The lyrium-addicted bb
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@poenitent-iam
The lyrium-addicted bb
altusredemptor:
The shears in Dorian’s hand continued to rasp as he merrily snipped and snapped at the mass of wiry curls Cullen had the gall to call a beard. He was certain the forgotten word ‘topiary’ could be applied here in full confidence, for all the artistry he poured into it.
“I have not.” One slender finger tilted Cullen’s head to the side, lifting what he could now deem a well-defined jaw, and held him there, regarding the symmetry of his work. “I was born in California, but struck out on my own as soon as I could. As far as dusty hovels go, New Vegas is the more agreeable. If you can believe it.”
California was a big place, and not all of it was habitable despite the NCR's efforts. Cullen wondered where exactly, but stopped just short of asking. If Dorian thought the Mojave was more agreeable, home probably wasn't something worth mentioning. He inhaled slowly, through his nose, trying to keep from fidgeting while under such close scrutiny.
How odd it was for him to have ended up here, in this exact moment, with some antiquated carpet under the soles of his bare feet. This place seemed upscale, especially for some Strip employee, but then again how was Cullen supposed to really have any understanding of the local society? Maybe he had it all wrong. One thing was for certain, naivety had proven to be a downright uncomfortable companion.
"So you... just stay here? And work?"
altusredemptor:
@poenitent-iam from here
“You’ll be sorry when I shear off too much of this rat’s nest and have to shave the whole thing off just because you’ve apparently never seen a radio before,” Dorian snipped from behind him. The device looked to be in far better shape than it had any right to be. The same could be said of most anything in his apartment, a mostly rust-free time capsule that showed a great degree of care.
His hand moved beneath Cullen’s jaw, holding more firmly than he had previously. “I’m almost finished turning you into a presentable human being, if you’ll just remain still, please.”
“I’ve seen one before,” He still sounded a little distracted, but this time he was more careful in the way he held his head. A woman’s voice crooned from within the lovingly polished wood, singing about rolling green hills and lazy summer afternoons.
Cullen let his eyes draft closed, trying to envision exactly that. “... have you always been here?” He asked, the delivery of the question awkward as he kept his jaw carefully clenched.
me when feeling suspiciously relaxed: what responsibility have i forgotten
[direct]
nonsexual acts of dominance ➣ accepting
He’d only been trying to get a better look at the radio on dresser when Dorian’s hand pulled his chin back into place. A beard trim of this magnitude required more discipline- and really, Cullen should have known better. “Sorry.” He apologized quietly, trying to hold his jaw still even as he spoke.
“Nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry. All that blood was never once beautiful. It was just red.”
— Kait Rokowski
❥ NON - SEXUAL ACTS OF DOMINANCE .
feel free to edit or elaborate as you please . ( add ‘ reverse ‘ to your message if you’d like to see how my muse would perform the action ) . otherwise , send in one of these for my muse’s reaction to …
[ lit ] your muse lighting a cigarette , spliff , etc. for mine .
[ order ] your muse ordering for mine at a restaurant or bar .
[ guide ] your muse putting a hand on mine’s back to lead them .
[ pay ] your muse paying for mine at a store , bar , restaurant , etc . ( you can specify where or for what . )
[ open ] your muse opening a door for mine .
[ dry ] your muse drying mine off with a towel after a shower , bath , swimming , etc .
[ instruct ] your muse giving mine instructions / telling them what to do .
[ groom ] your muse adjusting mine’s appearance , such as straightening a tie , fixing their hair , or buttoning their shirt for them , etc .
[ direct ] your muse taking mine by the chin and telling them to look yours in the eye .
[ disagree ] your muse sternly telling mine ‘ no ‘ .
[ rest ] your muse resting their arm over mine’s shoulder / s .
[ clean ] your muse cleaning a smudge of something off mine’s cheek , forehead , etc . feel free to specify what and how .
[ answer ] your muse answering a question meant for mine .
[ coat ] your muse holds mine’s coat out for them while they put it on .
[ pilot ] your muse taking mine by the arm , hand , shoulder , etc . to lead them .
[ stare ] your muse staring mine down .
[ placement ] your muse telling mine to sit down .
[ teach ] your muse taking control of mine’s hand , arm , hips , etc . to make sure they do something correctly .
[ patience ] your muse telling mine to be patient .
[ tears ] your muse wiping away mine’s tears .
[ swat ] your muse swatting mine’s hand away from something they’re not supposed to touch .
[ jewelry ] your muse clasping a piece of jewelry for mine , such as a necklace , or earrings .
[ enough ] your muse commanding mine to stop talking .
[ retrieve ] your muse requesting or ordering mine to retrieve them something .
[ invite ] your muse inviting mine to sit on their lap .
[ lean ] your muse inviting mine to lean into their side while they’re sitting or laying together .
[ calm ] your muse telling mine to ‘ just breathe ‘ .
[ scold ] your muse scolding mine for something .
[ comfort ] your muse pulling mine into a reassuring hug .
[ approval ] your muse complimenting mine on a choice they’ve made .
[ beckon ] your muse beckoning mine to them without speaking .
