Category: Uncategorized

  • It’s Fetish Friday! Next person in my ask box gets me tied up for however long they want and can do what they want (within reason c’mon) to me

    It’s Fetish Friday! Next person in my ask box gets me tied up for however long they want and can do what they want (within reason c’mon) to me

  • Please reblog if you’re an RPer

    successor-of-hokuto:

    ((I don’t care if you’re an OC, Canon, or whatever!  I just need awesome people to interact with!  I must follow you.))

    General Dreamwalker reporting for RP duty! :O

  • Prompt: Death

    A woman with a calm, ageless face watched another, who appeared to be in his twenties. The young man’s blue-grey eyes were empty, bleak like death and he didn’t turn as the other shook her head with a touch of sympathy and sadness in her cool green eyes and glided away.

    Once outside the room that housed a horror worse than death, it seemed the Healer breathed a soft sigh of relief but the anxious woman waiting outside didn’t believe that. Wouldn’t believe it.

    “Healer?” All she knew was that Tomo Sokenchov, her warrior had screamed once while battling the Shadow, working his way towards his Warder, as he referred to her. Somehow, his Warder had toppled dead from her seat in one of the trucks for no apparent reason that was immediately clear.

    The reports of those that witnessed the events said quietly, with many a shudder, that Tomo had gone insane, giving his enemies no quarter, no mercy at all. It was said that the scream he’d made was so terrible that the enemies cowered beneath the wrath of his blade.

    Perhaps it was true. She’d witnessed the field where he finally had fallen to a lucky blow from the enemy in the rear just as he reached his Warder. The ground was black and wet with the strong smell of copper — that of blood and unholy rage. The kind that took no prisoners.

    Holes in the ground circling the truck that his Warder was in, was also further evidence to that testament, as if he was trying to dig a moat and ensure none could reach himself and his former Warder. Then there was the remaining trace of Power, from both Tomo and his Warder, indicating that even well after the battle, the Power used was immense enough to leave a permanent trace.

    Perhaps he’d gambled and used his most effective weave that he knew, to take as many as he could with him? Or was it his Warder that’d used the weave? She had no way of knowing, not with the mixed traces of male and female Power strongest in the epicenter.

    She shook aside the thoughts and turned to the Healer as the Healer tried to compose herself after seeing the horror in the room she’d just came out of.

    “It would be better if you’d allowed the Shadow to carry him away.” The Healer said, grimness cracking the edges of her serenity. She felt a great desire to empty her stomach. The Commander of the Light’s army, directly appointed by the Avatar of Light, Commander Shepard, stared at her and she had to resist that urge, tasting bile. Light preserve her from that terrible fate. “I will be leaving in the morning.” Tomo should have known better than to draw too much of the Power. Why had he?

    “What about Tomo?”

    “He is dying, Commander! And there is nothing I can do. Better dead than alive with this curse! Ask another Healer more skilled than I.” She heaved a sigh then continued, “Or speak to your deity, for the wounds he sustained is of mind and body. Not to mention the snapping of his bond with his Warder.” And the Healer swept away.

    Breath flowed into his chest. Then out, his gaze looking far past the window he stood by. In and out… Still his chest moved and he wondered what it would be to die, vaguely. Once he had clung to life fiercely, refused wounds their prize but now, without Power he was already half-gone.

    Would it hurt? The final breath sighing out, blood falling, perfect crimson droplets, drip, drip, drip. Some part of him knew Lyaria was dead, that the snapping of his Power had snapped their bond too and killed her, even as she sent out a killing stroke with what remained of her Power and consciousness, as he sought to keep her safe in battle, like a brittle branch cracking, sending splinters sliding into his skull. All whilst taking as many of the Shadow as he could with him.

    A soft ethereal voice sounded in his mind, singing to him, “Remember me and smile, for it’s better to forget than to remember me and cry… For every goodbye makes the next hello closer…” Did the air stir with the breath of the living, some person who had never known the true joy of the rightly named True Source, or some woman still clenched by life, by Power? Did it matter?

    Gone it was, like the memories of his Warder crooning songs to him, dancing away. And it made him ache with longing, the bright burning sun just beyond his fingertips no matter how he strived. When had he ever taken it for granted?

