#sometimes I miss written RP :/

[flockrest]

#FLOCKREST. independent, selective, & heavily headcanon-based rito multimuse featuring tulin of the legend of zelda: breath of the wild & tears of the kingdom. established june 2023. doted on by ray!

[chlorinewriter]

Tagged by @erinyra for the fanfiction writer bingo! I haven't done anything like this in ages, but thanks for tagging me! It's fun to think about (and to read through your tags). Tagging @ditttiii and @giurochedadomani in case either of you'd like to participate ^^ Clean template can be found here.

[fioiswriting]

The sea and the fire

“Fire and water looked so lovely together. It was a pity they destroyed each other by nature.” - R.F Kuang

Summary : when you're married to your childhood sweetheart who becomes your enemy and you get lost in the terrible maze of politics.

[previous chapter] [masterlist]

Rating : None for now, will be explicit 18+ later MDNI

Pairing : Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon/Strong!niece!Reader (There will be some Cregan Stark x Reader later)

TW :  none for now except not proofread. TW will be added as the story progresses.

Words count : 4408

AN : Hi everyone!! I hope you're all doing well. So, MONTHS later, I've finally decided to post chapter 2. Sorry for the wait.

[About this story This fanfiction is inspired by an RP I started with my girlfriend (@irmawrites, go check her work) in early 2023, which is still ongoing. My girlfriend writes for her OC (who is the daughter of Viserys and Alicent) as well as for Aemond and Cregan, while I write for my OC (who is the daughter of Rhaenyra) as well as for Aegon and Cole mostly. This fanfiction doesn't cover exactly the same events, I've changed some things, added some others and omitted some. But it follows the main storyline. The character of Irma is a nod to my girlfriend and is based on another of her OCs (Alicent's niece). I'm keen to turn this story into fanfiction and I hope you'll like it! ❤️ I know there's a ton of fanfiction out there based on the Aemond x Rhaenyra's daughter trope. If you don't like it, if you feel uncomfortable, or if you've read too much of it, I'd suggest you read another fanfiction written by one of the many talented authors on this platform ❤️ The story will unfold in several arcs, with the first arc building up the relationship between the reader and Aemond. The tone is therefore lighter. The following arcs (which I can't wait to get to!!) will gradually introduce a lot more angst (my favourite thing to write). The tone will be radically different. Overall, the fanfiction will sometimes be based on elements of the book, and sometimes on the show, with my own interpretations. Please bear in mind that my dialogue will sound very "modern" because I struggle to write medieval dialogue in English, as it's not my mother tongue.]

Also English is not my first language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes !! 

After all that talk, ENJOY <3

Chapter 2 : Familiarity

There was a sense of renewed familiarity. 

You had regained your childhood bedroom and with it your landmarks. Of course, you still missed Dragonstone. And that could seem strange to some - Dragonstone was just a damp cave, a pile of stones perched on a rock. You were in King's Landing, now. You lived in opulence, in a royal comfort unmatched by the perch above the sea where you had spent most of your youth. 

But Dragonstone had a charm you couldn't find in King's Landing. Perhaps it was the stillness of the library where you spent all your time, lost among the scrolls of parchment and the thick tomes, or perhaps it was the sound of the crashing waves that rocked you on stormy nights, you weren't sure.

But somehow a sense of familiarity had returned. Your old room hadn't changed much, despite Alicent's questionable alterations to the decoration of the Red Keep. You had found an old toy in the shape of a dragon, and even some old paper on which you had practised your precise handwriting under the strict gaze of a stern Septa when you were a child. It was a memory frozen in time, a kind of testimony to the past. A room that reflected the little girl you were when you left King's Landing.

But perhaps you could change it to your liking, to reflect the young woman you had become. Perhaps it was a way of keeping you occupied before you left again. After all, your mother had promised that your stay would only be temporary. Just time to sort out some inheritance issues. Time to try and heal your family's wounds. Time to secure your family's future. As if the hope of you all rested on your shoulders; the only guarantee that your family wouldn't descend into a bloody escalation, or something like that. 

And yet, even though you'd only been here a short time, you'd already gotten into trouble, and it was Aemond himself who had to rescue you. You hated the idea.

You hated the fact that he'd come to your aid.

You hated the fact that you owed him, that you were indebted to him.

Fortunately, your little escapade hadn't been reported - you didn't want to disappoint your mother, or see the reproachful look on her face, even though you were aware that she might not be in the best position to make a comment. You were close to your mother. You were her eldest. You were her only daughter. She cherished and loved you, and you knew you could share everything with her. But you cherished your secret freedom, and you feared that her concern for her only daughter would give her the bad idea of assigning you closer supervision.

You didn't need a chaperone. You valued what little freedom your condition as a daughter afforded you.

As you slipped under the sheets, your thoughts kept returning to Aemond. The way he'd protected you, the way he'd carried you on his shoulder - it was humiliating, you weren't an object. And the way you had planted a kiss on his cheek. An impulsive act. A foolish act. You had to admit that you weren't averse to doing it again.

