#( soa verse tag )

[allthatisleftinthedark]

12. for one muse to wake the other because they’re having a nightmare  (Seraph and Sino)

Morning After Starters | accepting | @offrozenmemoirs (ment. @ofthescatteredstars)

Sino was neither a late riser nor an early one, and she didn't find herself sleeping at any particular time. When her body met the mattress, she was more likely to fall asleep within minutes than to toss and turn, battling her mind to turn off and let her rest. This night, being stationed beneath the waters off the Argyllian coast in a sea nymph's colony certainly did not deter her sleep. Instead, she found herself turning the pages of a mysterious book in their lodgings. One that the previous tenant must've left behind, she assumes.

The sleeping arrangements fell into their usual stations in a one-room apartment with two beds. The elves, Seraph and Soup, had their usual spots—Seraph soundly on his back and Soup clinging to his side. The gnome, on the other hand, had her own bed. Only once had their arrangements changed. Before they left Argyll, Seraph surprisingly used his steely and stern eyes to plead to join Sino's bedside. A successful endeavor it was, as the gunslinger had to elevate herself slightly above the pillows to accommodate the elf, who was much thrice her height.

Perhaps it was an innate gift of Winter's children—being so adaptable that they could encourage, influence, or charm someone to do their bidding. But Seraph was not one to handle the great responsibility and even greater abuse of manipulating someone in that way. He would never hurt anyone like that, especially her. Sino can trust that much.

Though he falls asleep as quickly as before, Seraph is almost as silent as the dead, with a blank expression. Meanwhile, Soup snorted here and there, sounding like a strange kettle to Sino's ears, while wearing an expensive eyemask on his face.

One leg rested on the other as Sino lounged on her bed, with plenty of pillows supporting her back against the bedboard. It was some forgotten navigation logs of the ocean, as far as she could comprehend. Sailing was not her forte, but she enjoyed the breeze of the open-sea travel, and some of the maps seemed strangely familiar. While not as concrete as today's maps, if she squinted hard enough, she could almost convince herself that some resembled familiar coasts, like Hafan-upon-Ochr.

Her finger lightly traces the inked lines on the page, attempting to decipher the elegant penmanship. In her view, it was too ornate for an ordinary sailor. A sailor wouldn't waste precious seconds trying to make every swoosh and loop of the quill exact and perfect. They'd be far too busy managing the ropes, the decks, the inventory, the sails, and every part that keeps the vessel moving and above the waters.

The shallowest breath from the other end of the bedroom caught her attention. From the corners of her eyes, she spotted an impending distress shifting Seraph's features. His upper lip was snarled, and his brows furrowed. His body tensed as the hand she spotted, which used to lay still at his side, was clutching tightly.

Sino slapped the book shut, letting it thud on her nightstand as she dropped it there. She hurriedly slid out of bed, her bare feet pattering across the chilling marble floor. Closer to his body, she inspects him. There were faint, eerie streaks of crimson that seemed to glow beneath his skin, almost resembling his veins. The most distressing was the web of cracks and dryness that marred the corners of his eyes.

The gnome jumped on the bed, resting on her knees. She immediately grabbed his face. His flesh was cold to the touch, the kind that reminded her of her nights in the most northern and snowbound part of the Albarean duchy. Seraph pulled away from her hold, trying to resist. However, she continued to hold his face forward as she spoke out loud, "Hey? Hey? Seraph?" She swatted his face. Then she flicked his nose! "Come on, rise and shine; let's go. Let's get up," she urged him.

The elf's eyes slowly opened, their gaze empty and distant. A crimson hue seemed to flow from the corners of Seraph's irises toward the center. Sino's palm patted against the side of his head, meaning to ground him. She continues, "Hey, it's me. It's just little ol' Sino. I'm here," hoping it would soothe whatever nightmares entrapped him.

Sino leaned across Seraph, gently placing one arm on Seraph's torso to steady her. With a calm yet firm tone, she addressed their still-snoring companion, Soup, and shook his shoulder. "Soup, get up," she said, her grip on him rather intense. After releasing him, she then hooked a finger into the band of his eyemask and lifted it, saying, "Soup, wake up," before letting the eyemask snap back into place.

Though slightly disheveled, with her long locks of plum purple and pink posey over her shoulders, she returned to Seraph's side. Both of her hands claimed the free hand between him and her. "That's it. I'm here," she cleared her throat. "We're here."

[allthatisleftinthedark]

"Do you now?" Maisie's composure falters momentarily as her retired hands raise slightly. She feels like a rabbit caught off guard, hopping from its burrow while still seated.