    It had been an ounce too much, a gamble that had shredded his very soul. The Shadow had not been worth that, even as he protected his Warder. Not worth it… He wanted to scream it but he could not cry out, could not even whimper. He saw his grave and longed for it. Peace? Had life ever given him his peace? No, not that he could recall, even with the Power filling his life, a cup brimful of the very Light itself, it seemed.

    A strand of brown hair fell across his face, brushed his skin with the memory of Lyaria’s hands stroking his head gently, then cupping his cheek. A soft, gentle kiss to his lips… It faded, just like her touch.

    He laid down then on the bed by the window, his head turning to watch the sunset as it began to make its tracks through the window, the sweet voice of his Warder singing to him causing him to smile as he listened, “Do you remember the time… when simple things made you happy? Do you remember the time… when little things made you laugh? You know, Life is simple, because the best is yet to come…” The blade gleamed with sunlight as his finger ran along its edge. Blood welled, accenting cold steel, blossoming as he raised it. He pressed it against his chest, felt its tender pricking, and pushed it deeper, gasped softly as his life spilled on the bed that he lay upon.

    “For every goodbye makes the next hello closer…”

    The woman that continued to sing was Lyaria, his ever-present Warder, here even then as he came home, kneeling besides him and caressing his cheek and hair as she sang, with a sweet, yet loving voice, “The brightest star in the evening sky is yours to find for me…” She smiled, leaning down and kissing him upon his lips again, nibbling at his lips before finally looking into his blue-grey eyes with her crystal clear blue eyes, so vibrant and full of life, as she spoke to him, “Go home, my Warrior. You are free… rest, and sleep, Tomo.”

    She continued to smile. more warmly now both with love and with relief for the simple fact that soon, her Soldier would be with her in Summerland. She watched him, realizing that he was slipping away slowly from her, as he smiled back to her, his vision slowly whitening, revealing the last sight he would ever see, the sunset over her golden hair, sighing for the last time. Now her Warrior was free, as he should be, after the years of service he’d given, having served the Light. “The brightest star in the evening sky is yours to find for me…”

    As his vision whitened further, his eyelids slowly closing, he felt the cool touch of another woman’s hand, and dimly heard a soft voice calling to him, “Tomo… come back. It is not time for you to go…” It was another woman’s voice one yet unfamiliar to him, one that was cracking with the strain of maintaining the illusion of wellness. Worry crept into the woman’s voice as she wove healing threads upon the man’s chest in an attempt to save him before he truly died.

    The knife was drawn out then, crimson tears welling out of the wound as it was healed, denying the man his ever-lasting rest. He fought weakly, seeking the peace that he was entitled to after his long service to the Light.

    His vision blackened out then, affording him a few hours’ rest as the healing weaves sought to hold the Gates that all entered when Death called, against his entry. And provided him with strength that enlivened his body, yet left his soul barren and longing for the peace he’d known under Lyaria’s touch and the rare times they had time enough to enjoy each other’s presence without war.

    When the woman was assured that he was safe, she spoke quietly to two guards that had appeared at her use of the Power, watching what she was doing with sympathetic looks directed to the unconscious man, “Take him to my room. Watch over him. Make sure he does not attempt it again, please. The moment he wakes up, come and get me.”

    “Yes, Commander.” The two guards saluted to the Commander of the Light before taking the man away on a stretcher made of Air.

    A soft sigh then a shake of the head as she stood up. For a moment there, she sensed what felt like an extreme sense of disapproval and anger. Where was that coming from? She had to look around for a few minutes before spotting an ethereal form that looked suspiciously like Lyaria.

    “Oh, Lyaria, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry… but it’s necessary. He is too important to let go just now.” Her voice finally cracked, and the beginning of sobs came. She’d nearly lost one of her Warriors and a true friend, even though he’d not met her yet. She was lucky in that a guard had called her to Tomo in time to stop Tomo’s death and reversing it, simply because everyone in the hospital was required to be trained to know when someone would pass on to Summerland. “Please, forgive me Lyaria…”

    Lyaria shook her head, disagreeing, “He earned his rest, Commander! Let him know ever-lasting peace…” She turned to face the Commander full-on and spoke again within the Commander’s mind, the tone of her voice hinting at the controlled rage within, “It is long past time for him to go. Will you use him up til he can no longer do what is needed for you? Will you force him to live in his hell, without me?” Her voice became increasingly incensed and threatening, and at the same time, colder. “Know this, Commander, I will protect him as I once did amongst the living. Do not stop him if he tries this again.” The sense of Lyaria’s presence dissipated, leaving the Commander with a sense of loneliness and an aching longing for her lover.

