#ND muse lore

[z-v06instance]

" NO ONE HOME, BUT THE VOID IS LOUD " a z-v06 (pressure, roblox) ask blog

you've been in blacksite long enough to confidently say you know how this place works. you learn more and more with every painful retry of the same mission: gather the crystal. so, yes, you can confidently say you understand this place, that you know how each of the creatures that lurk the halls of blacksite function. or so you think, for in front of you sits an open locker. you've seen these lockers, infested and plagued by that sickly darkness that you can feel the gaze of lingering on you. it preys upon the ones who are more idiotic than others; the ones who see its eyes and still run to it for safety. you've seen this before - you've seen all of this before. you've looked the void in the eyes, and it has felt like death. yet here you are, looking the open locker in the eyes, waiting for the suction cups of those octopus-like tentacles to latch onto you and pull you in. yet it does not try to grab you. it does not try to harm you. it simply watches you. for the first time you call out to the void. the void answers back.

for your first visit to this blog, it is recommended that you look under the cut. please note: currently this blog is on an indefinite hiatus. i apologise.

" THE VOID BREAKS US, THEN RESHAPES US. " the following sections are ooc ;; dividers by @/saradika

📼 ⎯ hey hey heyy welcome to my lil rp askblog :3 this is like. my first askblog in 5-6 years im rusty as fuck n barely remember shit. 🎬 ⎯ im the mun, itris, but haley works too! after seeing all the pressure askblogs pop up i decided to be a so called "free thinker" and make one myself. 📼 ⎯ how old am i? what's my main? what are my pronouns? what are you, a cop? i'm not tellin' you that! (all jokes aside, i only feel comfortable answerin one of these: just use it/its or ey/em!) 🎬 ⎯ considering there's like jack shit regarding the lore of the void-mass puddles (afaik), a lot of this blog will be headcanon heavy! (..mun is also neurodivergant and that may slip through so mun is sorry if it does. muse is not intended to be neurodivergant) 📼 ⎯ english is not my first language and i have dislexia so. im so sorry if shit i say doesn't make sense or my spelling is wackers 🙏 i also make up words sometimes without realising it. i am so sorry 🎬 ⎯ i dont usually use tonetags, so ask me if you need me to clarify my tone! 📼 ⎯ aaalright i think this is enough rambling. ya think it's time for us to hop onto the actual muse info?

" PLEASE, PULL ME FROM THE VOID. " this section is about the askblog. it includes muse info, rules, and anything i think is neceserry.

* buckle in, this section may be long. as if this entire thing wasnt already longer than i intended...

BLOG INFO

🌌 ⎯ this blog will contain profanity and mentions of canon typical death/violence. other possibly triggering topics may come up along the way, so please, view this blog with caution. feel free to ask me to tag things. 🔮 ⎯ please, and i mean PLEASE, no sexual stuff (i know why some of you people like tentacles). mun isnt interested in rp-ing that. the only exception are sexual jokes as long as they don't go too far. threaten to fuck the void's mom if you want! (i am not going to question how you'd be able to do that) 🌌 ⎯ ANY interaction is fine by me! feel free to interact as any muse, whether that be an oc, another pressure character, or someone from a whole other fandom! 🔮 ⎯ feel free to claim any anons and ill make a special tag for you (if you aren't on anon ill give you one too)! i may forget to tag some posts tho so if i ever do just. lemme know LMFAO 😭 🌌 ⎯ if im uncomfortable with an ask, ill delete it. but honestly there's not really much that im against. 'nd also lemme know if i ever do somethin that makes ya uncomfortable too!! 🔮 ⎯ unless stated otherwise, anyone who sends an ask will be treated as an expendable ! :3 actually on the topic of asks pls make it clear if ur ask is towards me and not the z-v06 instance otherwise ill answer ic 😭 🌌 ⎯ im alright w/ m!a's i fucking LOVE m!a's 👍 🔮 ⎯ if i randomly stop posting one day assume the void got me.

MUSE INFO [written ic, but not as the z-v06 instance]

🔮 ⎯ this instance of z-v06 answers to anything you use to refer to it. it has no sense of identity, therefore does not have a name or pronouns. it is up to you to call it whatever you'd like. though, i'm not sure if it has the ability to care. ...note to self, see if the verbal z-v06 instance is capable of emotions and feelings. 🌌 ⎯ fascinating.. the instance you've stumbled upon appears to be showing no signs of hostility. though, i'm sure that, just like the rest of the monsters that roam blacksite, if you provoke it, it may become more violent. 🔮 ⎯ it seems to be capable of remembering things you tell it. perhaps it can remember faces too.. 🌌 ⎯ not much else can be said. i suppose you'll have to interact with it in order to find out more about it.

TAGS

( OOC )⠀ ⠀||⠀ MUN HALEY ( ANON )⠀ ⠀||⠀ UNNAMED (^ the "unnamed" will be replaced by the anon name if there is one provided) ( BLOG )⠀ ⠀||⠀ [INSERT WHATEVER BLOG NAME HERE] ( IC )⠀ ⠀||⠀ WITHIN THE VOID WE ARE UNDONE ( ASK ANSWERED )⠀ ⠀||⠀ THE VOID ANSWERS BACK

tws will be tagged as 'tw [triggering thing]'

i prolly forgot some tag ideas or whatever the word is tbh so expect this to be edited 👍

LAST EDITED: 17TH SEPTEMBER 2024

[resolutepath]

❤️ -points- Avaere 'nd Intcritus

So first to aven. I love the way aven writes and develops dynamics truly. I feel like all the connections we have invested in have really gravitas and meaning because I have felt them develop over time and with meaning. I also just think aven is incredibly good at capturing characters, making them feel nuanced and real with detriments and flaws as much as virtues and strengths. I am always excited to see what happens when we throw our muses together I thoroughly enjoy doing so and I truly appreciate the tired teacher solidarity I find with aven. we definitely need to consider plan b. But amazing, amazing writer truly.

as for ambie, well I am still incredibly impressed over how quickly we connected. it did not take long to find a range of connections and muses to explore. I think ambie has a whole host of interesting ocs that I want to delve into, I love flicking through lore and reading tidbits. In the same vein I think the canons are incredibly well written and fun and well considered and I have fun engaging in the dynamics from gil and Salem to ling and Ed. ambie is the kind of writer I thoroughly enjoy because writing is fun and muse exploration is at the heart of everything. honestly so glad to have met.

@nvrcmplt pointed at @avaere and @intcritus / still accepting!

[cotestuck]

Some ND and disability things I have noticed reading back over RPs with Risori:

She is on the autism spectrum.