It just didn't make sense. Why had he come looking for you when he'd never answered your letters? He'd probably felt superior, after calling you and your brothers bastards, he'd probably decided you weren't good enough to be his friend anymore.  All this time, all these years, you'd been waiting for a word from him - a mere reply to the letters you'd sent. It never came. You concluded that your friendship had ended, in silence, after all you had done for him; after reassuring him, after holding his hand while the maester tried to repair the broken flesh on his face as best he could.

Had he really been your friend for even one day, or had it all been a facade, a role he'd played? Had he ever been sincere?

You were furious.

Rhaenyra had stroked your hair through every disappointment that gripped your heart like the loving mother she was. Daemon - Daemon had soothed you in his own way, telling you again and again that Aemond wasn't a good man, and that you would save your heart by forgetting him.

But now he had come looking for you. Something had changed. He had taken a step in your direction. You were lost. You were angry, but it was not just anger. There was something else underneath that pile of confusion and resentment. His approach unsettled you. Every step he took towards you, every word he said, sent a whirlwind of conflicting emotions through you. A burning curiosity. An irresistible attraction. 

You hated yourself for thinking it, but maybe your betrothal wasn't such a bad idea. Maybe you could retrieve the complicity of your childhood.

Maybe it had never really disappeared.

In the early hours of the morning, the smell of warm bread tickled your nose even before you felt the warmth of the sun's rays through your chamber window. You rolled onto your side to steal a few more minutes of comfort, stifling a grunt into your pillow. You waited fatefully for the moment when Celia or Jeyne would come and wake you.

"Wake up you lazy groundhog, you've got things to tell me!" 

But the high-pitched, overly cheerful voice that echoed around your room wasn't Celia's, and it certainly wasn't Jeyne's. You sat up immediately, as if someone had thrown a bucket of water over you, your fingers rubbing your tired eyes to make sure you weren't dreaming. 

Irma Hightower was standing in your room, in a gown more extravagant than ever. You wanted to throw yourself into her arms.

"It was usually me who overslept in the morning and you who had to wake me up," Irma exclaimed, placing the tray she carried awkwardly under her arm on the table with a loud clatter, causing the tea to overflow from the cup and drip onto the wooden table. "But I reckon that sneaking out seems tiring." She punctuated his remark with a knowing wink before dusting off her dress as if she'd just worked in the straw or done the most strenuous physical labour in the world.

Still too sleepy to make sense of your friend's words, you frowned as you looked around for your two handmaidens, the ones who woke you up every morning, helped you get dressed and brought you your meal. "Where are -"

"I dismissed them for the rest of the morning," Irma replied without letting you finish the sentence. That explained the tray and the near disaster. "But here's your breakfast. Gods, did you know a tray was thatheavy? " She paused briefly, barely giving you time to wake up properly.

Irma Hightower was a tornado. She swept away everything in her path - she carried away hearts and minds with equal ease, leaving a whirlwind of chaos behind her. Wherever she went, she stirred the air with unbridled energy, forcing others to adapt to her frenetic pace or be wiped out by her determination. But it would be a lie to say you weren't happy to see her. You sat down on the edge of the bed and stretched, your arms reaching for the ceiling before tilting your head to one side. A smile curved the corner of your lips as you watched your friend. You wondered what Irma was doing in your room in the early hours of the morning, especially when, last you heard, she was supposed to be in Oldtown furthering her education. 

To tell the truth, you might have had an idea why she was here. You just didn't want to subject yourself to your friend's interrogation - some secrets should remain your secrets.

And what you'd done yesterday was one of them.

"'So?" she asked with a mixture of overflowing curiosity and impetuosity, her brown curls twirling around her face.

"So what?" you sighed as you went behind your dressing screen to remove your nightgown. You slipped into a flowing ocean-blue dress adorned with pearls and embroidery - one of your favourite gowns, a creation that reminded you of your favourite element: the sea. 

Unlike your brothers, you weren't made of fire and blood. You were made of sea and storm, and you knew deep down that this was perhaps hypocritical - your own appearance reminded you of it every day. But it was what your heart had always told you, and you'd come to believe it, too. The feeling of your feet in the water and the breeze on your face, its salty taste against your lips, was the one that brought you the most comfort. 

"So what happened yesterday ?” Irma insisted. Her voice grew impatient. "I saw you.”

But you ignored her, busy wriggling to reach the lacing at the back of your dress. In vain. You weren't flexible enough. "Since you've decided to play the handmaid today, help me get dressed," you replied, appearing on one side of the screen, your hands gripping the fabric tightly, your back to her. Irma rose with a long sigh - it was just for show, you knew - and came over to you. You smiled mischievously. You had to admit that you enjoyed seeing her in this role, so opposite to who she really was. You wondered what her time in Oldtown had been like; whether she'd been treated like the spoilt brat she truly was, or whether, on the contrary, she'd had to learn patience, faith and discipline - all qualities that didn't characterise her. 

