Jun. 30th, 2011

museworks: (Default)
From [livejournal.com profile] blindmachine of Thorium Brotherhood, who was and is one of my absolute favorite Forsaken RPers EVER. Actually, she probably IS my favorite, though I still love several Wyrmrest folks too. :D

Anyhow, the post. It tackles the matter of villainous/adversarial/antagonistic RP and characters, and is pretty nifty.

On Jerks and Ne'er Do Wells
museworks: (Lucrezia)
It would be pointless to say he repeated, and often, that cycle of starving/feeding just like the still-going cycle of darkness/light. Not simply starving of food, but sometimes of magic; I do not know what magic-wielder he employed but there had to have been one who would set and lift wards on command. At that point I was fairly certain I was going mad; the only reason I didn't consider myself mad quite yet was that I still had some self-awareness, and I couldn't just mental retreat from any of it. I'd read of others who face traumatic events or simply 'highly undesirable situations in which they are helpless' and manage to withdraw into their minds, into their own private worlds that either block it out or turn it into something else. I wish I could have done that, but I was raised to be acutely self-aware, and it seemed that I could not turn that off even in this case.

When it was during one of the dark times, I would stare into the blackness. A darkness so complete that I could even see my own hand when I held it to my face, apart from what was the tiniest, faintest sickly glow from my eyes. I stared into it until I could 'see' things. Not images, no pictures, but just those odd little patterns and faint specks that one might see when closing one's eyes. Like after-images except I could not see anything in the first place, so I don't know where they were from. Perhaps my mind. I would try to follow these 'patterns'. I tried to imagine what they might be from, or what they might go with. Some were recurring, such as patches of faint stripes. Vertical stripes, like bars. Appropriate.

Sometimes I imagined there being someone else behind those patterns, and to her I was the imagined person in her own darkness.

I couldn't stare into the darkness forever, though. Not even when it seemed unending. I had the layout of my chambers memorized at that point so I no longer stumbled. It was a small mercy that it had not occurred to Jovan to have the furniture rearranged. Sometimes instead of staring into the dark I would continue my exercises, as I had done since first brought there. I did not wish to be sickly. Rather, some stubborn part of me wanted to resist the slow wasting-away that was inevitable in those conditions. After the exercises the 'sparks' that I saw in the total darkness were more prominent. Another reason for doing them, I suppose.

Sparks and stripes. Feast and famine. Light and dark.

Darkness until I would wake and see his eyes over me.

Is it any wonder I crave the sun now?
museworks: (Lucrezia)
((Inspired by [livejournal.com profile] lohendrin's writing from Tensuns' perspective, I decided to try to write something from Jovan's perspective and see his mindset.

Warning for some possibly disturbing content.))

He stared down at her as she slept. )
museworks: (Alinor)
So there's this gnome who lives in Dalaran, who approached me with a commission request. Apparently he had been referred to me by the Engineering shop there; not a surprise, as I work with them often, but the nature of this gnome's request was a little bit…peculiar. It involved many sprung whirlygigs. Now, I've worked with whirlygigs before, of course. I've rewound them and repurposed them and whatever. I generally found them when salvaging mechanical gnomes in Northrend, generally those around Mimiron's Library.

However, this is the first time I think I've ever had someone ask for a piece of clothing made from whirlygigs. How does one even MAKE that? I can sew, but I'm no tailor, at least not one with skills like, say, Marbas. My skills are more in the area of repairing basic tears, replacing buttons, things like that. But Marbas at least let me browse his patterns and make a few sketches of my own, and was nice enough to not ask which ones I sketched. Odds are I wouldn't have heard the end of it.

Now, I don't judge people for odd requests that clearly aren't for the purpose of hurting others. (I don't always judge when it comes to ones meant to cause harm, either, it just tends to depend.) Live and let live, people have their oddities, what consenting adults of any race do behind closed doors is their own business. And this gnome was paying some seriously good gold.

However, I really, really wonder what the deal is with having a sprung whirlygig fetish. To the point of commissioning something that was not only an outfit-- based on female undergarments, mind you, for this male gnome and in his own measurements-- crafted of those, but a fully-functioning, erm, autoerotic stimulation device. And for a special one-of-a-kind commission this required asking some very personal questions. I'm pretty sure my face was bright pink, but Sir Whirlygig was cool as a frozen orb the entire time. I think I have a strange sort of admiration for him for that.

Now, I've made devices like that before. I've never tested them, but I've made them. (Though I must confess; I had never before been that tempted to test any of them, until I started tending to Lohendrin when he was shirtless and wearing tight pants. Oh, my goodness. My goodness. I've resisted, but…my goodness.) There's a store in Dalaran and a couple in Silvermoon City dedicated to selling such things, among other 'intimacy enhancement wares'. From what I understand there's another in Orgrimmar, though I think I'm happy keeping my business limited to Dalaran and Silvermoon. I think there used to be one in Shattrath City but I'm fairly sure it was closed at Aldor request. They're actually pretty interesting to make, and I can usually work with any suggestion offered. I think I may be losing out a touch on not being as…intimate with my knowledge of such devices and their purposes, but I do well enough that I earn a nice bit of gold for myself. Especially from people like Sir Whirlygig.

I must also confess, dear journal, that I did make one device of which I kept one for myself. And that part of me would kind of like to try out someday: a set of restraints, for wrist or ankle, designed to occasionally administer an arcane shock at varying intensity, determined by the one with the control, at the press of a button. They're powered by enchanted gemstones, like batteries. I find them terribly intriguing. And, of course, they're carefully hidden.

Someday, I hope…

*Scribbled at the bottom of the page* I am so silly, I'm now bright pink after writing this, and it's just for my own reading! Bah!

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