She speaks very exactly about anything she considers important, to avoid it being unintentionally misconstrued.

Lots of textures severely bother her, despite being intensely tactile, so she is very stimmy with comfortable textures and borders clingy with safe people.

Being able to see comfortably during the day leaves her night blind.

She can only see in either a very bright environment or very close in a dark one, and navigates the world primarily through the emotional and tactile information her psionics feed her.

That aside, she has very keen hearing and is sensitive to vibration.

You'll often see her ears moving everywhere and claw or fingertips tracing walls, banisters, counter tops, ect:

Toe claws tapping rock or tile.

Nervous little twitches of one foot or the other that tap her claws a lot more rapidly on hard surfaces where she can't climb.

She has synesthesia.

Sufficiently melodic sounds are vividly visible.

And the right kinds of percussive sounds are tangible.

She will bliss all the way out during a thunderstorm because rain and thunder are two different kinds of pleasantly tangible.

It's been interesting to notice so many little commonalities that the oldest of my brain children shares with me.

[toooldforgermany]

dude... the fucking. . . .   papers, please theme song came on in my playli st...  go d...  now i wanna make an au...  but that fandom’s d ead...  even when i rp’d in it before as olaf spiesalotski... i . ..  

the stor y  is so go od.. .  and i could so fit ar thur into it tho ugh. . . 

[moondeitys]

hewwo fuwwies im not gonna be online much today bc i gotta a) take my kitten 2 the vet and b) i gotta do my assignments LOL

[bloodworn]

TASK 001 - SANTOS.

Q.  HOW  DOES  YOUR  MUSE  FEEL  ABOUT  THEIR  OWN  CLAN?  how  do  they  feel  about  the  other  clans?  where  do  their  loyalties  truly  lie?

a.  santos has absolutely no loyalty to the sky people. his entire life on cronos station was unhappy, one disappointment after the other; and even now, he is hesitant to connect with any sky people beyond venus and her father. when it comes to the other clans, he has no real negative or positive opinions outside of the fact that they are not sky people. that said, he does feel most at home amongst the ice nation at troy and is enjoying his time there, even if it is for a serious reason. still, he wouldn’t say he has a particular loyalty to one group or another - just to himself and whatever scenario works best for him in the moment. 

Q.  DO  THEY  FEEL  AS  THOUGH  THEY  CAN  TRUST  THE  PERSON  LEADING  THEIR  PEOPLE? explain  why  or  why  not.  refer  to  the  lore  page  for  information  on  the  leaders  of  each  clan.

a.  not even remotely - but this is just an extension of santos’ overall distrust of his clan. with his mother dead and his father god knows where, santos has always focused a lot of his hatred and rage about his life onto the most senior authority controlling it: both president santiago nd the council. he hates the way sky people society works, casting people out into the cold (literally) over anything they deem an infraction, and as far as he’s concerned, they are the driving force behind that. 

Q.  WHAT  DOES  YOUR  MUSE  THINK  OF  “THE  DOORS”  THAT  WERE  OPENED  BY  THE  CHILDREN  OF  THE  ORACLE  ALL  THOSE  YEARS  AGO?  have  they  heard  the  rumors  that  the  search  to  open  more  of  the  doors  continues  on?  if  so,  how  do  they  feel  about  it?

a.  santos admittedly doesn’t think much about the grounders’ lore beyond the machines themselves. but the rumors he does hear about the doors definitely intrigue him. he finds the overall culture of the grounder clans to be more organic and real than his own - less sanitized. so, even though he doesn’t understand the fear some grounders feel about the thought of more doors opening, part of him wants to see it just to see what happens. 

Q.  WHAT  ARE  YOUR  MUSE’S  VIEWS  ON  THE  MACHINES? are  they  someone  willing  to  do  battle  with  them  or  do  they  avidly  avoid  detection  while  in  the  wilds?  what  are  their  theories  on  what  the  machines’  true  purpose  is/what  they  were  made  for?  if  they  don’t  believe  that  the  machines  were  made  by  the  gods,  do  they  have  any  ideas  or  beliefs  about  who  made  them?

a.  as someone with an interest in tech, santos is fascinated by the machines. the combination of raw power and technology is right up his alley and he is actively looking forward to a chance to come face to face with one someday. he’s willing to do battle (though he isn’t naive enough to think he can punch them down), but more than that, he’d be interested in understanding what makes them tick. picking one apart, putting them back together, taming them even - it’s a rare situation where santos wants to create and understand, rather than destroy. 

being from the sky people, a lot of his interest in them is focused on the present. he doesn’t theorize too much about their purpose, who created them, etc because them existing on the ground is the only thing he’s ever known. that doesn’t mean he won’t listen to grounders talk about it though - in fact, it’s one of the few things he’ll actively and enthusiastically interact with grounders about. 

Q.  IS  YOUR  MUSE  A  SKILLED  FIGHTER? if  so,  who  taught  them  how  and  what  weapon(s)  do  they  use  most  frequently?  if  not,  how  does  your  muse  defend  themselves  in  the  wilds  or  against  enemies?

a.  ‘skilled’ is a very relative term. is santos someone who fights -- and wins -- often and well? absolutely. but, he was never formally trained in either combat or weapons, and likely couldn’t best a trained fighter in strategy. he’s always relied on his brute strength and rage to push him through any altercation because that’s what got him fighting in the first place --- the loneliness that turned to anger the more the world seemed to forsake him. he uses his fists most often in fights, but isn’t opposed to using weapons, typically anything he can get his hand on in the moment. if he had to choose a preferred or more frequent weapon, it would be something he could beat someone with, i.e. a pipe (as opposed to something of a longer range). so far, he hasn’t had a direct encounter with a machine to figure out how he would defend himself against them, but one thing’s for sure: he’d go down swinging.

[deathvalleyqueen]

🖊 for all the MacKenna siblings

I hope you don’t mind but I did some more like “general MacKenna” deep lore rather than just the sibllings... because...  I maybe have been building up the family’s collective backstory a fair bit lately... sorry if this wasn’t quite what you asked for... but the muses took this one and ran with it. 

🖊 - The MacKenna’s are loosely based on a family from my original fiction project I have been working on for… a very long time and will never finish… but their original characters were ment to be a family deeply intrenched with the criminal underworld and a lot has still carried over with MJ’s brothers (even Sean) all getting their starts in various criminal activities. 

🖊 - Originally the whole family save MJ was supposed to die… along with John… this however was TOO DARK… and is now only referred to as “the darkest timeline”. 