There is some shuffling from Seraph's end of the lake, presumably as he reaches for his belongings scattered around the grandiose bathroom of the Lord of Winter. Maisie leans in closer, teetering on the edge of her seat, her grip on the earth beneath her tightening lest she wants to fall into the lake.

Out comes a small circular shield from Seraph's possessions, one handle behind its steel build. For how much time passed in Seraph's world and how presumably plagued with fights his party must be, no dent or scratch was in its fine work. 

"It is exquisite craftsmanship; your father must have put as much care into its detail as he did with those statues," Maisie remarks, her laughter airy and soft. Yet, beneath the light-hearted banter, there lurks a twinge of familiarity—something cat-like and mischievous—something that, frankly, he may have seen on a particular other gnomish face. 

As sweet a reprieve as these memories are, at least from Maisie's perspective, Seraph's demeanor grows colder, like ice slowly creeping across window panes. At that moment, this was a confessional. 

The bathroom may carry Seraph's voice and echo through the rooms, reminding those involved of a bitter moment. The waters may reflect Maisie's melancholy to his crestfallen features, glimpsing his hand and adjusting the buckler. Nothing seemed to fit well, almost like he was still trying to grip the past. 

After a long pause, Maisie finally spoke, her words gentle yet firm. "Mister DeVinter, perhaps the Deathwatcher's path is not for you to walk yet. As I recall, this is a life anew for you. Those who work for the Lady of the Graves have spent much time living before joining the enshrouded entourage."

"As respectfully as I can say, you were cutting yourself short of life before you had a chance to begin," regret lingers in her voice. "We are shaped by the communities we belong to, by the principles and rules they impart upon us. When we try to fit into too many molds, conflict arises. 

"You are no one's scraps, Seraph," her insistence is unwavering. "You are not expendable to the point where you sacrifice any part of yourself to another's expectations. The world may not realize what you've what you've given up, and truthfully, even if it did, it wouldn't care." 

"Repressing your emotions and betraying yourself in the process only leads to ruin," she cautions.

"Live your life without betraying who you are; life is precious, and no one should be denied the chance." 

"Believe it or not, I did visit the Village of the Wintertouched during the Starlight Celebration. It's actually where I got my buckler from. Hold on."

Seraph goes rooting through his bag of holding, before he pulls out his cold iron buckler. It gleams with a polished sheen, and has a dragon curled around a snowflake. He knows that his father had likely given such an insignia not only to represent his upcoming position as his champion, but a way of representing Izumi as well. It's part of why he doesn't use the shield too often, beyond it affecting the strength of his blows. It feels almost too precious to use. That being said, when he has used it, it's saved his life more than he likes to admit.

"My father exchanged it for the remnants of my scythe and one of his trinkets."

Seraph thinks of his short time as a deathwatcher, he was happy to become one of the most trusted of Pharasma, after all, she was one of the closest things he's had to a mother when he came to the cloister. It still feels odd to no longer be a part of the order. Robert, Seira and Patricia had all become like siblings to him, and he can recall how he maintained a distance at first, but with Robert's encouragement, he began to open up to his fellow watchers, and in turn, they all treated him like a younger brother. At times, their antics could annoy him, what with not having any sort of peace within his own mind until he learned how to tune his compatriots out, but still...In a way, it was enjoyable. A comfort, and one he knows he'll feel whenever he leaves Rivera.

"I don't think I made a very good watcher, if I can be honest for a moment. There was a time where I hated someone, to the point where I almost abandoned this quest entirely. My father offered me the chance, you know? To say that I was done and to simply come home with him. A watcher has to learn how to control their emotions, not deaden themselves to them, but to know when to put their work first. And in the end, I couldn't do that. Not even when my enemy made people I love suffer."

He leaves the term vague, thinking of Severia, the resurrection and subsequent destruction of Joseph's first wife, Reliana. He can still remember the blood covering the back of his suit jacket, can remember the squeeze of the Lord of Night's fingers around his throat. The elf stops his hand from moving, closing his eyes.

"I prayed for mercy on their soul. Even when I didn't really think they deserved it. For a while, I think I hated myself for it. I sacrificed my very position for someone I felt didn't appreciate it at the time. Because that's what you do when you love someone, right? To sacrifice for them, no matter how much it may hurt."

Seraph hums softly, thinking to himself.

"I dunno, sometimes, I still feel like I'm lost in the world, but...As long as I have my friends, my family, and loved ones, I'll be okay. I may not know the solution to all of my problems, but that's okay. I'll get my answers when I'm ready."

