the sky, crashing down and wrecking an entire horde of over 10,000 eastern raiders. It was after that battle that Uldin was promptly crowned the 9th Archmage. The decision was initiated by Joakim the 8th, knowing that Uldin has surpassed what he was capable off, comfortable and knowing that The Golden Mystics - consisting of the a council of elite mages - is in good stead under the talent and brand new direction of Uldin. One of Uldin's notable achievement, is the successful implementation of an optional magic gauge litmus test targeted at children reaching the age of four. It is the kingdom's defense initiative at offering families to put up their sons and daughters through this test for free to identify world class potentials early. Then, it is on the onus of the parents, with subtle encouragement from the ministry of magic, to invest in their kid's potential.

Like many families beyond the elite class, parents would naturally do as best as they can to invest in their child when they passed the kingdom's magic litmus test. Alexander, was born to an upper-middle class family. He has lived a relatively comfortable life on a poor man's silver spoon. He topped his cohort with a comfortable buffer in front of the second best, and was shoved right into the Ashmore academy early on through endorsements of senior magic consuls. For the first few years, he did not need to try and could still easily hold onto his top spot. Then the academy eventually decided to combine the winter and summer intakes into one singular batch due to a periodic dip in birth rate, resulting in reduced class sizes. The first time Alex saw himself second in place to a girl called Melia, with her leading by a healthy score buffer, he literally thought:

Who the hell is this beast of a girl?

Alex is a sloth. By definition of a sloth, he is not lazy. He is anything but lazy. He just prefers to do and learn things at his own pace. All this while, he only needed his talent and modestly average effort to clinch himself the top spot. Now this Melia girl is threatening to cut off his free time that he would otherwise love to spend on his other exploratory hobbies. He was exasperated. He needed to reclaim the top spot, for it offers certain perks and benefits, like access to the restricted ancient scrolls and tomes on the academy's library, that would be seen by the rest of the students as luxury, but a basic necessity in the eyes of Alex. He was able to reclaim the coveted spot on the next semester's public release of result, but he had to share it with Melia - only because the both of them achieved the maximum possible score. That went on for the next few years. Alex learned the meaning of hard work for the first time the day he knew of Melia.

Alex was inducted into The Golden Mystics two months earlier than Melia did. He thought he finally shook her off for the first time in god knows how long, until he met her at the lobby two months on.

Great. Just when I thought I could finally make decent progress on my water-summoning magic fusion water golem project, you decided to show up!

Apparently, she requested for a two months induction delay due to some personal quest. He tried his best to mind his own progress, for it is now not so much about topping the scores. On hindsight, taking into perspective of the job that he is working on presently, fighting and comparing academic scores was so lame. Melia is still so lame for being obsessed with covering reports that he has already made, and handing them over to the Committee of Cardinals (CoC) in greater detail. Melia is so lame for wanting to clear monsters in a given area more than what was required. Why did she even bother doing so? Whenever Alex eradicated monsters in a region, he did it only because they were in his way from obtaining certain information that he needed. Melia was simply clearing them, because she wanted to.. beat his kill count? Of course, the committee did not see it from Alex's view. For a more detailed report offers more knowledge and as the cliché saying goes, knowledge is power. And ridding an entire area of monsters would pave a safer route for traders, informants and merchants heading to and from the kingdom.

Alex was less obsessed about statistics, because in the recent time, he found himself increasingly distracted by a latest side quest of his. Each and every mission that he set out for was logistically funded by The Golden Mystics . Every mission consist of an objective set out by the CoC, in which members of The Golden Mystics can bid to take up. When a member successfully completes a mission, he or she gains credit. Alex was very selective in the missions that he chooses - they needed to provide relevant information that would aid this discrete personal quest. For this very reason, Alex found it amusing that Melia would purposefully give him a look of smug on one instance, when one of the heads of the CoC praised her for her work when the both of them were present in the same room, discussing Melia's secondary follow up to Alex's original mission.

When Melia went away for about 18 months, Alex found himself a period of reinvigorating breather that he has not had in a long, long time. When she was away, he was able to shroud his tracks further the past 18 months. Up to the North of Vadal, some two months of horse ride away, unbeknownst to Alex himself, lies a sealed wonder. No one except the 12 founding members of the faction of the light knew the exact magic that veined through each of these sealed wonders - or at least, this was what was taught, or indoctrinated to every student of the academy. This knowledge has been kept tucked away, perhaps lost forever, as legend said that the 12 members did that because they felt the knowledge of these dark magics were best kept away for the peace of humanity. He went on this arduous journey not knowing what to expect, with the objective set by the CoC simply to 'Check state of region and report anomaly, if any.' Upon arriving, he felt an immense sense of unease. There was magic lingering in the air that he has never felt before. But the intensity of it, it felt.. familiar. Very familiar. It is the same intensity as he felt when he was given the opportunity to personally harvest the energy of Anduin as one of the processes and benefit of being inducted into The Golden Mystics.

Could this be one of the sealed wonders?
Why was I sent here?
Is there something the CoC has been keeping a secret away from the rest of the guild?

spooky-forest-concept-picture-id861190628

Alex ventured deeper into the eerie forest, but with caution. Then he found himself feeling a sudden splitting headache, his vision blurred, as he felt the very essence of him, being drained out of him at a stunning rate. His arms, weak and unable to perform any kind of incantation, his knees jellying. For the first time, he has never felt so vulnerable before. For the first time, he feared for his life. Soon, an apparition arose in front of him.

"Powerful, wasn't it? You can be capable of doing what I just did to you to anyone else, if you wish."

"I have just tested the depths of your mana reserve. You are.. one of a kind. I feel your potential. You can elevate the trajectory of siphoning magic to a level, never once witnessed before in the entire history of magic kind."

"This.. is this how sealed magics are like..?"

"Only say yes, and the knowledge is yours."

"What is it in, for you?

"I will be concise. I was one of the 12 Marshalls for the faction of the dark. After the war ended, your ancestors decided on sealing dark arts for good. In order to do so, they needed to sacrifice a soul for each of the wonders they intended on sealing. They picked the 12 strongest of us, who have mana reserve deep enough to act as a resilient medium to seal. My soul has been sealed to this wonder for over four centuries - all because they didn't believe in the morality of the dark arts. Ironically, they were the ones who condemned twelve souls to eternal lockdown. You. You as a descendant of the light faction, can act as a living vessel as I transfer this dark energy and knowledge that I have mastered about siphoning, imparting them all to you. Once I am able to release this contained energy in me, my soul will finally be released from this arcane jail and I can finally rest in peace. You on the other hand, obtain a long lost art. It's a win-win situation."

The decision was not made lightly, as Alex delved on the subject. The more the Marshall of Siphoning elaborated about the history of the War of equilibrium from his perspective, the more skeptical he became about the faction of the light. Eventually, he relented.

".. just an advice. Thread lightly and don't over exert yourself. For the magic itself will you consume you from within if you let it go beyond what you are capable of controlling. If you need wisdom, come back here to the Wonder of Sautha - The barren forest that has been drained off its life."

It has been 6 months since Alex dabbled into a magic form that possess a level of potential that was beyond his previous imagination. It excited him, but he could feel the transient side effects of it once in a blue moon - each time, he remembered the last words of the Marshall of Siphoning echo in his ears.

He lied in his report to the CoC of the event that transpired on that fateful mission. He had to for multiple reasons. Keeping this secret was beginning to bear a weight on his shoulders. It is especially untimely, now that Melia has recently returned from her little engagement honeymoon with a Paladin apparently, as he heard from gossips. His hired eyes and ears told him that Melia has recently been working on a potentially groundbreaking work, something about constellations. But it was not the top priority of his concerns, only because he still does not understand the full potential of the work that Melia has done, and that he was distracted in attempting to master and understand the new form of magic that has been bestowed upon him. He has been experimenting with magic fusion, a novel advancement in magic not previously done before - as he once tried doing before with attempting to infuse water magic into the summoning of a golem. He did not manage to complete that piece of work, thanks again to Melia, even though it showed promising progress. This though, if he could fuse the fluidity of water into this siphoning magic, he can create a new form of art which can essentially drain energy from an individual in the stealthiest of manner. His attention is now, on this new discrete project of his.

The weak are food for the strong - Qual Ish-fel.

The dominance of the Ish'fel bloodline had been around for centuries. Their stronghold, located in the northern continent of Arachnoch. Ish'fels were blessed with not just physical strength thanks to their genetic construct, but were also intelligent wielders of the the arcane magic form. The 4th generation of the Ish'fels had discovered an ancient relic that was hidden in the primeval forest of Felglade. Their magi studied the relic and found it to be one of the major magic wonders that were scattered throughout the world. Each wonder specialised in a magic form, including, but not limited to elements such as fire, water, wind, light, dark, earth etcetera. Yggdrasil was situated in the heart of Felgrade, the tree of life and earth magic. Living souls could harness energy from it to perfect their earth elemental magic to an unparalleled level. In return, those who tethered themselves to the relic would be cursed for eternity. The Ish'fels agreed to the exchange.

Hence, that was how they were given the label of the Ish'feldic Druids of the North by other parts of the world.

Ever since then, the bloodline settled in that space, eventually setting up a civilization that thrived through the ages, but still remained true to their primitive traditions and cultures when it mattered. This was reflected in the landscape of their environment, preferring to stick with straw and wooden huts over stones and iron, like that of many other major kingdoms.

The Ish'fel's strength lie in their raw powers that resulted from the boundless energy of Yggdrasil, and the advantageous terrain that Felgrade offered. They were ruthless in their raids, attacking just about any human settlement within their grasp, taking precious resources for themselves and converting plebians of raided settlements into their slaves. Over time, the cumulation of slaves meant that they were doing the brunt and bulk of the hard labour for the Ish'fels, which allowed the druids to focus on advancing the betterment of their society.

Qual Ish'fel and his trusted council of 11 marched up upon the steps of the fortress. Behind the council, followed a contingent of 500 strong men, with another 4500 in siege position right around the perimeters of Arcadia, ready to strike at a moment's notice should the Arcadians decide to pull an unexpected trick out of their bag. Small in numbers they might be, every Ish'feldian footman has been said to be equal to the strength of ten to fifteen standard soldiers that was typical of the continent, with Ish'feldian warriors and magis up the ranks being able to take more, up to as large a number as a few hundreds.

The contingent barely had protective gears on. Rather, they seemed proudful of the skin they flaunted. And in particular, tattoos seemed to be more apparently among the leaders of the pack, hinting that the inking on their skin might be indicative of their achievements and their order along the ranks of the hierarchy. Not a single Ish`feldian warmonger looked anything short of incredibly granite built. Each man's figure, chiseled to perfection. Their preference of weapons were clearly biased towards heavy two handers, opting for brute strength rather than anything that required finesse, staying true to the image of their primality.

By the time they arrived at the gates of the inner court, the 500 footmen that followed strategically positioned themselves in packs. And for a group that looked like they were the men of the rural forest, they seemed extraordinarily trained and disciplined, looking like they had been true veterans of the war field, as their reputation preceded them.

Qual entered the inner court along with his 11 most trusted aides, men whom each, were in charge of a ministry or division back in Felglade Major, the kingdom the Ish'feldians had named since the beginning of their time when they first settled around Yggdrasil. In neatly fashion, they seemed to know where to take up their positions, lining one after another, eventually forming a V-shaped formation, before Qual walked through the narrow funnel of the first pair of champs by the base of the V, towards the throne where the opening mouth of their formation was pointing towards.

"Qual Ish'fel, ruler of the Felglade Major, descendant of the late Iskor Ish'fel, Master of Nature, The granite key of Fate, has arrived to claim his deal for the alliance."

Grogtar Vellaha, Qual's champion of war who was the head figure of the Ish'feldian's military, announced. The lungs behind his chest, ensuring that his voice echoed across the throne room loud enough for even those stood at the furthest point away to be able to hear.

Then for a moment, there was silence. Qual took the moment to appreciate the intricate masonry works all around. They looked rich, exquisite and refined. And he found himself feeling a sense of deep warmth within, that despite how equipped and resource rich the Arcadians were, they were at the end of the day, still unable to withstand the threat of his kingdom. Arcadia would probably be one of the toughest, if not, the toughest territory to overrun should they end up locking horns with one another.

Qual had no doubt the Ish'feldians would come up top eventually, even though it would take a significant toll on his side. And for the greater benefit of the two sides, Qual was delighted that King Bedivere was wise enough to exercise diplomacy over bloodshed. That very sagacious initiative from Bedivere was enough to earn him a certain amount of respect from Qual, that the old man would at least, make an intelligent ally, that he was able to put aside pride, willing to put an immense sacrifice by offering his daughter in hand, in order to achieve peace and stability for his people. On that point, Qual was agreeable to the man.

"It's rude, don't you think, to be keeping the person you've offered a plea deal with, to be the one waiting?"

Grogtar added, after there seemed to be little motion going on and a lack of urgency to address the fact that the throne seat of their host was still, empty.

x @AbbiNormal (RT)

"This is a wild punt, don't you think?"

"Careful now boy. Are you questioning the very man who has flawlessly kept the entire crew alive since our inception?"

"I have also noticed that you have began to drop the formalities of late when I roped you in to be an understudy of mine, Anthony."
"You're my understudy. As much as it is an honour for you, you're not officially my hand, or my vice-admiral for that matter."

"Do I need to make myself any clearer?"

"I-..I'm sorry, Sir."

Forty year old Vinicius Grey was the present admiral of the notorious post-war raiding space pirates, commandeering one of his ex-faction's flagship battlecruiser - BC Prometheus - that he has stolen. In the final days leading up to the destruction of two adjacent regional star systems, war has already resulted in massive casualties on both sides of the different warring factions. Death was inevitable for those that were involved unless one flees away from the maddeningly epicenter of the war. Unfortunately, the original admiral of BC Prometheus was a loyalist to their previous empire and insisted that the entire crew stood their ground against the final assault of the opposing empire faction. The majority of the crew members were however, disillusioned at the ex-admiral's blind faith and zealousness. That led to an uprising, led by none other than Vinicius himself. The munity lasted for just over an hour, before the ex-admiral was shot, and then ejected out into the cold void, along with a number of his other lieges that remained unwaveringly loyal to the ex-admiral. Since then, BC Prometheus under Vinicius's command has been surviving, if not, thriving, over the last three years since the end of the war of the stars.

The 88 remaining crews of BC Prometheus mainly consisted of a healthy mix of expertise including ex-soldiers, pilots, mechanics, scientist, medical staff, as well as miscellaneous back bone staff that held the morale of the band together. And if there was one distinctive feature about the crew members, it was that all of them were male. The influx of testosterones around the ship meant that the crew was quick to adjust to the climate of a new lawless world. With no reigning authorities left around to govern between the rights and wrong, the men harnessed the new found liberty and freedom to execute practically any kind of actions to help themselves survive, and even thrive in this new world order. Over time, ethical barriers were progressively blurred given that there were no longer lawful consequences to their actions. Operations included raiding surviving civilian colonies for resources, taking in women - which were becoming more of a priceless commodity in this age, and selling off remaining captured prisoners as slaves to other like-minded pirates and raiders over at makeshift trade outposts. Their increasing ruthlessness and brutality against the innocent people, who were commonly termed as the innocents, earned the crew of BC Prometheus the label of The Wandering Savagers.

The circumstance of the new world order meant that it was practically a dog-eat-dog world, and the notion of the survival of the fittest could not be a more apt description about the state of remaining societies all around the two warring star systems. In truth, there were not many societies left after the onset of the plasma-nuclear outbreak that occurred some three years back on that fateful day. Inter-star political tension meant that the lid to the pressure cooker simply could no longer contain the burgeoning heat. What happened next was humanity's descent to madness. Inter-star plasma-nuclear missiles were exchanged between the major powers. And within 48 hours, over half of inhabitants from both sides were wiped out from the face of their respective star systems, with two-thirds of the remaining initial survivors succumbing to the after effects of radiation over the coming months and years. Like the crew of BC Prometheus, a fortunate small fraction of the two stars' former inhabitants were smart enough to flee their respective systems before apocalypse sealed the fate of the two empires. For for the next three years, remaining survivors floated aimlessly around the peripheries of the two ruined star systems, unsure of what to do next, and where else they could permanently settle because the next habitable star system was at an unrealistic reachable distance, unless crew members were put into cryo sleep while the ships were set course to cruise towards the designated systems. And even if a crew decided to go with this option, most ships lacked the resources or capacity to last the ride.