🖊 - Jimmy’s daughter, Claire,  actually will play a fairly decent sized role as a secondary character in both the FC5 timeline and more importantly… the ND timeline. Mac’s children may pop up come ND with the HIghwaymen but this is still very up in the air as I am unsure of the state of Atlanta post collapse. 

🖊 - Oddly enough another place that I took a lot influence for the dynamics of the MacKennas (and how they function as a family) from the Lannisters and Starks from GRRM’s ASOIAF. This is most apparent with how almost everything that deal with the siblings is usually always handled within the family (rarely involving John) and also the whole notion of “The lone wolf dies, the pack survives” also. This really comes into play once Colin fully splits from PEG. 

🖊 - MacKenna family deep lore - Patrick MacKenna always had ties to the Russian mob (this is important for the story) that main connection was actually Ellie Ivonv’s (my friend’s ocs that features heavily in this story) father. This actually allows for the girls to have met as children when neither of them really remember… but the girls use to play while their father’s did business. 

🖊 - Catherine MacKenna comes from a very large family as well… though all her siblings are girls. This actually factors hugely into her treatment and rivalry with her own daughter. Because Catherine was pitted often against her sisters growing up that she developed a lot of animosity towards other women… particularly those with in her own family. 

🖊 - The Extended family is devout Catholic, several members of Patrick’s family going as far as to enter into the Clergy. This is probably most prevalent in Pre-PEG point in the story, most heavily featured when John and MJ get married by one of Patrick’s brothers who is a priest. After the family joins PEG this causes a massive rift within the larger MacKenna family, the family disowns the rest of MJ’s family. This is actually a fact that Patrick really struggles with in his last years. 

[eclipsecrowned]

peeks

went to work on bios and went ahead and deleted soul c*l*b*r and l*g*nd of z*lda muses. kh is staying for now BUT on the basis of will be whittling down the number of muses available, as canon lore for what i thought was a safe part of the timeline has basically nuked my ocs from orbit and idk if i want to play one fav muse without his shipping partner present. i know three that are safe period based on writing w axem but the rest could all be gone someday :0

Thank you all for your feedback, i will get to the top answer now and do some bios :D

[qaesitr]

    ❗️ This is important as post. ❗️ A brief explanation about the blog's reboot, for it once existed in the end of 2010's decade. Feel in your complete right to ignore this post, please ! For the most relevant information lies in the rules page. But if curiosity has pinched on your soul or you have previously heard about Holly Molly, the interdimensional cute traveler and ghost whisperer, then stay with us and click on read more ! I hope the button works, let me know if all the text is exposed instead, so I will try to fix it. Be aware that it contains the only piece of deeply personal info I'll share with you on here, I hope you don't find this fact as molesting.

Be welcomed to this roleplay blog ! I'm Saturn, the human behind the muse. Thank you so much for coming by ! If you haven't seen the  ➡️RULES⬅️ and ➡️ABOUT⬅️ pages yet, I cordially invite you to give them a check. You'll be informed about the character and the necessary requirements to start a wonderful adventure with Holly and me. You can check over this ➡️GOOGLE DOCS FILE⬅️ to read it all together instead.

Perhaps Holly's name and role as ghost whisperer sounds familiar to you. If it doesn't, it's okay ! In both cases, you'll need to read her bio carefully because if you once happened to meet her, you will not find the same character she's been relying on previous to this reboot.

And yes. This is a reboot of a roleplay blog created between 2015 and 2020s. I had two reasons to deactivate it and wait a year and a spoon to bring it back to life. Honestly, I thought it was going to be a permanent close, but even I am surprised of how much Holly begged !! So I had to bring her back, but with a completely different backstory.

Let's begin for the fact that her backstory relied firmly in an old TV series. A secondary character that had not a lore at all just to say so. She was a mere concept and nothing else that contributed quite a bit with another and more relevant canon character from the same series. So I decided to take this secondary chara and give it sentience, then I thought: "What if she just had a human AU ?" and ta-daa !! That's how her story started. It was a funny concept to play with, but in the end, two reasons have left me anchored to a sole choice. A temporal exit for the moment, and somehow a wise way to leave a place that was causing me more trouble than fun as well, affecting my physical health until recent days. Yes, you heard well. Physical. Not to mention the psychological damage in the way, but let's just proceed with the explanation.

What if I start with the first and MAIN reason of the previous blog's deactivation ? Alright, let's go. My lack of interest towards the series whose concept has made me originate her story in general. That, in resume. She was mostly an OC than that canon character I relied her story on at some point, but she was GLUED to her origins, and even if I wanted to transport her to diverse universes ---like the ones on my verses page, for example. Her original nature would always unleash and that would limit me to write whatever else I would want to develop, add, quit or modify on her. She was a caged concept since the begin, but I was too blind to realize about it, like that snake game from old mobile phones, where the snake is so long that you end up losing the game at some point because collision is inevitable. A labyrinth with no exit, no beginning, no end. She was caged to a series that was essentially losing its spark, an universe entering into its Proton Decay era, something that was no longer what it used to be. And like an hermit crab on a small shell, I was starting to feel claustrophobic about her concept which has led me to explore new horizons for Holly. Horizons that didn't work no matter how much effort I've put in applying them to her because her concept had to be explained, a concept that was ONLY from that TV series only, and that discomforted me like if it would be more a flaw I preferred to hide than something I’d feel comfortable explaining. Thence I can say that what was glued to her was also sucking her essence, her originality, and was slaving her to return to the same universe she came from, one that didn't suit my comfort anymore due to its proximate finale and because I have changed my mind and tastes in regards to it.

At the same time that my activity has exponentially reduced on such that blog ---which takes us to the second reason I did quit from here in past year-- I found myself facing one of the toughest moments in my online life. One that has affected my way to perceive other roleplayers and people in general. I’ve seen the worst things you can see in a human being, in somewhere else, said by someone else, but confessed by this same person afterwards. A person I BELIEVED I KNEW well for 4 years, but I WAS WRONG. A person that has shown me they were NOT reliable at all. A person whom I had to handle in the most human way possible because apparently, they were a sensitive mind and I didn't want to be the cause of their self damage ---thing they were vulnerable to at such that moment-- but all I felt ( and feel ) for them is filth and repulsion. I entered into a catatonic status, I stopped sleeping, eating, and I've been generating bad habits in posture for example ( sitting really tense and shivering almost all day ) which I ended up paying with migraines, muscular tension, and other things that need to be checked to receive a diagnose. I had to shut Holly down, I didn't know what to do. That monster, it was just consuming me from inside. I don't wanna associate with any beast like it. I just want to roleplay, no more bonds, no more trust... or better said, I’m AFRAID TO TRUST ANYONE SINCE NOW ON.

      g-get me ? But I'm trying. I’m sincere, transparent and fully honest, so I can’t see why people can hide so many things to someone who is truly honest with others--- I don't want this experience to mark me like a burning scar. Or at least, if it's a burning scar, I want to put some colorful tattoo over, or show it as "Listen, this happened to me. I've found a close person has turned out to be a demon, but I'm not this experience. I'm more. I can get over it. Not everyone is bad. There are good roleplayers out there with as nice intentions as me."

