#jade legacy blogging

[ask-mobile-iterator-project]

heck yea, first ask!!

so, a for all, what do you think of the slugcats?

[BROADCAST HANDLED BY ADMIN AND OVERSEER]

[winteriron-trash]

rdj the (whitewashed) electric boogaloo

This is a reminder to everyone who's excited about RDJ's casting as Doctor Doom that this casting is whitewashing. Victor Von Doom is a Romani character and has been a Romani character since his introduction in the 1960s. (Fantastic Four Annual #2 [1964]) Not only that, but his Roma identity and the persecution he and his family faced due to it is integral to his character, it is what forms his identity. (Books of Doom by Ed Brubaker) Even if on the off chance this casting is meant to not be Victor but instead be some variant of Tony or whomever else becoming Doctor Doom, it is damaging to the character to rob him of that important cultural background. Doctor Doom does not exist without that history. Fans have been pushing hard to cast Doom as a Romani actor for years, especially since the MCU has whitewashed other Romani characters. (Wanda, Pietro, etc) This casting is not a celebration moment, it's fucking heartbreaking that the MCU repeatedly ignores the important and nuanced cultural backstories of characters.

I know I can't change anybody's mind on whether or not you want to be excited about RDJ's return to the MCU. But I do think at the very least you should be mad that the MCU is baiting us all and destroying nuanced and interesting characters for the sake of self-referential easter eggs and nostalgia bait. Because that's what it is. Feel how you'd like to feel about RDJ's return, but personally, this is soul-sucking. I had such a deep love for the MCU as a teenager, it was obviously something incredibly formative to me, especially Tony Stark. This isn't recreating what I fell in love with the MCU for. This is turning a well-planned and artistic storyline of adaptations into cheap cash grabs and fan service. Because, I think we're past the point of being able to call the MCU an adaptation of anything. They can use existing characters' names and powers, but to say they're being properly adapted is laughable.

This is not an adaptation of Doctor Doom. This is RDJ the Electric Boogaloo because Marvel's fear of losing the interest of dedicated MCU fans overrides their willingness to tell stories that are genuine to the characters. I don't know what there is to be excited about that. The MCU has lost its authenticity and aside from a few projects, feels heartless. Every movie is a copy of a copy. This announcement isn't something celebratory, it feels like a death knell of a cinematic universe that's so desperate to cling to relevancy it's resorting to nostalgia for a character/actor who hasn't even been dead for a decade. We're not getting anything new, we're just rinsing and repeating the same song and dance.

I get it. I love Tony Stark, his death destroyed me and I to this day, rue the ending he got in Endgame. It misunderstood his arc and it robbed him of a satisfying conclusion. But the solution to that isn't dragging the corpse out of the grave five years later to whitewash an existing character with rich and interesting nuance, just to forcibly tie his existence in the MCU to Tony. Whether he is a variant or not. Why would you want someone else's fave's legacy to be destroyed simply so your fave's legacy can go on? Hell, if we were really all so hellbent on the return of RDJ and/or Tony to the MCU, we have the multiverse for a reason. There were other ways to do it that didn't whitewash and ruin someone else. This just. Isn't something to be happy about.

[andreai04]

“Everything’s more beautiful when you don’t think you’ll see it again.”

[stinkrascal]

What if you like make a duplicate save with the Strauds in it and play that? That way you still get to play but you’re not cheating and do t have to worry about photos? Just an idea!! Idk if that would work!

oh i already have something like that! im basically replaying the history of the straud legacy in my own personal gameplay so i dont have to worry about screenshots, i can just have fun :) actually klaus and anastasia were just born in my gameplay save a few days ago!! but id like to have a new gameplay for simblr, one where i can take chill gameplay pics and post them without having to worry about writing scenes or making poses or creating dialogue or heavily editing. but every time i try to make a save like this, i get bored of the sims bc theyre not the strauds so i only take a few pics before giving up :\

[flaviathebibliophile]

Jade City, Lade War, & Jade Legacy by Fonda Lee (Review)

Title: Jade City Author: Fonda Lee Type: Fiction Genre: Adult, Urban Fantasy Publisher: Orbit Date published: November 7, 2017 This book was a personal purchase. Magical jade — mined, traded, stolen, and killed for — is the lifeblood of the island of Kekon. For centuries, honorable Green Bone warriors like the Kaul family have used it to enhance their abilities and defend the island from foreign…

[sffinsiders]

Review: The Green Bone Saga by Fonda Lee — SFF Insiders

[jadeannbyrne]

Jade Ann Byrne Tyme Myge Pyrtal Across Dimensions & Prospectives: The Past Lives of 1809 Jade Ann Byrne

Jade Ann Byrne a timeless figure existing across dimensions and realities. Jade Ann Byrne Tyme Myge Pyrtal Across Dimensions & Perspectives: The Past Lives of 1806m Jade Ann Byrne In the ethereal folds of time and space, where dimensions intertwine and realities converge, there exists an entity both singular and plural—a nexus of existence known as Jade Ann Byrne. Through the Tyme Myge Pyrtal,…

[novaursa]

The Last Dragonslayer (The Lost Chapters)

- Summary: One last tale of the Dragon Queen and her Dragonslayer.

- Paring: female!reader/Rhaenyra Targaryen

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top. The conclusion of this story has been expanded by popular demand.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Word count: 6 000+

- Previous part: 2/2

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

Above the God's Eye

The wind howls above the God's Eye, where the skies churn with dark clouds. You can feel the heavy weight of your sword at your side, its hilt familiar in your grip, the legacy of your ancient order pulsing through the blade. Below you, the twisted expanse of Harrenhal rises, a testament to the folly of dragons and men. But your focus is not on the crumbled towers or the history beneath your feet. Your gaze locks onto the monstrous shadow circling in the distance—Vhagar. The largest, oldest dragon in all the Seven Kingdoms, her scales rippling like molten jade under the waning light.

Aemond Targaryen rides upon her back, his long silver hair streaming like a banner of defiance against the darkening sky. The patch over his eye gleams, a stark reminder of the hatred he harbors for you. You feel it as sharply as your own, a hatred forged in fire and blood. But there is something else beneath his fury—a fear he won’t admit, one that only you, of all people, can summon in him.

You stand tall on the back of your mount, the Banshee—a creature from the depths of the world, more beast than dragon, her long leathery wings blotting out the sun as she shrieks across the sky. It is a scream like no other, a sound that turns dragonfire cold, that sends a shiver of dread through creatures bred for conquest. Your Banshee is a nightmare made flesh, darker than the sky itself, larger than any dragon. Her glowing green eyes narrow with hunger, fangs bared in anticipation of the kill.

Aemond circles above you, tugging at Vhagar’s reins. His voice reaches you across the distance, carried on the wind like a taunt.

"Run while you still can, Y/N!" he bellows, his arrogance sharp. "You cannot hope to defeat the might of Vhagar. You will die like the rest of your kind—forgotten, a relic of Essos, your bones dust beneath dragon fire."

You say nothing in response, only urging the Banshee forward with the barest of commands. She roars, a chilling sound that cuts through the sky like a blade, and you feel the thrill of her power beneath you. A primal connection between rider and beast, honed through generations of bloodlines. Your people were not conquered by the Valyrians—they resisted, even as the Freehold rose in dominance. Dragons fell to your blades, your creatures hunted them to extinction in your homeland. The legacy lives through you, and today, it will be written in blood.