[ laces ] your muse lacing , tying , or zipping something for mine , such as shoes , a dress , or a jacket , etc .
[ stay ] your muse telling mine to stay in the car .
[ defend ] your muse defending mine’s reputation , dignity , or safety for them .
[ feed ] your muse feeding mine something , feel free to specify what .
[ volume ] your muse demanding mine speak louder .
[ read ] your muse reading something to mine .
[ refill ] your muse refilling mine’s glass for them .
[ possessive ] your muse resting their hand on mine’s leg or the small of their back while they’re sitting beside each other .
Character Flaws
bunchofrpmemes:
Bold the ones that apply to your character:
absent-minded | abusive | addict | aggressive | aimless | alcoholic | anxious | arrogant | audacious | bad liar | bigmouth | bigot | blindly obedient | blunt | callous | childish | chronic heroism | clingy | clumsy | cocky | competitive | corrupt | cowardly | cruel | cynical | delinquent | delusional | dependent | depressed | deranged | disloyal | ditzy | egotistical | envious | erratic | fickle | finicky | flaky | frail | fraudulent | guilt complex | gloomy | gluttonous | gossiper | gruff | gullible | hedonistic | humorless | hypochondriac | hypocritical | idealist | idiotic | ignorant | immature | impatient | incompetent | indecisive | insecure | insensitive | lazy | lewd | liar | lustful | manipulative | masochistic | meddlesome | melodramatic | money-loving | moody | naive | nervous | nosy | ornery | overprotective | overly sensitive | paranoid | passive-aggressive | perfectionist | pessimist | petty | power-hungry | proud | pushover | reckless | reclusive | remorseless | rigorous | sadistic | sarcastic | senile | selfish | self-martyr | shallow | sociopathic | sore loser | spineless | spiteful | spoiled | stubborn | tactless | temperamental | timid | tone-deaf | traitorous | unathletic | ungracious | unlucky | unsophisticated | untrustworthy | vain | withdrawn | workaholic
He could taste damnation on his tongue like a thick coin made of iron. God’s presence was haunting him. Sometimes it crept along his spine and nestled between his bones. A holy thing, meant to ache.
Excerpt of Chapter IV from Absolution r.m | buy me a ko-fi
altusredemptor:
“Studying? My dear Commander, my research is better spent on furthering the Inquisition’s knowledge of those who oppose us. Which, may I remind you, multiply by the day. Collectively, we’re not so great at making friends.” He turned his attention to the board anew, having lost the match already in allowing himself to be so distracted. There were worse things, he decided.
“Your move.”
“A reminder isn’t exactly necessary.” The soldier replied lowly, lacing his fingers together only to prop his chin on them.
The mage was now granted a long look. “My move? Are you so sure?” Not that he seemed bothered by the fact that Dorian had hardly paid attention to their match. Not that Dorian would ever seem flustered over this, or any other small thing.
But Cullen would have been remiss if he hadn’t commented on it, while the corners of his lips turned just barely upwards. “I have to wonder how often you actually come here to play chess.”
altusredemptor:
His brows flew up at that, indignant. “Implying I’m not as youthful as ever! Some of us wear thirty better than others.” Indeed, Dorian’s fingers had twitched to nudge a piece in some devious direction to thwart Cullen’s next move, but an opening could not be found today, it seemed. Not that Dorian ever won as a result of his efforts. It never deterred him. Instead, he flicked the rook forward without much thought, and returned to peering at Cullen over clasped fingers.
“I would not be so quick to equate youth with naivety, regardless. Or age with wisdom. While we’re on the subject of false equivalencies.”
“If you spent as much time studying chess strategy as you did waxing philosophy, you’d have a victory to your name by now,” Or perhaps if he’d spend half as much time on it as he did openly staring. That gaze was not lost on Cullen, and he found it even left him feeling a little uneasy.
"A fair one.” He added as an after thought, giving a soft shake of his head as Dorian committed to his move. “Serves me right for trying to hide behind an excuse.”
RUSSIAN CLASSICS AESTHETICS.
BOLD WHAT APPLIES TO YOUR MUSE.
TAGGED BY: @altusredemptor to no one’s surprise TAGGING: if you wanna do it, by all means.
BROTHERS KARAMAZOV : orthodox monasteries , deep woods , starry nights , the sound of paper being torn , dimly lit rooms , withered roses , an unfinished letter , piles of books , the sound of shattering glass , ticking of clocks in a silent house , heavy wooden furniture , the air before a storm , the smell of earth , a crowd of people dressed in black , distant murmurs , emptied streets , the fear of walking alone in dusk .