    “I’m sorry, Lyaria… but I can’t do what you asked. Not yet. I wish it were under different circumstances, and that it was not I that made this decision. I hope you’ll come to understand that, in time…”

  • Boredom…

    So. Boredom is currently ruling me. Give me a prompt to write for, plox.

  • Poetry, and all that jazz

    Right, so I’m moving stuff from the other blog I have over to this one since this one will be more personal, and the other one will be more for organizational purposes and crap like that.

    So expect to see more stuff like that, among other things, such as drabbles that Shane occasionally releases that makes my muse go, “Hmm… LET’S MAKE KEIRO WRITE! 8DDDD” and other musings.

  • Hello and Goodbye…

    People so seldom say “I love you”. And then it’s either too late or love goes. So when I tell you I love you, It doesn’t mean I know you’ll never go, only that I wish you didn’t have to.

    (more…)

  • cmdr-shane-shepard:

    weight-a-second:

    They told me the big black Lab’s name was Reggie, as I looked at him lying in his pen. The shelter was clean, no-kill, and the people really friendly. I’d only been in the area for six months, but everywhere I went in the small college town, people were welcoming and open. Everyone waves when you pass them on the street.

    But something was still missing as I attempted to settle in to my new life here, and I thought a dog couldn’t hurt. Give me someone to talk to. And I had just seen Reggie’s advertisement on the local news. The shelter said they had received numerous calls right after, but they said the people who had come down to see him just didn’t look like “Lab people,” whatever that meant. They must’ve thought I did.

    But at first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me in giving me Reggie and his things, which consisted of a dog pad, bag of toys almost all of which were brand new tennis balls, his dishes and a sealed letter from his previous owner.

    See, Reggie and I didn’t really hit it off when we got home. We struggled for two weeks (which is how long the shelter told me to give him to adjust to his new home). Maybe it was the fact that I was trying to adjust, too.
    Maybe we were too much alike.

    I saw the sealed envelope. I had completely forgotten about that. “Okay, Reggie,” I said out loud, “let’s see if your previous owner has any advice.”
    ____________ _________ _________ _________

    To Whomever Gets My Dog:

    Well, I can’t say that I’m happy you’re reading this, a letter I told the shelter could only be opened by Reggie’s new owner. I’m not even happy writing it. He knew something was different.

    So let me tell you about my Lab in the hopes that it will help you bond with him and he with you.

    First, he loves tennis balls. The more the merrier. Sometimes I think he’s part squirrel, the way he hoards them. He usually always has two in his mouth, and he tries to get a third in there. Hasn’t done it yet. Doesn’t
    matter where you throw them, he’ll bound after them, so be careful. Don’t do it by any roads.

    Next, commands. Reggie knows the obvious ones —-“sit,” “stay,” “come,” “heel.”

    He knows hand signals, too: He knows “ball” and “food” and “bone” and “treat” like nobody’s business.

    Feeding schedule: twice a day, regular store-bought stuff; the shelter has the brand.

    He’s up on his shots. Be forewarned: Reggie hates the vet. Good luck getting him in the car. I don’t know how he knows when it’s time to go to the vet, but he knows.

    Finally, give him some time. It’s only been Reggie and me for his whole life. He’s gone everywhere with me, so please include him on your daily car rides if you can. He sits well in the backseat, and he doesn’t bark or complain. He just loves to be around people, and me most especially.

    And that’s why I need to share one more bit of info with you…His name’s not Reggie. He’s a smart dog, he’ll get used to it and will respond to it, of that I have no doubt. But I just couldn’t bear to give them his real name. But if someone is reading this … well it means that his new owner should know his real name. His real name is “Tank.” Because, that is what I drive.

    I told the shelter that they couldn’t make “Reggie” available for adoption until they received word from my company commander. You see, my parents are gone, I have no siblings, no one I could’ve left Tank with .. and it was my only real request of the Army upon my deployment to Iraq, that they make one phone call to the shelter … in the “event” … to tell them that Tank could be put up for adoption. Luckily, my CO is a dog-guy, too, and he knew where my platoon was headed. He said he’d do it personally. And if you’re reading this, then he made good on his word.