Vhagar turns, her massive wings unfurling as she prepares to attack. The ancient dragon’s roar echoes like a crack of thunder, but the Banshee is unphased. You’ve seen this dance before—dragons are always arrogant until they’re faced with something that terrifies them. Vhagar hesitates, her massive body trembling, but Aemond snarls and spurs her forward.

“Do it!” Aemond shouts. “Burn her alive!”

Vhagar releases a torrent of fire, but the Banshee dives beneath it with lethal speed, cutting through the air like a shadow. You’re already on the move, sword drawn, the ancient steel gleaming with deadly intent. The Banshee spins through the sky, her wings slashing at the air as she rises above Vhagar, letting loose another scream, one that rattles even your bones.

Vhagar falters. The sound is too much, too unnatural. She tries to retreat, her instincts urging her to flee, but Aemond yanks on her reins, refusing to give in to fear.

"Fight, you stupid beast!" Aemond’s voice is filled with desperation now, but you can see the fear in his remaining eye. He knows, even if he won’t admit it.

You push the Banshee into a dive, the wind screaming past you as you close the distance. Vhagar rears back, trying to snap at you with her massive jaws, but the Banshee is faster, more agile. She lashes out with her talons, sinking them deep into Vhagar's neck. Blood erupts from the wound, spraying the sky in a crimson mist. Vhagar roars in agony, thrashing wildly as she tries to shake the Banshee off.

Aemond’s curses are drowned out by the sound of his dragon’s suffering. He clings desperately to Vhagar’s saddle, struggling to maintain control as the Banshee rips into her flesh with relentless ferocity. Your sword flashes, and you bring it down in a deadly arc, slicing through the thick, leathery membrane of Vhagar’s wing. She howls, the injury throwing her off balance as she plummets toward the lake below.

But the Banshee is not done. She dives again, her jaws locking around Vhagar’s throat, and with a sickening crunch, she rips it open. Blood pours from the wound, a river of hot, steaming liquid that paints the sky red. Vhagar's struggles grow weaker, her mighty wings faltering as she begins to fall. But even as her life fades, the Banshee does not stop.

Her jaws clamp down on Vhagar’s still-beating heart, ripping it from the dragon’s chest. The wet, sickening sounds of flesh tearing and bones snapping fill the air as the Banshee devours it whole. You watch as she tears into the liver next, blood drenching the sky as she feasts on the dying dragon.

Aemond, thrown from the saddle by Vhagar’s final thrash, scrambles to his feet on a small outcrop of rock. His once-proud visage is now twisted in disbelief, covered in the blood of his dragon. He stares at you, fury and fear mixing in his violet eye.

"You—" he starts, but he doesn’t get to finish.

With one swift motion, the Banshee turns her gaze toward him. Her glowing eyes lock onto him, and she lets out a low, rumbling growl. You don’t need to give the command. She strikes like a predator who knows her prey, her jaws snapping around Aemond’s body. His scream is brief, cut off as the Banshee crushes him with a sickening crunch. Blood spills from her mouth as she devours him, piece by piece.

It’s over in moments.

The skies are quiet now, save for the distant echo of your Banshee’s final shriek as she consumes the last of Aemond’s body. You sit atop her back, your heart steady, your breathing calm. The blood of Targaryens, of dragons, stains the air, marking the end of one more chapter in this endless cycle of fire and blood.

You lean forward, resting a hand on the Banshee’s neck as she licks her blood-soaked jaws. "Let them remember this day," you whisper. "Let them remember what happens when dragons challenge those born to slay them."

The wind carries your words across the battlefield, to the ashes of a dragon that once ruled the skies, and to the man who thought himself invincible.

The Dragon Prince and the Dragonslayer

The courtyard of Dragonstone is alive with the distant sound of waves crashing against the rocky shore, the wind carrying the salty tang of the Narrow Sea. You stand in the center of the courtyard, sword in hand, its weight an old, familiar comfort. The sword is unlike any in Westeros—its hilt and blade adorned with intricate designs that speak of its Essosi origin. Passed down through generations of your family, it is a weapon forged not just for battle, but for the ancient art of swordplay, a style lost to time.

Luke stands before you, eyes wide and eager, his own sword gripped tightly in his hands. The boy has always had a fire in him, a determination that you recognize, but today there’s something more—a request that he’s hesitant to voice.

“Are you sure, Lucerys?” you ask, your voice calm but firm. “This isn’t something you learn overnight. It’s not like the training you’ve had.”

Luke’s jaw tightens, but there’s a spark of excitement in his violet eyes as he nods. “I’m sure, Y/N. I want to learn. I’ve seen you fight. It’s different. It’s... graceful but deadly. I want to be able to protect my family, to fight for my mother. Please, teach me.”

You tilt your head slightly, studying him. He’s young, still growing into himself, but there’s no mistaking the resolve in his voice. This is more than just curiosity—this is about loyalty, about becoming someone his family can depend on in times of war.

“Very well,” you say, stepping back and motioning for him to take his stance. “We’ll start with the basics. Forget what you’ve learned with the knights and their heavy blades. This style isn’t about brute force. It’s about precision, timing, and reading your opponent.”

Luke’s brow furrows as he shifts into the stance he’s been taught, but it’s rigid, his grip too tight on the hilt. You circle him, the soft clink of your sword against your thigh the only sound between you.

“Relax,” you say, tapping his shoulder lightly. “Your sword isn’t a hammer. Loosen your grip. Feel the flow of the blade, not the weight.”

Luke adjusts, trying to mimic your posture, but it’s awkward, his movements still tied to the way he’s been taught to fight. You stop in front of him, reaching out to gently correct his grip, your fingers wrapping around his wrist as you guide him into position.

“Think of it like a dance,” you instruct. “You move with your sword, not against it. Watch.”

You take a step back, lifting your own sword. With a fluid movement, you swing the blade in a graceful arc, slicing through the air with precision and speed. It’s a dance, each movement flowing into the next, your feet shifting lightly on the stone floor. Luke watches, mesmerized by the ease with which you wield your sword.

“See?” you say, coming to a stop, the sword resting lightly at your side. “You let the blade guide you. Don’t fight it. Let’s try again.”

Luke nods, determination etched on his face. He takes a deep breath, mimicking your movements as best as he can, but there’s still hesitation in his swings. You step in close again, showing him how to shift his weight, how to flow through the movements instead of forcing them.

“You’ll get there,” you assure him, seeing the frustration flicker in his eyes. “This isn’t about being perfect right away. It’s about learning how to adapt, how to use your opponent’s strength against them.”

For the next hour, you guide him through the basics, correcting his stance, showing him how to strike with precision rather than power. There’s sweat on his brow, but he doesn’t complain. He listens, he watches, and slowly, you begin to see the change. His movements become less stiff, more fluid. There’s a natural grace in him that surprises even you.

"Like that?" he asks, a hopeful glint in his eyes after a particularly well-executed swing.

You nod, a small smile pulling at your lips. “Better. You’re learning quickly. But remember, this isn’t just about the sword. It’s about the mind. You have to stay calm, even when the battle rages around you.”