"I could actually keep you as my lady in waiting, you know. You'd be good for that. Forced to follow me everywhere, I'd love that." 

You didn't need to see her to know that she rolled her eyes. " I am the Queen's niece. I was made for more than that."

When her fingers became tangled in the lacing of your dress, she spoke again, her voice caressing the back of your ear as she tugged at the lacing with a little more force: "You haven't answered my question."

How could you forget that Irma was so perceptive? And above all, how could you forget that when Irma wanted something, it was impossible for her not to get it? You weren't going to get away. She would insist, until you fell for her angelic pout and her round eyes that tried to win you over.

It reminded you of your shared youth - the times you spent together, swapping secrets and gossip, talking about your joys and sorrows. You had been inseparable before you were forced to return to Dragonstone, and she to Oldtown. 

"Nothing happened. At least nothing like you may think," you admitted, turning to smooth the front of your dress. You whirled around, the fabric rising gently around you like a bluish wave. "How do I look?"

"I wouldn't describe being carried around like a sack of flour on your dark uncle's shoulder as nothing. Especially in your family." 

Irma inspected your outfit, her eyes expertly examining you from top to bottom and then from bottom to top, looking for the slightest detail that would have spoiled her work. She brushed away a stray strand of hair that had fallen across your face.

"Did he kiss you?" Her eyebrows arched, her mouth forming a playful pout of false surprise. She was clearly determined to decipher your every secret, to expose them. You hesitated for a moment, to cast doubt, to let her imagine more - but you were afraid of the repercussions this might have on you. You weren't sure that Irma knew how to hold her tongue. And you didn't want to risk exposing yourself to Aemond's irritation over false rumours. Not when you'd planned to play with him a bit; to prove to him that you had the upper hand, that you could have him wrapped around your little finger and drive him mad. You were still suspicious of him. You hadn't really figured him out yet. You just knew he'd changed since the last time you'd seen him, but you weren't sure how much.

"No, he didn't kiss me," you repeated, putting the same emphasis on the word as your friend. You walked over to the table to sip your still steaming cup of tea. You could feel Irma's round eyes on your back - she was waiting for you to say more. She probably had a dozen unanswered questions: why had Aemond brought you back like this? Where had you been? Who had you been with? What had you done? But you didn't answer right away, biting into the crusty bread.

"He just... came to fetch me," you finally admitted between two bites, your mouth half full - it was a far cry from the princess manners in which you'd been raised. Sitting on your bed, Irma stared at you with her brown eyes - the same as her aunt's. "I was with Aegon. In King's Landing. And I got lost."

That was enough. Irma didn't need to know everything; after all, it wasn't a lie if you only omitted certain details that you deemed relatively unimportant.

Or that Irma didn't need to know.

But the revelation provoked a silence. Your friend didn't answer immediately. Her eyes narrowed, revealing a fine line between her eyebrows, and her lips pursed into a bitter pout. She looked troubled, her fingers twitching in her lap. "I didn't know you were close to Aegon."

If you didn't know her so well, you wouldn't have detected the note of reproach in her voice. Was it jealousy? Was your friend jealous of the time you spent with Aegon?

You weren't sure you understood. He was married - and more importantly, as you remembered, Irma hated him for his debauchery and the alcohol he drank to excess. 

But this was no time to argue, and you preferred to play it safe. There would be plenty of time for your investigation later, when Irma's suspicions would be at rest. "He's my uncle and... he suggested he show me the streets of King's Landing because I was feeling bored." 

And the idea seemed liberating at the time. A moment of stolen freedom, away from the court, away from your duties. Where you were no longer the model princess, the paragon of virtue, but just another girl, lost in anonymity. You weren't sure she understood - she'd always loved the court, the gowns and the politics. You too, of course. It would be a lie to say you weren't made for it; for the life your status as a princess could offer you. You cherished the comforts and loved the responsibilities that came with your role. But sometimes those same responsibilities – and duty above all - stifled you. You needed solitude. To be somewhere else.

"It's dangerous. You could have been harmed!" Irma said, crossing her arms over her chest with an air of concern and annoyance. "You can't just follow a man like Aegon into the city," she sighed.

Some truth was hidden in her words, and you were aware of your lack of rationality, of the stupidity of your foolishness. The danger you had put yourself in, too, for if Aemond hadn't intervened... You didn't want to think about it. The dirty hands and lecherous looks those men gave you still made you shudder. All those risks for an illusory feeling of freedom, wasn't it a high price to pay?

Aemond had come for you. The humiliation still burned on your cheeks. 

"Lost in your thoughts?" Irma asked impatiently, offering you her arm as if she'd waited too long for you to come out of your reverie, "thinking about your Prince Charming again?"

You gave her a little tap on the arm, your eyes raised to the sky at the broad smile that stretched her lips, but you accepted her invitation anyway. "Fine, let's go. I heard that they are training this morning. And I know you're not indifferent to Dornish charm." You winked at her. And arm in arm, you and Irma walked through the corridors of the Red Keep towards the courtyard.

