Ghost, From MW2, And RAD, My Original Character, Would Definitely Be Friends In The We Dont Talk But

Ghost, from MW2, and RAD, my original character, would definitely be friends in the… “We don’t talk but when we do, listen.” fashion. Also in the: “You don’t get to see my face.” fashion.

Dying from the idea that they’d meet…

Masterlist

When I write more, more will appear!

Also, head over here to learn more about me and the names of my characters!!

Introductions:

A Sanctuary of Air: Aither, Aiths, Aithen, and Aithi light introduction.

A Domestic Morning: Rueben/The Doctor light introduction.

A Sanctuary of Air

a/n: An introduction to four of my main original characters. Yes, I'll be willing to take requests to write more about a specific one and/or all four of them. I can also write reader inserts :)

c/w: A bit of a rushed ending.

w/c: 900

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Whispers echo through the forest, the giggling of faeries, and the creaks of ents that still to be sat upon by weary travelers--offering their slow guidance to those in need... A breeze passes through the forest; a constant, never-ending occurrence. Brush and thicket cover the land between trees while a romantic dirt path runs through the forest. The sun peeks through leaves to stain the dirt path in a light, summery glow throughout the year's seasons. There is a fork in the path closer to the center of the green, yet strikingly iridescent woodland. To the left, the path continued on, leading away from the direct center of the forest, leaving the rest to travelers' imaginations. There is a large white arbor standing over the opening of the path leading to the right, the path leads to another white structure: A gazebo, proudly standing in the direct center of the forest. The path bringing travelers to the gazebo was visually underused, plants reclaimed the path towards the gazebo, almost hiding it from view. However, the clearing the gazebo stands in remains clear of plants growing towards it. It is as if the plants themselves respect the meaning behind the structure at the center of their trees.

If the path to the gazebo were to be stepped upon, the plants would react accordingly.

If it is someone of poor morals and unruly stature, the plants grow slowly, thickening the path to the sacred area. Menacingly, fog rolls into the path, obscuring vision to the beautiful sight just out of a traveler's reach. To those travelers, they can feel how close they are to a sanctuary not meant for them, knowing grace and light are just out of reach is a kind of torture almost none deserve to feel. Those travelers either find themselves stuck in the brush and are unable to escape their wretched minds, or they find it in themselves to understand the gazebo would not accept their presence and they leave.

To others, the path is not so wretched and torturous.

If the traveler is of good intentions and a pure heart--no matter how wounded that heart is--the plants open. The sun shines only slightly brighter to allow a heavenly glow to be cast upon the scene before them. The grass around the gazebo sways slightly with the breeze, encouraging travelers to forget their worries and strife. An encouraging, yet light, gush of wind pushes good-hearted travelers to find their way into the gazebo. The rustling of leaves quiets, but not to a stop, while travelers sit down in the white wooden gazebo. The seats, floor, and roof are covered in a darker stained wood. A sense of peace and calm surrounds the sacred center of the forest. It seems as if the nature around the travelers who are blessed with this area wants to encourage the traveler to stay on the correct path. And if the traveler wishes, but only if they know how, they can call on the element who reigns over this sacred temple.

If that traveler finds their way to this gazebo and wishes upon the guidance of the air, the element would reveal themselves.

Starting with the youngest and going up to the oldest, Aither appears. The wind rushes past his figure, almost too fast to see how his feet and legs arrive first, climbing up to his hips and waist, his arms appearing with his torso and chest. Finally, his head, accompanied with his long white hair, comes into view. A small smile, which can be mistaken for a flirtatious smirk, rests on the expression of the blindfolded man.

In similar fashions, Aiths arrives, then comes Aithen, followed by the oldest: Aithi. Aiths expression remains a wide, child-like smile. Aithen, remaining as bothered as usual by the calling on him, lets his face fall into his usual glare, deep orange eyes scanning the figure who calls upon the siblings. Lastly, Aithi, the only female, remains stoic.

The siblings all had one thing in common: their striking and free white hair.

The traveler is able to choose who they get guidance from, or simply who they wish to talk with. The presence of the materialized elements can be overwhelming, so when the four come into view, they sit a respectable distance away from the traveler while they choose. In the circumstance that the traveler wishes to speak with the four in their entirety, they all remain, wanting only to make the life of the traveler happier and easier.

Though, each season of air has their own personality, traits they wish to share with some but not others, and they all have their own views. To become close to one season does not mean becoming close to each one. Lastly, it's noticeable that each respective season wears two rings on their fingers. One golden, pure and enchanting. One onyx, dark and alluring. Both of those rings rest on the air's left ring fingers. Perhaps, it's a choice, perhaps there's a reason.

When the traveler has finished their time in the sanctuary of air, the beings of the sanctuary let themselves dissipate, glad to have been helpful.

Leaving the gazebo, the sense of peace and calm can linger, though the path as the traveler leaves becomes reclaimed by the plants. They're a welcoming force, but they serve to protect the dedicated and holy land.

A Domestic Morning

a/n: An introduction for one of my personal favorite original characters, "RAD" or Rueben Alakor Deimos/"The Doctor".

c/w: Child death, alludes to major deaths, inhuman creatures, nightmares, gore-ish.

w/c: 1.1k

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Darkness envelops the burning cobble below. A deep, darkening mist hushes the open, searing fields. Signs of natural life are far beyond this realm.