Seraph feels like he still has much more to learn, and that's okay to him. He has all the time in the world, and when the stress of a quest or trying to maintain balance is too much...He knows when he has to take a break.

[Duty is important...But remember your own limits. I won't have you breaking yourself trying to carry the world upon your shoulders.]

His oath was important, after all, it was sworn to his father. As his champion, his duty was to ensure that Winter's will was carried out...Yet, he finds that it carries less weight than being a watcher. Perhaps it's because Winter knows his son is only now coming into his own, learning about the world at his pace will take time. Though, Seraph supposes his father's words resonate with him because he knows just how close he was to collapsing under pressure.

"This life of mine is interesting, that's for certain. But, there's no life I'd rather live."

[sonofbhaal]

"You're perceptive for an old man. You know why I'm here. Hand over your ward and no one will be hurt."

NAME: Sarevok Anchev RACE: human / Bhaalspawn CLASS: fighter ALIGNMENT: chaotic evil (pre-story) | chaotic good (post SoA) AFFILIATION: none | Gorion's Ward (in the Lord of Murder verse)

GENERAL TAG | HEADCANONS

NOTEWORTHY: My portrayal of Sarevok is true to BG 1 & 2. BG 3 lore is contradicting and undoing integral parts of his original story and character and will be disregarded entirely. Helena/Orin do not exist in my portrayal, at least not as relatives of Sarevok.

VERSES

Lord of Murder: Gorion's Ward has taken the throne of their father and become the new lord (lady) of murder. Due to Sarevok only being alive because she (I default to a female ward but I'm happy to switch!) shared part of her soul with him, he is now bound to her until eternity. [BG3 compatible]

More verses to be added.

RELATIONSHIPS

To be added.

ROMANCEABLE: yes (m/f, no gnomes, halflings or dwarves), but if you want your muse to not hate it, you need to unlock ally level 15, friendship level 35 and romance level 483 first, so good luck.

[sonsuvamachine]

[limelited]

happy valentine’s day, heather. i’m at a loss for words but hopefully the flowers make up for it. ❤️

- erika @kamauea​

she didn’t expect the bed to be empty first thing in the morning. or, maybe she just hoped it wouldn’t be cold to the touch. sleep still heavy on her eyelids, she stumbles her way through the chilly apartment, bare feet padding against the wooden floor in her search for caffeine. and while she didn’t expect the bed to be empty, she could have never imagined such a beautiful bouquet would greet her instead. 

in the solitude of her own home, her eyes fill with tears, obscuring the scrawl on the note attached. she wipes the emotion from her eyes away as she pulls the bouquet close, breathes in deeply before exhaling with a grin. all she needed to do now was decide on the appropriate response.

[wintersghst-a]

𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘯 & 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘱.

[behindtheireyes]

Ren didn't know what to think as she pulled up in front of her old house, she hadn't been back since the night her father was killed and if it hadn't been for the call from a real estate agent about the bar she probably would never have come back at all. Twenty years was more than enough time for her old life to be nothing more than faded memories and she was very much okay with that.

Or she would have been if her adopted parents would stop telling her after all these years she was still exactly like her late father.

Slipping her helmet off Ren put it on the seat of her old Indian scout before looking around to make sure her bike would be okay for the few minutes she'd be in the house. Not seeing anything alarming she headed to the front door and let herself in not even bothering to close it behind her as she made her way to her dad's old office to find the paperwork she needed to sell the bar and house.

@salaciousneeds

[allthatisleftinthedark]

"You have been good company and I appreciate what you do for Nelia. I know it might have taken time for her to get comfortable at Drakeshadow, but knowing she has reliable friends..."

The man thinks of his upbringing, always in his father's shadow, wanting to gain his approval, to hear that he was proud of him. How he felt leaving home for the first time, to live at Drakeshadow while he studied necromancy and botany. He grew more outside of his father's eye than he could have imagined.

"It is rare that I find myself befriending or talking to others outside of Corvus. Though I seem to have a habit of befriending those my grandfather does not take a liking to. But do no trouble yourself with his opinion of you. He is a relic of a time long passed."

He stirs the tea within the pot, before beginning to fill a mug. Ginger tea had been a comfort to him, even before the wyvern's toxin left him with permanent aches in his legs. A pot of coffee was brewing, and he removes it from the flame. A strong, sharp scent filled his nose and he makes a face. He was never the type for coffee but she seemed to like it, so getting these beans had been a goal of his, if only to give a guest something she preferred.