These days, a lack of production capacity of the remaining survivors meant that more and more ships were looking to return to their respective stars in a bid to try to loot what was left as supplies, so they could get enough resources to establish themselves a permanent home somewhere.

That was where Vinicius Grey came in. The man wanted to acquire resources with minimum efforts and risks involved. And he figured that he could bank on the ambitious few who decided to return to the star system to start salvaging activities, make them work on his behalf, before he comes in with his crew to intercept. Cruiser ammunition was precious. And that was why he decided to direct his ship back to a particular space mine field that he remembered from three years back, which was set at a strategic bottle neck that led to the entrance of his previous star system.

Vinicius had commanded for his ship to be anchored and have the stealth mode turned on twenty-four seven, fueled by the solar energy of the main star. He, like the many smaller civilian commercial or raiding parties were aware that the space mines were by now dormant, and thus, was a relatively safe passage as long as the captain maneuvers the ship well. Vinicius had planned for his ship to hide in the shadows, waiting for oblivious mining and salvaging ships to pass, before intending to fire pulse cannons onto mines that any vessels were reckless enough to fly close to. Pulse energy was freely chargeable by solar power. And Vinicius had intended to trigger the more devasting anti-ship mines to finish the business for him.

The concerns raised by his understudy, eighteen year old Anthony Hart, was not unfounded. After all, they had been hiding in stealth over the last seven days with no movements nor actions. But Vinicius was a patient man. And as he had expected, fortune favours the bold. Moments after Anthony apologised for his apparent lack of respect for Vinicius's authority, radar signal picked up the movements of an incoming commercial vessel.

"It's a hell of a wild punt, boy."

"Hands to battle stations."

The pirate admiral smirked softly, before the rest of the crew by the cockpit came alive and alert. The wide screen display focused on the cruising vessel, zoomed in. Patiently, the entire cockpit waited in silence, expecting their admiral to call for the shot any single moment. They waited, and waited. Then eventually, opportunity presented itself. As the vessel looked to be pathing towards and in between two mines, he spoke. His fingers dragged and drew on the screen of his console right in front of him, which was then broadcasted onto the common wide screen.

"Focus pulses on the mines here and here."
"Fire in 5...4...3...2...1."

With that, BC Prometheus broke stealth and fired the long range pulse cannons towards the designated mine targets. The pulses landed right onto the mines bullseye right at the moment that the vessel passed by. What happened next, was Vinicius's gradually increasing laughter, his voice being the only one that sounded out around the vast cock pit. While the crew were all glad about the mission success, they knew better to restrain their reactions. The crew members, as they have learned over the years, grew increasingly fearful of the things Vinicius was capable of doing. None of them would risk wanting to drew the ire, or even unwarranted attention onto themselves for fear that they may be the next one under his ominous spotlight, to feel the wrath of his very volatile temperament.

"Move in towards the target. Get ready to commence resource extraction. Look out for any ejects and make sure they don't get away. We can't have informants spreading the message of our scheme."

It was going to be a long night ahead for Cpt. Christopher Grayheart. He had only just earlier stepped away from one of his testing rooms, this in particular, was intricately designed to bring back the aura of medieval ominosity. He realized there was something about the ambience that did special things to the minds of certain individuals, especially with his sixth subject, whom he had only just finished a routine session with. The sounds of her screams, cries and begging, still ringing fresh in his ears. He needed a drink to wash away the pitiful echoes that reverberated deep into his mind, refusing to be muffled out for as long as he remained sober.

"Did you break her well this evening?"

"Mmm hmm."

The bartender smirked, hand in one glass as he proceeded to wipe it dry.

"Good lad. You know I'll pay you well for a video, or even an audio snippet of the sorry state of the ex-lieutenant."

"It's classified, Miguel. You know it."

"Know that your tab is always on my house for as long as you keep her in that exquisitely sick labyrinth of yours. Remember Chris, you are doing good work for the betterment of our society."

Christopher could only manage a faint smile. 26 year old Lt. Leonie Simpson was the sixth test subject in which 51 years old Miguel, an ex-warrant officer, played a key role in ensuring that the lass ended up in Christopher's facility. The relationship between the two went way back. But in summary, there has been a longstanding bad blood between the duo and the ex-warrant had then became increasingly incensed at the officer, twice as young as he was, constantly making his life a wrecked. To guard his own sanity, the veteran pulled strings. In the end, Lt. Leonie, like most of the other female subjects in Chris's lab, were dubiously charged and sentenced to the high security prison of Graceland, and subsequently selected as a subject for Chris's project that was the talk of the base in recent times. When Miguel heard of the news, he was so delighted, he tendered his resignation to the military, and started his bar, located at a quaint corner, away from the heart of the hustle and bustle of the off-shore military facility. Miguel honestly thought there could be no sweeter ending to his military stint.

"I will keep that in mind."

Miguel clearly found much more joy than Christopher at the prospect of hearing a deserving subject scream. To Christopher, he did not enjoy the cries of his subjects because they were music to his ears. Rather, their cries were merely indications that his research was well on track. There weren't many people around in Graceland that he could discuss his work with, barring Miguel, since he was directly involved in the induction of subject six. Even so, due to the secrecy and confidentiality clause, Chris could only discuss about subject six to a limited extent with Miguel. Thus, Chris resorted to the whimpers of his female subjects as a form of indication that he was doing things right. He needed frequent reassurance. He needed them to scream. Louder. Often.

There were times Chris wondered if he should have chosen to remain with the combat units three years back when he was first offered a military research position. His superiors saw something in him. They reckoned that with his intelligence, coldness, eccentricity and ability to unravel the mind of another, he has the capabilities to push new frontiers, where others were uncomfortable with.

And true to his superiors' clairvoyance, he did. His project, what started as a simple pilot with subject (Jaw) one, turned out to be a success story. He was able to rewire the mind of a lunatic, into an efficient and effective, subservient servant of Graceland. He was able to create a killing machine out of a lunatic who had absolutely no prior military training - all within the span of just over two years and a half. Some may have thought it was a fluke. But when subjects two and four were beginning to show similar indications, the headquarters were motivated to inject a few more new subjects in recent times. The higher authorities were getting increasingly intrigued with Project (C)apture (R)etrain (Y)end into battlefield. The project was especially useful in a post-war world where manpower was scarce, where the majority of the earth's initial population has been wiped out from the face of the earth. It was difficult to get individuals specialized in certain niche, notably the ones that were unfavorable, to learn the trade willingly.

With subjects two and four expected to graduate from his laboratory in a few week's time, subject seven was shoved into his charge. The headquarters apparently wished for Chris to start producing a steady stream of graduands, and they wanted it faster. Once he was done with his drink on hand, he fumbled through the papers that contained the primary information of subject seven and inspected it, starting with her name.

Winona...
Winona... Sky..?

The track back to his lab was uneventful, but it did not feel like that to him. His mind was bursting with a flood of thoughts, memories, emotions.

You're thinking much, Chris. Perhaps there is another Winona Sky out there.

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When he arrived, his suspicion was mostly confirmed. The female figure that was sat in the middle of the orientation room on a high stool, hood over her head. He arrived just in time to hear the female figure's snobbish request for a cup of water, her demeanor growing increasingly familiar, much like the Winona that he knew from close to a decade back.

Christopher was beginning to feel things, very faintly, that he has never felt with his previous subjects. Was that a tinge of concern that he was feeling? After all, despite all the torment Winona has put him through all those years, in the depths of his heart, he felt something for her.

If only she was more ordinarily female back then. Less volatile. Perhaps things might have turn out different.

Chris had little time to think, yet too many questions left hanging.

This program is perfect for a woman like Winona.
But I loved her. At one point.
You will have a lot to answer for if you reject this subject.
She will be broken beyond repair. Underneath that rebellious façade is a girl who is vulnerable and lonely for most of her life, having come to a foreign land and the circumstance of her family.
Don't do this.
This new world order could use one less brat like her, and one more useful civilian.

He did not presently have answers to the flood of thoughts. Instead, he picked up a voice distorter - one of the many gadgets stocked up in a singular shelf by the corner of the orientation room. He fit the the mouth piece over his mouth and attached the speaker output to one side of his belt, beneath his white doctor's coat.

"The subject is not poised correctly, Corporals."

"Please could you two readjust her cuffs and have her wrists cuffed behind her back. Leave us once you are done."

The distorted voice of Christopher sounded low and ominous, purposefully set on a frequency that sounded eerie and non-human, mostly devoid of treble. He figured as he tried to reason between his alter egos, he could, in the meantime, continue to keep his identity shrouded from Winona for a little longer, just in case.

The guards readjusted the cuff as instructed, before the sounds of bootsteps making their way to the exit suggested that only Wind and the enigmatic man beyond the hood over her head was left in the room. The shuffling of his leather shoes clucked against the concrete floor, with a trail of echo forming after each step. Then, without warning, a thick steel collar was latched onto Wind's neck, the magnetic lock by the back, activated and snapping shut, followed by a a beep that suggested that the device, seemingly electronic, was being turned on.

The next moment, what felt like the tip of a thin, slick wooden cane - or bamboo - started threading ever so sensually along one side of her facial cheek, slowly directing to her lips after she attempted to cuss at him, in figurative gesture.

"In this military institute, there is a certain strict adherence to protocol when speaking to someone of a higher authority. Needless to say, when making a request. I get a sense that you must have heard how that goes by now since you were being transported over. Would you be so kind to give it another try, Ms Sky?"

"The fuck you know about my throat? Got me this far, didn't it?"

"It got you a hood above your head and your hands in cuffs. I don't think you are doing as well as you think, porcelain."

"What would you know about my throat?"

Chris could not contain a snigger when Winona persisted. He kept silent, and instead removed the scissors from her bottom, not eliminating it out of sight, but dropping it onto the metal table just beside with a loud clang. He needed the symbolic object to be lying around within glimpse to constantly remind him that Winona deserved this, to help tuck the rest of the memories of the better days that he had with Winona into dusty shelves that would otherwise, distract him from his main task.

Nobody has ever brought Chris on a roller coaster ride so high and so low at the same time.

Nobody.

The man was raging on the inside that fateful evening that he was cuffed, taken into the fortified police van. Winona was insane.

She was fucking insane.

What right did she have in trying to determine his own future on his behalf? She was not even family - well, perhaps she could have been if she had not been the lunatic that she has proven herself to be one too many times with her latest antics.

Winona came to him precious when they first met. It made him want to shelter her, to protect her, from all the harsh and cruel elements of the world. Unbeknownst to him, his years of gentle tending to Winona was ironically, the very reason how he sealed his own bleak fate of his existence. Somehow along the way when puberty hit, she started taking advantage of his kindness for her. It did not help that Chris being the slightly older and more matured figure of the pair preferred to practice patience, that this was just a phase that hormonal Winona was going through. Winona never got better, only more brazen. And what did Christopher get in return for being gracious? A prison sentence that would effectively end his life, as for a man who thrives on novelty and the freedom pursue life's offerings, captivity was the death of him.

Christopher emerged with his forehead bruised by the end of the trip to the police station, with a broken window to the state owned vehicle, and an additional pending charge for damaging government property.

"I know all about your throat, alright."

"I know the words that came out of it has brought pain to the people you love, that I am sure."

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Christopher's hands could be heard rummaging through a massive bag, that was probably filled with a multitude of objects within judging from the sounds that were being made.

Eventually, the distinctive sound of a device cocking could be heard, confirming just what the man was holding onto just beyond the hood over her head.

Click. BANG. Clink, clink, clink.

Click. BANG. Clink, clink.

Christopher fired two rounds, one on each side of her, inches away from her ears, each ended with a used round dropping down onto the concrete ground.

Click.

The man then pressed the muzzle of the gun right at the spot that she offered a smile of smugness just moments earlier, lodging the metal tip ominously beyond her lips. He semi-gyrated the muzzle left-right, right-left, rinse repeat, in an attempt to dig it deeper as much as the tension of the leather hood would allow. His index finger off the trigger, stretching and resting onto the barrel of the weapon.

"... is your mouth as physically aggressive as it is verbally aggressive, porcelain?"

"You like to make a point. Go on, then. Impress me now. Suck it."

"Remember to be gentle. This pistol isn't the newest. Not sure if the cocking device would react negatively to a jerk too sudden."

x (WB Thread)

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"I have seen this before."

Frederick Grey took a few steps forward, inspecting the fresh flames that were engulfing a few sites up along the desolated street of the ghost town of St. Pierre. The man was the ringleader of a band of notorious post-war raiding nomads. The gang mainly consisted of ex-soldiers, who first came together and quickly found themselves adapting to the climate of a new lawless society. With no reigning authorities left around to govern between the rights and wrong, the men harnessed the new found liberty and freedom to execute practically any kind of actions to help themselves survive, and even thrive in this new world order. Over time, ethical barriers were progressively blurred given that there were no longer lawful consequences to their actions. Operations included raiding surviving civilian colonies for resources, taking in women - which were becoming more of a priceless commodity in this age, and selling off remaining captured prisoners as slaves to an increasingly blossoming underground network of the dark societies. Their increasing ruthlessness and brutality against the innocent people, who were commonly termed as the innocents, earned the group the label of The Wandering Savagers.

The circumstance of the new world order meant that it was practically a dog-eat-dog world, and the notion of the survival of the fittest could not be a more apt description about the state of societies all around the planet. In truth, there were not many societies left after the onset of the nuclear outbreak that occurred some five years back on that fateful day. Global political tension meant that the lid to the pressure cooker simply could no longer contain the burgeoning heat. What happened next was humanity's descent to madness. Intercontinental nuclear missiles were exchanged between the major powers of the world. And within 48 hours, over half of Earth's formal inhabitants were wiped out from the face of the earth, with two-thirds of the remaining initial survivors succumbing to the after effects of radiation over the coming months and years.

The fresh flames on the fire sites along the street were obviously started deliberately by someone, given that the town was otherwise completely deserted. But when Frederick noticed hints of familiar portable cannisters of fuel peeking from beneath each of the fire sites, he knew who started it.

"She's here, boys."

Those were the exact cannisters consisting of flammable liquid producing extremely noxious gas when burned, that he saw the last time The Ghost of Liberty completely foiled one of their clutch mission some two years back. It was back then, the trick that she used to create a decoy, drawing his forces away from their base site, and out into the wilderness, meticulously exposing them to gas agents that were released simultaneously by the fire sites, poisoning the forward parties to their death. The Ghost singlehanded killed just over half of the 140 original members of The Wandering Savagers. Frederick has since then, bore the most hateful of grudge against the enigmatic Ghost, especially since the members that passed included his beloved younger brother - the only family member that he had left.

The Ghost of Liberty was a nicknamed bestowed upon a certain vigilante. In the lawless new world, The Ghost was one of the few beacons of light respected by the innocent and hated by raiders that were looking to exert their influence over the new world like The Wandering Savagers. Nobody knew who The Ghost of Liberty was, apart from a known fact that The Ghost was a she. She was cunning, and an extremely skilled and stealthy combatant.

It has been a while since The Wandering Savagers clashed with The Ghost of Liberty. But Frederick was a very learned man and shrewd tactician. He has always endeavored not to repeat any mistakes made. For two years, Frederick has waited for an opportunity to exert his revenge. He has studied the missions that The Ghost has interfered in the past and noted that she was only ever present when the missions involved capturing and the trafficking of innocent people, with the death of half of his band happened on their latest civilian capture outing. Since then, opportunities for capturing stranded innocent packs dwindled for the obvious reason that the odds were stacked against these scattered individuals. That was why when The Wandering Savagers managed to track a camp of innocents - the first since their last nightmare outing - he knew the opportunity has finally presented itself. He trusted that The Ghost will be present. And he has highly suspected that at least a member within his midst must have been leaking intel for The Ghost after noticing that she was always flawlessly one step ahead of him in previous failed, or partially foiled missions.

Frederick had announced his intention to raid St. Pierre after his scouts reported signs of innocents, to his pack a week before. He was banging on his intuition that his word would be spread out in time by the informant for The Ghost to prepare herself and be present on the designated day of mission.