A figure moves in the distance. Small, horned, and quick. Shuffling steps round a boulder, crouching as the figure's head peaks up. Two tall horns emerge from behind the boulder first, twisted horns bent in an oddly natural way. Then, out of the darkening maroon mist, the top of a skull peaks out from behind the boulder. The horns connect to the skull, pushing up further as the figure tries to get a good idea of their surroundings.

A larger creature groans in the center of the waves of boulders and rocks. Smoke emits from its gaping mouth, its unhinged jaw reveals rows upon rows of sharpened, deadly teeth. The teeth are yellow and black with rot while the creature's tongue lazily rolls, half ripped, out of its mouth.

There's a whistle, a call into the darkness of the bloody mist.

Behind the boulders, a series of horns and skulls poke up. A war cry sounds and spears get raised from the boulders farther from the large, towering beast. Then a second whistle cuts the sudden silence. Spears reel back and then spring forward, splitting the air with uncanny speed.

There's a squelch of flesh being pierced as the spears dig into the arms of the terrorizing creature. A devastating roar would tear from the creature's broken mouth, it thrashed against the spears in its skin as if it was trying to tear away from chains that held it in place. The slimy, purple skin of the beast would become coated in shiny, bright red blood.

The attack didn't stop there. While the beast was shocked, herds of goat skull covered figures would run at the creature. Weapons drawn, ready to attack as one final whistle sprung their barrage to life.

In the blink of an eye it was over.

Thick, golden blood was pooled at the feet of the creature, its own red blood was just beginning to meet the gold. Hundreds of lives lost for the creature to still be standing. The whistle had rang, the retreat had begun.

Vision turned towards the ground, a group of children who sat to watch--in hopes the clan had finally won--began to get up and turn away. But the creature wasn't done. It plucked two spears from within its skin, glowing red eyes aimed at the children.

Two of the children leaving with Rueben were splattered in gold as they collapsed to the floor, just like the remains of the people he watched die. Spears stood out of their chests, way too large for their tiny forms. He'd turned to look at the creature. The last thing he saw was a spear just before him, flying towards his child-like form.

The Doctor's eyes snap open. Sweat drips down the charcoal color of his elven skin. Irregular breaths become hushed as adrenaline from the terror wears off. He sits up, quiet as he lets the sweat slip down his face.

Golden irises scan the room, black hair falling in front of his gaze. He glances out of the window, noting how the sun just barely peeks over the horizon through the woods.

"It's dawn..." A soft mutter to himself drags The Doctor out of his haze.

The Doctor pushes the covers of the bed off of himself as he slowly makes his way to stand, pulling the covers back to their original position. A frown molds onto his features while he leaves the room, his bare feet are cold against the wooden planks of the floor.

The planks soon turn to tiles as he enters another room. His hand feels the wall for the switch to the light. Flicking it on, he squints, irritated by the sudden brightness. From the ground, The Doctor raises his gaze to the mirror while his hands turn the taps of the sink, water springing to life.

Dark, blackberry colored skin shines with speckles of gold freckles when the light hits him right. Short, messy, and damp black hair hangs just over his eyes. Golden irises stare back at him while he washes his hands.

Soon, he turns the taps off, having rinsed the soap from his fingers, and reaches for the towel next to the sink. A somber expression coats his face while he dries his hands.

After placing the towel down, The Doctor moves his hands up to his ears. Blindly, he feels the tops of his ears. Scarred flesh seems to mock his fingers as he searches for something that isn't there. He didn't know what he was expecting. Maybe the night terror of his childhood magically brought the tips of his ears back.

It's been years since he left the underworld. The Doctor wonders why the thought of his ears being whole again occurred.

He swiftly brought his hands down, glaring at his reflection before making his way out of the bathroom, flicking the switch with more force than he had before.

Thoughts ridicule him while he finishes his morning duties.

Nearing the end of his time at home for the morning, The Doctor makes his way back into his room. He sees the red eyes of a friend he's made along his journeys hiding in the shadows.

Paying no immediate attention to them, he undresses from his nightwear--which consist of a loose black shirt and loose black pants--and into one of his many different dress suits. Buttoning up the vest to his suit, he glances back to the eyes.

"They won't evade us today." The Doctor pulls on his suit jacket while he spares a word to the being. Pushing the buttons through the final holes of his jacket, he then sits and ties on a simple, black pair of dress shoes.

He grabs his briefcase on his way out of his room. The eyes follow, sticking to the shadows of the halls.

Silently, he reaches the door to his humble home. Grabbing the goat skull mask that hangs just above the door, he pulls it on before taking his cloak from a nail in the wall.

He wraps himself in the void-like material, making sure that only he has the choice of showing his hands and that the cloak won't do that for him. Once The Doctor is entirely sure his frame is hidden from the world, he steps out the door, ducking to ensure he doesn't hit his horns.

The Doctor takes a second to look out into the horizon, taking note of the warning his dream gave him.

Finally, he's off. Off to find the next unsuspecting subject of his terrorizing experiments.

I hope every writer who sees this writes LOADS the next few months. Like freetime opens up, no writers block, the ability to focus, etc etc you’re able to write loads & make lots of progress <3