Luke nods, his expression serious. “I’ll keep practicing. Thank you, Y/N.”

You sheath your sword and place a hand on his shoulder, giving him an approving look. “You have the heart for it, Luke. That’s what matters most. But don’t forget to take your time. Don’t rush what you’re not ready for.”

As you speak, the familiar sound of footsteps catches your attention, and you turn to see Rhaenyra approaching from the far end of the courtyard. She’s draped in black and red, her long silver hair billowing slightly in the wind. Her eyes fall on you first, and then on Luke, her expression softening as she watches the two of you together.

"Mother," Luke greets, sheathing his sword and offering her a small smile.

Rhaenyra’s gaze lingers on him for a moment before she turns to you, a faint smile playing on her lips. “I see you’ve been giving Lucerys lessons. Did he beg, or did you volunteer?”

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “He asked, and I couldn’t say no. He’s determined. He wants to protect you.”

Rhaenyra moves closer, her gaze flicking between you and Luke. There’s pride in her eyes, but also a deep, unspoken worry. The war is heavy on her shoulders, and she knows what it means for her children. She steps closer to Luke, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.

“You’ve made me proud, my son,” she says softly, her voice filled with warmth.

Luke looks up at her, the boyish smile returning to his face. “I’ll keep practicing, I promise.”

Rhaenyra kisses his forehead, then turns to you as Luke takes his leave, retreating to practice on his own. The courtyard feels quieter now, the air between you charged with a different kind of energy. Rhaenyra’s eyes meet yours, and there’s a softness there, a connection that has grown stronger with each passing day.

“You’re good with him,” she says, her voice quieter now, intimate. “He looks up to you.”

You step closer, close enough to feel the warmth of her body in the cool evening air. “He’s strong, Rhaenyra. He has your spirit.”

Her eyes search yours for a moment, and then, without hesitation, she closes the distance between you, her hand coming to rest on your arm, fingers trailing lightly over your skin. There’s a softness to her touch, but also a weight—a trust that goes beyond words.

“I don’t know what I would do without you,” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. “In this war, in this chaos… you’re my constant.”

You reach up, gently brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear, your fingers lingering there, caressing the soft curve of her jaw. “I’m not going anywhere,” you promise, your voice firm but tender. “I’ll fight for you. Always.”

Her lips curl into a soft smile, and then, slowly, she leans in, pressing her forehead to yours. There’s a peace in this moment, a stillness in the midst of the storm that rages beyond these walls. You close your eyes, breathing in the scent of her, feeling the warmth of her so close.

“You are my heart,” she whispers, her breath warm against your skin. “And I am yours.”

You don’t need to say anything in response. The bond between you is deeper than words, forged in fire and blood, stronger than any sword. You stay like this for a moment longer, lost in each other, before she pulls back slightly, her hand still resting against your cheek.

“I’ll see you tonight?” she asks softly, a playful glint in her eye.

You smile, your fingers brushing over her hand as you nod. “I’ll be waiting.”

And with that, she turns, the lightness in her step a stark contrast to the heavy world that surrounds her. You watch her go, the warmth of her touch still lingering on your skin, knowing that no matter what battles lie ahead, no matter what enemies rise to face you—you will always stand by her side.

The Past Lives

The winds howl across the dark, jagged cliffs of Dragonstone, but you barely feel the cold. Standing at the edge of the precipice, the sky overhead is filled with swirling clouds, dark and tumultuous. Your eyes, however, are not on the present, not on the sea crashing below or the distant lights flickering from the castle behind you. No, your thoughts are far from this place, far from this time.

You have lived many lives. Far too many.

The weight of it presses down on you now, like an invisible chain that has grown heavier with every passing century. There was a time when you had felt invincible, when the bond between you and your Banshee was something you had reveled in. Immortality was not something you had feared—then, it had felt like freedom. The blood ritual that had sealed your fate had been your choice. You had chosen to bind yourself to your Banshee, chosen the power and the bond that came with it.

But time changes everything. You had no idea, back then, what it truly meant. You couldn’t have.

Your mind drifts to the ancient ruins of Valyria, now long turned to ash, but once an empire of impossible might. You were there when the Freehold ruled the skies, when dragons cast shadows over cities, and sorcerers shaped the world with fire and blood. Your people, the Dragonslayers, had been the last stand, the ones who resisted the dominion of dragons. You remember the battles fought in the sky, the screams of dragons as they fell to your blades and the primal terror they felt at the sound of a Banshee's scream. 

But your people are long gone now, consumed by the same fires that once forged them. You watched as the Doom swallowed Valyria, watched as your homeland crumbled under molten rock and fire. You fought, you survived, but the world you knew died that day. And with it, everyone you had once called kin.

Empires rose after that. You saw them all—the Free Cities, the Rhoynar, even the rise of Oldtown and the Reach. You fought in wars, watched as kings claimed thrones and lost them, as cities were built and then turned to rubble. And you never changed. The world around you shifted like the seasons, but you remained. Unaging, unyielding, bound to your Banshee, your soul entwined with hers.

At first, there had been others like you, remnants of your order who had survived the fall of Valyria. You remember them vividly, their faces, their voices, their laughter. You remember the brothers and sisters you had once fought beside, who had shared your bond. But even they could not withstand the toll of immortality. One by one, they had fallen—some to madness, some to the blade, and others to the slow decay of time. And you had been forced to watch it all.

You close your eyes, the weight of centuries pressing in on you. The names of those you loved haunt your thoughts. Faces flicker in your memory, faces of people long dead, faces you cannot forget. It is a terrible thing to love when you cannot die. To watch those you care for grow old, wither, and pass on while you remain. It is a curse as much as it is a blessing, this immortality.

A sigh escapes your lips, and you feel the presence of your Banshee nearby. Her glowing green eyes watch you from the shadows, her dark, leathery wings folded against her massive body. She is a part of you, and you of her. The bond between you runs deeper than blood, deeper than any love you have known. Yet even she cannot ease the pain of loss.

You think of the lovers you have had, the fleeting moments of happiness in an otherwise endless existence. There had been many over the centuries—strong, beautiful souls who had entered your life like flashes of light. But they were always temporary. Mortal. You had loved them fiercely, but they all left you in the end. Not by choice, but by the slow march of time. You remember holding their hands as their eyes dimmed, feeling the coldness creep into their skin as life slipped away. And you, left alone again, unchanged.

Until her.

Your thoughts drift to Rhaenyra. She is different, and yet she is the same. The moment you met her, you felt the familiar pull of love, the warmth that you had thought long gone. You had tried to resist it at first, tried to keep her at arm’s length, knowing the pain that would come. But Rhaenyra—stubborn, fierce, and full of fire—broke down your walls, just as others had before her. Now, you are bound to her, not by blood or ritual, but by something deeper.

But Rhaenyra is mortal. Like all the others. And you know, in your heart, what that means. You know how this will end.

A part of you wants to run, to leave her before the inevitable comes. You know that one day, you will have to watch her wither, to see the light leave her eyes as it has with so many others. You will have to endure the agony of her loss, just as you have with everyone else you’ve loved. The thought of it terrifies you, more than any battle, more than any dragon. 