So... I decided to rewrite Holly now, but not anchored to a story that would chain her to a world I didn't want her to belong anymore. Although there exists a page exclusively dedicated to wondrous verses, and some universes are depicted in the way, her main verse locates her as a completely fandomless character now, who has born and developed in an universe I've created myself, in a world where AIs are starting to rise and start to behave like authentic humans. What is going on her mind this time ? It's time to start over, to lead a new, greater, fascinating adventure in the hands of a cute robot with fighting skills living in the body of a sweet woman named Holly. I invite you and your muse to accompany us and head outstanding stories together.

Be seeing you soon !! Thank you so much for reading this post. I hope it doesn't represent any bother to you. I kindly request you to not bring sad or personal topics about my ungrateful experience, please. I tell my story to you because I want to explain why I put so many boundaries in my rules, and in case someone else has seen the old Holly, they understand what has taken me to deactivate her, simply... to make her greater. Lot greater.

  So, let's turn the page and start over !

                   ---Saturn. 🪐 ✨

[cuthian]

Decisions

Hi everyone!

Welcome to the first interlude between Never Feel Alone and the next multichaptered work in the series, named Starting Over. These oneshots will show you some snapshots of our characters lives, establish their routines and relationships, and generally have a different pace than the longer fic :)

Before you begin reading, I'd like to remind you that Thor and Loki grew up as a betrothed couple in this AU, that thought Loki was born to a high-society Asgardian family before they found out about his true nature. They never thought of themselves as brothers or both Odin's sons at any point, though they do refer to each other as brother sometimes.

I hope you enjoy!

Much Love, Annaelle

PS If I forgot to tag anything, let me know!

.

.

.

The One Where Becca Makes a Promise

Decisions Are The Hardest Thing To Make, Especially When It Is a Choice Between Where You Should Be And Where You Want to Be

—Author Unknown

Greenwich, London, UK October 2nd, 2011

Loki

The air itself still tasted of electricity and the stench of burnt ozone lingered in his nostrils.

He was – mercifully – astonishingly – absurdly… alive.

The memory of those last few moments on Svartalfheim were clouded with pain, but he vaguely recalled how the salt of his tears had tasted on Thor’s lips, and how only regret had filtered through his mind, before contentment had overtaken him as his consciousness faded.

He’d been relieved, for at least death meant no more glass cages and no more gilded prison bars on his windows and door.

It meant a sense of freedom which life as Odin’s second son had never awarded him.

He was alive, though miserable and in a lot of pain, and he surely wouldn’t remain so for very long if he did not receive the aid he so desperately needed soon.

Asgardian sorcery was potent, but it had its limits.

Malekith and his ilk had wielded an ancient form of sorcery, perverted and twisted to suit their malicious means, and it festered beneath Loki’s skin, burning through whatever latent spells Odin had weaved to hide his true appearance, leaving him with icy blue skin and undoubtedly blood red eyes.

Had he been at full strength, it would have been possible—though perhaps not easy—to heal himself from the damage that had been done to him, but as it stood, his strength lay with illusion, not healing.

It had been his moth—

No. He rapidly jerked his thoughts from such painful territory and shook his head.

He could not afford to lose what little control he retained—could not let himself succumb to his grief.

Not yet.

Miraculously, he was no longer on Svartalfheim—he had been freed from a cursed existence on its ashen surface—but instead he found himself somewhere on Midgard, apparently, and undoubtedly not very far from where his brother and Malekith were wreaking havoc upon one another.

The wound on his chest had not killed him, as he believed it had when he’d lost consciousness in Thor’s arms, but it ached still, and pulsed blood in small trickles.

“Norns,” he swore, shakily heaving himself up onto his elbows on the hard concrete beneath him.

His leathers were, tragically, torn beyond repair, and his skin was a deep shade of blue, with the edges of the wound starting to turn purple with infection. The reserves of his strength were pathetically sparse, and he could no more summon his magic than he could turn back time.

Loki slumped back down and shut his eyes, drawing a deep breath of air into his lungs, willing his mind to work faster, to regain its former potency so he could devise his next step.

He slipped in and out of consciousness a few times, slumped in whatever dark corner he’d been deposited. The sun was gone when he next woke, and he’d stopped bleeding, at least. He felt much steadier, and his mind felt less clouded by pain and disorientation.

His body appeared to have partially healed itself while he slumbered, because the wound looked several days old rather than fresh and lethal, as it had only hours earlier.

Loki was doing better—and, possibly, he was even out of direct harm’s way—but he was in no shape to defend himself, should it come to that. He would have to identify a safe haven in this Norn-forsaken realm; find a place he could go to ground to heal and to plan. The little alley he had woken in might provide a sense of cover and privacy, but it was hardly a sensible sanctuary—for instance, he was within hearing range of whatever battle still raged, and though no one had yet intruded upon his little alcove, it did not mean no one would.

There were, unfortunately, not many places he could hide on Thor’s beloved Midgard.

The gifts his mother had bestowed upon him were, thankfully, intact and well within his reach, and it was damnably easy to sink into a trance, seeking the farsight Frigga had passed to him through her teachings. Loki may have been mocked and ridiculed—mostly with whispered insults behind Thor’s back, to avoid the God of Thunder’s wrath—for preferring his mother’s teachings of seidr to training with Thor and the other noble boys, but it aided him well.

Seidr had kept him alive many a time before, and Loki was quite certain it would now as well.

His plea to show him safety was met only with a strong urge to find his brother, who stood lonely, and bright and blazing on a square only yards from where Loki was hidden. He gasped, barely resisting the urge to call to him; to beg for Thor to find him and protect him—though Loki was certain he would.

He could not.

He could not return. He could not tell Thor of his survival.

Odin had deemed him disposable and despicable, and he would stop at nothing to hunt him down. Thanos, too, was still out there, unforgiving and cruel, and he would not have forgotten Loki’s—somewhat deliberate—failure to obtain the Tesseract for him. Thanos, more so than even Odin, would tear the universe apart—including Thor—to punish Loki for his betrayal.

Yes… It would suit him much better to remain dead, for now.

No matter how it would break his Thor’s heart.