What Frederick has not mentioned to the most of his pack however, was that he has already set out with a trusted inner circle of five other men, worked tediously on setting up traps on and around St. Pierre before he made the announcement. The traps were kept offline and intended for them to be turned on only on the day of operation. And unbeknownst to the rest of the pack, his inner circle has prepared anti-gas masks for the forward party to fit on, on the day of the mission. Oblivious to the informant and The Ghost, this mission was never about capturing the innocents, but rather, a bait designed specifically to trap and capture The Ghost herself. It would have been too late by the time the pair had realise what was going on.

"Joel. Activate the traps online."

"Affirmative, Boss."

Frederick smirked, before a series of a hundred human head sized sentry drones suddenly emerged from beneath the thick piles of snow on every visible patch of snow, near and far, all around them, as they started hovering up above the ground, before they began dispersing in synchrony over different heights, towards different angles and directions. The heat sensor reliant drones swiftly spreading out to cover the vicinity, seeking out distinct heat signatures that were not attenuated by the anti-gas masks that the band was wearing.

"I'm coming for you, Ghost."

sci-fi-post-apocalyptic-city-skyscraper-wallpaper-thumb.jpg

Cold, grey light poured in through the open apartment windows, spilling pass torn curtains and windows with broken glasses, out across dark floorboards. Outside the sky was charcoal, a perpetual cloud hanging over the blackened cityscape; the textbook image of a nuclear winter. And then there was the threat of darkness looming as the sun was fast setting towards the horizon.

The ex-third sergeant and recon specialist knew he was running against time in his latest resource run. Having spent almost his whole life working in the wilderness during his military career, his undergraduate days, and running back as far as his childhood where his family used to live near a canyon, his decision to pursue his field of study of Natural Geography has turned out to be a colossal one on hindsight. Years of practicing the many survival skills as kept him going and still well alive over the last three years. Then again, there were times when he wondered that in this harsh new world, would it have been better off for him if he was a Deadman? Periodically, the man had thought to himself that perhaps the luckiest people were the ones who were decimated within seconds right at the epicenter of any of the nuclear missiles that detonated on that fateful day, the day that changed the world.

The day as a whole has been pretty underwhelming, and he has not managed to find as much supplies as he had hoped for. The outer circle of the ghost city of St. Pierre as it turned out, was starting to run dry after it has been looted by not just himself, but many others like him over the last three years since the wars of the world began. He could hypothetically attempt to breach the inner circle of the ghost city. But it was presently infested by a certain species of abomination that mysteriously began to emerge a few months after a missile detonated at the heart of the metropolitan landscape.

He was not entirely sure, but it was highly suspect that the lingering radiation had a part to play in mutating the DNAs of the unfortunate innocents that did not die immediately from the nuclear impact. He has got a hunch that the city centre is resource rich. But there was going to be a high price to pay should he decide to try his luck against the monstrosities that people of the new world termed them as The Grievers.

"Fuck. Why do I even bother with this run today? It's not like I am real short on supplies at the moment."

Mattias groaned, attempting to reassure himself as he leaned back against the cracked beige walls. He wondered when he'd started to talk to himself. When the sound of his own voice became such a comfort. A reminder that he was still alive, that he existed. His head lolled back to rest against the drywall, eyes slipping closed as he turned his face up to the ceiling. Then, he took a deep. He wiped his clammy hands against the dark wash of his pixelated white and grey army pants that he thought was a great loot after encountering a stash of military supplies by an abandoned cargo truck, tucked into the black of his combat boots, and turned to resume his search through the apartments.

Stepping out into the hallway, Mattias shook his head to clear his thoughts. When, out of the corner of his eye... something moved in the dark. Mattias's hand instinctively clamped down around the handle of his shot gun, as he slung it off his back. He had hoped to conserve what little ammunition that he has left - two shotshells remaining. Once expanded, he only has a woodcutting axe left by his belt to rely on as his only other functional weapon. Taking a step further into the wide corridor of the apartment, his pulse picking up a little, his shotgun raised, pointing towards the cluttered front.

Was someone there?

x @Intrusive (RT)

Keith Logan · Jul 22, 2023

Retired Ideas

**Note: Retired ideas that I may still be keen to take on with a little spin from you. If you find something that intrigues you, please do not hesitate to approach me for a discussion.

×× ◦◦ ×× Slice of life ×× ◦◦ ××

Primary themes: Non-consensual, thriller, dark
Possible themes: Gangbang, Bondage

YC decided to treat herself on a solo holiday after graduating whilst awaiting for college to start. She managed to do so after convincing her parents that she is old enough to care for herself. She planned for herself, a trip into nature, a cabin situated at the heart of scenic nature, located miles from the nearest town, thus making it the perfect accommodation for one to blend in with nature, with the cabin serving as the only source of modern comfort within vicinity. It is likely an airbnb. The owner built it himself, but doesn't ever live there. He met YC in town to pass her the keys, and also explained to YC that she should drop the keys back in his residential apartment's mailbox after she was done for the 7 days booking. Typically, the cabin served as a romantic getaway. It requires some drive beyond the outskirts of the city. Alternatively, it is also perfect for artistic individuals who need some sort of breakaway to get inspiration for their work. Even after parking her drive by the stony open space, YC needs a good 20-30 minutes hike before she could get to the cabin.

No one else lives within the vicinity, thus making the airbnb appealing for the maximum privacy it offers. Unfortunately, YC's car caught the attention and curiosity of another vehicle when it took a turn into a stone path that was not commonly used. The other car has been following some distance behind during the earlier drive. In the car, are 1-5 men (discuss), had gone through rounds of pre-drinks. The driver eventually reversed and decided to take on the path that YC took some minutes later, because there are not many better ideas out there during a night's out that involves venturing into the dark wilderness.

Primary themes: Adultery, Consensual, College
Possible themes: Bondage, Teasing, Photography, Videography, Gangbangs

"It's just a casual meal."

She thought to herself. She was early that evening for the dinner date. She felt anxious - not because she was not confident of herself or that she was worried she won't be able to make an impression on him, because she is a natural in both aspects. She was easily amongst the top of her college cohort in both brain and beauty. She was anxious because somehow, a part of her felt that this dinner date was not quite right. She has spent the last fifteen minutes convincing herself that she was here for just a meal with platonic intention. But is it, though?

He is charming, well-chiseled and toned, witty, interesting... and etc. When he suggested that they should meet for dinner at his treat, she took on the offer without a second thought. She might not have even realised, but his invitation was met with a glow on her face, accompanied by the smile of a Cheshire cat. When her long distance boyfriend asked her earlier what she was up to this evening, she preferred to reply 'nothing fancy, really." When she was rummaging through her wardrobe for something to wear for the dinner date, she found herself inclined towards opting for a dark green blouse that flaunts an amount of her asset.

The Harvard girl was brought up to be prim, proper and respectable. So when she first met the college rugby captain that managed to be admitted into the same college through his sporting merit, she found a guy who was quite a bit different from the rest of the young men she has ever been accustomed to. He possessed a different kind of masculinity that was uncommon in the Harvard atmosphere, and it intrigued her. It was once again evident, when the guy finally stepped into the restaurant. His fit body wrapped in a short sleeve button up shirt with the top two buttons unbind. A hint of his toned, tanned, deep chest valley could be seen. The definition of his torso could be easily made out from the shirt that could just barely contain the shape of his body. His thick thigh and toned calves could be traced from his denim jeans.

"You are looking very gorgeous tonight, Buttercup."

He smiled, before leaning in his firm body onto hers for a quick embrace.

"Yes, it is.. just.. a casual meal."

The flirty local college girl knows her worth. For most of her life, she was able to get pretty much what she want through her looks and her shameless, go-getter attitude. The bottom line was, if she wanted something, she would do whatever it takes to get her hands on it. She is feisty and difficult to satisfy. She is adventurous and easily gets bored when the going gets too predictable, repeatable and mundane. People often had the impression that she is loose and easy. But on the contrary, her game was to dangle the carrot. She loved being chased. While she has gotten together with multiple guys, very few she thought, was worthy of getting into her pants. She enjoyed the the process of stringing boys and men when playing hard to get.

It was all fun and games until she met this particular man. The more experienced high flyer was well aware of the young lady's game and took the game to her. Her tamer and cautiously calculated flirting were not yielding as much attention and satisfaction that she would have otherwise gotten from her past exes and dates. It eventually came to the point that she was frustrated, getting a little more desperate. She has to win him over. She must win him over. She found herself sending the short gif text to the man - effectively throwing herself him - something that she has never done before with any boys. How far would she go before he obliges her with the attention that she craves?

She was comfortably happy in a relationship of X years with a guy that she met in high school. Years on, the couple went on to different Colleges. It was the start of a long distance relationship. Things were going fine - perhaps a little bland. She might have even got into a fight, exacerbated by matters related to the distance apart. Either way, it made this particular senior, captain of the rugby team, who took the initiative to approach her during fresher's week, all the more appealing.

It started with harmless banters, then flirt texts that slowly began to test the boundaries. One evening, he texted her something - possibly a dare, or the lad finding it difficult to believe something she has claimed. She took a selfie shot. Her fingers fidgeted with the send button, for over 5 minutes. Just when she decided that it is better that she doesn't send it, her fingers clumsily brushed against the send button. The road of no return led to the start of a secondary relationship that she has never envisioned herself to be in. Not especially when she only recently bitched hypocritically about one close friend of hers, who slept behind the back of her boyfriend.

×× ◦◦ ×× Sci-Fi ×× ◦◦ ××

Primary themes: Thriller, Psychological, Dub-consensual
Possible themes: Non-consensual

NSFW Intro Image Reference

"Thanks for signing up for this."

Matt Mahon, the high flyer post-doctoral scientist was not the stereotypical nerd. He was quite the opposite. He looked a bit of a jock, possessing a mildly tanned, athletic physic that carried over from his ex-football college days. He had quite the charm and the looks to go along with it. These factors, along with the generous remuneration that was offered on the table for her involvement with the study, were perhaps the combination that convinced her that this was worth doing, despite Matt making it clear and known that she was the very first participant of this pilot.

It was not just any pilot. It was an experiment that had the virtuous intent to eradicate dementia once and for all. This involved delivering a focus pulse of energy onto areas of the brain suffering from atrophy. Brain neurons die off because they become plagued, unable to be activated by adjacent neurons and eventually deteriorate from being cut off from the network. It was the objective of the pulse to target affected neurons and keep them going, thriving and eventually, regenerating from being artificially stimulated. Theoretically, this should work. Animal trials were a booming success.

Matt strapped down his assistant to an experimental bench. The scientist himself is only a few years older than she is.

"It should not hurt. But because the targeted region is close to your motor cortex, it may cause residue movements from the spread caused by the high energy beam. This is just to make sure you don't involuntary fall off."

Matt explained, as she strapped both her waist, wrists and ankles down respectively down onto the awkward bench.

"Or break your neck."

Matt went on, securing the final strap around her neck.

Matt smiled once he was done, as he headed over to the console. His fingers worked a few buttons by the device, before ending with one hand by a lever.

"So, you mentally prepped for this now?"

The non-con variant loosely follows the concept for the dub-con version. MC is a lead scientist in charge of the subject (YC). He will be acting as the narrator half the time, as if he is recording down the progress of his subject in his diary on a daily basis. YC has came out of the experiment after being held in the lab for a good two-three years against her will, in which the scientist practically spent almost every single day with YC. Most of her explicit memory of her time in the lab was wiped. And what happened during this period to YC, was dark, really dark. Psychological and physical experimentation (Restrains etc. No gore) revolving the themes of classical and operant conditioning were the common themes during her time when she was locked up in a lab facility. She was broken (no physical trauma) towards the end of the her stint at the lab. That was when her explicit memories during the time at the lab was erased from her memory due to confidentiality issue. However, her implicit and procedural memories were left untouched. The purpose of the experiment was to see if an individual can be repurposed/reconditioned into/towards something else or be adverse to something at an unconscious level after the conditioning and memory wipe phase. But as with all experiments, there will be caveats and unexpected turns, where things turn up less than perfect. After all, YC was one of the earliest subjects. The memory wipe as it turns out, wasn't permanent. And over time, flashes of her horrific time at the lab would slowly surface to mind.

×× ◦◦ ×× Post-apocalyptic dystopian world ×× ◦◦ ××

None.

×× ◦◦ ×× Fantasy ×× ◦◦ ××

Primary themes: Sandbox
Possible themes: Enemies to lovers; Love x Hate, Dark Romance, Monsters, Adventure
**Note: This is not so much a plot idea, but the introduction of a character, whose backstory can be used for a plethora of fantasy plot ideas. Happy to brainstorm on this one.

Present day Karius

Young Karius Reference
Journeyman Karius Reference

The world does not change unless you take matters into your own hands.

Karius Grayhart had a difficult childhood. Born as the 7th child of an impoverished family, he was often neglected by parents and siblings because it was practically a dog-eat-dog situation within the family. Food was scarce and he was forced to rely on scraps. Then, war struck, and completely decimated his family and many of the closest friends that he knew. He was six years of age. One time, he was being ambushed by a band of thugs who figured Karius as an orphan could be sold as a slave for gold. But the kid with his eagle eye, managed to pick up a few conjuring tricks after having sneaked into a local elementary magic school everyday previously to observe older initiates train from a dark corner since he was four. He was able to burst two of the bandits into flames, but looked set to be overwhelmed by five other bandits fast approaching, until they imploded inches before they could reach Karius. Karius knew that he was not his doing - he wasn't that powerful. That was when he realised from the corner of his eyes, came a mage looking in his late forties, approaching him. The mystery wizard was normally a recluse and preferred to stay out of the politics of the world, and would have otherwise left Karius to die because he believed in letting nature takes its cause. But he spotted immense talent in Karius, thus in an unlikely decision, decided to step in and take him in as his initiate.

Over the years, his harsh upbringing meant that he needed to make a way for himself. His whole life has galvanized him, turning him into a gritty, independent man. Otherwise, he has grown to be cold, aloof and brutally ruthless, knowing that the world does not stop to wait or care for anyone. Selfishness was the only way to survive in this present world. Karius was blessed with a sharp mind and has the natural talent for wielding of the elements. The mystery mage taught him ancient magics that were far superior to any of the commercialised magic that was being taught in academies across the continent. He made Karius an exceptional mage, but always constantly preached to him that he should always stay out of the events of the world, as he had the staunch personal belief that an individual cannot singlehandedly change the course of the world and that one should focus on himself, and less about the matters of the world around him, and worst, be used as a puppet for the any of the political factions out there, wielding his powers to serve their agenda.

Unfortunately, Karius was against that ideology. He understood the potential of the powers that has been taught to him and believed he could personally change the world with his own hands. After acquiring all that he had to learn from his master, he spoke to him of his intention to be involved in the ongoing war and to put an end to it, instead of staying by the aging master's side to continue living his neutral recluse life. His master was flabbergasted. He was aware of his darker predispositions and feared that the youth was being reckless, that he may very well end up as a weapon of destruction for whichever faction he decided to join and believe was right. The master in his final act, tried to end Karius life, but was overpowered by his student instead. All these time, Karius had became stronger than the ancient mage had ever been.

Karius started out with a soul of purity. It began with the intention to help to change the sorry state of the world. Over time however, his mindless killings would end up corrupting his very soul and sanity, to the point that he no longer has a shred of sympathy for those who stood in his way. Karius, the vigilante, eventually got his heart numbed. It has been a while since he remembered what it was like to feel human, to be human.

×× ◦◦ ×× Sci-Fi/Fantasy - Futuristic VR Game ×× ◦◦ ××

None.

×× ◦◦ ×× Fantasy - Escape Room ×× ◦◦ ××

Primary themes: Non-con, horror
Possible themes: Monsters, Tentacles, Deviants, Gangbangs, Unusual living things, Bondage

The mansion is a literal live board game, using snakes and ladders as the premise. She would be handed a set of dice or a lever than controls the spin of the wheel of advancement. The number that she gets at the end of a toss or spin would be the number of steps she would take to advance the board. We have a 100 of rooms - each with very unique and unpredictable surprises which could be positive, negative or neutral to the player. The objective of the game, is to reach to room 100, or a number beyond 100. The best of rooms will have little repercussions for landing, allowing her to advance a few steps up the board. Similarly, there are rooms which would make her descend down the board.