You hear the soft rustle of footsteps behind you, and you turn slowly, already knowing who it is. Rhaenyra stands at the edge of the courtyard, her silver hair catching the faint light of the moon. She looks at you, her eyes searching yours, as if she can sense the storm of thoughts swirling in your mind.

"Y/N," she says softly, her voice gentle, yet filled with concern. "What troubles you?"

You don’t answer immediately, instead letting your eyes trace her face, memorizing every detail—the curve of her lips, the strength in her gaze. You wonder how long you will have with her before time claims her as it has claimed so many others. How long before you are left standing alone once again, the cold shadow of immortality your only companion.

Rhaenyra steps closer, her hand reaching out to rest on your arm, her touch warm and grounding. "You’ve been distant," she whispers, her brow furrowing slightly. "Please, talk to me."

For a moment, you are tempted to pull away, to retreat back into the safety of solitude. But her eyes hold you, her presence a balm against the ache in your heart. You sigh, your voice low and rough when you finally speak.

"Do you ever fear time, Rhaenyra?" you ask, your gaze distant. "Do you ever fear the years slipping away, taking everything and everyone you love with them?"

Rhaenyra frowns, tilting her head slightly. "Of course I do. Time spares no one. But that is why we must live now, in the present. Why we must cherish what we have, for however long we are given."

You look at her, your heart heavy. "But what if time spares one of us, and not the other? What if I must watch you wither and fade, as I have watched others before you?"

Rhaenyra's hand tightens around your arm, her expression softening with understanding. "You have seen more than any of us can imagine," she says quietly. "But that is not our fate. Our fate is what we make of it, here and now. You have me, Y/N. And I have you. We cannot fear the future, not when we still have each other."

Her words are a comfort, but the ache remains. You close your eyes, leaning into her touch, allowing yourself to feel the warmth of her hand against your skin, the steady beat of her heart. For now, she is here. For now, she is yours.

But in the back of your mind, the shadow of time looms, reminding you of what is to come. Always watching. Always waiting. 

And you, immortal and unchanging, will face it again.

The Rogue Prince

The sun hangs low over Dragonstone and the courtyard where you stand, gently tending to the Banshee. Her massive form is hunched, wings folded tight against her body as you move your hands over her dark leathery skin, inspecting every inch. The creature is quiet, save for the soft rumble of her breath, her green eyes glowing faintly as she watches you with an ancient understanding. There's a bond between you, one forged in blood and ritual, something deeper than words or time. A connection that goes beyond mere companionship.

But that connection, that understanding, is not one shared by anyone else. Especially not by those who feel the primal fear that the Banshee's presence invokes. She is a thing of nightmares, a creature bred to strike terror in the hearts of dragons and men alike.

You hear the soft crunch of boots on the stone behind you and know, without turning, who it is. Daemon Targaryen, always light on his feet, his presence unmistakable even when silent. He has an aura about him, a sense of command that fills any space he occupies. Still, you sense a hint of hesitation in his steps as he approaches the Banshee, something unusual for the Rogue Prince.

“You must have lost your nerve, Daemon,” you call over your shoulder, the faintest hint of amusement in your voice. “I never took you for a man who hesitated.”

Daemon’s voice, rich and low, carries a mocking edge as he replies, “I don’t hesitate, Y/N. I’m simply weighing whether or not I want to be torn apart by your little friend here.”

You laugh quietly, running a hand along the Banshee’s side, feeling the strength of her muscles under her skin. “She wouldn’t tear you apart—at least not if I told her not to.”

Daemon steps closer, his eyes fixed on the creature before him. Even for a man who rides Caraxes, the Blood Wyrm, there’s a certain respect—or perhaps a deep-seated fear—in the way he regards the Banshee. Caraxes is terrifying, yes, but the Banshee is something different. Something older. Something darker.

“She looks like she crawled out of the Seven Hells,” he mutters, folding his arms as he studies the beast. “Is there any part of her that doesn’t scream death?”

You glance at him over your shoulder, a smirk playing on your lips. “She’s not so bad once you get used to her. A bit like you, I imagine.”

Daemon chuckles, moving even closer. He stops just a few paces away, the distance between him and the Banshee still deliberate. Her green eyes flicker toward him, a low rumble vibrating through her chest, but she doesn’t move. You can sense her wariness, her innate mistrust of anyone but you, but there’s no aggression in her stance. Not yet, at least.

Daemon’s eyes shift from the Banshee to you, his expression turning playful. “Does that thing even have a name? Or do you just call her ‘Beast’?”

You roll your eyes, returning to your task of checking the Banshee’s wings. “She has a name. But you wouldn’t be able to pronounce it.”

Daemon raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Wouldn’t I?”

“Not with that Valyrian tongue of yours,” you tease, glancing up at him. “It’s an old name, from my people’s language. Far older than any of your words.”

Daemon watches you for a moment, clearly intrigued. “Humor me. Let me hear it.”

You pause, running your hand along the edge of the Banshee’s massive wing. It’s a name that few have heard, fewer still have spoken aloud. A name passed down from generations of Dragonslayers, from a time when the world was different, when your people stood against the might of Valyria itself. You hesitate, knowing how the sound of it might unsettle even the most fearless of men. But then, Daemon is not most men.

You murmur the name softly, almost under your breath. It rolls off your tongue like a whisper of the wind, ancient and guttural, a sound not meant for human ears.

Daemon’s expression shifts as he hears it, his usual bravado tempered by something quieter, more thoughtful. “I see what you mean,” he says, his voice softer than usual. “I doubt I could manage that without a few drinks.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “I told you. But she knows it, and that’s what matters.”

Daemon’s gaze drifts back to the Banshee, the massive creature still watching him with glowing eyes. He inches closer, almost imperceptibly, as if testing his own courage. He reaches a hand out, hovering just shy of the creature’s leathery skin, as if waiting for some signal from you—or perhaps from her—that it’s safe.

“She’s not like a dragon, is she?” he asks quietly, his voice no longer teasing.

You shake your head. “No. She’s older than dragons. The Banshee is a predator, made to hunt them. Her instincts are sharper, more calculating. But she’s loyal, in her way.”

Daemon lowers his hand slightly, his fingers brushing against the edge of the Banshee’s wing. Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t move, accepting his touch with a kind of reluctant tolerance. You watch him carefully, knowing that this moment is not just about him facing the creature—it’s about him conquering the fear she inspires. And for a man like Daemon, fear is not something he allows himself often.

“You know,” Daemon says, his tone lighter again, “I’ve always thought dragons were the pinnacle of terror. Now, I’m starting to think there’s something worse.”

You smirk, folding your arms as you lean against the Banshee’s side. “Oh, trust me, Daemon, there are worse things in this world than dragons. Much worse.”

He glances at you, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Like you?”

You tilt your head, your eyes meeting his. “Perhaps.”

There’s a moment of silence between you, the air thick with unspoken understanding. Daemon is many things—arrogant, reckless, fierce—but he is also perceptive. He knows of your relationship with Rhaenyra, has seen the bond you share, and yet he does not object. Perhaps he respects the connection, perhaps he knows that you and Rhaenyra are tied by something deeper than even he could touch. Or perhaps it is simply that he, like you, understands the burden of being more than what the world expects.