Aemond's movements were precise and swift. Faced with Ser Criston's Morningstar, he moved skilfully, as nimble as a cat. You leaned against the parapet of the ramparts; your eyes riveted on the two silhouettes that seemed to be dancing in the courtyard amidst the small crowd that had gathered around them. Irma didn't miss a moment of the spectacle, and you wondered if there was a man she didn't find charming.  Aemond, probably.  You knew she didn't bear any affection for him - he was too serious, too stern. Too scary, too.

"Did you get tired of Oldtown, is that why you're here?" you asked teasingly, glancing briefly at Irma.

She leaned towards you as if to share a secret, not taking her eyes off the show the two men were offering. "They didn't want me anymore," she confided. "I used to drive the maesters and the septas mad. It was amusing."

You should have known better. Irma was too stubborn and brash to be around men and women who had dedicated their lives to knowledge. She was intelligent, there was no denying that, but she lacked the patience and diligence that the study of texts demanded. Though she had spent her childhood in King's Landing, perfecting her courtly education at her aunt's side, her rebellious attitude had sent her straight back to Oldtown. And then, she had threatened the Maesters and the Septas - she belonged at Court and she was convinced of it.

"And how is Daeron?" 

"As courteous and charming as ever," she replied. 

Aemond disarmed Cole and everyone applauded; including Jace and Luke, who you could recognise in the crowd. Your betrothed's eyes shifted from the spot he was staring at in the crowd - your brothers? - and looked up at you for a moment. You wondered if Aemond had seen you, if he had felt your gaze on him, and if that was why he had become fiercer in his attacks. A strange sensation arose in your belly, as if a swarm of butterflies were fluttering in your stomach, making your heart beat faster.  You forced yourself to suppress your emotions, which you blamed on all the time you'd spent away from Dragonstone. You refused to admit that it was Aemond's gaze that you sought more than any other, especially after the events of the previous day. Especially when you could still feel his skin against yours, his firm hands around your body, his face just a few inches from yours.

You wondered what had possessed you to kiss him on the cheek. 

You wanted to play with him, that was certain. But you refused to subject your heart to the whims of love. Not after the heartache you'd felt when you found out he'd forgotten you so easily.

It was nothing serious.

You met Aemond's gaze. The intensity of his lilac eye had this very capacity to send shivers down your spine.  He didn't even crack a smile, and looked away as if nothing had happened.

"I'll see you later," Irma said, squeezing your arm, before turning on her heels to - presumably - find some male company. Once you were alone, you walked down the steps that led from the ramparts to the courtyard. Your steps instinctively brought you to where Aemond was standing, ready to sheathe his sword.

If he seemed surprised to see you, he didn't show it. His icy eye rested on you, unreadable as ever.

"Lady Strong."

"We should talk," you began, ignoring the unpleasant way he had just addressed you. Lady Strong. The nickname left a sting of humiliation, and under normal circumstances you would have reacted. You would have defended yourself, you would have thought of something witty to retort - but today you had decided to take a step towards peace. You had decided to show that you hadn't come here with any animosity, even though everything inside you was screaming to make him swallow his insolence.

"There is nothing to talk about," he replied mechanically. Cold. Distant. Disinterested. Syllables sharp and icy. 

But yes, there were a thousand things to talk about; the betrothal that would lead to your certain future marriage, the events of yesterday, the letters he had never answered, his hostile and cold attitude towards you. There were all these things and more, but neither of you seemed to know how or where to begin.

"About yesterday -"

"I haven't spoken a word to anyone. Your little secret is safe with me. You can rest assured, niece."

That's not what you meant. It wasn't that you wanted to talk about - it was everything around it; it was the reasons, it was how he had found out, it was the consequences, it was the kiss on his cheek, it was the thick tension between you that you were sure he had felt too. It was all these things.

You took a step towards him. Suddenly you felt yourself bubbling. And as if you'd grown wings, you closed the distance between you without looking away.

"Why?" you asked, your tone more urgent. You wanted to push him over the edge. You wanted him to admit what you knew for a fact that he would never be able to. "You could expose me. Tell everyone about my little escapades. Make me lose all credibility. End our betrothal." You paused, leaning your body towards him, your warmth mingling with his.

You felt him hold his breath. He tensed, straightening his neck, tilting his head slightly to the side to watch you.

"Why exactly would I do that, Lady Strong?"

Because you hate me, you were tempted to reply. Because you hate me, just as you hate my brothers. Because you cut me off all those years ago, without a word. And despite all the affinities that could bring you together, despite the fond memories of your shared childhood and your closeness, despite the love you harboured for him, you were loyal to your siblings, like he was to his. Whatever you did, you would always be associated with them. Your family. So wasn't it normal for him to see you as an extension of the hatred he felt for them?

At your silence, he continued, this time in High Valyrian: "I am not the one who despises the other. You know that."

Hate was nothing more than a form of passion.

But you weren't sure it was hate you felt for Aemond - no, the hate would come later, stronger, hotter than ever.  For now, you felt disappointment and a form of betrayal after the friendship that had bound you together for more than a decade. 