An individual who made it pass the 100 mark may be rewarded with something (discuss) at the end of it, depending on whether they managed to enter the top 10 hall of fame of the individuals who managed to complete the maze in the fastest possible time.

Participants were warned that the game can take days, weeks and for a few unfortunate individuals, months. There would be opportunities to get meals, sleep and clothes in some of the 100 rooms, provided that the participant arrives at one that provides. And since the game is heavily luck based, participants may at times, find themselves going without food and/or water for a few days. Some past participants were able to get creative to try to limit the effects of hunger or sleep deprivation.

Keith Logan · Aug 15, 2023

Writing Feature

Feature: Selene aka @AbbiNormal (RT)

Immortalised quotes:

Genre: Fantasy
Theme: Combat Sequence

Fur Beneath The Flesh: Up until then, apart from Qual who had witnessed and felt for himself first hand, Selene's capabilities, it was all hearsay about Selene's apparent prowess. Extravagant words were used to describe her abilities, painting her as some kind of immortal. Thus, it was easy for people to be skeptical of her, also tempting for individuals like the three challengers wanting to see for themselves just what the hype the south-eastern girl was all about. In each of the women's eyes, they saw themselves as powerful, worthy candidates for Qual.

They had reasons to believe so.

Syrene was the field commander of the one of three heavy frontline melee battalions that followed the convoy. Her built was the toughest of the three challengers, but at the same time, still possessed fit womanly attributes. The woman of fine muscular figure was black haired. Like the other two, they actually have gorgeous faces. After all, Qual had to have approved of the ladies to be of a certain acceptable caliber before they were even allowed to try for the podium.

Having said that, Qual was also obliged to accept candidates as it was an opportunity for their people to witness and accept Selene for who she was meant to be, even when Qual himself had pretty much set his sight on Selene as his intended wife. At that point, the only person who could mess up the arrangement, was Selene herself, if she ever allowed herself a momentary lapse of attention.

Alliesia was an adapt user of the bow, a top hunter who has frequently topped the monthly charts of the hunter's guild, of bringing wild games back into the city for the people's consumption and the use of leathers and tusks for any sort of craft. Her expertise had her figure looking most proportionate of the three, fit in the right places that were often so utilized in her job, while sumptuously womanly in the key places.

Georvina had a lithe form, slender, but not skinny. She had the figure that a non-combative princesses would possess, curvy and attractive. It was apparent that she had an air of mana around her, and her staff served as a conduit for the channeling of her energy. As expected, she was exuding energies of earth magic. She had a adolescent brown bear by her side, suggesting that she was some kind of an animal trainer.

"Three?!"

Nayla semi-whispered, clearly startled when she mentioned that she was opting to take all challengers in one go. While she wouldn't be surprised if she had chosen to take two opponents in one go, three was a record. She hadn't initially meant it as a challenge more than a passing remark to let her know of her options.

"Are you positive? These three girls are some of our best from their respective fields."

But Nayla could see the ice cold certainty in her gaze. And her arrogant confidence was enough of a reason for her to believe that she meant what she said. After all, it was not Nayla's role to have her opinions swaying the decision made by the ladies of the night. The lead usher then turned to the crowd.

"Selene of Arcadia proposes to take on all three challengers in one go."

That was immediately followed up by torrential waves of whispers and gasps coming from the witnessing crowd standing 360 around them. Syrene could be seen scoffing, while Alliesia and Georvina exchanged glances with a tinge of haughtiness. The trio stepped forward in time, as they readied themselves for combat.

Syrene took the frontline, while Alliesia and Georvina took their positions on each side of Selene's flank at further distances.

There was a moment of silence, of sizing up one another. When a breeze of wind suddenly broke the serenity of the silent-scape, Syrene made full advantage of the momentary distraction to lunge herself forward towards Selene, engaging her head on.

Her movement speed was impossibly rapid, and not humanly possible without some kind of magic boon augmenting her leap. Within two seconds, she had managed to close in their distance. Her halberd swings were so quick, it looked as if she was almost simultaneously attacking her on nine fronts.

At the same time, Georvina summoned energy with one palm and fused it into the head of her staff,

before pounding the end of the staff onto the muddled ground. That immediately led to thick vines sprouting out of the ground, instinctively reaching to Selene's ankles and wrists to bind them in place.

Alliesia fired a barrage of imbued ice arrows, not directly at Selene, but in the area of her immediate vicinity, ensuring that if she somehow managed to flee, that her conjured arrows will pierce right into her.

The trio, though different in their disciplines and probably hadn't fought along side by side one another prior, were seemingly telepathic with their synchronized assault. Such was the tight knit of the Ish'feldian community, that they had such an in-depth level of understanding of one another in everything that they do, practiced throughout their entire lives.

- - Partner's Response - -

Selene took no offense to her guide's (Nayla) shock, but neither did she falter. Her expression was placid, indecipherable, exuding none of the smug arrogance of the other women, none of the haughtiness she could feel rolling off of their forms.

Were she to stand next to any of them, they would all have her by several inches and multiple pounds of muscle. While Selene was fit, far stronger than most would expect from a lady of her standing, there was a delicate femininity to her, a more voluptuous fullness to her curves, that made it clear she'd not been used for any kind of physical warfare. Even so, no fear flickered in her eyes, not a hint of apprehension.

The sound of shocked whispers did nothing to alter her stance, and somewhere in the crowd she could almost swear the could hear her brothers whispering sympathies for the other women. While no one else had truly seen her engaged in combat, her brothers were well aware of the powers the witches of their land possessed, and just as aware of their sister's status amongst them. Yet even they knew they'd never seen their sister allow her full powers to unleash, despite having witnessed several awe inspiring displays.

In truth, they imagined they likely still wouldn't see it that day as she no doubt didn't wish to harm any innocent bystanders.

The other women had no way of knowing, of course, what a catastrophic mistake their seemingly coordinated attack would be. While she had no doubt she would still have been triumphant had it been one on one, it certainly would have been more of a challenge. But that was not the choice they had made. It would be their second cataclysmic mistake of the evening.

As the others began to take their formation, Selene merely stood, watching. To anyone on the outside without a particularly attuned and powerful ability to read magic, it would look as if she were passively awaiting her doom. Indeed, at least a few onlookers thought exactly that, that she'd chosen suicide by competitor to escape the match.

That idea was proven incorrect in short order.

The kinetic field around her was brutal. Every attack was met at almost the exact same time. Every bit of each assault was allowed to get unsettlingly close to the young woman before they each backfired in turn.

The weapon the first woman struck with bounced back as if made of rubber. If the woman's grip was true, it would take her with it as it hurtled through the air with a break neck velocity, likely landing her against a tree. If she loosened her grip in time, she would simply lose the weapon. Either way, her shoulder sockets would take some degree of damage.

The vines of the second girl were unable to come near her due to the increasing power of the forcefield, and in fact imploded upon touching the barrier, the small burst of energy trailing from the tips of the vines back to their origin like a particularly vicious firework.

The third woman by far made the worst mistake. Not only had the energy field

surrounding Selene grown with each subsequent attack, but the sheer volume of projectiles launched in tandem struck nearly all at the same time, immediately ricocheting off of the barrier and, guided by the first movements of Selene's hands, went flying back at the three attackers at ten times the original speed.

All of this occurred in less than perhaps thirty seconds. Before she could even take stock of the damage her counter strike may have leveled, she was surrounded by what looked like a crackle of electricity, smoke. That same cloud appeared directly behind the other women and immediately exploded into a ground shaking strike as Selene hurled herself into the earth, detonating the massive charge she'd built up with the aid of the energy output by the other women.

- - Partner's Response End - -

Syrene's fighting style was all about speed and force fused into an attack. Her philosophy has always been a good offense is the best defense. Her battle style was designed in such a way to end a fight in as little strikes as possible, ending her foes with a swift and clean hit before they could find the time to react. This meant she had to concentrate her efforts completely on the offense, leaving her defensive capabilities totally vulnerable.

When Selene erected her counteracting kinetic force field, her nine strikes ended up rebounding from Selene's barrier when she was at point blank range. With no time to react, the halberd deflected back onto her, splitting her in nine places in the goriest of manner, her head, split into two as the head of the axe cracked through her skull, effectively sentencing her to a swift death.

Witnesses that were stood close to the fallen warrior shrieked and screamed. If her death wasn't any more tragic, the lifeless pieces of her corpse were further shredded by the ricocheted ice arrows.

Alliesia was stood at some distance away, allowing her split seconds to pirouette away from some of her ice arrows redirected back at her. She managed to dodge a few by dancing through them, but still sustained four pierces. Three of them dealt superficial cuts to her. But the forth managed to maim her right thigh, which had her cry out in pain. The huntress survived the counterattack. But with her mobility lost, she could not escape the the following explosion in time. Her body received critical damage, and her life immediately drained out of her body due to the shockwave.

Georvina managed to stand ground and channeled all her energies into self-preservation. She formed a barrier in front of her that blocked off all the arrows directed at her. What caught her by surprise, was Selene's follow up attack. She managed to partially evade from having the awareness of the build up of offensive energy near her prior to the detonation of the blast, and poof teleported herself to a safer distance. She sustained minor concussion, her internal body taking more damage than the exterior, as indicated by a spat of blood that came out of her mouth.

Having survived both attacks, Georvina was quick to pick up on what was the driving force behind Selene's devastating spells. The young woman communed telepathically to her bear companion with a wave of her hand, and that led to the brown grizzly charging right at her. Georvina ensured that she hid and followed in closely behind her bear's much bigger physique. There was no magic involved in the charge, just the whisperer's attempt at concealing herself out of Selene's field of vision, while trying to block off her potential ability to sense her presence. She went on full defense, not allowing herself to feed Selene's ability to harness offensive essence directed at her.

The bear leapt towards Selene once she was within reaching distance. Georvina followed suit. If the bear was going to be smashed aside, she would follow up with her surprise attack a split second later, as she endeavored to disarm her, getting into melee range where she might stand a better chance and avoid a battle of magic which she knew she would lose out, wrestling Selene down onto the puddle of muddled water, commencing a round of feline fight by straddling on top of her, hands around her neck in an attempt to choke her to her demise.

- - Partner's Response - -

Selene gave herself no time to truly take in the destruction she'd caused, did not let the shock of the crowd enter her head. The same disastrous assault on the other women had been aimed at her, after all. Those women had been glad to attack her, someone who they clearly thought to be weak by comparison, all at once, expecting to decimate her. They would garner no sympathy from her, and only enough attention to be sure they no longer posed a threat.

The remaining attacker, however, had her full attention. She managed to evade a decent portion of Selene's attack, being clever enough to move to being defensive. The use of an animal was off putting to her, if only because the witches in their land would never put their familiars in harms way like that.

After all, surely she realized how much danger the animal would be in. Surely she'd realized that physical attacks only fueled her strength. Was she really so ready to sacrifice the loyal beast?

Not being willing to play into that possibility, Selene let out a scream, something most would take as a sound of fear, but that would make her brothers within the crowd suck theirs teeth and exchange knowing looks.

Both the mind of the bear and the girl were suddenly filled with piercing static. Anything else, any thoughts or plans, would all be slammed to the side in favor of trying to stop the screeching, disorienting electrical current in their brains.

Taking advantage of even a second's worth of a pause, Selene took the well worn, small, carved stones from her pocket, rolling them together in her hands, using that and a weak swipe the bear did manage to propel her up and back into a nearby tree with an almost painful amount of force, sending the crowd nearest scrambling back despite there still being a sufficient distance between them and the battle.

Wasting no time, she sent a burst of energy on a foot wide path straight for the remaining woman. The power of it vibrated everything it touched with a rapid speed on a molecular level, making trees burst into molten ash, turning everything in its way into little more than burning hot dust. She made a point to cast it at a downward angle, not wanting to risk it continuing to the other side of their battling circle and hit any onlookers, while intending to still give plenty of clearance for it to hit the intended target.

- - Partner's Response End - -

Feature: Dahlia Ashworth (née Romero) aka Abbinormal

Genre: Dark unhinged Romance
Theme: Song lyrical play with BDSM scenes

The Entanglement: - - - Warning: Most Links NSFW. - - -

And there she was, allowing Jay to gain free rein over however he wished to exploit her body. Once again, it was a stark reminder of how far he had came, within such a short space of time, to be able to convince a woman of Dahlia's stature to be gleefully subservient to him. She made him feel loved, feel powerful. Even without trying, she was able to fill that vacuum of egotistic need that the arrogant, but otherwise, composed man deeply desired. He had resounding success in his career. And now, he was scoring top marks in the relationship department. He knew then, he was truly at the prime of his life - if he could just finally get a grip of himself and not trip over his own buckets, then his life ahead was pretty much set.

Once again, the dark side of him found pleasure in witnessing Dahlia struggle helplessly under his assault. Jay was quite certain he had psychopathic tendencies, as much as he tried to put on his best behavior in front of everyone outside of the confines of his mind. No one else could even come close to Dahlia, who seemed so hopelessly in love that she was willing to be his experimental instrument to practice some of the darkest musings of his mind.

Not only was she willing, she seemed to love most of it, until it became unbearable for her. But that was essentially the summary of their relationship, the unending probing of boundaries and constant realignment of individual needs and desires to match the counterpart. They were learning lessons of love and compromise in the hardest ways. But they were making progress. They were getting somewhere, even if it was through baby steps.

Even when her eyes were clearly watering, she was still motivated to carry him across the finishing line. How selfless of her. He felt her fingers clawing against his ass, even gently pulling him towards her rather than pushing him away so she could get some reprieve. She was behaving as if she truly knew when she belonged, that she was true to her words - that she could think of nothing else, but to suck on his cock all day long.

Jay feasted at the sight of his thick paint sprawled across her entire face. She tried to scoop up as much of his excess to slip them into her mouth, like she didn't wish to waste an ounce of his produce. But without a mirror, she could never really entirely remove the makeup he had bestowed upon her. Truth be told, he would rather she had left his cum marks on her face to serve as some sort of makeshift branding or a tattoo; a physical stimulus to keep her reminded of Jay, even though he was already in her presence. So, while she leaned in to his stomach to plant kisses along it, he took the opportunity to smear whatever remnants of his semen she still had left on her face, ensuring that he coated a layer as much as he possibly could, across the other untouched areas of her face.

The man watched as Dahlia picked her spot after they had concluded their starter. Of all the places available in the luxurious space, she chose to pick an area that was most exposed. The irony, was that just an hour before, she had wanted to keep their affair a secret, to not torment his ex with the sight of her being taken by another man that she love. For all they know, David could probably still be well within the vicinity, walking along the streets beneath them. Granted, they were quite high up in the particular building that they were at. Still, if Dahlia were to be the natural loud hailer that she was, she could easily pivot attention of unsuspecting strangers to her direction.

The winds were naturally running on a freeway at the height they were at, gushing against them by the balcony. He noticed how the negligee flared up as the winds constantly bellowing against her, causing her to tease him with her bubble butt that constantly came on and off sight.

God.

She looked even sexier with her nightgown on. And lingerie. Was that... a g-string she had on underneath?

"... mi amor."

Jay whispered into her ears, as he eventually stepped up and found himself behind her, within her personal space once more. He began to nibble against her ears as his whispers continued.

"... why, are you still wearing a piece of underwear?"
"... why, even after I've sternly warned of you to be accessible for me, anytime, anywhere, do you still defy my orders?"

Without warning, Jay reached for the top rim of her nightgown, and in one swift motion, ripped it apart, before tossing it over the balcony. The fabric, floated down the building, as there was every likelihood of attention being drawn to her if it were to land right in front of a passerby. Over the month, it has became increasingly evident that Jay was getting better and better at ripping her clothes off. He used to be clumsy, requiring a few tugs. Most recently, he needed no more than one violent tug down south to have completely decimated the black silky material. Jay however, had left her G-string untouched.

He shoved Dahlia towards the railing. The next moment, the sound of his belt unbuckling could be heard behind. Then, a *hard* whip lashed through the air as a tester, inches away from her rear, presented for him as she was bend 90 degrees forward. On the second swipe, it landed, hard and unforgivingly, against the entire width of her butt frame.