CRIME AND PUNISHMENT : coldness of the skin against a blade , slender pale fingers and slightly shaking hands , a red stain blooming on white fabric , lonely steps in a corridor , the slow dripping of water , looking out of the window into the thickening darkness , a single dying candle on the table ,listening to one’s breath and counting heartbeats , too many stairs , the desire to be invisible , a subtle memory of kind words
THE IDIOT : classical statues , wealth covered with dust , a dark house tainted with inherited madness , an unsettling feeling , long walks in a park , useless chatter , a silken ribbon forgotten on a bench , a melancholic face , an unexpected spring rain , the joy of reading one’s favorite book , the clarity of mind after fully perceiving the world around , looking at cloudless sky
ANNA KARENINA : fields of crops, flowers brought from an early morning walk , the wind caressing a girl’s hair , a bowl of fruit , the smell of ripe pears , the clatter of a spoon against porcelain when stirring tea , children’s laughter coming from the garden , soft sunlight and white curtains , the sensation of velvet against skin , pearls from a ripped necklace spilling on marble floor , a sudden silence in a room full of people
WAR AND PEACE : a glass of wine , the brightness of a crystal chandelier , white lace , a raging snow storm , the sound of a door being gently closed , the moment of holding one’s breath before walking in a ball room , indulging in looking at a beautiful earring against light , the sound of a saber being drawn , closing one’s eyes for a moment while dancing , the sweet smell of strawberries , a pair of gloves left on an armchair , light scent of powder
THE MASTER AND THE MARGARITA : the chaos of a lively city , ambient jazz in expensive restaurants , jumping on a moving tram , the sight of moscow from the roof of a house , yellow flowers in a vase , leaning out of the window , shelves stacked with books , a small tin box with old photographs , strange shapes in the night sky , laughing in the middle of the night on a balcony , colorful posters for a surreptitious magician’s show floating in the wind
EUGENE ONEGIN : a lonely mansion , reading a book in the parlor , faint piano melody lingering in falling silence , long evenings , passing seasons , discussing french novels of the moment , unspoken thoughts , leaning against the door frame , quickly averted glance , eating a peach absent-minded , bright mornings , footprints in snow , a loud gun-shot terrifying a flock of birds nearby
A HERO OF OUR TIME : byronic boredom , getting up late in the afternoon , the hidden unspeakable sadness of existence , shakespeare’s tragedy opened next to untouched breakfast , cigarette smoke , polished boots , walking with one’s coat wide open letting the night chill break through to the bone ,carved wooden chair , fading warmth of the ashes late in the evening , the thought of farewell
FATHERS AND SONS : birch groves , morning mist , moss covered stones near a moor , scientific books , white roses , cheap champagne , shabby pocket-watch , light-hearted irony , a maladroit cello sonata , freshly mowed grass, leaving thoughts come and go , a slow yawn , picturesque plates and bowls filled with traditional dishes , drinking tea on the porch , longing for the future
DOCTOR ZHIVAGO : a strange feeling of loss , writing poems in a diary , traveling by train , the hesitation before touching someone’s hand , the gaze of one lost in thought , the warmth of cinnamon , a scarf brightly embellished with flowers , a glass of water , two people listening each on the other side of the door , a threadbare jacket , the tempting void , the evanescent serenity of yesterday
DEAD SOULS : horses in a merry gallop , delicious smells mingled , grotesque and bizarre tragedy ,luxurious attire and a cheap soul , masks , a perfumed love letter , the triumph of sarcasm , an unattached wheel rolling down a dusty road , the atmosphere of commedia dell’ arte , puzzling speeches , a baffling caricature drawn on a handkerchief
CHERRY ORCHARD : a lone chair in an empty room , falling blossoms , old samovar , the unsettling need for change , a mirror reflecting full moon , the disappointment of a glossy object turning worthless after second glance , a piano out of tune
@altusredemptor | from here
“Like yourself, commander?” A knuckle rested against his lips as he peered at Cullen over the board, never devoting as much of his attention to the strategy of the game as he ought to, and devoting entirely too much to the man who sat across from him. Their idle chess conversations didn’t tend to wax this serious, but Dorian found himself alight with curiosity. “No, you’re far too humble for that.”
"There you are, answering your own questions again.”
There was a soft creak of leather as he leaned forward to more carefully survey their battleground. Unlike the mage, he was very invested in this particular match, almost impatiently waiting for Dorian to make his own play.
“But you’re right,”
It was an uneasy thing, considering the past. The morning seemed less tranquil for it, and he shifted back in his chair, resisting the urge to turn his gaze to the gardens. The Commander was all too aware of how quick those hands could be when it came to their games.
“Maybe I'd thought myself that once, but we were all young men once.”
OOC ➢
New community, new nerves. Hi guys. Sorry my theme is so broken, I’m bad at pruning html. Promise I’m working on it.
Rules are predictably over at /rules, my nav is still sort of janky right now.
If you want to know how I write, here’s an old RP blog.
In the meantime, @altusredemptor is a really A+ Dorian who’s also just getting started, and will absolutely be worth a follow.
…I find the grammar of justice maddening. It’s always ‘rendered,’ served,’ or 'done.’ It always swoops down from on high - from God, from the state - like a bolt of lightning, a flaming sword come to separate the righteous from the wicked in Earth’s final hour. It is not, apparently, something we can give to one another, something we can make happen, something we can create together down here in the muck. The problem may also lie in the word itself, as for millennia 'justice’ has meant both 'retribution’ and 'equality,’ as if a gaping chasm did not separate the two.
The Red Parts, Maggie Nelson (via charcurrterie)