"I am not the one who is determined to make you my enemy." 

Enemy, like water to fire. Trying to destroy each other by nature.

"And yet, you treat me like one," you replied. Sharpness staining your voice. 

He let out a hm. He was still staring at you; the sensation was almost disturbing. He took a step in your direction, violating your breathing space. You had to lift your head to maintain eye contact. Then he leaned towards you, the corner of his lips turned up slightly in a smirk.

"I wouldn't have come to rescue you if you were my enemy."

The words barely out of his mouth, he straightened and took a step back, giving you the courtesy to walk away as your cheeks turned red. You didn't need him to remind you of what had happened yesterday. The memory was still frozen in your mind, clear and intact. The ghost of his touch like a burn. You wondered if he felt the same; if he thought about your lips on his cheek, if they had left an invisible, indelible mark on his skin, like his fingers on yours.

You had to change the subject. Quickly. Before you got caught at your own game. 

Your hand came to rest on the hilt of his sword on the table beside the training area. You lifted it. It felt heavy in your hand, still warm from Aemond's grip.

It was strange, this power in your hand. A weapon that could take a life. Too big and unsuitable for your delicate fingers, but fascinating. 

"Teach me."

"No," he replied immediately, following your every move with his icy gaze, as if he feared you might hurt yourself. You rested the heavy sword on the wooden table before turning. You approached him again.

"Daemon taught me how to use a dagger. At least he taught me where to aim to hurt." You flatten your hand against his chest, just below his ribcage. His body stiffens beneath your palm. "He said it was to protect me from dangerous men." Your gaze travelled from your hand to his eyes.

Aemond chuckled. He didn't try to push you away. On the contrary, he kept your hand pressed against him. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, and he guided your hand to his jugular, where you could feel his heart throbbing against your fingertips.

"First lesson: that is where you aim to kill." Caught off guard, you tried to withdraw your hand, but Aemond held it in place, your fingertips on his skin, your eyes both searching and challenging each other. The air was charged. Tense. Like a cloud before a storm. You held your breath. "But you wouldn't dare hurt a fly."

He released your wrist and gripped your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to step back until your back hit the table. He leaned in. His face so close to yours that you could almost feel his warm breath melting into yours. A few inches and you could close the gap between your lips. A few inches and -

"Well, niece. I hope to see you for dinner. And, of course, I expect you to behave."

With that he released you. With that, he turned on his heel. 

He stopped. And without looking back, he added: "And please. Don't make a habit of me saving you. 

Well, you were evenly matched.

[ad0rechuu]

۪ ★ ۫ MILKY WAY ୨୧

based on milky way by seohyun

SYNOPSIS. ━━━━━ It’s not everyday that your friends childhood friend turns out to be the girl that you literally have a fan account for, but for Seonghwa, San and Mingi it’s become a reality. being able to get close to your bias is great! even if she does have a raging crush on someone else…

6mar23 | st. 09/03/23 ━ fn. 31/08/23

pairing. ━━━━━ college students! fans! park seonghwa, choi san, song mingi x fem! idol! reader (x idol! oc)

featuring. ━━━━━ ateez, kang seulgi (red velvet), fatou samba (black swan), park sujin aka swan (purple kiss), shin yuna (itzy), do hanse (former victon) oc, fem oc

genre. ━━━━━ smau, written, humor/crack, fluff, angst, suggestive, love square, idol/college au, strangers to friends to lovers, really slow burn, pinning, secret identity

warnings. ━━━━━ i’m not a native english speaker so my english might be a little off sometimes ! ! ! timestamps/sm numbers mean nothing, sexism/slutshaming, swearing, mentions of food/sex/serious topic, kys/kms and other questionable jokes, use of pictures for yn but only for reference (only of dark skin poc used), cyber bullying, ssngs, mental illness/anxiety, mentions of alcohol/drugs. small age gaps, more thorough warnings in the actual chapters, let me know if missed smth

notes. ━━━━━ the taglist is closed, spam likes are fine but consider reblogging with comments of ur thoughts (not only on my work but on other authors work too!) credits to the rightful owners of all the graphics n music

PROFILES. ━━━━━ SANRIO TRASH (STAR) ᜊ THE VIRGINITY CORNER (ATEEZ + YNS BBGS) ᜊ EXTRAS

PART 1. PRE TIME SKIP :

★ CH 000. prologue: HONGJOONG HAS FRIENDS?!

★ CH 001. CLONE FANTASY

★ CH 002. THE JASPER TO MY SHERLOCK

★ CH 003. SUS, VERY SUS

★ CH 004. DON’T LEAVE ME TALL FUCK

★ CH 005. EDIBLE SCENTED CANDLE

★ CH 006. MY LITTLE MEOW MEOW

★ CH 007. ONE OF THE GIRLIES

★ CH 008. SHES SO PRECIOUS!!

★ CH 009. IS YN OKAY?