"You love to put on a g-string, mi enciosa puta? Fine. You can keep it on the entire night."

"Legs apart. Widest you can go. I want you to feel the string biting into your cunt between your folds."

Jay yanked the strings by both sides of her hips to have them raised to as high up as to her waist as possible. In the process, the G-string strap sunk deeper between her clits. Then, the man backed off a bit, allowing him a generous amount of space between him and her to build up the momentum of his belt swing, and starting raining down, lashes, after lashes, of brutal pelting of the leather strap against her tanned, flawless rear. Dahlia had asked for a different sort of punishment. Jay then, was simply beginning to explore the different alternatives, live as they go.

- - Partner's Response - -

Long having an almost cat like need to keep herself tidy, the woman couldn't help but smirk as Jay rubbed his thick seed over her skin. It seemed his desire to see her in every state she'd never allow the world outside to see her in knew no bounds.

Not that she could complain. What truer intimacy was there than allowing your lover to see you at your most bare and raw and vulnerable? Be it standing vigil over a sick bed or leaving them with streaming makeup and cum stained skin, it was a private sort of secret intimacy that had to be earned. She noted to herself in the future there were he to paint her, she would take it as a badge of honor and wear it for him as long as was feasible, since he clearly found it appealing.

It would be a lie if Dahlia said the thought of being seen hadn't crossed her mind while selecting her spot of choice. They were several stories up, but the lights around them were quite bright. The chance of David seeing them was even more slim, but she realized it wouldn't stop her were he to walk by. There was a difference in him seeing something by chance after she'd been honest versus forcing the man to watch against his will.

The cool breeze was pleasant, the sounds of bustling nightlife adding to the freedom of her choice of location. As she felt his eyes on her, she allowed her own gaze to look out at the street, watching tourists wandering by.

His approach was so quiet it actually took her by surprise, the whispered words making her jump slightly. For a brief moment she actually struggled to understand what he meant, the panties genuinely having been an afterthought left on from earlier when she hadn't expected Jay to be around. Her breath caught as he ripped the fabric of her gown, body suddenly on high alert.

She let out a soft groan as he shoved her against the metal railing, bracing herself, spreading her legs as far as she could manage. The sound of his belt came out of nowhere, making her eyes widen, though she obediently kept her gaze straight forward. The second snap, however, connected, ripping a high scream from her, the only thing preventing her knees from giving being the wide stance he'd had her take.

"Yes sir, I'm so sorry, I won't do it again," she panted, voice filling with tears even as her slick entrance throbbed with desire. The feel of the thin string of fabric cutting into her most sensitive areas was excruciating, making her feel raw and exposed as she clung to the railing.

That pain was nothing compared to what was to come. In fast, hard succession, the man started raining blow after powerful blow across her tender flesh, ripping sobs and screams and moans from the young woman even as she did her damndest to stay still for him.

The stinging, relentless pain was excruciating, left her shaking and weeping. But it also left her soaking wet and feeling like a strong breeze might push her over the edge.

- - Partner Response End - -

In the heat of the moment, Dahlia had been a tad bit reckless. She had failed to consider the surroundings above where she was at. Somewhere about two levels above them, came the muffled sounds of music blasting through closed windows. It sounded like some kind of a house party was going on, with the top notch amplifiers ringing out the music of the next track on the list that was Clarity by Zedd. The sounds of it, compromised by the distance between the two balconies and the glass that stood between them.

If Dahlia were to look above, she would discover that balconies were only staggered every three levels. Two levels right before the next balcony above them, she could easily spot a few backs leaning against the glass panels precariously. If any of them were to turn around and look right down, Dahlia's bent and nude form would most certainly be found out.

And Jay was similarly aware of it given that the music was a huge draw of attention. Yet, the man never looked like he was going to retreat back into their accommodation indoors. If anything, that was when he first lashed out the first whip of his belt into the air, implicitly signaling that they were staying at the balcony. He had no qualms showing an audience that his precious Dahlia was about to be punished for defying his orders, like a parent disciplining his daughter wide open in the public, using shame and humiliation as an added motivating factor to get her to remember and learn her lesson.

...High dive into frozen waves where the past comes back to life.
...Fight fear for the selfish pain, it was worth it every time.

That was when Dahlia got herself to spread her legs willing as he had instructed of her to do so. Subconsciously, Jay felt there was something peculiarly apt - the selfish pain that he had inflicted on Dahlia, was indeed worth it every time. In the literal sense for Dahlia, she was taking pain from the man himself, as if bearing it for him was likewise worth it for her.

...Hold still right before we crash 'cause we both know how this ends.
...A clock ticks 'til it breaks your glass and I drown in you again.

*SMACK.*

Jay knew the both of them had all sorts of reservations of how their fucked up dynamics were by default, a recipe for having their situationship ending in disaster. Yet, they believed they could come out triumphant against the odds, as all defiant couples do. History has proved on a few occasions that the persistent ticking, *testing*, of boundaries had let to the emotional glass been shattered. But at the end of it all, they always ended up being drown in each other all over again.

Cause you are the piece of me I wish I didn't need.
Chasing relentlessly, still fight and I don't know why.

It must have been Dahlia's scream. Almost immediately right after, the windows above them could be heard opening. And the treble and bass of the music suddenly sounded out with much greater clarity.

*SMACK.*

The third belt whip was even harder than the previous, despite Dahlia apologizing to him. At the same time, whistles could be heard coming from above, hinting that Dahlia now, truly had an audience watching on. Looking up, there was a bunch of big boys in varsity jackets - three heads sticking out from the window, desperate to get a clean view of the pornographic show that was playing out live right in front of them, with at least another nine boys on each sides of the glass panels, grinning, banging against them as if they were in approval of the show. One guess, and it seemed like the all-male group likely belonged to some kind of sporting frat house.

"I remember telling you before I preferred to be address as 'Master' as opposed to 'Sir'. The former emphasizes what you are better than the latter. And what are you again, mi amor?"

Jay raised his voice enough to ensure that the onlooking crowd was able to follow the show, and the context behind it.

*SMACK.*

If our love is tragedy, why are you my remedy?
If our love's insanity, why are you my clarity?

It couldn't be put any better. Their love was both a tragedy and insanity. Yet, both saw each other as their remedy and clarity to their hopelessly darkened souls.

"You're wet, slut."
"Despite being punished."
"You like this, don't you?"
*SMACK.*

Jay then took the whippings to the next level, as he began to aim the belt lash vertically, whipping from bottom up as her legs were wide enough to allow a clean contact of the leather strap against her lips.

"You could cum from this, could you?"
*SMACK.*
"Cum."
*SMACK.*
"Cum for me, mi enciosa puta."
*SMACK.*
*SMACK.*
*SMACK.*

- - Partner's Response - -

The sound of the music was an afterthought initially for Dahlia. Her mind and body were completely intuned only to Jay and what he was inflicting upon her. The ringing of the belt somehow seemed louder than anything else, her own panting breaths and sobbing whimpers echoing around her. Any other part of her mind was fully taken up by intense pain and focus on keeping herself perfectly still for him despite the powerful muscles of her legs quavering.

There was the briefest of pauses as the distant sound of a window opening vaguely registered with her, the driving beat of the music suddenly crystal clear. Instinctually, she turned her head up toward the sound, coming eye to eye with what looked like a whole frat house.

While she'd considered the possibility of people passing by catching a glance, she hadn't honestly had time to look around properly before choosing her location. For better or worse, she was locked into her choice now, the young men getting a hell of a show for free.

Before she could think too deeply about it, a third, powerful strike whelped up her backside, snapping her back to attention. Her entire body tensed, a soft whimper coming from her as she bowed her head.

"I'm sorry, Master, I- ahh!" she yelled out at the next strike, voice strained and raw as she felt the floodgates of her emotions being battered down, tears flowing freely as everything she'd been feeling seemed to break loose in some sort of strange, cathartic release. "I'm your whore, your slave," she wept, body shaking violently even as she held position.

His mention of the state of her made a rush of heat go to her cheeks. She wouldn't dare deny it, but there was a strange shame that went along with realizing he knew just how wet she was from the violent assaults.

"Yes, Master, I'm sorry, I can't help it, I'm dripping for you," she whimpered out, voice small and embarrassed and strangely innocent and unlike anything he'd heard from Dahlia before.

A full, unbridled cry came from her as he changed the belt's position, and for a moment she truly thought she might collapse, her legs feeling like jelly beneath her. Despite the bright pain making her vision temporarily flash white from the intensity, she felt her pussy throb deeply and was shocked to realize he was right.

"Yes master, oh god," she sobbed, grasping onto the railing for dear life as he rained hell upon her swollen, slick folds. If she'd been shocked by her own behavior before, it was nothing compared to how stunned she was when he commanded her to cum and her body responded almost instantly.

He had a clear view thanks to her spread legs of her tight hole clenching with her release, though the high, sweet howl likely made it abundantly clear what was happening even without the visual. With each consecutive strike it seemed her orgasm only increased in intensity until she was shaking with it, her grip on the railing the only thing managing to keep her upright.

- - Partner Response's End - -

Keith Logan · Aug 28, 2023

Writing Feature

Feature: Teresa Cavanaugh aka @Khira (RT)

Genre: Sci-fi, dystopian
Theme: Dark psychological thriller setup

Project: Black Out: - - Partner's Response - -
⠀⠀⠀⠀

ᴘ ʀ ᴏ ᴊ ᴇ ᴄ ᴛ : b̷̻̳͖̘̿̀͐̀̽͂͝͝͠ḻ̷̭͕̬̘̪̠̾ͅä̵̳͈͉͓͙͕̖̦͈͋̀̂̋̍́c̸̫͋̔̃k̵̥̪̳͔̱̦͚̩̘̒̐͒̅̈͘õ̷̯̘͕͌̔ṳ̵̧̩̥͔̞̬̭̳͖̑ẗ̶͙́̈́̌͊̄͠

"What the fuck did you do, Tommy!?"

Tessa barged into her brother's apartment, bringing the stench of burnt gunpowder along with her. To say that she was furious would be a major understatement. "What happened to minor explosion?" She found him slouched on the old couch in the living room. When he didn't seem to pay any attention to her, she positioned herself right in front of his TV screen, blocking his view. "You just blew a hole in the City Center — a fucking hole!" She threw her hands up, growling in frustration. "You sent two Officers to the Infirmary, one of them unconscious, and God knows how many civilians got hurt!" This was a fucking DISASTER. "You promised me no one would get hurt!" Obviously, he had lied. Either that or something had gone completely wrong. But since her brother didn't seem bothered by the information she shared, she concluded he had lied. He had no right to do that, not when she was the one planting it, which someone was going to find out very soon.

F U C K.

How was she supposed to convince the Government that she had no part in it? Well, not a big part at least. She would never hurt anyone on purpose. Her brother had asked her if she could drop off a bomb at the bus stop outside the City Center. He had assured her that it was just a small one that was meant to prove a point, not cause any harm. What a F O O L she'd been. She wasn't a fan of the Government or their new surveillance either, but the resistance — who called themselves The Guardians — was getting out of control. And her brother, being one of its leaders, had crossed a line this time. He might as well have pointed a gun at Tessa himself. She was so fucking screwed. And the worst part? When the Government comes looking for answers, she won't have any. She knew her brother was one of the masterminds behind the rebellion, she even knew some of his friends, but she knew nothing about their operations. And now she was going to pay for his crimes.

"You'd better not drag Will into this!" she warned, pointing a finger at him. Her fiancé did not need to be dragged into this rebellion. She hurried over to the window. A frustrated groan escaped her lips as her eyes landed on no more than five Officers headed her way. "I can't believe you fucking framed me." She leaned against the wall, crossing her hands under her breasts. "I'm sorry, Tess, but it had to be done," her brother said from the couch. "It couldn't be one of us, because we have to keep fighting. We need to make a stand." By us, he meant his vigilante friends. The betrayal was devastating, she didn't even try to hide her disappointment. He had just sold her out, so he and his friends could make more bombs. Hurt more people. She peeked out of the window again, the Officers not far from his apartment now. Despite the fact that she wanted her brother to pay for what he'd done, he wouldn't be able to break her out of prison if he was in there with her. She just hoped her lack of information wouldn't get her killed before that happened.

"You'd better fix this, Tommy," she said as she walked towards the exit. "And stay away from Will!" And with that, she stepped outside with her hands above her head in surrender. The Officers were on her in seconds. Tessa didn't even fight them as they put her in chains.

- - Partner's Response End - -

12.47am - 18th February 2103

Jordan Etherington.

The newly minted officer of the incumbent government's military wing had just received a ping on his device. Sat across the screen, he could see that it consisted of a number of attachments of the latest rebels that were captured as suspects of the recent bomb blast that wrecked the heart of the city.

It was not like the city was not already wrecked enough.

They were in the year 2103. But given how the world have previously evolved scientifically at an exponential rate since the mid 1800s, the progression of the world had been lacklustre in more recent times, or perhaps, even regressive.

After the world of the worlds ended in the year 2065, new age governments had been struggling to reestablish a foothold of the greater society. Scientific advancement had been put to a halt for the longest time, as rulers of the new world had greater priorities like going back to the basics, of getting survival right. The circumstance of the world did not help, as lands that were previously either fertile or resource rich were largely decimated. Food and materials were increasingly scarce. And the supply chain of just about everything struggled to keep pace with the needs of the remaining survivors.

Interims governments largely faltered, as there weren't too many organizations that were able to find significant military backing in a world that was largely broken and disorganized. The future fate of the latest governance party to be holding power in their continent was unknown. But they were looking to break the wheel of cycle, once and for all. One of their most recent initiative - Project: Black Out - was incepted with the aim of curbing rebellions by targeting the root of all resistances.

Jordan joined the military some four years back, moments after he had the roughest of breakup that he still struggled to get over even till this date. The military gave him a new lease of life, something to look forward to, and a means to help distract his thoughts away from the despair he felt at loosing what he was so previously sure that his ex was going to be the one whom he intended to marry.

Even though the files he had received from his direct superior required utmost urgent attention, he still took the time to sniff the soft bundle of hair that belonged to Tessa Cavanaugh. The bundle, being one of the few things he had kept around to remind him of the intense love and hatred he had for his ex-lover, whom he had only learnt from a few mutual friends in recent months that she might have well been playing him all those years. It was only in the last few months that he had realized he hadn't truly moved on, and that his anger had been fueled alive by the equivalent of a fresh injection of flammables.

Oh how he wished he could be given an opportunity to give her a piece of his mind, one that he had asked for in his prayers regularly of late, as much as he was a non-believer.

Once he was done indulging, he dropped the hair bundle back into the desk drawer, before launching up the folder consisting of portfolios of the latest bunch of captured rebels. His task, was to fish out from the list of suspects, the culprit that caused multiple deaths of government personnel as well as a number of innocents - the latter, frankly the lesser priority of the government, but nevertheless allowed them the opportunity to take advantage of tragedy, using it as propaganda to frame the rebels in a bad light, that they who caused pain to the commoners were not fit to rule the population.

He quickly scanned through the files, mostly nonplussed, until his eyes caught sight of the very familiar name, the one whom he had only just thought about shortly before he stuffed her little souvenir for him back down under his desk.

The officer, who was the lead scientist, was tasked to interrogate the list of suspects using his creation, the Project Black-out's initiative, which was gathering a lot of success lately and had drawn the attention of the upper authorities to consider heavily investing in the pilot project. But in that moment in time, his increasingly clouded head had prompted him that he only needed to focus on just one of them. He knew what Black-out was capable of. Black-out was a double edged sword, a paradigm that was easy to abuse. He knew that all he needed to do, was to play his cards right, and he could make essentially anyone in the list become 'the culprit', at the expense of the sanity of the unfortunate victim.

His prayers had been answered. And he was not going to let the opportunity that he had waited for so long to arrive, to slip away from him.

The next moment, he dialed up the prison ministry, and informed them to send forth a certain suspect in their custody named Tessa Cavanaugh to their high security interrogation facility, located in the far outskirts of the capital, surrounded by forestry.