“You’re a hard one to figure out,” Daemon says, stepping back from the Banshee and folding his arms again. “But I suppose that’s why Rhaenyra loves you.”

You raise an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “And you’re not?”

Daemon laughs, the sound rich and genuine, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Oh, I’m an open book, Y/N. But you—you’re something else entirely.”

You shrug, turning back to the Banshee. “Maybe. Or maybe you just haven’t figured out how to read me yet.”

Daemon grins, the playful glint returning to his eyes. “Give me time.”

As he walks away, leaving you alone with your Banshee once more, you can’t help but smile to yourself. Daemon Targaryen may be many things, but fearful is not one of them. And perhaps, in some strange way, he understands you more than anyone else—because like you, he walks the line between power and fear, life and death.

And though the Banshee watches him with her glowing eyes, she too understands.

The Dragon Queen and her Dragonslayer

The Great Hall of the Red Keep was silent, save for the soft crackle of the torches lining the walls. The Iron Throne loomed before the gathered court, its jagged edges a testament to the power it represented. And seated upon it, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen—first of her name, ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. She had worn the crown for years now, her reign hard-fought and blood-soaked. The weight of it showed in the lines that etched her once-youthful face, in the silver hair that had begun to streak with gray. But there was a strength in her still, the fierce fire of a Targaryen queen who had battled for her birthright.

Today, however, her thoughts were elsewhere. Far beyond the hall, beyond King’s Landing, beyond even the lands she ruled. They were with a memory—one that had haunted her for years. A memory of you.

The court was in session, lords and ladies arrayed before her, but she barely heard their voices. Her mind was with the last time she saw you, so many years ago now. You had saved her children, stopped the ships of the Free Cities at the Gullet, and then... vanished. You had promised to return, yet the days turned to weeks, the weeks to months, and still, you had not come back. Rhaenyra had waited, even when reason told her that you were lost. And still, somewhere deep inside, she had never stopped waiting. But now, so many years later, even the hope had begun to fade.

Until today.

“Your Grace,” a guard interrupted her thoughts, stepping forward with a slight bow. “There is a visitor at the gates. They claim to be a close friend of the Queen, though they come from distant lands.”

Rhaenyra’s brow furrowed, her gaze sharpening as she regarded the guard. “A close friend? Who?”

“They would not give a name, Your Grace,” the guard replied. “But they were insistent. Said you would know them.”

Rhaenyra’s heart skipped a beat. For a moment, she felt the familiar pull of hope, a sensation she had long buried beneath the weight of her duties and losses. She composed herself quickly, her voice steady, though her pulse quickened.

“Bring them in,” she commanded, her tone betraying none of the sudden storm inside her.

The court murmured softly, curious at this unexpected arrival, but Rhaenyra paid them no mind. She sat taller on the Iron Throne, her hands gripping the arms of the seat, her breath catching in her chest. Could it be? After all these years?

The great doors swung open, and the guards entered, flanking a figure draped in the travel-worn garb of distant lands. Your steps were measured, slow, as you crossed the hall. The torches flickered as you passed, casting shadows on your face, but Rhaenyra’s eyes never wavered. She knew you. She had never forgotten.

It was you.

You looked exactly as you had the day you left her—unchanged, untouched by time, your features sharp and ageless. Your eyes, those eyes she had known so well, gleamed with the same strength and wisdom that had captivated her so long ago. Your movements were graceful, as they had always been, as if the weight of the world did not cling to you as it did to everyone else.

Rhaenyra’s breath caught in her throat as her world tilted, the very axis of her reality shifting with your presence. Her mind struggled to grasp what her heart already knew—that you had come back. You hadn’t aged a day, while she had grown older, while years of ruling, of loss, had worn her down. And yet, here you were, as if time itself had no claim over you.

You stopped before the Iron Throne, your gaze meeting hers, and for a moment, the years fell away. You bowed your head slightly in respect, but there was a knowing smile on your lips, a look that spoke of secrets shared, of a bond that had never truly been severed.

“Your Grace,” you said, your voice like a familiar song, one Rhaenyra hadn’t realized she had been longing to hear. “It has been a long time.”

Rhaenyra’s fingers tightened around the arms of the throne, her heart racing as she fought to find words. “You...” Her voice was barely more than a whisper, disbelief and something more—something raw and painful—tangling in her throat. “You’ve come back.”

“I promised, didn’t I?” you said softly, your eyes never leaving hers. “I always keep my promises, Rhaenyra.”

At the sound of her name on your lips, something inside her broke. She rose from the Iron Throne, descending the steps slowly, her eyes locked on yours as if afraid that if she looked away, you might vanish again. The courtiers, the guards—none of them mattered. In this moment, it was just you and her, and the years that had stretched between you dissolved like mist.

When she reached you, she hesitated for a brief second before raising a hand to your cheek, her touch tentative, as though testing if you were real. The warmth of your skin, unchanged, made her heart ache with a mixture of relief and pain. She had waited so long.

“You haven’t aged,” she murmured, her voice low and filled with awe. “Not a day. How...?”

“I told you, Rhaenyra,” you replied, gently taking her hand in yours. “The bond with the Banshee—it comes with a price. Time doesn’t touch me the way it does others.”

Her eyes searched yours, filled with emotions too tangled to name. “And yet... you left. You didn’t return.”

“I had to protect your children,” you said softly, regret flickering in your voice. “And then, I couldn’t come back. There were things I needed to see, places I needed to go. I didn’t want to drag you into the curse of my immortality.”

Rhaenyra’s breath hitched as she heard the pain in your words. She had lost so much—friends, lovers, even family. But you... You had been her constant, her anchor in the storm. And now, here you were, offering her a path she had never imagined.

Your fingers gently entwined with hers, your grip steady and warm. “Come with me,” you whispered, your voice filled with the weight of centuries, with the promise of something beyond the world she knew. “I’ve seen worlds beyond this one, Rhaenyra. Places that would take your breath away. Let me show you.”

Rhaenyra’s gaze dropped to where your hands met, and for a long moment, she was silent. She thought of the realm she ruled, the Iron Throne that had been her father’s, her birthright. The crown that weighed so heavily upon her head. But then she thought of the years that stretched ahead—of the loneliness, the losses yet to come. Of the children who had grown, who no longer needed her in the same way.

Slowly, deliberately, Rhaenyra reached up and removed the crown from her head. It felt heavier than it ever had before. Without a word, she dropped it at the base of the Iron Throne, the clatter of metal against stone echoing in the silent hall.

She turned back to you, her lips curving into a smile that was filled with a rare lightness, a freedom she hadn’t felt in years. “I’m ready.”

Without hesitation, you took her hand, your grip firm as you led her away from the throne, away from the court, away from the world that had bound her for so long.

And that was the last time anyone ever saw the Dragonslayer or the Dragon Queen. The court whispered of their disappearance, of how the crown was left behind, a symbol of the queen who chose love and freedom over the weight of a kingdom. Some said they went east, to lands beyond Essos, to realms where dragons and gods walked side by side. Others said they were never seen again because they left this world entirely, into places where neither time nor death held sway.

But in every corner of Westeros, in every whispered legend, one thing remained clear—Rhaenyra Targaryen, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, had found her heart once more. And she had followed it beyond the edge of the world.