★ CH 010. NO FANBOYING

★ CH 011. INTRODUCTIONS: PART I

★ CH 012. INTRODUCTIONS: PART II

★ CH 013. SUPER COOL AND HOT (RESPECTFULLY)

★ CH 014. AESPA WAS RIGHT

★ CH 015. GODDAMNIT PARK SEONGHWA

★ CH 016. WHAT THE H*CK

★ CH 017. I’M SO HASTAG SRS

★ CH 018. OPERATION: YNGYU

★ CH 019. HE’S UP TO NO GOOD

★ CH 020. PRAISE KINK ERA

★ CH 021. BAES JUST LIKE ME FR

★ CH 022. NVM Y’ALL HE RESPONDED

★ CH 023. TWO HEART EMOJIS

★ CH 024. RPS LEGEND

★ CH 025. KANG POMPOMPURIN

★ CH 026. BEGINNING OF A CHEESY ROMCOM

★ CH 027. WTFDYM

★ CH 028. IMAGINE NOT TALKING

★ CH 029. BLACK LIST SPEED RUN

★ CH 030. AS LONG AS SHE’S HAPPY

( EXTRA. ASK THEM ANYTHING EVENT:: PART i )

PART 2. POST TIME SKIP :

★ CH 031. BOMBASTIC SIDE EYE

★ CH 032. AS HOT AS I EXPECTED

★ CH 033. MY BABIES (AND KIM HONGJOONG)

★ CH 034. EVEN THE YANDERES

★ CH 035. DONGSAENG ZONED

★ CH 036. A STRANGE FEELING

★ CH 037. OLD FRIENDS

★ CH 038. I DON’T THINK I’M OKAY

★ CH 039. MINGI UR A PATHOLOGICAL LIAR

★ CH 040. LOVELY

★ CH 041. STEP BY STEP

★ CH 042. DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT

★ CH 043. OOPS

★ CH 044. WHATDIDIDOTOMYSELF

★ CH 045. LOVE LETTERS TO LEE HYORI

★ CH 046. LOSER DOESN’T EVEN DESCRIBE IT

★ CH 047. IF ONLY SHE KNEW

★ CH 048. LE’ ASTRE

( EXTRA. STAR’S 5TH MINI ALBUM :: LE’ ASTRE )

★ CH 049. FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT’S UNHOLY

★ CH 050. I’M ALRIGHT, I PROMISE

★ CH 051. BUTTERFLIES

★ CH 052. #STAR IS KILLING ME

★ CH 053. OK? OK! OK

★ CH 054. PURSUE HAPPINESS

★ CH 055. WHY DID YOU NEVER TELL ME

★ CH 056. THE TRUTH

★ CH 057. SERA WATANABE

★ CH 058. XD

★ CH 059. MILKY WAY

★ CH 060. LOVE

( EXTRA. ASK THEM ANYTHING EVENT:: PART ii )

ENDING O1.

★ 00i. PERUVIAN LILIES

★ 0ii. THE PRETTIEST

ENDING O2.

★ 00i. WHAT MAKES HIM, HIM

★ 0ii. LOM(OMMY)L



ENDING O3.

★ 00i. FINAL PUZZLE PIECE

★ 0ii. MINE.

★ AFTER WORD.

milky way © ad0rechuu, 2023. do not copy/repost.

[urdadsceilingfan]

Could you imagine Canon Ford having a conversation with Reverse Portal Stan and Ford. I’d imagine it’d go somewhere like this.

(C!=Canon ) (RP!=Reverse Portal)

C!Ford: so, you two are from an alternate universe where, if Stan had fallen into the portal instead of me?

RP!Stan: yup, basically

C!Ford: but you two seem so close, as if it had never happened

RP!Ford: well yeah, that’s because we’ve worked on repairing our relationship, though admittedly it was just Stan doing most of it in the beginning. I had felt to guilty to even try cause he’d had forgiven me almost immediately, and I felt like I didn’t have the right to his forgiveness, despite everything I’ve done, and how it all could’ve been avoided if I was more opened.

C!Ford: what do you mean by ‘opened’?

RP!Ford: well looking back, It was I, who was always pushing people away, and blaming them for it. I had allowed father to kick Stan out over a small mistake, and therefore leading him having to survive in a car whilst running from the law for years. And then there’s Fiddleford, who had seen what was on the other side of that portal, and warned that it had to be destroyed, but I was to blinded by my own ego to realize what it may have done to him..what he had to see, if I had just listened to him…none of anything that has happened would’ve happened, and Stan wouldn’t be missing an arm..he had to suffer so much cause of me, and instead of helping, I made up the narrative that he was dead all to save myself from the guilt, which was cruel and selfish

RP!Stan: hey now, it wasn’t your fault, I mean, I was of course angry at you for not even attempting to bring me back, but looking back through what I had to do survive in that hell, what I had to endure…I can understand why you didn’t want to risk opening it back up again. Though of course, I still do sometimes can’t help feel upset that you had done nothing, so that’s something I still need to work on

RP!Ford: and you have every right to feel way, hell, I wish you’d show more of it often towards me, I was the one who created that portal, and Fiddleford had warned me about the dangers of it, I didn’t listen, and in the end you had to play the price of my foolishness. And what makes it worse, is that I knew that if the roles were reversed, you would’ve done anything to bring me back

RP!Stan: hell yeah I would, even it took me all my life to figure it out, I would’ve gotten you out of there

C!Ford: …well, in my world you did just that, and I had punch and berated him for it

RP!Stan: wait- what…why?

