Lian Harper is my new established character I want to expand on. I love to imagine she's the same age as Damian and she can match his energy. She's into gaming, kpop and archery (runs in the family). Y'all can mention her character as an adult or teen in the comic run, honestly don't mind getting more info but this is my version with the information I'm learning about her.
She enjoys horror movies, shouldn't be watching them, but she'll sneak off and watch a few. She watches Let's Play, but she is good at gaming at herself. She's gotten the Nintendo Switch, PlayStation, and a gaming PC.
She's her grandparents favorite princess and she knows it. She can sing well thanks to her grandmother Black Canary.
She lives with her dad Roy, but maintains a nice long distance relationship with her mother Jade.
She may be Damian's age but she adores Jon and that's essentially her partner in crime.
Maid Marian is the hero persona she takes on (what was the canon version) I wanted to go for a Robin Hood character.
I've been tweaking Sheila's design endlessly since I created her. Getting close to a look i'm okay with.
My Mii version of Sheila in Tomodachi Life has convinced me that she looks good with nostrils, and I thought a lil nose bump would look cute. She was partially inspired by Wendy O Koopa and other Mario style characters, so having a little nose like Wendy kind of takes her back to her inspiration a bit more.
The only thing i'm really still struggling with is her body proportions. I never really stay satisfied with her body shape for too long.
Sydney is there since the change would effect him too.
She said no to staying. She never said no to loving him.
Jareth the Goblin King x OC
A/N: This is another piece I'm wanting to workshop and see if people would be interested in as a series. Except this one is kind of a slow burn, getting into it sort of deal. But it really interests me and I really wanna write it so if people like it I will. And yes, the FMC is named after Stevie Nicks because come on people, you can't tell me that woman doesn't fit the vibe of Labyrinth.
Warnings: N/A (Except no editing -- again. We die like men in this household)
Word Count: 1.2k+
“I ask only little from you, my little Wanderer. Just fear me; love me; do as I say and I will be your slave for all eternity”
“You can’t ask that of me. I —”
“What would you have me do then? Beg? Plead? Tear the very seams and fabrics of my labyrinth apart? Tell me and I will do it. All I wish is for you to stay.”
“You know that I—”
“Please.”
“Stevie!”
A harsh nudge to her arm caused her body to jolt, taking her books and her notes to the floor with her.
Stevie’s consciousness snapped back into place, the fleeting fantasy her mind concocted to dull the ache of her boredom returning to the dark crevices of her mind, ready to return at a later date while remaining so far away.
A harsh grunt left her, her eyes snapped coldly to Mason, the source of the shove to her arm that ruined her dream.
“What?” Her tone was laced with annoyance with subtle hints of melancholia and even if she was able to hide it, her eyes spoke them far more loudly.
The man across from her, Mason, tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. This wasn’t the first time Stevie blanked out; in fact, it was far more common than the moments she was actually paying attention. All of her friends knew it started sometime around March about two years ago. All they knew was that Stevie fought with her boyfriend, well, a boyfriend that lasted another day or so after said fight, and after that fight, no one saw the same girl ever again.
She became withdrawn, lost in a fantasy she dared never to tell anyone. Stevie had become an enigma, a solitary figure to the people who didn’t know her. All anyone ever saw of her was a fleeting glance as she wandered to and from classes or her solitary figure hidden away somewhere on campus with her sketchbook full of drawings of goblins and creatures, a land of wonder and extraordinaire that she never dared to speak to anyone about.
“You blanked again.” Mason said, crossing his arms on the table between them. “You missed my entire rant about Tomzomski’s Intro to Critical Analysis class and his very evident god complex.”
Stevie merely scoffed through her nose, shaking her head subtly as she looked away. “Everyone has a god complex, Mason. Some worse than others.”
She would know. Her dreams were plagued by a man with the worst complex imaginable.
“Yes,” He mused, “But it becomes a problem when he makes it everyone else’s problem.”
Stevie half heartedly listening as Mason continued on, his distaste for the subject of his one-sided conversation evident. Her eyes drifted down to the pages under her hand, the faded yellowed paper she made herself what seemed like a lifetime ago made for a calming texture under her fingertips. The dark brown and blacks scratched across the page to make figures and creatures proudly on display, keeping Stevie’s mind on them instead of the man in front of her.
Her eyes drifted from creature to creature, following a slow path from the pixie in the top left hand corner to the goblin below it. Her soft eyes drifted from the gentle creatures to the ones in the bottom right hand corner: gorgeous creatures, seemingly human like elven features of big eyes and long ears on small bodies and small hands with four fingers. She hadn’t told anyone what they were called; no one would have entrained her anyway. She wished someone would have been: she’d been very fond of the few Gelfings she’d met in her dreams. She’d much preferred them to the Skeksis, whose vile existence she despised with her whole heart.
From the Gelflings, her eyes trailed to the Worm in the corner, his precious little body wrapped in his long red scarf and his tricky tongue smiling to her from the page, then to Fireys, lanky creatures of red and orange she captured dancing in their merriment of tossing and sharing their limbs with one another (of which she had been more eager to observe then participate, in all honesty).
Her eyes swept over the landscapes she sketched mindlessly months ago. From stone walls that stretched on forever to the forests filled with fog. The hedge maze filled with distracted patrolling guards, the door handles who couldn’t hear and couldn’t speak but who still somehow made wonderful conversation. From the garbage pits of the lost souls and finally the palace of the Trickster King of the realm and its glorious towers and lack of windows.
Mason continued to speak, what he was saying was lost to Stevie as her eyes drifted to another page of her drawings. A gentle, subtle smile graced her lips as she looked over the sketches of friends: of a large but gentle beast with the biggest of heart and strongest of arm, of a small but courageous dog of a knight, sworn to his duty and a goblin who fidgeted often, a coward, but a kind coward.
But what made her stop and stare was the singular page with one drawing and one drawing alone. It shared no room with the others, the entire page preserved for his beauty alone. Strong, prideful, a God of a creature, Fae in beauty, but there was a sadness in his eyes, one she captured from the last moments she shared with him in her dreams. When he begged her to stay, to love him and him alone.
She had said no every time. No to staying in his realm, his arms, for all eternity. The dreams always end with her leaving him in that plane of existence he created for her, just to speak with her for a moment before she ripped it all away with just a few words.
“You hold no power over me…”
“What was that, Stev?”
Her head shot up, her eyes flickering before widening as she sat there like a startled doe. “Uh, nothing, Mason.”
Mason tilted his head, looking at her with this inquisitive look as his eyebrow raised. “You sure?”
Stevie shook her head, offering a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. None of her smiles did anymore. “Yeah, ‘m sure. I didn’t say anything.”
Mason looked at her for a good moment before relenting and shrugged to himself, “Anyway, the guy is a total asshat. I mean, why would they hire such a —”
His words became muffled as Stevie’s attention left him once more. Her eyes drawn to a small figure behind him. Something small, hidden from those who couldn’t be bothered to look. Those who couldn’t be bothered to believe.
She’d seen his face before: a small, fragile face, green in color with burnt yellow eyes. Younger then the rest of his kind by a few years. He watched her, his impish little eyes trained solely on her as his clawed little hands held the corner of the hole in the wall he hid within.
Stevie wanted to say something, to go over to him and follow him, but when she blinked, as the long legs of a passing student blocked him from her view, the goblin vanished, just like her dreams.
A moment of fantasy, fleeting by in an instant when the world flashed by.