"I am not one for coffee, but I am told that these beans have a particularly robust flavor. If you will continue your visits, I believed it prudent to introduce you to new flavors of coffee."

He sets his mug of tea down, inhaling the scent and letting his lips curl into a faint smile. He pulls out another mug, and takes the coffee pot, pouring it until it was nearly filled.

"Feel free to add whatever you like. Conversation cannot be had without refreshments, after all, Lady Doscedar."

Perhaps he appreciates the opportunity to learn more about Nelia's friends. Perhaps that was why...she smiled more, or seemed excited more often. She found somewhere she could come into her own, to make her own path. In that regard, he was proud of her.

"But I digress. I wanted to say that I appreciate you showing her the affection we were never given by our parents. It...means a lot to me that she finds herself. I would like it one day if she would stand by my side along with my other siblings as we lead House Zarin into a new era."

unprompted asks | always accepting! | @offrozenmemoirs

Timeline: A year and a half before the events of SoA.

An invitation to query was a far too frequent request that inundated the Lady of the house. Little does stir in eyes so deep and dark, dare comparable to onyx, as they pass over the painstakingly illustrated and crafted still-closed envelopes that cluttered her sturdy oak desk. Her stern, down-turned lips wear the familiar decorum of apathy. Sharp manicured talons barely graze against several envelopes, lifting them by the inside of her nail. Quietly and promptly, she overturns them and their impotent names—a second of attention measures to a second of wasted time. Though little stirs in those eyes, resembling ink and chalcedony, there hints of a color. Not a glimmer of light can be found there, but even in the far depths of the hadalpelagic zone, there lies the subtlest and weakest shade of the ocean.  

One dismissed after the other, today was anything but successful for the countless minor houses of the Graneyean Empire that attempted to appeal to the Lady. The matriarch preferred her rule distant and above the others. The prestige of newer families and their claims pale in comparison to her prestigious pedigree and lineage, and the intrinsic disparity of value between her and them was a fact that significantly weighed her decisions. An accomplishment for a newly dressed clan in her wing would be a social setback for five generations of deliberate and careful breeding, education, and presentation.

One must earn recognition if born without; one must cultivate one's power if born with it. To assume passage by the matter of the claim is incredulous; one must earn their place, even from the same blood as her. Luck cannot substitute accolades; effort does not replace perfection. It was not the path of the ill-minded and weak-willed; as much attention and dedication one may foster for another's sake, it will leave disappointment.

She has already weathered enough disappointment in this lifetime.

Almost free of the burdens of ineptitude and over-assuming parties, her attention leads to a strange envelope. Again, she lifts its corner with the hook of her nail. Palm-sized, she infers it to be an invitation to another's estate. All sides of the envelope were black, except for the backside's lowest quadrant, which was exclusively white. An emblem has her eyes narrow. Encrusted into the crimson wax seal, not a speckle blotting the envelope, was the emblem of a lindwrym. It was a two-legged dragon, one rumored to have once existed in the continent of Graneye, one that slithered through the forests and made dens deep within the endless trees. Their whereabouts and current standing as a population are unknown, and personally, it is unnecessary to know when most of the world's population of any dragonkin is extinct.

House Zarin. How are they managing without any trees to take cover in?

Her talon taps on the query, the prey in her line of sight, as she drags it to the front of her desk, isolating it from the unworthy others. She lifts her hand, palm side. Half-lidded eyes rise from the table to a measly height silhouette.

The uniform, which was seamless and flat, was fitted with a high, tight-collared dress and silver buttons against the length of their throat, fitting the standard that the Elrose house stood for. Yet, those irises she saw were unfitting of the alabaster perfection, witches' viridescent, abyssal ebony, or boundless azure as was that those locks; they were like dwarf mallows and ground ivies in the field of roses.

Like magic, flowers can be manipulated. A couple of droplets would do the trick; she'd soon have commendable black hair that compliments the flowers, unlike lavenders.

"This one," she orders. "Pay them a visit."

As she commands, they obey.

= = = = =

The deep, rich aroma of floral dark-roast coffee fills the air from the mug in Maisie's hands. The steam wafts to her nose and warms her ears, almost tempting her to surrender to the large black velvet chair cushions and even dare to slip off her boots. However, her staunch shoulders remain straight-edged, but her thumbs covertly rub the back of the mug.

After all, this was strictly a business call at the behest of another; what adjourned after the mandatory items on the agenda tended to be sparse words and quiet departures. However, professionalism diverted to nonobjective matters, especially when realizing who had been the requestor.