C!Ford: I was upset that he didn’t heed my warnings..and that he could’ve ended the world as we know it..that he could’ve let Bill out

RP!Stan:…wait..what warnings

C!Ford: the warnings I had put the journals, and had written in-….in…(realizing)

RP!Stan:…in what?

RP!Ford: (also realizing and mumbling)…o-oh..he means in invisible ink

RP!Stan: huh? Say that again

RP!Ford: invisible ink

RP:Stan:….

C!Ford:…

RP!Ford:…

RP!Stan: (putting his hands together) so…let me get this straight..YOU are upset that he didn’t heed the warnings that you had put down, in all three journals..two of which you HIDE..and were all written in INVISIBLE INK?!

C!Ford:….

RP!Stan: did you tell him, that they would be in invisible ink..or where to find to the other two..or DID you just think that he’d figure it out somehow on his own? Cause I can tell you right now as we are the same person, he certainly would have NOT

C!Ford:…yeah I see where I went wrong

RP!Stan: yeah, no shit, you both have messed up, but you are more in the wrong here

C!Ford: I see that now…

THIS CRACKS ME UP!! anon you gotta become a fanfic writer because this is so good

Rp!au Ford and Stan getting along like bros, lots of apologizing and self reflection and then there’s canon Ford just staring at them

In the 2 other journals they show Ford’s slow decent into madness without the use of black lights but lets be honest Stan would still open that portal even if the first thing he read was “don’t open portal it will kills us all”

(I know you sent this awhile ago I’M SUPER SORRY)

[zeherili-ankhein]

Hello (｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡)

Intro Post... Everything under cut

Now that I have enough things my blog is dedicated to, I am posting this introduction post hehe...

About Me:

◍ Just call me “Shaku” lmao.... T_T

◍ I'm a minor, 16 year old studying in 11th class from Kolkata

◍ Yes I am Bangali, (bati ami.. maa ghoti, baba bangal lol)

◍ A proud Slytherin 🐍

◍ Bengali literatures I have read

◍ Thakumar Jhuli fan since the day I started watching (which is as a fucking 2 and a half year old lol)

Favourite ones are - ofcourse Shakchunni, Arun Barun o Kironmala, Monimala, Shahasradal o Champakdal, Sath bhai Champa, Lal Komol o Neel Komol and everything else..

◍ Pandob Goyenda fan forever

◍ I love Chhota Bheem and Shinchan so much

◍ And I absolutely love green 💚

◍ If I could I'd become a forest witch maybe... or a blue lotus... or a snake perhaps..

◍ ornithophobic, ophiophile, selenophile and floraphile

◍ Kolkata biriyani is the best 🗿

◍ Official MohiniChanchal child (fight me if you dare deny it)

◍ Pinterest board for Hindu mythology aesthetics

About the blog:

✿ Jily playlist I made –

✿ Incorrect quotes for Chhota Bheem and Shinchan. (I only post when I get enough ideas about the quotes lol)

Chhota Bheem community invitation anyone?

✿ My OTPs — Jily, Hinny, DekiNobi, Ronmione, GiyuShino, Sanekana, Tankana, Zennezu, Inoaoi, ObaMitsu, GojoHime, ChosoYuki, BellaDolphus, VanMozhi, HashiMito, MinaKushi, Ikarishipping, DesimChiyuki and a lot more...

✿ Rp blogs I own

– @peoplecallme-netaji

– @hansome-est-godofwar

– @miss-lily-evans

– @pavbhaji-prabhakar

– @laddoo-hain-drugs-nahi

– @topper-sugi

And some more... But why reveal them 🤭

✿ “The Cult of Vasant 🌷🌸🌹🌺🌻🌼🏵️💐🥀🪷🪻”

Cult Rituals, Vasant goes ham at LakshmiNarayan wedding, Vasant and Kamdev, Vasant in Treta Yug, Vasant and Hanuman, Vasant in Dwapar Yug, Vasant urban legend lore, Vasant admirers, Vasant food choises, sun sensetive Vasant, Dance teacher Vasant, Vasant and Holi and everything Vasant

Vasant x Neto shipper all the wayyyyyyyy

✿ Yamraj appreciation, un-villainizing Indradev, defending Shri Ram, defending Draupadi, Arjun better than Karna truer, Behula and Lakhindar are my babies and many more...

✿ The Black Family is my Roman empire honestly...