Better a broken heart than one void of life altogether.

It took considerable strength to push past Thor’s luminous aura, but Loki was nothing if not experienced at ignoring his brother-betrothed’s alluring presence.

He would miss him.

He regretted, perhaps, keeping Thor at arm’s length for as long as he had. He had done so with the best intentions, he rationalised, trying to keep Thor from tiring of him before they’d even exchanged blades. Loki knew their friends had been making bets on the bruð-hlaup already, and that there had been an entire contingent of royal servants dedicated to planning his nuptials to Thor.

Marrying Thor had seemed inevitable his entire life, and while he was certainly not opposed—even if his brother-betrothed had turned out to be an insufferable prat, Loki would have gotten a throne out of the deal—it had been overwhelming sometimes, to know his entire life had been planned for him.

He supposed he had been fortunate enough with his betrothed.

Thor was disgustingly devoted to him, and while it suited Loki very well to be worshipped, Thor’s particular brand of affection was rather suffocating at times. It’d suited him much better, once he’d allowed himself a taste, to keep Thor at a bit of an arm’s length.

He hadn’t been happy about Thor’s gaze straying, but he had been practical enough to understand Thor would always return to him. It had been enough.

The memory of it would have to suffice from now on.

The stark, blinding light that represented Thor in his mind’s eye receded and left but a humble few trustworthy individuals in its wake, one standing out from others.

Loki was hardly surprised.

“The Captain,” he mused. “Of course.”

He had but met the man briefly while in his right mind, but he had gathered quite a bit from Thor’s distracted ramblings when he visited. The man stood as a paragon of truth and justice on Midgard, and even Asgard had heard of the man and taken notice.

Of course, Loki considered, much of said notice had been born of genuine curiosity to meet the first Midgardian to walk Asgardian grounds in centuries—to see the Midgardian who stood alive in only lìkami [LP1] and munr, absent hugr. The ability to sense another being’s soul was one born of the seidr that ran inherent in his blood, but even the most incompetent of Asgardians—and Jotuns, for that matter—stood capable of doing so.

There were tales of souls and bodies walking in separate skins in Asgardian lore and literature, but to find a being that had survived the loss of its soul… the strength of will needed to survive such calamity was immense… very nearly inconceivable.

And yet Thor’s Captain—a mere mortal—had somehow done it.

Thor had not elaborated on the Captain’s tale, as far as Loki knew—not even to him. The evidence, however, was plain to see for all who cared to look.

It stood to reason he would prove to be the only one beside Loki’s brother-betrothed that would stand strong enough to protect him while he recovered. It was damnably simple to find his way to Thor’s Captain’s lodgings once his farsight had shown him the man, despite Loki’s pitiful state.

The chambers he found himself in were dreadfully small, he noted with absent disdain, especially considering he knew the Captain shared these chambers with another. Loki’s own chambers back in the palace in Asgard were much grander and infinitely more luxurious—but then, Loki supposed, he was the second Prince of Asgard, and its future co-regent.

Still.

He wrinkled his nose and took in the—thankfully clean—state of the apartment. It was hardly bigger than the cell they’d had him in for the duration of his trial on Asgard.

There was, at least, unlike in his cell, a cushioned sofa, and he could not quite suppress the groan of relief that fell from his lips when he sank into its soft pillows. His entire body ached unlike it ever had before; a deep and unnatural ache that only the cursed weapons of the Dark Elves were capable of inflicting.

He relished, briefly, in the knowledge that he was safe from harm—at least for the immediate future.

He had not been so far gone that he could not hide himself from Heimdall’s ever-piercing gaze, thankfully, so he ascertained he was still safe from his father’s wrath, should the man ever learn that Loki had escaped his supposed fate yet again.

He rolled his eyes.

Almighty Odin, so self-important and pompous. Loki only felt the fool for not having seen through the endless charade centuries ago—Odin had never been fair or just towards him.

Loki could see now that Odin had never truly intended to allow the match between him and Thor, no matter how they themselves felt about it. He had not allowed himself to consider his relationship with Thor for some time—had not since he had learned of his true parentage, and had seen his future and the life he thought he’d lead go up in smoke—but he did now. He allowed himself a moment to think of the life he’d once—and yes, still—wanted and to mourn it, for he could see no future—no plausible way—wherein he would get to live the life he’d wanted to lead with Thor.

Loki exhaled shakily and dropped his head back against the cushions, staring at the ceiling desolately.

He would miss his brother, like a physical ache, but all made sacrifices for those that they loved, and Loki, despite everything he had done to prove the contrary, loved Thor.

He was unsure how long he sat, comfortably enveloped by the soft cushions, before he sensed a being approaching the apartment. He did not bother to extend much attention towards said approach, certain that it was the Captain returning home after aiding his brother in the inevitable defeat of Malekith—and exacting vengeance for their mother.

As such, he stood astonished when the lock on the entrance clicked and swung open, revealing not the Captain, but the female companion he shared this home with.

Loki froze, as did the woman on the doorstep, pale eyes finding his unerringly, despite the relative darkness shrouding the room. He supposed he must’ve looked frightening—blue skin and red eyes and fingernails crested with dried blood—and he, admittedly, only stayed out of sheer curiosity to see what she would do. Many humans would have run screaming already, but this woman—this slip of a girl—merely glared at him suspiciously, discreetly slipping her hand into her coat pocket to reach for what Loki assumed was a concealed Midgardian weapon.

“No need for such methods,” he said dully. “If I meant you harm, you would already be dead, child.”

Her hand stalled in her pocket, and she squinted at him suspiciously. “Loki? You’re supposed to be dead,” she said accusingly.

Loki snorted and smiled. “And you are supposed to be the Captain. I assure you, we both stand disappointed.”

He blinked blearily when she abruptly turned on the lights, looking at him in something vaguely resembling shock before she replied, “I’m not disappointed, you dick. Thor is devastated—he’ll be overjoyed to hear you’re alive…” and eyed the—frankly disgusting, if he did say so himself—wound on his chest. “…if not entirely well.”

“I suppose he would be,” Loki acknowledged with a tilt of his head, before turning his attention to the injury on his chest. “Now. I don’t suppose you are well-versed in medicinal arts?”

“I—” the dark-haired woman blinked at him. “What?”

Loki hissed in frustration, pressing his fingers against the ragged edges of the wound, clenching his teeth as he spat, “I seek your aid, you insufferable mortal.” He exhaled raggedly, eyes slipping closed as he tried to quell the nausea that welled up because of the pain. “Thor trusts the Captain,” he finally continued, albeit shakily. “I suppose, by extension, he trusts you as well.”