The rare, enthused host stands at the front of the short table in a more intimate wing of the manor after official matters finished. For the change of scenery, he reasons that his large study was unfit for what he had in store.

Maisie spotted the almost pristine state of the table. It was clear of any personal items except his recently served mug of tea and small jars of additives like sugar or honey. When inspecting the table further, it seemed almost unused as she drew the mug to her lips. There were no scratches, stains, or scuff marks. Its gleam and texture seemed as if the artisan freshly delivered it.

"My Lord is so kind for the offering of refreshments," thanks the gnome, holding her beverage. She glimpses at the alpine-height tiefling, his crimson spectacles guarding his eyes.

After an unsavory reintroduction to the current grandsire of House Zarin, which was another expectation fulfilled in the gnome's experiences handling Graneyean subjects, his grandson has been the most accommodating. Any offense, in ways of physically reacting, on the matter ebbed after the first decade of rumors, slander, infantizing, and the like. No matter how much mud was flung at her, they sought after her. Though, in the case of the current Zarin head, he was much more accommodating than anticipated, his efforts seemed aligned with a different cause—a more inquisitive kind.

"Well," Maisie clears her throat. "Your hospitality is exquisite, and your thoughtfulness cannot be ignored." She softly smiles and laughs, politely emphasizing. "What is most important is company spent together. If granted such pleasures of continued visits, I will cherish these invaluable minutes of our time together."

'Even when most wouldn't see similarities,' Maisie thinks as she drinks her coffee. 'Nelly and her brother are two sides of the same coin.'

The young lord's glasses slid down the bridge of his nose as he steadily guided himself with his cane to sit down.

Wetting her lips, Maisie quietly reaches for a teaspoon and acquires two scoops of sugar. Stirring her coffee, she can't help but chuckle. "Miss Nelia is one of her class's most lively students. She's prone to," her hand wipes above her brow bone, "having a hair-raising time in the laboratory."

A sharp ring resonates in the voice as Maisie taps her spoon on its rim. "The reputation of her esteemed brother indeed has led to expectations already, especially in botany. In that course, at least, she has shown promising signs of infusing organic effects into her creations. Nothing has been created; none are even on paper, but thoughts are floating in her head..." She averts her eyes, grimacing, as she settles the spoon. "It is a tad worrisome if she takes inspiration from your discovery and tries to make an explosive from the strain. Inhaling that would leave someone in a week-long coma, I imagine. It won't exist in the short-term future, at least, with how strict the instructors have been becoming this last year."

She takes another sip of her coffee, her expression relaxing. "Her heart lies in alchemy, which, may their souls rest in peace, would make both of your parents very proud." She traces her thumb around the mug's rim. "She never does talk about them, but she certainly speaks well of the youngest sibling, Liyan, and your sister, Rafan."

"It's rather special to be there and watch your loved ones grow," her voice softens. Her eyes fixate on the still surface of the coffee. "Make sure to visit her on her birthday; she still faces loneliness here and there at the Academy, and her family surprising her would make her day."

"It pays off in the future in strengthening those familial bonds," Maisie half-hums, dismissing herself with another sip of coffee. "And the future holds a lot for Miss Nelia."

"Wherever she finds herself, I hope she takes the chance." She holds her gaze to Lord Zarin. "To go wherever she wants to go."

[romxnaarchived]

someone come plot soa things with me bc I have ideas

[idefend-blog1]

‘ does that hurt? ‘

Patch Up The Broken Boy  | Meme Here  |  Accepting

           He can all but HEAR the smirk without even looking at her. There’s concern laced in, always is : somehow this perfect combination of SARCASM and genuine fear that color the brunette’s tone and make it damn near impossible to look at her. It’s too real, the shit that lies beneath the surface. In a life full of bullets and betrayal, THAT is what scares him. Knowing that this girl, strong and seemingly UNPHASED as she is, dreads the day the club returns a man short. The day they drink in his name and vow to make things “ RIGHT ”. She’s the only one smart enough to realize he isn’t interested in more blood being shed in his name. 

                         She isn’t his Old Lady. But she might as well be. 

           The only response she gets is little more than a grunt, though the corners of chapped lips turn up and his fingers twitch where they rest on his knees – if asked, he’d blame the sting of the alcohol against the open wound on his shoulder, but she’s biting her lip in the corner of his vision and FUCK, she knows. She always knows. Later, after she’s fucked the stress of the day from his system, she’ll call him out on it : bold and teasing and RIGHT. Big Bad Biker wanted to hold my hand, she’ll say, and he’ll act as though that voice isn’t the reason he continues to come home after every close-call. 