- - Partner's Response - -

10:26 am - 18th February 2103

Teresa was brought in for questioning down at the Head Quarters, straight after the Officers had put her in chains. She hasn't said a word to any of them, but they hadn't said anything to her either, except "Teresa Cavanaugh, you are under arrest for bombing the City Center." She didn't even try to argue with them, because that was exactly what she had done, obviously. It just hadn't been her idea nor her intention to blow a hole in the thick wall. Not to mention that she would never injure civilians. She didn't care too much about the Officers, but even they were human. They might have picked a side, but that didn't mean they deserved to die or be injured. Her brother and his friends better not plan to kill any of them in cold blood. Now that she wouldn't be around to lecture him, God knows what they'll do. How far they'll go. She just prayed her brother wouldn't drag Will into the madness, although he'd better explain to him what the hell happened and why she would be in prison for a while. Tessa was relying on Tommy to find a way to either clear or name or break her out. She didn't really care which, as long as she got out. There was no way she was spending her life in jail for something he was responsible for.

Officers questioned her for what seemed like ten hours, but she knew it hadn't been that long. They were probably just as tired of hearing her answers as she was repeating them.

No, I am not a part of the resistance. No, I didn't make that bomb. No, I don't know who made it. No, I had no idea it would cause so much damage. No, I didn't know anyone would get hurt. No, I don't know what the resistance is planning. No, I don't know where they're hiding. No, I don't know who they are. No, I don't know how many they are. I am not the enemy. I am the victim.

Over and over, she tried to explain that it was just a big misunderstanding. Of course, she had to lie about a couple of things, but the bottom line was true. She was a victim in this situation. She had told them someone had given her the backpack and asked her to drop it off at the bus stop and that was exactly what she did. She didn't tell them that she knew it was a bomb or that it was her brother who had asked her to do it. If she had known the explosion would be that big, she would have never agreed to help him. She had expected something a bit closer to some firework gone wrong. Not an explosion big enough to blow a hole in a concrete wall, and not just any wall, but the wall of the fucking City Center, where the Government was stationed. She could understand why they wanted to find the person who did it. And she couldn't argue with the surveillance cameras. Even with a hood on, there was no denying that the person who dropped off the backpack was indeed her. It could have been her twin, if she'd had one. But after her parents died of sickness ten years ago, she only had her brother, who she didn't like too much right now.

1:23 pm - 18th February 2103

After what felt like forever, someone knocked on the door. One of the Officers stepped outside to hear what they had to say. When they came back in, they terminated her interrogation and asked her to stand. At first, she was relieved, believing that her brother had come clean after all or had worked up some miraculous way to get her out of this mess. It wasn't until they lead her out in the hallway, and she heard them whispering and snickering, she realized that was not the case. No one was coming to save her. They knew what was going to happen to her, but no one bothered to share it with her. Instead, they led her to a helicopter and strapped her in. The trip wasn't long, but she knew it would take at least a day to get back by foot. It wasn't until they closed in on a high-security building, surrounded by trees, that she realized where they were taking her. She felt a lump grow in her stomach. She'd heard about that building but never traveled far enough to see it. It was surrounded by trees, so unless you knew where to go, you’d probably get lost — if not shot — before you reached the facility, which seemed out of place, like some sort of secret base in the middle of nowhere. It was a new facility that they'd built a few years ago, which they'd recently expanded. No one knew what was happening inside its walls. All Tessa knew was that they sent the worst of the worst criminals there. And now they'd sent her there.

As they led her through the front doors and down some hallways, it reminded her more of a corporation or a science research facility than a prison, but that might just be the modern design. It reminded her of the City Center and the Head Quarters, but it had no resemblance to the old buildings where she and Tommy grew up. Or where they still lived, in a part of the City called The Rubble, but it's not as bad as it was when a few decades ago. This was basically a part where poor people lived, although in recent years the poverty had decreased and more people were getting jobs.

2:07 pm - 18th February 2103

Two Officers followed her to a new interrogation room but left her there by herself. She was still in handcuffs, but at least she was free to roam around. This room seemed more professional than the one down at the Head Quarters. Cleaner. Whiter. Being there reminded her a little of a doctor's appointment, although she knew she wasn't going to see a doctor. In fact, she wondered who she would see, considering she'd already answered every possible question someone could have about the bombing incident. And why on earth had they sent her here? Did they honestly consider her a huge threat? A dangerous criminal? Without any real evidence?

Tessa stopped in front of the one-way mirror. She could only see her own reflection, but she knew it was a window. The possibility of someone being on the other side was big, so she decided to talk to them. "Look, I don't know what they've told you about me, but whatever it is, it's not true. I'm not a criminal. I'm not a part of the resistance. I did not build that bomb, I just dropped a backpack at a bus station, and all of a sudden I'm considered a threat to society because the backpack I knew nothing about just happened to contain a bomb that just happened to blow a hole in the City Center. How is that fair, hmm?" If there was no one on the other side, this was going to look really awkward on the recordings, but right now she didn't care. It was obvious that she had her own opinion about this whole situation, and someone would have to believe her at some point. She did not belong there. She was a victim, not a fucking criminal.

- - Partner's Response End - -

It has been a while since Jordan had been so much looking forward to anything. The irony, was that the last time that happened, was when he and Tessa went on their final date - the day when Tessa broke the news to him that she figured it was better if they parted ways.

It's not your fault, it's me.

It was such an overused breakup line. Yet, young Tessa used it as her reason, or excuse, for requesting for a break. She said she couldn't love him as much as she thought he deserved to be, and thus, did the magnanimous thing of 'letting him go.' Back then, it was quite believable, that young Tessa was perhaps, still too immature for a serious relationship, that she often prioritized many thing else above him, and she was not yet ready to up give that freedom in order to dedicate her life and attention to that special one.

Jordan cried. Jordan begged. But eventually, he reluctantly let her go after she insisted, and after no amount of convincing about him willing to be patient with her worked.

For awhile, he tried to move on. But it was tough. And he found himself doing the occasional stalking, both on her online presence, as well as the physical routes that she took based on her routine that he was previous accustomed to. It was about three months on when he physically spotted her getting intimate with another man, which frankly infuriated him. He was furious at just how quick she was at moving on while he was still left in an emotional lurch. When one of their mutual friends broke the news to him four years on about what really happened after taking pity on him, Jordan was livid.

Him finally getting his hands after she had gotten elusive of late, was all the vindication that he needed. It was tempting to begin ripping her apart right from the get go, but decided against that. Four years, had she tormented him, of which, she probably didn't even care much about. Four years she was having the time of her life, while every day was a living hell for the introverted man. It wasn't fair, especially since she cheated. It hadn't been fair for the longest time. And now, Jordan felt it was only going to be right if she paid back what she owed, penny for penny. He was going to take his sweet time over the next 365 days, multiplied by four. Thereafter when she has paid her due, he could review what he intends to do with Tessa - that is, if she manages to hold on for that long.

It was customary, basic 101, that before any interrogation session happened, that the subject was to be left alone in the room. One of two of the most important rationales, was to let the subject's mind do the job of self-terrorizing. The wandering mind can often do detrimental things to a person's psyche. And given the gravity of the situation for any subject to be held in such high security facility, chances are, it would be gradually unnerving once the mind was flooded with all the negative potential what ifs that could happen to them.

Two, behavioural observations are crucial for interrogators to learn and understand their subjects, their possible strengths and weaknesses, then manipulating them to their advantage. Jordan knew Tessa.

Nevertheless, he needed to be sure Tessa was the Tessa he knew, or that she has somehow grown wiser or more mature over the years. And so with a pen between his fingers, he spun and spun, while his eyes barely left the sight of the familiar woman.

And then she began speaking.

By the end of her little speech, he let out a scoff. He could believe up to the point when she said she didn't build the bomb. But when she started to play the victim card by saying she was clueless to the contents of the bag, and recklessly took the bag without question after 'someone' asked her to place it at the heart of the city centre, that was just poor on her part. Did she honestly expect him, or anyone else to believe that?

She could claim that it wasn't 'fair' that she was being held up for something that she claimed she didn't do. But she had never played the game of life fair in the first place. Even if she truly was innocent for the bombing incident, did she deserve fairness just for what she had done to Jordan so heartlessly? The personal agenda for Jordan, was strong.

Thirty minutes in, and he figured it was time he began. He didn't wish to reveal his identity early. And thus, he fit on a gas mask as his choice of concealment, along with a black hoodie, which he figured, would be his symbolic uniform at least for the foreseeable future, until he figured the time was ripe for him to reveal himself to his very familiar subject.

The pneumatic door hissed open moments later, before he stepped in, with two guards behind him stationed outside closing the door behind him.

The masked man, which was a mystery to Tessa, took a his spot by the end at the other side of the table, before he lifted up his hand in gesture for Tessa to take her place in front of him.

"Please, Miss."

"We have much to talk about."

He offered for her to settle down. The man's voice was partially muffled by the mask, distorting his voice enough to make it sound somewhat difficult to decode his true identity if she wanted.

*****
This play has been made public. Click here to view the full story.
Warning: NSFW and not for the faint hearted. Also pushing my own boundary with this particular play.
*****

Keith Logan · Sep 29, 2023

Writing Feature

Feature: Angelina Charlotte Parker aka BrattyBarbie (RT)

Immortalised quotes:

Genre: Stalker - Thriller romance
Theme: Plot entrance

The Shadow and his Mouse: - - Partner's Response - -

"This...this is going to be terrible. Just awful."

"Will you stop with the negativity already? Put on a smile, tell people how happy you are to see them..and sign their books. Easy and simple, now breath, you've got this."

The words, while a little harsh, were completely honest and to the point from her best friend. While Angelina was working herself up, Cora was trying to calm her back down. Even if she could feel her heart racing at a hundred miles an hour, threatening to burst out of her chest. Already she could hear the crowds of people from behind the curtain. A small, usually quiet bookstore, had erupted into life. What usually saw only twenty or so people in it on a busy day was suddenly crammed full of closer to a hundred and fifty. People squashed up and pressed together, chatting excitedly as they awaited to see the author behind the books that were loved so much.

Books that were nothing but fiction, a fantasy, but it seemed to sell well and the brunette wasn't going to complain about that. It was all thanks to her fans that she was doing what she loved most..minus the meeting them. Social situations of this size just weren't her thing. Unless alcohol was involved.

"Angie, will you just snap out of it. Hello?" The snap of fingers in front of her face had the girl snapping away from the curtain and back to the face of her best friend, watching how her curly dark locks framed her face, the narrowness in her dark eyes.
Okay..so she was pissed with being ignored.

"Sorry, sorry." The girl mumbled back, shaking her head as a hand came up to brush away a strand of her dark hair, tucking it behind her ear with a shaky breath. "I've got this, I know. Just gotta survive the next..three hours."

"And you will. Now go and don't forget to smile." Cora barely gave her a moment to think about it anymore before Angie was being shoved towards the curtain that separated the back of the bookstore and where she would be sitting for her signing.
At least the chair was comfortable.

That was the first thought that hit her once she had somewhat awkwardly stumbled out towards the desk and chair. Able to see the dozens of eyes turning her way, excited smiles across peoples faces, barely able to contain their excitement as the first person was already walking up towards the desk, a book in her clutches as she peered down to the brunette that forced a confident smile onto her face. "Hey, thanks for coming, who do you want it-"
"I'm literally your biggest fan. I've been queueing here since four am this morning to make sure I was the first in line. Your writing is amazing..and..oh god Harvey is just amazing too, isn't he? Oh..my name! It's Kacey, please can you address it to that, thank you so much!"

Holy shit..obsessive much.

Regardless of how intense the auburn haired girl was, the bright smile on her face, Angelina gave a soft laugh with her light voice followed by a nod as she reached out to take the book from her. "Of course, I'm glad to hear how much you enjoyed it. The second in this series shouldn't be too much longer away, but make sure you catch up on sleep tonight, okay?" Seeing the delight on the girls face from her words, from how it seemed her favourite author actually cared and was listening to her words, did have the brunette feel a small twinge of happiness. "Right, here we go then.." Murmuring as she wrote in the book, signing it with her name at the bottom before it was closed and handed back with the same smile still on her face.

"Thank you so so much!!"

It was almost as if she'd just been told Santa was real. The way her face and eyes lit up as she took the book back, opening it up to see the writing inside, the signature Angelina had left for her before she was heading off and the next person was stepping up to hand over a book.

"Hey-" As the brunette spoke, her gaze flickering up to the person.. something else caught her eye.
Out the corner of her eye even.
Despite how crowded the bookstore was, how close together people were, she caught sight of someone. Briefly. Someone that didn't appear to be holding a book..someone that stood out from the others just from how he was dressed alone.
Maybe he was simply waiting for someone.

"Carly..that's my name."
In a second she was hit back into reality, taking a deep breath as she yanked her gaze off the man and back to the blonde girl stood before her, still holding her book out in offering.

"Right, of course! Sorry, I thought I saw..someone I knew. Never mind." Brushing it off with a laugh, the girl resumed what she was doing once again, signing the book just as she had done with the first, giving the girl a smile as she was thanked. Yet when she glanced back to the spot where she had set eyes upon the man? He was gone. An empty space in return was what greeted her, something that the girl brushed off as nothing. Maybe she hadn't even seen anyone stood there at all.
Wouldn't have been the first time her mind had played tricks on her.
Instead she went back to focusing on her signing, smiling and offering polite conversation to each and every person that came up to her. Personally thanking them for buying her book, promising a second was on the way. Eventually anyway.

- - Partner's Response End - -

His eyes were supposed to be on a particular man, bespectacled, and in his fifties. But it had been quite disruptive for the private investigator, as his lookout spot was largely blocked out by a gathering crowd that was lining up for a book signing event. It had became increasingly evident to Joseph that what seemed like a strange decision initially to have a human trade done in a quaint bookshop situated at a corner of town, had been deliberately planned to coincide with a public event. His intel has informed him that an unfortunate eastern European girl, unfamiliar with the English language, was enroute to her final destination of a brothel run by the underworld, that was thriving well behind a shroud in the city that never sleeps.

He was that close to picking up the trail of a particular elusive ring which called themselves the Magdallen Cowboys, that had been difficult to trace for the last decade, one of his earliest cases that he had started on since he first began his private eye organization. The plan had been to witness the trade and capture the evidence in pixels, to track the footpath of the trafficked woman until she arrived at her designated destination, which would presumably lead to one of the cowboy's key hub of operations.

The suspect was present, supposedly there waiting to receive the package. And Joseph had to carefully shift himself from aisle to aisle every few moments just to keep himself under the radar and away from the supposed ring member, which was likely on an active lookout for any suspicious figure himself.

As such, he found himself needing to find something else to fixate upon just so he didn't look like a man who was aimlessly loitering around the bookshop for questionable reasons. Naturally, his eyes would find them landing on the attraction down by the limelight of the afternoon.

She was definitely younger than he was, judging from her flawless, porcelain features. The curls of her hair made it seemed like she was one that paid a great deal of effort to her physical presentation. She was admittedly gorgeous, and Joseph found himself appreciating the eye candy in the midst of the bleak mission he was on. His eyes transiently alternated to ensure the suspect was still within vicinity, before his gaze could not help, but return to the lady.

She seemed flustered, her friend, snapping her fingers in front of her to get her to wake up from a certain state of trance. And although he didn't know her, she looked fragile and vulnerable enough to make most men want to walk up to her to give her a warm embrace, telling her that everything was going to be alright, against whatever that might be plaguing her mind at that very moment in time.

He found himself amused by the way she responded to the first two fans of hers, which were in his opinion, behaved more like fanatics. They were clearly star-struck, almost worshipping her. Joseph didn't know who she was. But the reactions of her two fans were quite a testament to her greatness, whatever that might be. By the time she was done addressing the second individual, Joseph attempted to check on the suspect once more, only to notice that he had disappeared from his last known occasion.

"Fuck." He muttered. Joseph placed the random book he had on hand back onto the shelf, before he started to scour the area in a bid to try to relocate the prime figure. Fortunately, he managed to recognize the back of his target, making his way out of the store alongside a female petite figure. His hands, hooked around her back, as he looked like he was ushering her out of the crowded area.

"Leeroy. Suspect is heading out with the package via the exit. Ready the engine. We're moving out."