The Norns would not have brought Loki here, would not have allowed him to survive this amount of torment and hurt to abandon him now. If they brought the girl onto his path, it meant she had a part to play in his life, however brief it might be. He fell silent again, allowing himself another moment to grieve what might have been before pasting on a mask of cold indifference.

“And I, despite evidence to the contrary, trust him,” he said loftily, raising an eyebrow at her, though the effect was ruined by the rattling cough that burst from his lips a moment later, his expression twisting into one of agony.

“Christ,” the mortal choked, rushing towards him, nearly flinching away from him when her hands made contact with cold, icy skin. “What the hell happened to you?” She helped him sit back up gingerly, and Loki chuckled humourlessly and eyed her contemplatively before he shrugged and replied, “I got in a minor disagreement with a Dark Elf.”

“Minor?!” she exclaimed as he moved his hand to reveal the long, deep wound. “Holy fuck, if this is what happens during a minor disagreement, I don’t wanna know what full-on fights are like. What the hell did you do to piss him off?”

Her hands moved swiftly in spite of her apparent shock, helping Loki shrug out of the elaborate clothing he was wearing to reveal the pale skin of his chest and the full extent of the wound.

“God,” she breathed, eyes wide and looking slightly green around the gills as she looked at the serrated edges of the wound, where his skin was already turning to a violent shade of red and purple. “Loki, I don’t think I’m qualified to—”

“He was going to kill Thor,” Loki interrupted quietly, pressing his hand over hers where it lay against his chest. “I stopped him, but I—”

He broke off and swallowed thickly, looking away as he collected himself. He had not meant to reveal such weakness before the woman, but there was something distractingly earnest in her demeanour. If he were the kind of man to trust in another, he would certainly feel comfortable divulging his thoughts to her. As it stood, he did not think he had much choice in who he would voice his thoughts to.

It was not, he reasoned, as if he would allow her the memory of their conversation anyway.

He allowed himself to share his fears.

“I thought I was going to die,” he finally admitted in a small voice. “And I was relieved. I was so relieved I wouldn’t die locked up in Odin’s glorified prison cell, that I was free…” It was the deepest secret his heart held, and one he had not intended to give voice to ever—but it needed to be spoken aloud.

"Obviously I didn’t die,” he finally said, with forced levity, deliberately ignoring the sharp burn of tears in his eyes. “But I have no desire to return to my gilded cage on Asgard, so…”  

The human woman was quiet for a moment more, pale blue eyes like the skies on Jotunheim searching his own before she replied. “Well, you’re safe here. I don’t know how much help I’ll be with—” she waved her hand at the nasty wound and wrinkled her nose. “—all of that, but I’ll try. You’ll be safe and welcome here until I can get a message to Steve and Thor.”

“No!” Loki squawked, jerking away from her touch abruptly, fingers clenching and unclenching against her wrist. “No, you mustn’t tell Thor I am alive! No one can know!” He had planned on altering her memories of the night as soon as he was able, but that would do him no good if she contacted his oaf of a brother-betrothed before he could do so.

“He’s going to want to know,” she said slowly, frowning a little at his—undoubtedly—panicked expression. “I can’t really lie to him about something like this.” While she spoke, she carefully cleaned the wound with a foul-smelling transparent potion that stung where it touched his skin, gently attempting to gauge the depth of the wound while she did.

Every touch of her fingers on his skin burned.

“You won’t have to,” he panted, a thin sheen of sweat covering his brow and nose. “Just help me care for this and I’ll be on my way.”

“You can barely sit up,” she pointed out dryly when his elbows nearly gave out from beneath him. “I don’t know how you think you’re going to be walking out of here any time soon, but I’m telling you, it’s not happening.” She shoved him back into the couch cushions none too gently and glared at him.

Loki smiled despite himself, conceding the point for the moment and letting the young mortal fuss over the gaping wound in silence. She was a most intriguing conundrum. Something in her eyes spoke of inherent strength, a backbone stronger than steel, but her hands were tender against his wounds, and he knew his brother had been most impressed by her when they met.

Whatever role she had yet to play in his existence, surely it would extend beyond his brother-betrothed’s lustful ideas for the woman?

He’d been subjected to many a rant when Thor fancied himself enamoured with another, and he had learned to distinguish Thor’s genuine interest from simple lust centuries ago. His brother may have only spoken to this mortal woman a few times—surely not enough times to catch her attention—but the interest had been there when he had spoken of her.

Loki was uncertain if Thor himself was even aware of it.

“I suppose I see the appeal,” he mused aloud, watching the human that had caught his brother’s attention closely. Loki supposed she was attractive, if one liked that sort of thing. Mortals, that is. “You are quite beautiful, for a human.”

He didn’t elaborate, blinking innocently at her when she looked up at him in confusion.

He could not say what had prompted him to speak the words, but now that they had been spoken, he would not—could not—take them back. He had begun planting a seed, and he would see it to fruition, no matter the cost.

Loki was, of course, not a charitable god by nature.

He was not one for sentiment or overt affection, and found it much easier to forgo such connections altogether—but he was not indifferent towards Thor. He had tried to achieve such indifference many times, in myriad ways, and all equally unsuccessful.

Thor had, somehow, burrowed himself beneath Loki’s skin, and it certainly appeared he was there to stay. To survive, Loki supposed he would have to relinquish his grip upon Thor’s heart—it would be entirely unfair and unrealistic to hold Thor to a vow he’d made to a dead man. He supposed giving this mortal woman a nudge towards his oaf of a brother was the least he could do for him.

“You better not be trying to flirt,” she said warningly, poking at his uninjured shoulder. “I’m too gay for your shit, pal.” Loki snorted a laugh, but briefly considered her words. If she were, as she stated, attracted to her own gender, it would be difficult to nudge her towards his brother.

He laughed, though, genuinely and delightedly, finding himself grinning at the sheer nerve of this girl. “You are brassy too,” he chuckled. “No wonder my brother is so taken with you.”

That, clearly, threw her for a loop.

Her hands stilled on his chest, and her eyes were wide with abject surprise. “Thor isn’t… taken with me,” she said incredulously. “He barely knows me. We met like three times,” she insisted, her voice taking on a slightly more hysterical edge by the end of her sentence.

Loki merely chuckled at her, recognising the hint of intrigue in her eye all too easily—not so gay she would reject his brother outright, then, it seemed. “I have been subjected to those he likes to bed for centuries, child.” Loki smiled wanly. “I know the look in his eye when he is interested.”

“I’m not a child,” she said, affronted, shoving at his shoulder lightly when she finished applying a bandage to the shallowest part of his wound.