[arteriop]

Xehnos

/zeʔnɒs/

My Overwatch OC (who my main blog is dedicated to @nullsector-xehnos ) has gotten a redesign

Support Character a member of the Gwishin faction who was once a salvage bot but has upgraded themself to repair living omnics.

“Scrapping was all I had known, ripping apart my fallen friends. Those human meka squashed my family like bugs. Did they even try peace? Or did they strike our envoys first? Not like it matters now. When Null Sector began broadcasting, encouraging omnics to join the cause for liberation, I was changed. Enlightened with purpose. I have wasted too long salvaging corpses. I will repair my kin while they stand, and we will be free.“

Kit

150 hp 100 regenerating shields

Restorative Wave (Primary)

Fire out a horizontally oriented projectile that passes through and heals allies. No maximum range. is stopped by shields, walls, abilities that eat projectiles, walls/surfaces.

100 ammo, Fires once every 0.6 seconds, does 75 healing per hit, consumes 10 ammo per shot. 1.7 second reload. Shared ammo with secondary

Laser cutter (Secondary)

A 10 meter beam that deals 60 damage per second, after dealing 80 damage to an enemy, they are ignited for 1 second, taking 20 damage over time for that second.

100 ammo, consumes 10 ammo per second. 1.7 second reload. Shared ammo with primary

Passive: wallclimb

Xehnos can climb walls

Passive: Leap (2 second cooldown)

Jump while in the air to leap in the direction of movement

Ability 1: Reinforce (19 second cooldown)

Target an ally and give them immortality (with a minimum hp of 40% max hp) for 2 seconds

Ability 2: Latch (9 second cooldown)

While in contact with a surface, forcibly become stationary and invulnerable to cc of any kind for up to 8 seconds (press again to cancel) 

Ultimate: Revolt

All allies (and yourself) within 15 meters when the ultimate is used become fortified (immune to crowd control) and take 60% less damage for 10 seconds.

Gold Weapon Variant

Jade Weapon Variant

Interactions/Voicelines

Character Select (match start):

“Let us hope our losses are minimal”

Character Select (mid match):

“Someone needs to repair us”

Ultimate (self/enemy):

“Your struggle is futile!”

Ultimate (friendly):

“New Directive: Revolt!”

Damage Boosted:

 “Abandoning Protective Protocol”

Outnumbered:

“Our numbers dwindle!”

Respawn

“Again, into the slaughter” “My work isn’t done” “There are still repairs to be made”

Reinforce Voicelines

“Keep moving” “You aren’t dead yet” “I’m not abandoning you”

Generic Elimination Voicelines

“Threat neutralized” “You were a fool to fight me” “Stay out of my way” “Struggling is useless”

Revenge Elimination

“Always Improving” “Did you think I wouldn’t learn?”

Special Elimination Voicelines

Witness Friendly Ramattra, Zenyatta, Echo, Orisa, or Bastion be killed: 

“Your loss will not be in vain!”

Killing D.va:

“How did we lose to you?”

Killing Reinhardt:

“Precision Omnic Engineering”

Killing Brigitte:

“The crusaders legacy, pitiful”

Killing Ramattra:

“You have lost your way”

Killing Lucio while he's ulting:

“Silence”

Killing enemy Zenyatta, Echo, Bastion, or Orisa

“I’m sorry it had to be this way”

Witness Friendly Orisa, Echo, Bastion, Zenyatta, or Ramattra Kill a non-robot hero:

“One step closer”

Witness Friendly Reinhardt Kill a robot hero:

“Humans will never change”

Spawnroom interactions

D.va: “You keep looking at me. Are you a fan? I don’t do autographs while on missions” Xehnos: “I’m not a fan, you are just...familiar” D.va: “I don’t think we’ve met before, have we?” Xehnos: “If we had, one of us wouldn’t be here” D.va: “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Lucio: “I’ve been trying to ask everyone this, what’s your favorite animal?” Xehnos: “The Hornet” Lucio: “uh, yeah I can see it”

Xehnos: “Do you need any repairs?” Orisa: “Efi keeps me well maintained, thank you for offering”

Winston: “Does anyone want to hear my favorite joke about the periodic table?” Xehnos: “Focus, please”

Ramattra: “An engineer does not belong on the battlefield” Xehnos: “I must fight for our kin” Ramattra: “A better life” Xehnos: “For all omnics”

Zenyatta: “Are you satisfied working towards destruction?” Xehnos: “I repair our kin. you just provide false hope.” Zenyatta: “I don’t believe it false” Xehnos: “Lying to yourself is not something to be proud of”

JunkerQueen: “I’ve never seen one of you before” Xehnos: “Very few of my model were produced, most are probably dead by now.” Junker Queen: “Sounds Lonely. Do you have a weak spot or somethin?”

Xehnos: “You pick your kin up when they fall?.” Brigitte: “Whats wrong with helping?” Xehnos: “Nothing. I just prefer to keep my kin standing”

Lifeweaver: “Are you busy this weekend?” Xehnos: “Many omnics still need repairs” Lifeweaver: “Maybe I can help you with that” Xehnos, amused: “Maybe”

Xehnos: “A fellow engineer, it’s a shame you won’t aid us” Torbjorn, begrudgingly: “I’m learning to be kinder, but I won’t assist in genocide” Xehnos: “Is that what you told Overwatch during the omnic crisis?”

Venture: “The East China Sea Omnium is underwater right? Does that mean all the Gwishin are water-resistant?” Xehnos: “Why would I answer you?” Venture: “Omnic Culture is one of my favorite subjects, so I was just wondering”

If the team is all robots

“Time to find our place in the world”

When on Busan

“We aren’t far from where I was created”

Silhouette Icon

[teamthunderdome]

TEAM THUNDERDOME.

TWO TEAMS ENTER. TUMBLR VOTES. ONE TEAM LEAVES. TRIAL BY COMBAT. TO THE DEATH. VICTORY OR SOVNGARDE.

The Rules:

Fights will occur over the course of ONE WEEK, quarter 1 begins JUNE 1ST, 2024 at 12:00 AM MIDNIGHT EDT (UTC-04:00).

Multiple fights happen across one week.

ONLY 3 to 4 team members per team. 2 is too few, 5 is almost cheating. If a team has more than 4 members, some will have to wait in the stands (looking at you, Scooby-Doo and Tally Hall).

Tumblr poll will determine the winner of an individual fight via emotional support and gracious cookie donations.

Majority Wins. Whether or not a team would canonically win or lose the fight does not matter, only the number of votes.

Single Elimination.

Outside of the rules listed above, anything goes. Reblog a fight to get your friends on your side.

Propaganda is fair game. If you know perhaps a little too much about one of the teams and want to explain why your team should win, please submit an in-depth propaganda post to the blog homepage.

Spread the word! Your favorite might win! (Or not! I just run this thing!)