About three hours on into the evening, Joseph found himself driving along the same road he departed from earlier on. Looking out from his Volkswagen, his eyes naturally gazed towards the shophouse bookshop from earlier across the street, and noted that the crowd had already been dispersed. Unmistakably, his eyes caught sight of the very distinctive feminine figure through the glass panels of the bookstore. At that moment, he didn't understand what got to him. But he found himself pulling his car over, and parked his drive along one of the lots of the empty street.

Joseph got out of his car, zipped up the chocolate brown leather jacket he had on as the chill of the evening was starting to pick up, and made his way into the bookstore.

"We're closed." The owner of the store, granddad material in his seventies stood by the entrance, in the way of the investigator. He looked slightly on the chubbier side and adorably loveable. But in that particular instance, he stood firm.

"Oh, that's alright. I'm just here to pick up my girlfriend."

"Your, girlfriend?"

"Angelina Parker."

The owner narrowed his eyes. He seemed to doubt the man, but eventually did relent, shuffling aside in little steps, but did so ever so cautiously. His eyes, always on Joseph, looking like he was ready to have him thrown out the store should he be up to no good. "I've got a rifle within reach, just so you know." The younger man let out a titter, amused. However, he still managed to keep his cool, and walked over to where Angie was at, seemingly looking like she was packing up her stuff.

Joseph then picked out one of the few new copies of her book by a stand next to the signing table, turning it to the first page, before sliding it over to her side.

"Hey look, I'm sorry. But I've told the owner of the space that I was your boyfriend, and that I was here to pick you up. He warned me that he has got a gun beside him, and has no qualms pulling the trigger if I was up to no good. Look behind me, into those killer eyes of his." Joseph spoke with nonchalance, and it was likely amusing given that the owner himself looked more like a walking teddy than anything else. His hand however, did reach for a visible rifle, true to Joseph's words.

"So please, could you help me here and let me escort you out? And oh, could you please sign this for me too?" Joseph tucked the book forward, along with the exact change that was required to make the purchase of the fresh new copy.

- - Partner's Response - -

Three hours could feel like a lifetime.. and also no time at all. That was what the girl found as she remained sat at the front of the bookstore, greeting customer after customer. Some had come to purchase her book and have it signed, others had been lining up with their already used copy, desperate to gain her signature. Either way, it was these people who were her fanbase, or some of it anyway, the people responsible for allowing her to continue writing as she did. To continue doing what she loved.

Which also included day drinking with Cora.

Her best friend honestly was her lifeline, her support, far more than her mother had ever been in fact. Yet even Angelina was surprised at how long she stayed. Nearly two hours. Supporting her from the back, bringing her a drink whenever she needed it, ensuring things were going smoothly. Or as smoothly as a crowded book signing could get. Yet the girl was beyond grateful for her and when it finally seemed like the crowds were thinning out a bit, her best friend dared to step forward again with a cup containing a hot drink.
A mocha by the smell of it..her favourite.

"You treat me too well." Angelina teased quietly with a smile of appreciate as she glanced up briefly to her friend.

"Yeah, I know, don't you ever forget it." The girl teased back with a grin, something that turned to a smile as she looked to another person that was stepping forward with a book. A man this time, seemingly having come for his daughter who was too unwell to attend herself. Luckily he didn't care much for conversation and it allowed the two to have a moment while she signed the book. "I'm gonna head off now, need to go and make sure the dog hasn't destroyed my apartment. I can't wait for my brother to get back and have him back already..the things crazy." Despite her words, they were spoken with some admiration.
She loved the dog really, he gave her a reason to get up earlier than ten am.

"Alright, thanks for staying so long, I appreciate it..and thanks for the drink." The brunette murmured back quietly, handing the book back to the man with a smile as he took it and sauntered off away from the pair with a muttered thanks.

"Text me when you're home." The words from Cora had Angelina rolling her eyes with a more amused smile.

"Yes mom." The comment had her receiving a glare off her best friend, yet it was given in good spirit mostly, as the girl vanished from site to head off back home, leaving the girl alone for the last hour.

An hour that didn't slow down until people were finally turned away. Giving her time to finish signing books for those who were still waiting, even as her hand started to cramp towards the end, slowing down a touch as she glanced towards the now empty cup.

God.. how much longer did she have left?

"Thank you so much for doing this, for staying a bit over for everyone. I'm so grateful." At last.. the final person was speaking, the last book was signed, a wide smile on her face as the brunette handed it back over with a smile of her own. One that was a little less enthusiastic compared to the start.

"Not at all, that's what I'm here for, have a safe journey home." The comment slipped off her tongue naturally, hearing another thanks from the girl before she was out of the shop.. and finally..it was done. Finally she could stand from the chair, stretching out for a moment after having been sat for three hours. Her back damn hurt.

"Harold, I'm just going to pack up and I'll get going if okay. Thanks for having me." The girl called out to the bookstore owner, unsure of where he was as she already had started to gather a few things together.. now where were her keys?

"No problem.. and it's me who should be thanking you for being here, we've never been so busy or sold so much in a single day." Hearing his call back had the girl laughing softly, shaking her head as she stepped away to route through her bag in search of her keys.

Right at the bottom as always.
Her routing around and trying to get packed up meant she didn't hear the conversation at the front of the store, barely even taking notice of the world around her as her phone was also grabbed, sending a quick text to Cora to let her know she was finally finished and would be on the way home soon.
Funny how her best friend cared about where she was more than her own mother.

What took her by surprise was the sudden noise of a book being pushed over closer to where she was, catching sight of it out the corner of her eye. Wait..had Harold let one more person in? Someone begging to get her to sign? She'd not heard him call for her.
But then he spoke. His voice like a deep whisper in her ear as he informed her he'd told the book store owner he was her boyfriend.
What the fuck.
The girl visibly tensed up from beside him, blue eyes still watching him as he continued to speak and explain the situation..one that he happened to simply throw her in and hope she'd agree to.

He had to be joking.. right? Or not.

With a small glance behind the male, a breath getting hitched in her throat, Angelina did see Harold with his hand on a rifle of some sorts. God she didn't want to get caught in the middle of a shootout. Least of all between the store owner and.. who even was the guy talking to her?!

Not only did he want her to go along with things.. he wanted her to sign a book as well.
He had to be fucking joking.
Yet, as she went to stand up again, feeling her heart racing in her chest, Angelina turned a touch to finally see who was behind her. The man she'd seen earlier that day, almost at the start of her signing even. He'd been forgotten about until that moment with how hectic the day had been, but now? The memory came flooding back as if it had only happened ten minutes ago.

"You.." One word left her lips before she quickly shut her mouth again.
Now wasn't the time to be throwing curse words at him unless she wanted to a risk a bullet in her brain from a missed shot.
Instead she had to settle for a glare, a silent one that told him 'whatever the fuck you're up to.. stop it' before she reached for the book he had, almost snatching it off him with the same glare in her blue eyes, a pen also being grabbed as she opened it to the front page and scribbled something inside. More than what she'd written for other people by the seems of it before the book was snapped shut and being handed back to him.
God if he tried to murder her she was going to be pissed.

"Harold.. I'm heading off now. Erm.. thanks again for having me." Angelina called out to the man, finally watching as he turned around to look to her.. and then to the male beside her as she forced a smile on her face. "Don't worry about him, he always does this.. turning up and.. surprising me."
Yeah..it was a fucking surprise alright.

"Let's go." One single, snapped, command left her lips as she grabbed the males arm, along with her bag, almost storming out the store. She needed to get away from Harold, the rifle.. and out into some fresh air, even if it was cold.
The second the cold air touched her cheeks, turning them more of a red shade than what they'd already been from her mystery visitor, the brunette let go of his arm the second they were outside, and out of earshot from Harold. "What the fuck are you playing at? Who.. who even are you?" There was a fire in her blue eyes as she spun around to face the man, able to really take in his features, his face.. why the fuck was she staring straight at a devilishly handsome man?
More importantly.. why had he just told Harold she was his girlfriend?

Ha, he wished.

- - Partner's Response End - -

Keith Logan · Oct 23, 2023

Bringing roleplay immersion to the next level - image generation through the use of ChatGPT 4's DALL-E 3:

Fur beneath the flesh:

DALL·E 2023-10-23 18.30.16 - 3D visualization of image 2 with a grim and desolate ambiance. Th...png

DALL·E 2023-10-23 20.17.02 - Hyper-realistic render set in the ambiance of Diablo 4, featuring...png

DALL·E 2023-10-23 20.55.22 - 3D render of a massive lycanthrope in a snow-covered wilderness. ...png

DALL·E 2023-11-25 09.51.46 - Hyper-realistic render of a winter night scene with a misty and o...png

Sketchpad - In the works:

DALL·E 2023-10-23 18.30.45 - Photo of a post-apocalyptic classroom at twilight. The walls are ...png

DALL·E 2023-10-23 18.30.54 - Photo of a dimly lit post-apocalyptic classroom. Tattered curtain...png

DALL·E 2023-10-23 20.17.51 - 3D visualization of the frost wizard from image 3, now appearing ...png

Keith Logan · Nov 23, 2023

*PS: This offer applies to anyone.

Keith Logan · Nov 24, 2023

Hello?
Is it me you're looking for?

Keith Logan · Dec 5, 2023

The price is right.

Immortalised reminder that your payment in the thousands is long overdue + interest @BrattyBarbie.

Keith Logan · Dec 13, 2023

Me:

Her:

Unbelievable investment. Top marks for effort @Khira. ~~And my grammatical oversight puts me to further shame.~~

Keith Logan · Dec 28, 2023

Haha.

Keith Logan · Feb 8, 2024

Talk.

Keith Logan · Feb 8, 2024

All in a day's work:
Behind the scenes planning of a post's interactivity design for a thematically grotesque play.

Keith Logan · Jun 24, 2024

♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠
Espresso.
Warning: Links NSFW.

♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠

Now she's...

Thinking 'bout me, every night oh,

Isn't that sweet? I guess so.

people-girl-woman-alone-bed-room-royalty-free-thumbnail.png

Say you can't sleep, baby, I know,

That's that me espresso.

Move it up down, left right oh,

Switch it up like Nintendo.

Say you can't sleep, baby, I know,

That's that me espresso.

Keith Logan · Jul 17, 2024

∘ ● ∘ Sesame Syrup ∘ ● ∘

There's a small black notebook
that you keep,
hidden underneath your bed,
I've seen before.

It says every dirty thing
that you did,
with every single boy,
You've ever been with...

You've had a long list of lovers,
But none of them matter to you,
except me.

I've had a long list of lovers,
But none of them matter to me,
except you.

Sesame syrup,
I heard it a long time ago.
Sesame syrup,
I heard it a long time ago.

And we fall asleep to the scent,

Sleep to the scent,
of long stemmed roses.

Always dreaming of sex,
Dreaming of sex,
on the ceiling.

And we'll sleep to the scent,

Sleep to the scent,
of long stemmed roses.

Always dreaming of sex,
Dreaming of sex,
on the ceiling.

Sesame syrup,
I heard it a long time ago.
Sesame syrup,
I heard it a long time ago.

Keith Logan · Jul 22, 2024

[*]

[*] [**]

Well, I have a fun idea, babe. Maybe just stay inside?

I know you're cravin' some fresh air,

but the ceiling fan is so nice?

And we could live so happily, if no one knows that you're with me,

I'm just kidding.

But really (kinda), really, really.

Please, please, please,

Don't prove I'm right.

And please, please, please,

Don't (make me) bring you to tears when you just did your makeup so nice.

Heartbreak is one thing, my ego's another,

I beg you, don't embarrass me, motherfucker, oh,

Please, please, please.

Keith Logan · Jul 30, 2024

𓂃🖊

Encore [*]

Skirting Tragedy: ❝ Her. ❞

Moving country hadn't been what she'd wanted. At all. Especially to a place that was so.. cold in the winter.
Ellie was simply glad for the fact they had moved mid October. Giving her at least a month perhaps before the bad cold would actually hit.. even if she wasn't looking forward to it in the slightest. Already the autumnal air was turning colder, threatening to become biting at any given moment and it was partly why she had wrapped up so well despite being sat inside.

While others were dressed in thin jumpers, some still in t-shirts, the blonde was huddled in a thick jumper and leggings.. not quite the ideal attire for going out but it wasn't as if she had anyone to impress. It was simply a meal for one, hidden in the back right corner of the restaurant on what should have been a table for two. A seat her brother usually would have occupied, or a friend.. but she didn't have him with her and currently? She'd not made any friends either and with both her parents away again for work? It left the girl well and truly alone.
In fact she'd never felt quite so lonely as she did in that moment.

Instead she had taken to burying her nose in a book while her phone rested beside her, occasionally seeing a message from her friends pop up between conversation.. but they were all out at a local bar on that very evening, enjoying themselves, while she was sat alone.. reading and people watching.
At least everyone else seemed to be having a better time.

"Oh, but you'll get to see the northern lights."
"The lifestyle out there is far better, and safer for you"

Her parents had tried to sell her the idea some six months ago, convincing the blonde it was for the best, that she would have a better life and be safer in the future. She'd go to college..find a nice guy to settle down with, have a family and keep her life in Norway.
Ellie wasn't so sure herself.

Still, it had only been a few weeks and she was trying to settle in still, but it wasn't helped by the fact she was too late to enrol into college until the spring.

What an exciting Christmas she was in for. Cold as well to make it worse.

"Would you like another drink?"

It was the voice of the friendly waiter that snapped the girl from her train of thoughts, and reading, pulling her blue gaze up from the book and towards him with a polite smile of her own as he glanced to her empty cup.
Oh.

"Sure, that would be amazing, thank you..same again if that's okay?" Ellie lifted the cup to offer it to him, aware she hadn't even ordered any food yet..but truth be told she wasn't all that hungry, the hot chocolate was doing a wonderful job of filling her up instead.

"Of course, is there anything else you'd like?" His gaze briefly moved down to the book she had open, as if trying to figure out just what she was reading but Ellie was soon distracting him with her own reply.

"No, thank you, that's all." With another flashed smile the female watched as the waiter walked off, and with another small glance around the busy room, her eyes soon diverted back to her book once more.

❝ Him. ❞

8.15pm. Adam was properly famished after having done unboxing the last of his belongings to a new apartment that he had purchased for himself. He had barely moved into Oslo just over three weeks back. The first two weeks, he needed to bunk himself in a hotel, whilst waiting on the final bits of his apartment renovation to be done, along with having the need to coordinate the logistics of moving his personal belongings all the way from Austin, Texas, to the comparatively more laidback capital city of the Scandinavian country.

Moving a house between cities was a bad enough headache. Dealing with cross-continental courier was a whole other different ball game. It didn't help, that Adam Rondon wasn't his birth name. And creating a new identity for himself naturally served as a hiccup, and complicated matters further. Fortunately, he was finally pass that. Or at least, most of the bigger issues had been dealt with in a timely fashion - a way of life that was all too familiar to him up until that point.

It was an admirable trait. Except that, Adam had hoped to leave the baggage of his former shadow, and bury all things that reminded him of his turbulent past into proverbial crypts. He chose Oslo, because it was nothing like Texas. He felt it was a great place to simply start anew.

"Jeg beklager, men vi har dessverre ikke noe ledig bord før om 45 minutter."

Fuck that. This is the only eatery that's still open at this hour in this district. Oh. He thinks I look Norwegian. Finally some decent news. At least I'm starting to fit in.

The multilingual gentleman briefly scanned his eyes across the width and length of the restaurant, before his keen eye spotted a rather outstanding figure settling by a quiet corner - outstanding not because she outshone the others, but she was so incredibly underdressed as compared to the other fine diners in collars and dresses. Her oversized jumper was literally begging for attention, and attention was probably the last thing she needed.

"Det er ikke nødvendig. Jeg har allerede noen som venter på meg."
"Åh! Trenger du hjelp til å finne dem?"
"Neida, jeg vet hvor hun sitter, men ellers takk"

Adam waltz his way through the walkways, that was perpetually being frequented by waiters with large trays, or with lines of plates perched precariously along their forearms. He desperately needed a meal, and the last thing he wanted, was to be held up by another delay.

Thankfully, he eventually found his way safely to the lone young lady's table, before taking the liberty to settle down right across of her. The waiter, who had served Ellie her drink previously, was still lingering pretty closely to the pair.