Loki snorted, recognising the deflection for what it was, but allowing it. “You are to me.”

“Really?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “We’re gonna go there? Last time I checked, you’re what—half a century younger than Thor? Which means you’re around a thousand years old, which, to be fair, is pretty insane if you’re looking at it from a human point of view.”

Loki merely blinked at her, intrigued.

“For an Asgardian though,” she shrugged and smiled playfully. “You’re painfully young, still. In fact, I think, if I cared enough to calculate, you’d be in your late teens, maybe early twenties in human years. And really, which one of us threw a tantrum so bad it involved mass destruction last time they didn’t get what they wanted?”

The corner of Loki’s eye twitched—wholly involuntarily—and he could tell she was biting back a smile.

“Really,” she grinned, “when you think about it… Which one of us is the child again?”

Loki knew the surprise he felt showed on his face—because no one had ever dared to speak to him quite so boldly—before he burst into laughter once again, shaking his head with a wry grin. “Well played, little human,” he nodded. “Well played.”

She preened a little before she turned her attention back to the wound she had—quite efficiently, if Loki did say so himself—cleaned. “I’m gonna have to do stitches in this,” she sighed, poking at the edges of the deepest parts of the injury. Loki winced and frowned, unfamiliar with the term, cocking an eyebrow at her when she looked up at him with an entirely apologetic expression.

The term rapidly became clear when she scampered off to what Loki presumed was the kitchen and returned with an archaic suture kit. He looked up at her in horror, shaking his head decisively. Such methods had not been used in Asgard in centuries, and he would not be subjected to such uncivilized remedial practices.

“Oh, shut up, you big baby,” the mortal grumbled when he told her so, settling down beside him again and unpacking the kit with practised precision. “I’m not gonna do it without anaesthetic. It’s not gonna be fun, but…” she shrugged and raised a questioning eyebrow at him, and Loki had to admire her grit.

Not many would have the gumption to tell a god to shut his mouth.

“Such hoary practice,” Loki huffed, though he allowed her to numb the area where she would be sewing his skin back together without much protest.

“Maybe,” the girl groused, glaring up at him. “But this is the best I’ve got, so it’ll have to do.”

While he was not a queasy man, he did look away when she slipped the needle through his skin. It did not hurt, as she had sworn, but he had no desire to see his skin being sewn together as though it were mere fabric in the hands of Asgard’s worst seamstress.

He turned his attention inward instead, dipping into the pool of farsight that lay tempting and dangerous in the back of his mind for the second time that day. Many who possessed the gift had gone mad in the aftermath of the glimpses it provided, had lost their minds attempting to decipher whatever images farsight had shown them.

Loki was, as such, wary to use the gift his mother had passed to him too often, but in this situation, it was the only gift he could control at all.

It was also a decent distraction from the Midgardian’s crude version of modern medicine.

The world felt muted when he dipped into the farsight, the edges blurred out like an oil canvas that had been smudged when its paint was still wet. When manipulated properly, farsight could show him many things. Things that were, things that are, and some things that had not yet come to pass.

The farsight he had been given by his mother was not unlike the tremendous gifts the great Heimdall himself had been born with, though much less potent. It was a little like a particularly tempting stimulant, and it aided in silencing the cacophony of noise in Loki’s head like nothing else. The sights he saw while in the trance and the sounds he heard did not always leave a lasting impression – some were fleeting as leaves in the wind – but there were those that impacted him beyond any other event in his admittedly hectic life.

He did not expect to see such sights while he drifted in the Sight as his brother’s potential new favourite mortal stitched him back together, but he could feel a sense of urgency behind the vague impressions he was shown – a looming shadow, threatening and frightening but unmoving, a flash of golden eyes and heat, bright and blinding and so strong it split into different pieces and spread out, threatening to drag him along with them.

“Loki?”

His eyes snapped open and he choked, briefly disoriented by the rough withdrawal from his farsight.

He coughed, violently and shakily, and for a moment he thought he was in Asgard, in his own chambers, with Thor only a single wall away. It took him a moment to realise that the hands on his shoulders were too small and too delicate to be his oaf of a brother-betrothed’s, and another to remember how he had ended up in her apartment.

“Are you alright?” she asked concernedly, keeping her hands pressed to his shoulders until she seemed certain he would not keel over should she let go.

“Quite,” Loki rasped. He looked up at the woman who had essentially saved his life and found himself somewhat surprised to feel a tendril of regret. He had a clear plan now, and he could not afford to have Thor running amok trying to find him – he could not risk everything.

“I do apologise for this,” he said, taking advantage of her confusion to thrust his hand forward until he made contact with her forehead, coils of his magic already slipping into her mind, sifting through her memories to alter and erase, wiping every memory of their encounter from her mind. It did not take long, and when he withdrew, she dropped as though she were a puppet whose strings were cut, eyes rolling back in her head.

For reasons he could not name, he caught her and laid her on the sofa he had previously occupied. The time she had spent cleaning and mending his wound had clearly given his magical reserves enough time to minimally replenish themselves, and he relished in being able to erase every trace of his presence in the apartment with a mere flick of his fingers.

He mended his leathers in the same gesture, stroking his fingers across the surface of his chest, unmarred and smooth, as though he’d never been injured at all.  

He paused, briefly, before he left, eyes falling to the mortal he had left slumbering on the sofa.

“I owe you a debt,” he spoke quietly, knowing that her subconsciousness would hear, understand, and file away the words for later. “When you have need of me, call my name.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Start from the beginning:

In Hell We Stand By You: 

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8)

Never Feel Alone: 

(1) (2) 

Or read it HERE on AO3 :D 

Find the sequel HERE on Tumblr :) 

[moondeitys]

1, 2, 4, 5, and 23 :)

questions for multimuses / accepting.