                                                          It is. 

[aotoreiki]

ᕕ ( ᐛ )ᕗ ANOTHER ALT TIMELINE title and tag to be decided

In this verse, Ice was able to turn himself in to the Ranger Union without a hitch, and ended up in the Adreffe region as a result (@croesow).

Because this alt verse runs parallel to a verse where Svern (@neodarkdark) never joins Team Dim Sun, hence the cause of the different chain of events, Ice lacks some Pokémon from other post-SoA verses (Espeon and after). He is also still unaware of his affinity for aura use and experiences more negative effects of the Shadow Crystal than he does in other verses.

[shesboundtolose]

TAG DROP #6 ( VERSES )

[legends-and-savagesa]

Monsters:

To-do list:

DC tag dump, OUAT tag dump, D.escendants tag dump, GOT tag dump, D.isney/N.on D.isney tag dump, SOA/M.ayans tag dump, P.acific R.im tag dump, K.ing A.rthur tag dump, F.antastic B.easts tag dump, J.urassic W.orld tag dump, A.lice S.yfy tag dump, m.ythology tag dump, I.zombie tag dump, S.partacus tag dump, F.ast and F.urious tag dump, S.tranger things tag dump, S.tar W.ars tag dump, T.he B.oys tag dump, D.esperate H.ousewives tag dump, M.y B.loody V.alentine tag dump, S.upernatural tag dump, and A.COTAR tag dump

Move drafts

Move posts

Finish up fixing the theme

Repost all the promos

Repost Verse Banners

[soa-masterlist]

a brand new, current sons of anarchy / mayans rp masterlist ! please reblog if you are actively writing a canon soa / mayans character, an soa / mayans oc, or have an soa / mayans verse. 

include in the tags: “CHARACTER NAME / CANON, OC, OR VERSE / SINGLE MUSE OR MULTIMUSE”

the master list can be found here on desktop & here on mobile.

[maidenxfthemxuntains]

Tag Drop Verses

Ignore this, this is so that if my tags get ate, I can easily copy and paste them!

The Kind-Hearted Pirate (Pirate AU)  The Angry Hunter (Supernatural AU) A Kindhearted Witch (Harry Potter Alt AU) A Muggle Among Magic (Harry Potter AU) The Newborn Slave (Vampire AU) The Bastard Princess (Alt Main) Photographer in Training (College AU) The Little House off of Kingsroad (GoT AU) The Photographer (Modern AU) The Outcasted Shieldmaiden (Main) Before the Hunger (pre-vampire) The Newborn Slave (Vampire AU) Kindness Overcomes All (Alt Once Upon a Time AU) Everyone Likes Tea (Once Upon a Time AU) The Stepdaughter of a Mafia Ex-Henchman (Mafia AU) A Damsel in Secret Distress (1940s Noir AU) From a Daughter to a Slave (Spartacus AU) A Kind Heart in a Toxic House (Alt GoT AU) Tainted Touch (DC Verse) Sparkling Treasure Can Be Tainted (Treasure Hunter Verse) The Multi-Goddess (Demigoddess AU) In Healing There is Also Toxicity (X-Men AU) The Rockstar Photographer (Rockstar AU) The Hidden Mage (Dragon Age AU) More Than Mundane (Shadowhunters AU) Another Time Another Period (Historical AU) The Bitter Fairy (Fairy Tale AU) The Lone Survivor (Walking Dead AU) An Old Soul in a New World (The Umbrella Academy AU) The Norwegian Telepathic (Stranger Things AU) Just Her and Bryn (Single Mom AU) Nature's War (Norse Mythology AU) Taking Pictures in Chaos (SOA AU) Asgardian Shieldmaiden (MCU AU)

[komebackxkid]

so i heres some pointers that i changed about alex from here on out:

alex no longer works as a BSAA transfer to blue umbrella as of december 7th of 2017. (its up in her timeline if you want to check that out too). she’s still a soa!

she’s been really careful on who she shares her information now

even she’s working with bsaa, she’s kinda on her own??? not like bsaa kicked her out or anything. as well as to being careful, she’s secretive towards them

her current verse is now the resident evil 8/pre-re8 verse (but mostly the pre-re8 verse and the verse will be updated) with it’s own tag called There goes my hero watch him as he goes (current verse) bonus points to whoever gets the tag name lol