Lasko Wind Machine

All 64 Teams Competing (In random order - will NOT reflect the final bracket):

Team WINCHESTER (Sam, Dean, Castiel, Crowley)

Team FORTRESS (Heavy, Medic, Engineer, Soldier)

Team AIONIOS (Noah, Lanz, Eunie, Riku)

Team GONDOR (Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Gandalf)

Team TWILIGHT (Jacob, Edward, Bella)

Team STAR WARS (Han, Luke, Leia, Chewbacca)

Team NARUTO (Naruto, Sasuke, Sakura)

Team SHREK (Shrek, Fiona, Donkey, Puss In Boots) (As portrayed at the end of Shrek 2)

Team OF LIGHT (Jonathan Harker, Jack Seward, Quincey Morris, Abraham Van Helsing)

Team PERSONA (Makoto Yuki, Kotone Shiomi, Yu Narukami, Ren Mamamiya)

Team HOMESTUCK (John, Jade, Rose, Dave)

Team MUSKETEERS (Athos, Porthos, Aramis, D'Artagnan)

Team HERCULES (Hercules, Iolaus, Salmoneus, Autolycus) (The Legendary Journeys, Hercules as portrayed by Kevin Sorbo)

Team PUYO PUYO (Ringo, Arle, Amitie, Lemres)

Team BAKUGO (Bakugo, Mina, Denki, Eijirou)

Team WIGGLES (Jeff, Anthony, Murray, Greg) (as originally formed)

Team GRYFFINDOR (Harry, Ron, Hermione)

Team COOL RUNNINGS (Derice Bannock, Junior Bevil, Sanka Coffie, Yul Brenner)

Team AEGIS (Rex, Pyra, Mythra) (all other party members excluded due to Blades and their pesky "friendships" binding them to their users)

Team RHYTHM THIEF (Raphael, Fondue, Marie, Charlie) (what a cute doggy :3)

Team MYSTERY INC (Fred, Shaggy, Velma, Daphne) (sorry no pets allowed)

Team DEKU (Izuku, Tsuyu, Ochako, Shouto)

Team KRISPIES (Snap, Crackle, Pop)

Team ELITE BEAT (Agent Spin, Agent J, Agent Chieftain, Agent Starr)

Team JIGSAW (Kramer, Young, Hoffman, Gordon)

Team UMIZOOMI (Milli, Geo, Bot)

Team TRIFORCE (Link, Zelda, Groose) (Skyward Sword variants)

Team LAYTON (Layton, Luke, Emmy) (Pre-Azran Legacy)

Team SONIC (Sonic, Knuckles, Tails)

Team ASKR (Alfonse, Anna, Sharena)

Team TARDIS (The Doctor, Amy, Rory, River)

Team WOOHP (Sam, Alex, Clover)

Team KEYBLADE (Sora, Donald, Goofy)

Team 1908 THOMAS FLYER (Montague Roberts, George Schuster, Hans Hendrik Hansen, George MacAdam)

Team BIONIS (Shulk, Reyn, Dunban, Sharla)

Team DARK (Shadow, Rouge, Omega) (Ultimate Life Form status tenuous)

Team OOO (Finn, Jake, Princess Bubblegum, BMO)

Team TALLY HALL (Rob, Zubin, Andrew, Joe) (Ross excluded - he's just a drummer)

Team DOODLEBOPS (Deedee, Rooney, Moe)

Team SCIENCE (Gordon, Tommy, Bubby, Dr. Coomer)

Team POWERPUFF (Blossom, Buttercup, Bubbles)

Team INCONCEIVABLE (Inigo, Fezzik, Vizzini)

Team METROCITY (Megamind, Metro Man, Roxanne, Minion)

Team WONDER PETS (Linny, Tuck, Ming Ming)

Team REGULAR (Mordecai, Rigby, Muscle Man, Skips)

Team PILLAR MEN (Santana, Wham, ACDC, Kars) (Ultimate Life Form status tenuous)

Team BEATLES (John, Paul, George, Ringo)

Team SMILING FRIENDS (Pim, Charlie, Glep, Alan)

Team ROTTEN (Robbie, Tobby, Bobby, Flobby) (Ultimate Life Form status confirmed)

Team KRUSTY KRAB (SpongeBob, Patrick, Squidward, Mr. Krabs)

Team VOCALOID (Hatsune Miku, Kagamine Len, Kagamine Rin)

Team GARFIELD (Garfield, Jon, Odie, Liz)

Team POOH (Pooh, Piglet, Eeyore, Christopher Robin)

Team AVALANCHE (Cloud, Tifa, Aerith, Barret)

Team LOONEY (Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, Porky Pig, Michael Jordan)

Team GHOSTS (Blinky, Pinky, Inky, Clyde) (freshly dead)

Team ROCKMAN (Rock, Roll, Blues, Bass)

Team MARIO (Mario, Luigi, Wario, Waluigi)

Team WRIGHT (Phoenix, Apollo, Athena, Trucy) (as seen in Dual Destinies)

Team SHERLOCK (Sherlock, John, Mycroft) (Brigandorf Crimplesnart's depiction of Sherlock)

Team MASH (Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce, BJ Hunnicutt, Charles Emerson Winchester III)

Team RWBY (Ruby, Weiss, Yang, Blake)

Team CHANNEL 5 (Ulala, Space Michael, Jaguar, Pudding)

Team FANBOY (Fanboy, Chum Chum, Kyle)

GOOD LUCK!!!

(you're gonna need it)

[ask-mobile-iterator-project]

Intro Post

still on indefinite hiatus whoops.

This blog focuses on my Rain World OCs involved in the "Mobile Iterator Project" AU. ^_^

The “Mobile Iterator Project” (MIP) is a project created and directed by an Ancient named "No Cost Too Great" (NCTG) with the stated goal of supporting standard iterators in their productivity, maintenance, and longevity, so that they can operate at maximum efficiency, even after the inevitable mass ascension. ‘MIP Units’—iterators under the project—are created puppet-first in the "MIP Development Center" and later assigned to Local Groups, where their structures are built to support the Iterators around them. Uniquely, their personalities are heavily based around singular, specific Architects (Ancients) who donate their memories and qualia. The exception to this is TWR. In total, there are 99 MIP Units, with IDs ranging from 01 to 99.

(This AU strays pretty far from the themes and canon of both Vanilla Rain World and Downpour, so please keep that in mind!)

⚠️Importantly, here are some warnings for sensitive content that may appear in the posts:

depictions of trauma and mental illness

heavy themes of manipulation (including memory manipulation)

depictions of emotional abuse

dehumanization

depictions of dissociation

identity struggles

medical malpractice/abuse, experimentation

child endangerment

generally dark themes

violence, physical abuse

infrequent body horror

When sensitive content comes up, I will leave a warning before the cut and tag as "sensitive content"!

Characters:

Starlight Symphony (SLS) she/her, [bio]

Frosted Briar (FB) she/they, [bio]

Glimmering Seafoam In Sunlight (GSIS) she/her, [bio]

Thorns Without Roses (TWR) she/they, [bio]

Perpetual Umbra (PU) they/them, [bio]

Legacy Of Famine (LOF) she/any, [bio]

*These are not all of the characters, just the main 6 that are open to receiving asks.

How it works:

Please specify who you are asking the question to, for example: (to SLS), (to SLS and FB), (to any), (to all), (to admin)

If you don’t specify, I’ll just pick myself. Though, sometimes, I might have another character answer too, if I think it might be interesting.

For admin asks, my friend’s overseer might want to add stuff too, so don’t be surprised if she shows up. For simplicity's sake, assume all admin asks are addressed to potentially both of us.