    Tank has been my family for the last six years, almost as long as the Army has been my family. And now I hope and pray that you make him part of your family, too, and that he will adjust and come to love you the same way he
    loved me.

    If I have to give up Tank to keep those terrible people from coming to the US I am glad to have done so. He is my example of service and of love. I hope I honored him by my service to my country and comrades.

    All right, that’s enough. I deploy this evening and have to drop this letter off at the shelter. Maybe I’ll peek in on him and see if he finally got that third tennis ball in his mouth.

    Good luck with Tank. Give him a good home, and give him an extra kiss goodnight – every night – from me.

    Thank you,

    Paul Mallory
    ____________ _________ _________ _______

    I folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope. Sure, I had heard of Paul Mallory, everyone in town knew him, even new people like me. Local kid, killed in Iraq a few months ago and posthumously earning the Silver
    Star when he gave his life to save three buddies. Flags had been at half-mast all summer.

    I leaned forward in my chair and rested my elbows on my knees, staring at the dog.

    “Hey, Tank,” I said quietly.

    The dog’s head whipped up, his ears cocked and his eyes bright.

    “C’mere boy.”

    He was instantly on his feet, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor. He sat in front of me, his head tilted, searching for the name he hadn’t heard in months. “Tank,” I whispered.

    His tail swished.

    I kept whispering his name, over and over, and each time, his ears lowered, his eyes softened, and his posture relaxed as a wave of contentment just seemed to flood him. I stroked his ears, rubbed his shoulders, buried my
    face into his scruff and hugged him.

    “It’s me now, Tank, just you and me. Your old pal gave you to me.” Tank reached up and licked my cheek.

    “So whatdaya say we play some ball?” His ears perked again.

    “Yeah? Ball? You like that? Ball?”

    Tank tore from my hands and disappeared into the next room. And when he came back, he had three tennis balls in his mouth.”

    Actually crying so hard right now. So many tears.

    x2

  • http://ask-shane-shepard.tumblr.com/post/25642502278/ask-shane-shepard-indoril-krosaz-of-nirn

    Shepard was silent for a moment before pausing as her omni-tool beeped at her. She frowned, pulling up what was making it go crazy. 

    Well that doesn’t seem right. She could see that C-Sec was mobilizing. An unknown object headed to the space station was not something they took lightly when the Reapers were all over the fucking galaxy. It was nice being keyed in to their servers and alerted about such things. 

    Before she could try to get a message in to Bailey she noticed they had sent a transport out. She glanced at her friend before offering a bit of a smile. 

    “Well, if you’d like some excitement I suppose you should come with me,” she said. She swallowed. Being a Spectre demanded she do what she could to protect the Council and by extension the Citadel. The other Spectres were off doing whatever the hell they had been ordered to. She had to be one of only two anywhere near the station. 

    Her boots carried her quickly and easily through the crowds. As usual they did not know what was going on. Did they ever? No. 

    “Was ist das…” she breathed as a couple of C-Sec officers carried what was easily recognized as a humanoid form out of the transport down in the C-Sec hangar bay. 

    The Marine made her way over as a medical team was called in. 

    “I’m Commander Shepard. Can you hear me?” she asked. The suit was unknown to her. But then again, she had been exposed to a lot of strange things recently.

    —-

    “I’m Commander Shepard. Can you hear me?” He could. But as he struggled to make an effort to speak, he realized that the reason why he could not was because he was freaking out just a tad due to being suddenly in apparently friendly territory.We’ll see how long that lasts…

    He had to shake off the medics for a minute, making gestures that he was fine for the moment. At least, at that moment anyway. He turned his full attention back to Shepard, and then to the other coming up behind Shepard. He suspected they were Officials that would decide his fate.

    By then, his language processors had noted that their languages were compatible and that he would not need, it seemed, the language processor to learn the new language. With that knowledge, he abruptly brought his hand up to his visor and released it, not caring that for the moment, he would most likely cause the group of armed guards to raise their weapons at him.

    It took but a moment and a press of a button before the visor was released, revealing a face and eyes that spoke of experience and other things. He came to attention, then saluted, deciding for the moment to break protocol and salute anyway, “General Dreamwalker.” He lowers the hand, shifting back to a relaxed stance, grimacing with pain.