1. Which muse(s) is/are your favourite(s)?

aaaaa im very very very fond of atsumu and sousuke honestly... atsumu bc i think he’s incredibly fun to write, nd i love exploring what his dynamics will look like with other muses (esp since hes a menace,,, just a teenage dirtbag baby,,,,, but hes also an incredibly kind nd selfless person at times nd the contrast between the ‘idc what other ppl think of me’ vs ‘i care what ppl who are close 2 me nd what they think abt’ is just very fun 2 explore :0) !! sousuke is my favorite to write bc i definitely connect with a lot of his mindset (like choosing 2 hide his injury for the longest time so he can swim w rin) nd also bc hes unexpectedly funny ??? hes this very straight-laced character nd whenever there’s a moment where i can write him 2 be funny i Will bc i think hes a secret comedian

2. Which muse(s) do you wish had more interactions?

any and all of my ocs JHGSDHJKGS as much as i love love lovee writing canon characters, i do wish i could have the chance to write my ocs as well nd rly explore what i can do with their development JHGSHJKGS

4. Name a muse you have written in the past. What was your favourite thing about this muse?

im trying not 2 fall into recency bias bc of goldstolen JHGSJKS so im thiNKING....... i dont write canons too often (most of my rping history is rooted in original characters bc i used 2 get like ... anxious over ppl who rp’d the same character as me) but i used to write steve rogers !!! my favorite thing abt him was definitely exploring how he healed and coped with being in a completely different era nd how he still was v kind nd stood up for his beliefs :) <3 to this day steve is still a huge comfort character 2 me but i do not see endgame LMAOOAOOA

5. Name a muse you wish to write in the future. What’s your favourite thing about this muse?

the way my mind jus blanKED LAMOAOAJKAJSHE a muse in the future,,,, i mean one day i’d like 2 write thanatos from hades ??? game-wise ive literally just met him once but my absolute favorite thing abt him is just like . the dialogue,,, he’s got quips yall . i would like 2 see it. than,,, if ur reading this,,, pls show up in my playthrough again .... elysium is a fuckin PAINNN

23. Tag a multimuse blog and write some positivity about them (their blog, their muses, etc.)

im gonna do a few bc <3

@isolov - hi layla ofc i was gonna do u first lOLOL anyways i love ur writing and ur characterization like every single time u just blow my mind away with how canon ur muses feel,,,, like u truly have a good grasp on all the characters u choose to write nd i can tell a lot of love nd care goes into them nd i absolutely adore u as a writing partner shipping partner nd enabler LOL

@lovenwar - we only recently became mutuals (but im pretty sure ive followed u on other blogs LMAOOO) but like,,,,,, the fact u can commit 2 so many muses,,,,, i want what u have JKEHHJES i think its v cool how u continuously are updating ur roster nd how ur always like,,,, in the mindset ?? i guess idk how 2 word this,,, of ur muses !!

@cherrywished - love u nd ur ocs nd ur canons i think u have such a good grasp on their characterization nd ur ocs are so rich w lore like u gotta teach me how 2 do it ...... also i think ur very nice nd fun <3

[quantum-shatter-a-blog]

Post 8 Facts About Your Muse !!

1) It's surprising to most, because of their careers, that Ekko inherited his intelligence from his parents, who are each geniuses in their own right. His mother was a great mathematician, but was unable to find work after falling into a depression invoked by the death of her sister. His father engraved and made signs, but eventually his business had to be shut down because it was inaccessible, contained in the slums of Zaun.

2) Ekko, whether due to social status or nationality, can't do many things that a normal child his age should be able to do. He can't swim, he can't ride a bike, etc. He surely makes up for it with all the stuff he does that other kids can't, but lol. Nobody throw him in a river, please.

3) The kid's allergic to a multitude of random things. Mostly flowers, and pollen. Which makes it fortunate that he lives in Zaun. But he's also mildly allergic to tomatoes. Will that stop him from eating pizza? No. His tongue swelling up is worth the taste.

4) He's got a pet rat. Named Gizmo. Vladimir found the buddy for him. He carries him around in his scarf. Fun fact. He loves his rat.

5) He doesn't mind Piltover as much as it seems at first glance. He holds a lot of bitterness towards Piltovens because of the fact that they continue to kill/injure his closest friends, but he doesn't hate the region wholly as someone like Jinx does. He holds a sense of pride for Zaun and will continue to battle with their neighbours over inventions, competitively, but he holds no hate or bloodlust. He would never hurt a Piltie unless provoked. He is more upset at the way history played out between the two areas, than anything. Along with the deaths of his friends, obviously.

6) The reason why Ekko had such a famous crush on Jinx was because they used to be in the same street gang. It makes sense if you look at their lore; they both have numbers, long with Vi. Drawings of Jinx and Vi are hung in the gang hideout. So in the verse I've personally created, Jinx and Vi were both in the group when Ekko was younger, about 15 or 16. They left eventually, due to personal vendettas, and Jinx became violent, which is why Ekko essentially was left as the leader of the group. Jinx wasn't always all bad and they weren't always rivals; they were previously friends.

7) Ekko has a multitude of interests that he is unable to take part in due to monetary constraints. For example, he's always wanted to learn guitar, he's a decent artist (spurred by his father), and he wishes he could have done more exploring of other regions in his youth. He knows Zaun like the back of his hand, but his wanderlust insists that it isn't quite enough, no matter what sense of home he has. He has accepted his lack of resources, however, and he makes content with what he can do.

8) Ekko's hair wasn't always white and straight. As a kid, it was wild, dark brown, nd a mess of corkscrew curls. His mother either cut it all off when she could, or braided it in rows so that he wouldn't smack other kids with it, probably. But after he began experimenting with hextech, the radiation harmlessly affected the colour and texture of his hair. It began to grow in white, straight; at this point he was old enough to do it himself, so he cut it into something cooler and told his mother that a kid at school was scooping him dye. She didn't have enough time or energy to not believe him, so that's the story his parents see.

Tagging ) uhhh well I think all my friends have done this but anyone who wants to can use me as their tagger !!!!

[galdrxr]

[slam dunks my own url in here]

SEND A URL AND I WILL ANSWER THE FOLLOWING; @kingkilvas

Do I Follow Them?: hell yeah i do.

Why Did I Follow Them?: vaguely recall seeing your promo post thing in the tag and i wasn’t sure if you’d follow me?? but lo and behold you did and i was hella excited. 

Do We Role Play?: yes! we do! a good collection of both angst and fluff (^: 

Do I Want To Role Play With Them: ofc i do, i always will wanna rp w your naesala.

An AU Idea For Our Muses: secret dating au for a modern verse, a siren esque au where leanne’s a siren and nae’s a sailor/some kind of traveler; a rapunzel esque au?? hoo boy i can go on and on t b h 

A Song For Our Muses: tadoritsuku uta / song of struggles - sound horizon. (former link has actual lyrics for the song, but it’s a cover; latter is by the performer w) 

Do I Ship Our Muses?: YES I DO!!!!! till the moon ‘nd back i love them so much.

What I Think About The Mun: v sweet and fun to talk with. thanks for also being understanding of my sporadic activity LOL but i hope we get to talk more haha. feel free to hmu on discord via pm too?? since you recently got that o/

Overall Opinion: i love??? love the immense thought you’ve put into naesala and into kilvas’s lore and situation. i love your naesala, he’s so fun for leanne to tease and angst with. 

Blog Rate: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10