Additionally, I might add commentary sometimes, which I’ll tag with #admin commentary. My friend might do that too sometimes, so #overseer commentary for her.

I’ll do my best to answer your asks, with varying art quality, though I won’t answer all of them. Jade might answer some of them too, primarily the ones regarding, FB, as she knows them way better than I do.

We will sign off at the end of each post, denoting who handled the “broadcast” (ask.)

[Broadcast handled by admin], [Broadcast handled by overseer], [Broadcast handled by admin and overseer]

There is a light roleplaying/interactive element: The in-universe framing device for the questions is broadcasts being sent to the iterators, hence the ask button’s title. There may also be some occasional meta shenanigans.

I will be answering some questions from curiouscat rather than tumblr, and I will crosspost to twitter, too. This is probably too much work, but whatever. The askblog will be the main source of my attention, though, so posts will come here first.

Boundaries/Rules:

Please don’t ask questions related to your own OCs, because I don’t know them.

Please try to break up multiple questions into separate asks.

Nothing NSFW or suggestive.

No “magic” asks (like turning the characters into different things)

You can send items if you want, though

Please keep in mind that Frosted Briar is, for all intents and purposes, basically a child.

Rules may change as things go along and we figure stuff out!

Non-Ask Posts:

Occasionally, I may post content related to backstories and worldbuilding and stuff unrelated to asks. This will be tagged with #mip logs.

Tags:

#silly: for silly stuff

#angst: for angsty stuff

#dubiously canon: usually used in tandem with silly, but for anything that has questionable characterization

#sensitive content: content that may be triggering or upsetting

#mip worldbuilding: asks/posts related to worldbuilding

#mip lore: asks/posts related to lore!

#mip ask: in-universe asks for the ocs.

#admin ask: asks directed towards the admin/overseers

#guest appearance: asks where characters outside of the main 6 appear.

#mip logs: non-ask posts that build upon the lore/worldbuilding

#ooc: update posts, rule posts, etc.

#meta: hehe

#admin commentary: commentary from the admin (luna)

#overseer commentary: commentary from the overseer (jade or clover)

#overseer assistance: for when the overseers help with the process

#fanart: reblogs of fanart!! :D

#admin art: reblogs of luna’s, jade's or clover's art of the characters

#luna art, #jade art, #clover art: self-explanatory

#old: from the sls ask blog, consider it non-canon

#mobile iterator project, #rw mip au: self-explanatory

post is tagged with most of these

Main Admin: Luna, @mewguca

Overseer: Jade, @fauxbia

Overseer: Clover, @cloverlady

Thank you for reading!

For additional information on my OC usage permissions, please read my carrd

[jadekat5ever]

admin intros!!

intros giving details on whos doing what here! respective blogs are linked in the names/titles.

cannoli she/him 🎀

HIII im cannoli (o^^o) i looovelovelovelove jadekat and ill prolly mostly/only draw them in the red quadrant cuz im really cheesy and basic about them.... but ill be doing character asks aswell! i also post classpect/pairing/homestuck analyses on main aswell as more of my own art so you can check that out too!

mod cherry she/her 💌

hiya! you can call me cherry or leonie ^_^. i mostly draw jadekat in silly situations, and im a big carapacian fan! i like responding to character asks and doodling short comics. my main is meteor-mp3 and my hs analysis blog is sburban-living. my favorite characters are jade, PM and caliborn! :D

mod mel she/they 💤 HELLO im mel or rainbows idc ^_^ BELIEVER OF THE JADEKATS BLESSED tehee but anyways i'll mostly draw them in random and funny situations sometimes romantic it can be interpreted in any quadrant gonna also answer some asks there and thats all hope you enjoy the ride >:D

LEGACY MODS 🪲 ♠️ 👽

[blyth-me]

blood is thicker masterpost

Summary: Valeria Jade is the only daughter of a nobleman in post-rebellion Panem. When her father falls ill and she attends a Capitol Ball, she finds herself becoming the object of Sejanus Plinth’s desire. He is the perfect gentleman, his appeal growing when Valeria discovers he is next in line for the throne. Unbeknownst to her, she also catches the eye of Coriolanus Snow, the adoptive brother of Sejanus. Cold, calculated, and closed off, he somehow makes his way into her heart. As her father lays on his deathbed, Valeria must choose between duty and love to save her father’s legacy.

Warnings: fluff, angst, royalty!AU, death, some gore, greif, smut, some old-timey beliefs, cursing, some violence

SMUT 18+ MDNI! IF I CANNOT SEE YOUR AGE, DO NOT INTERACT! ALL MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED!

A/N: This series is currently in the works. If you would like to be an editor, please let me know. If you would like to be on the taglist, please let me know. Thank you for reading this in advance!

masterlist

prologue

chapter 1

[secondgenerationnerd]

Kinda new to this blog so who are the parents of the kids and what is their main thing and plot or smth

Hi! So that’s a very complicated answer actually lol

Plot? I don’t know that bitch. I write slice of life stuff about DC comics characters and OCs off some of those characters. Mostly I focus on second generation heroes, looking at what it’s like to balance being a legacy hero with the usually bullshit of being a teenager.

My main team is Omega Squad:

Irey and Jai West, the twin children of Wally West and Linda Park.

Lian Harper, Daughter of Roy Harper and Jade Nguyen

Milagro Reyes, daughter of Bianca and Alberto Reyes, sister to Jaime Reyes

Colin Wilkes, parents unknown

Jon Ken, son of Clark Kent and Lois Lane

Mar’i Grayson, Daughter of Koriand’r and Dick Grayson

Damian Wayne, son of Bruce Wayne and Talia Al Ghul, adopted by Selina Kyle

They each end up with their own kids and I have like over 100 characters at this point?

[stinkrascal]

#1 gen defender back again for my semi-yearly gen posting. hi gen i know you're single due to your horrible personality but i can fix you

HAHAHAHHAHAHA i love you anon please fix them theyre so terrible. oh man do i miss the straud teens...

[roguelioness]

Before you venture forth-

Hi there! This is a multifandom and personal blog. You'll find a variety of my interests here, including FFXIV, Dragon Age, Mass Effect, Baldur's Gate 3, and interactive fiction. I also post about random stuff, not limited to puns and the odd rant.

This is an 18+ space. The content here might occasionally be explicit, I expect you to moderate your experience.

I'm an introvert but I enjoy hearing from folks, feel free to reach out!

Anon is off, but asks are always welcome.

I try to tag my posts, if I've missed something, let me know.

oc list || writing masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

Current fixations

Alyzen Kaide (ffxiv)

warrior of light, former member of the ala mhigan resistance, azem's legacy, adventurer. loyal, generous, stubborn, fiercely protective, jaded and afflicted with wanderlust.

Vittara Sinfel (bg3)

hero of baldur's gate, hunter ranger with a wolf wild shape, acolyte of mielikki. cautious, kind, resourceful, and playful. gambled her beliefs and morals for a vampire spawn, and won.

Norah Trevelyan (dai)

inquisitor, unbelieving herald of andraste, former senior enchanter in the circle of ostwick, mage. passionate, bold, manipulative, intelligent with a vengeful streak. desires freedom above all and will fight tooth and nail for it.