"Sorry, I'm late."

She doesn't dress local. She must at least speak the common tongue.

The waiter eyed the pair, perhaps looking a little suspiciously, before he quietly excused himself to leave the pair to themselves for a moment.

The mysterious man watched the server depart, before turning his attention to the lady. He paused, and for a moment, the pair stared blankly into each other.

Hm. She's actually gorgeous. He mused.

Then, the man leaned in slightly over the table and spoke to the young lady in a semi-hushed tone.

"So, the waiter was so close to kicking you out of this place. Because I'm not sure if you realised, but eateries around here can be... quite passive aggressive about people hogging their table for ordering close to nothing. Don't ask me how I know that this here is pretty much your dinner. I just... know." The man pointed to Ellie's drink.

"It's freezing outside, and I'm sure you'd rather stay in here and continue reading your book. I, on the other hand, really really need to get food. But the next table is only available in like 45 minutes, and the next food option is... I don't even know where it is. So, how about you help me, and I help you?"

❝ Her. ❞

Despite the waiter remaining close by to her table, Ellie wasn't aware he was almost.. expecting her to order something else.
She didn't realise there was a need to order food. She'd had two drinks and now was ordering a third..what was wrong with that?

Another page of her book was turned as the blonde averted her gaze fully to it once again, a soft smile playing at her lips as she read over the words. So transfixed on the pages that she was hopelessly oblivious to a male making his way towards the table she occupied.
Even when he took a seat opposite her, she was none the wiser, flicking another page with a soft laugh to herself..one that was cut short by the sounds of a voice close by her.
Opposite her even.

Something that had her looking up in surprise, the soft smile being replaced by a look of confusion, like a deer in headlights, with wide blue eyes that settled on the man that was now sat opposite her.

How had he gotten there?

For a moment, Ellie went to open her mouth.. but no words came out. She was lost for them, wondering if he'd maybe confused her for someone else.. had he picked the wrong table? It was entirely possible after all.

"I.."

It was all she could get out before he was leaning in slightly, close enough for her to hear his semi hushed tone. A voice that had her attention fully diverting off her book and onto him.
He wasn't a local, clearly. The first person she had come across, minus her parents, who wasn't.
Finally someone she could speak to without a major language barrier.
Just until she learnt the language better anyway.

It was the pointing to her drink as he mentioned it being her dinner that had the girl laughing softly, shaking her head in slight amusement though kept silent as he carried on, still focusing on his words and explanation.

He sounded starving by the sound of it and by the time he had finished with an offer on helping her if she helped him, it was met with a small nod and friendly smile from the blonde.

"Of course, that's fine.. order away by any means. I promise I won't disturb you." Her tone was soft, the British accent obvious to anyone with how well spoken she was, but Ellie thought little of it as the girl briefly looked across her book again before she realised something.
He didn't have her name.

"I'm Eleanor by the way, I feel it's only fair you have my name if we're technically table buddies for a little while. Pleasure to meet you." With a few more openly friendly words, the girl knew she didn't want to force him to talk if he preferred to just eat and get gone, and so, her attention moved back to the book.. even if she couldn't help but cast him a few glances from where she was.
When she thought he wasn't looking anyway.

An attractive, non native, stranger was sitting right opposite her.. and yet she was more focused on her book and being polite without prying. Go figure.

It was hardly a surprise she was struggling to make friends.

Keith Logan · Aug 13, 2024

Reader's Digest
Zoom couldn't even handle.

Keith Logan · Aug 13, 2024

In rough chronological order.
Words might have been poetically replaced.
But honestly? They weren't too far off.

11 hour time difference.
Jet lagged.
3 days to settle into a new sleep cycle, not.
3 hours a night more like.
25 hours journey back home before long.

First leg of the red eye flight.
Seat lottery dictated I be hotdogged.
Fuck.

Seventy year olds talking across lottery seat.
Volleying spats of saliva.
Fuck.

One minute in, eyes on me.
Him to the right: Do you have a wife?
Fuck.

Him to the right: That's great!
Him to the right: I'm flying to Cebu to see a girl.
Him to the right: Look at her, this was her when she was fifteen! Isn't she pretty?
What the actual fuck?

Him to the right: Let me just drop her a quick face time. You can see for yourself.
Him to the right: Hello darling! How are you doing?

Said girl was breast feeding a child.

Stewardess: Sir, we're about to fly. Please switch your phone to airplane mode.
Him to the right: Yeah alright alright.
Him to the right: How are you ~~can't remember~~? Do you miss me?
Stewardess: Sir. Please switch your phone to airplane mode.
Him to the right: Alright alright!

Turn.

Him to the right: We're still on the ground, don't know why she's so anal about this.
Him to the right: I was a pilot before, by the way.

Him to the right: Alright, I'm gonna have to go! See you soon love!

Him to the right: They don't know I'm flying over right now. It's a surprise.

Life story.

Tired.

Him: She's not the first by the way. I used to send money back to a few before in the past. Usually it is about two, three hundreds dollars a month. The one before this passed away when she was twenty three.
Him: Why? Previous guy impregnated her, then left. Just right when covid struck. Didn't survive.

Him: Are you religious?
Him: I'm just giving back to the society, if you know what I mean?
Him: These people are poor. They need help.

Him: How could I afford this?
Him: I dealt with properties before. Now I'm just living off the dividends.

Him: I fly often
Him: I study various flyer miles reward programs everyday.

Him: I used to work in the bank.

Him: Getting something to drink?
Him: Water?
Him: You should get wine. It helps me to sleep after the meal.

*Ear phones on.*

Him: You have to come to Hawaii one day. I promise you, you won't ever regret. Crystal clear water, best food I've ever had.
Him: I said, you have to come to Hawaii one day!

Total flight time: 14 hours 37 minutes.
Time to destination: 11 hours~

Keith Logan · Aug 30, 2024

[*]
Synopsis. [*]

Keith Logan · Sep 13, 2024

[ ❦ ]

The sweeter the apple,
The harder the bite.

Easter Egg Immortalised quote:

❝

Lorem ipsum odor amet, consectetuer adipiscing elit. Aconsectetur sit, pulvinar erat nullam himenaeos. Morbi elementum enim hendrerit auctor ridiculus litora dignissim lobortis. Lectus convallis tellus interdum eleifend urna morbi sed hac. Nisi porta est iaculis imperdiet pellentesque euismod. Rhoncus sollicitudin tempus scelerisque magna phasellus dictum.

Ipsum bibendum ipsum egestas adipiscing pretium sociosqu ultricies elementum! Lacus turpis ridiculus in curae arcu risus. Vel pretium sem molestie mollis habitant conubia ultrices sem. Quam sagittis ornare sagittis quis libero porttitor litora sed quisque. Ultrices justo leo condimentum odio sem. Est magnis phasellus habitasse leo senectus porta consectetur iaculis curabitur. Lobortis phasellus a, magnis at turpis cras vel. Libero dignissim accumsan nibh fames lobortis imperdiet. In blandit iaculis enim blandit neque cursus. Felis inceptos dictum commodo pellentesque maximus nascetur tincidunt.

Arcu convallis tristique euismod leo; conubia accumsan viverra condimentum. Urna ligula risus augue eros venenatis ultricies. Elementum feugiat suspendisse, diam per aenean nam. Porta ultrices id ante egestas metus. Enim enim himenaeos vel aptent dictumst maecenas auctor lorem. Lacinia consectetur condimentum magnis phasellus penatibus. Potenti placerat felis velit cubilia at turpis.

Vulputate massa penatibus gravida efficitur diam! Magnis bibendum venenatis inceptos tincidunt eget, mus vestibulum sollicitudin. Eleifend volutpat odio nisl volutpat integer aliquam. Ut accumsan luctus cubilia leo suscipit semper est pretium. Cras sociosqu auctor eros lectus nisl. Quis interdum turpis luctus erat senectus in. Blandit dui curae varius metus est accumsan odio. Vitae neque metus urna diam pulvinar risus elit.

❞

❝

Lorem ipsum odor amet, consectetuer adipiscing elit. Aconsectetur sit, pulvinar erat nullam himenaeos. Morbi elementum enim hendrerit auctor ridiculus litora dignissim lobortis. Lectus convallis tellus interdum eleifend urna morbi sed hac. Nisi porta est iaculis imperdiet pellentesque euismod. Rhoncus sollicitudin tempus scelerisque magna phasellus dictum.

Ipsum bibendum ipsum egestas adipiscing pretium sociosqu ultricies elementum! Lacus turpis ridiculus in curae arcu risus. Vel pretium sem molestie mollis habitant conubia ultrices sem. Quam sagittis ornare sagittis quis libero porttitor litora sed quisque. Ultrices justo leo condimentum odio sem. Est magnis phasellus habitasse leo senectus porta consectetur iaculis curabitur. Lobortis phasellus a, magnis at turpis cras vel. Libero dignissim accumsan nibh fames lobortis imperdiet. In blandit iaculis enim blandit neque cursus. Felis inceptos dictum commodo pellentesque maximus nascetur tincidunt.

Arcu convallis tristique euismod leo; conubia accumsan viverra condimentum. Urna ligula risus augue eros venenatis ultricies. Elementum feugiat suspendisse, diam per aenean nam. Porta ultrices id ante egestas metus. Enim enim himenaeos vel aptent dictumst maecenas auctor lorem. Lacinia consectetur condimentum magnis phasellus penatibus. Potenti placerat felis velit cubilia at turpis.

Vulputate massa penatibus gravida efficitur diam! Magnis bibendum venenatis inceptos tincidunt eget, mus vestibulum sollicitudin. Eleifend volutpat odio nisl volutpat integer aliquam. Ut accumsan luctus cubilia leo suscipit semper est pretium. Cras sociosqu auctor eros lectus nisl. Quis interdum turpis luctus erat senectus in. Blandit dui curae varius metus est accumsan odio. Vitae neque metus urna diam pulvinar risus elit.

❞

Keith Logan · Oct 9, 2024

Authors' Note

◦ ♤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ♤ ◦
Place holder.
◦ ♤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ♤ ◦

◦ ∘ —————————————————— ∘ ◦

Lorem ipsum odor amet, consectetuer adipiscing elit. Aconsectetur sit, pulvinar erat nullam himenaeos. Morbi elementum enim hendrerit auctor ridiculus litora dignissim lobortis. Lectus convallis tellus interdum eleifend urna morbi sed hac. Nisi porta est iaculis imperdiet pellentesque euismod. Rhoncus sollicitudin tempus scelerisque magna phasellus dictum.

Ipsum bibendum ipsum egestas adipiscing pretium sociosqu ultricies elementum! Lacus turpis ridiculus in curae arcu risus. Vel pretium sem molestie mollis habitant conubia ultrices sem. Quam sagittis ornare sagittis quis libero porttitor litora sed quisque. Ultrices justo leo condimentum odio sem. Est magnis phasellus habitasse leo senectus porta consectetur iaculis curabitur. Lobortis phasellus a, magnis at turpis cras vel. Libero dignissim accumsan nibh fames lobortis imperdiet. In blandit iaculis enim blandit neque cursus. Felis inceptos dictum commodo pellentesque maximus nascetur tincidunt.

Arcu convallis tristique euismod leo; conubia accumsan viverra condimentum. Urna ligula risus augue eros venenatis ultricies. Elementum feugiat suspendisse, diam per aenean nam. Porta ultrices id ante egestas metus. Enim enim himenaeos vel aptent dictumst maecenas auctor lorem. Lacinia consectetur condimentum magnis phasellus penatibus. Potenti placerat felis velit cubilia at turpis.

Vulputate massa penatibus gravida efficitur diam! Magnis bibendum venenatis inceptos tincidunt eget, mus vestibulum sollicitudin. Eleifend volutpat odio nisl volutpat integer aliquam. Ut accumsan luctus cubilia leo suscipit semper est pretium. Cras sociosqu auctor eros lectus nisl. Quis interdum turpis luctus erat senectus in. Blandit dui curae varius metus est accumsan odio. Vitae neque metus urna diam pulvinar risus elit.

Keith Logan · Oct 21, 2024

WIP.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
◦ ∘ —————————————————— ∘ ◦

Lorem ipsum odor amet, consectetuer adipiscing elit. Aconsectetur sit, pulvinar erat nullam himenaeos. Morbi elementum enim hendrerit auctor ridiculus litora dignissim lobortis. Lectus convallis tellus interdum eleifend urna morbi sed hac. Nisi porta est iaculis imperdiet pellentesque euismod. Rhoncus sollicitudin tempus scelerisque magna phasellus dictum.

Ipsum bibendum ipsum egestas adipiscing pretium sociosqu ultricies elementum! Lacus turpis ridiculus in curae arcu risus. Vel pretium sem molestie mollis habitant conubia ultrices sem. Quam sagittis ornare sagittis quis libero porttitor litora sed quisque. Ultrices justo leo condimentum odio sem. Est magnis phasellus habitasse leo senectus porta consectetur iaculis curabitur. Lobortis phasellus a, magnis at turpis cras vel. Libero dignissim accumsan nibh fames lobortis imperdiet. In blandit iaculis enim blandit neque cursus. Felis inceptos dictum commodo pellentesque maximus nascetur tincidunt.

Arcu convallis tristique euismod leo; conubia accumsan viverra condimentum. Urna ligula risus augue eros venenatis ultricies. Elementum feugiat suspendisse, diam per aenean nam. Porta ultrices id ante egestas metus. Enim enim himenaeos vel aptent dictumst maecenas auctor lorem. Lacinia consectetur condimentum magnis phasellus penatibus. Potenti placerat felis velit cubilia at turpis.

Vulputate massa penatibus gravida efficitur diam! Magnis bibendum venenatis inceptos tincidunt eget, mus vestibulum sollicitudin. Eleifend volutpat odio nisl volutpat integer aliquam. Ut accumsan luctus cubilia leo suscipit semper est pretium. Cras sociosqu auctor eros lectus nisl. Quis interdum turpis luctus erat senectus in. Blandit dui curae varius metus est accumsan odio. Vitae neque metus urna diam pulvinar risus elit.

◦ ∘ —————————————————— ∘ ◦

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ
♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
◦ ∘ ————————————————— ∘ ◦

Lorem ipsum odor amet, consectetuer adipiscing elit. Aconsectetur sit, pulvinar erat nullam himenaeos. Morbi elementum enim hendrerit auctor ridiculus litora dignissim lobortis. Lectus convallis tellus interdum eleifend urna morbi sed hac. Nisi porta est iaculis imperdiet pellentesque euismod. Rhoncus sollicitudin tempus scelerisque magna phasellus dictum.

Ipsum bibendum ipsum egestas adipiscing pretium sociosqu ultricies elementum! Lacus turpis ridiculus in curae arcu risus. Vel pretium sem molestie mollis habitant conubia ultrices sem. Quam sagittis ornare sagittis quis libero porttitor litora sed quisque. Ultrices justo leo condimentum odio sem. Est magnis phasellus habitasse leo senectus porta consectetur iaculis curabitur. Lobortis phasellus a, magnis at turpis cras vel. Libero dignissim accumsan nibh fames lobortis imperdiet. In blandit iaculis enim blandit neque cursus. Felis inceptos dictum commodo pellentesque maximus nascetur tincidunt.

Arcu convallis tristique euismod leo; conubia accumsan viverra condimentum. Urna ligula risus augue eros venenatis ultricies. Elementum feugiat suspendisse, diam per aenean nam. Porta ultrices id ante egestas metus. Enim enim himenaeos vel aptent dictumst maecenas auctor lorem. Lacinia consectetur condimentum magnis phasellus penatibus. Potenti placerat felis velit cubilia at turpis.

Vulputate massa penatibus gravida efficitur diam! Magnis bibendum venenatis inceptos tincidunt eget, mus vestibulum sollicitudin. Eleifend volutpat odio nisl volutpat integer aliquam. Ut accumsan luctus cubilia leo suscipit semper est pretium. Cras sociosqu auctor eros lectus nisl. Quis interdum turpis luctus erat senectus in. Blandit dui curae varius metus est accumsan odio. Vitae neque metus urna diam pulvinar risus elit.

◦ ∘ ————————————————— ∘ ◦

♦ ♦ Keith's Chronicles // Tavern Storage (ɴsғᴡ) ♦ ♦

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