✿ DADDYMON truer 🗿

— Doraemon Rp blogs

— An original Dekisugi lore, and a small fic written on it curtsey to @/nobita-ki-mummy aka @/hi-avathisside

— Doraemon moodboards

Doraemon moodboard

Nobita moodboard

Shizuka moodboard

Gian moodboard

Suneo moodboard

Dekisugi moodboard

Pippo/Judo moodboard

Riruru moodboard

✿ Mythology, Hinduism, memes, magic and anything and everything honestly...

→ Voices of the Gods part 1

→ Voices of the Gods part 2

→ Kartikeya Da Peacock Dance Master

→ Shatrughan da Ghoomar master

→ Hindu gods modern au

✿ I paint and draw... And do origami. Which I sometimes posts.. (I especially like painting sceneries and Hindu gods and goddesses)

෴ Paper flowers part 1

෴ Paper flowers part 2

෴ Other paper stuff

෴ Kartikeya with Paravani art (with og lore)

෴ Shri Hari (pencil sketch)

෴ Murlidhar (pencil sketch)

෴ silly landscape

✿ No place for homophobes, transphobes, pedophiles, racists, misogynists or any hateful people on my blog

✿ @/foreignink is my tumblr bestie... I know her irl too and I love her more than most of the things in this world... Donchu dare say anything to her 🔪

[confessionsofa-roleplayer]

I'm gonna be really real here. The female OC discourse is tiresome for several reasons. First reason: male ocs are overlooked too. Second reason: Female OCs ignore other Female OCs. Say what you mean, you want male muse attenion. Third reason: sometimes the female muses are not bad, they have great stories and are well thought out, but they are just not that fun to write with. To explain, you are technically sorta kinda in like a competitive market here? Where everyone wants their character to grab attention. It's not that your character needs to be FUCKING LOUD AND ATTENTION HUNGRY, but you need to have something that hooks others. And i'm sincerely sorry, but 'strong girl with traumatic past, barely reacts to anything, btw is so tough' is not what will grab attention. Third and a half reason: btw these female OCs who have verses based off an anime usually take the role of the like. main 'fighting class' if you know what i mean? Whoever the main character is involved with, their faction basically. I learned that it doesn't grab as much attention as making an OC that is in a lesser known role within the series. MY female OC happened to have one such verse, and people were STARVED for interactions with it, despite it being a non-combatant role. This is not to say you should give up your character's fighting status, it's that you need to think outside of the box because these people are likely all used to having the same interractions with people within their character's factions. Try to think of a more unique fighting role. (I'm sorry it's hard to explain these factions without namedropping certain animes, which is against this blogs rules lol) I have written them all, my friends. Female OCs, male OCs, canon females and males. Do you know what was my most popular character? A female OC, that had an extremely gentle personality. But she had certain quirks to her (I wont specify to avoid outing myself) that intrigued people. Likewise, she was very reactive to the things that happened to her. It's so fascinating to me, that we have these tough and badass female OCs, yet their muns are so the opposite with how they handle them. They are passengers to the plot, not leaders. My female OC was extremely docile, but I as the mun took the reigns to either get the plot going or work with others. You don't have to be OOC to achieve it, you can still have this level headed badass, but you as the mun have so much power to make the plot interesting. All of this is not to say the female OC is bad. It's just that in rp you have to think about what others want. It's collaborative writing. You must be engaging and grab attention. Sell your muse to the audience!!! This takes time to know and understand within the rpc. Pay attention to others. I learned it by rping all type of characters and learning what I was missing in interactions.

[ghostsandmirrors]

Questions for the mun - all Basics please? Don't hate me lol

Questions for the mun.

pfft, I could never. I am going to miss one question because someone else sent it, too.

(under read more because that's 12 questions)

When did you first start writing? 2008. I was on Mibba (writing site) and someone's journal post was an advert for a Proboards Potter forum.

In what language did you start writing? English. It was only like 2019 that I started trying to learn another language och jag är så dålig på talar svenska x.x (and I'm so bad at talking Swedish)

If your mother tongue is not the language you write now, what caused you to switch languages? N/A - one day I'll get good enough at Swedish to RP in it but that ain't today.

What was the first muse that you’ve written? Her name was Judy Lewis on that Proboards site in 2008. I also wrote her twin brother (Jesse Lewis). She was a Slytherin half-blood, he was a Hufflepuff half-blood.

I once answered an ask about her on the Bringer's blog so here's the link.

Do you still write your first muse? Nope. I consider remaking her sometimes--especially when memes ask about first muses--but I think she belongs in 2008 and in the fanfic I was writing at the time.

What is the muse that you write for the longest? This is answered here. The answer is Bam (first made 2009 on a Potter site I made); 2009 Gerard Way had that vibe and then they dyed their hair red and Danger Days came out and I was like 👀👀👀

Also because of Bam, and me being so specific when it came to making graphics (avatars and signatures), I can tell you which year a Gerard Way picture came from between the years of 2003 and 2013 based entirely on their hair.

I used to think I was neurotypical btw. Teenage me making a Notepad document of Gerard Way GIFs organised by hair style and year ('long black, 2005') like, 'yeah, this is a normal level of interest in a subject.' It is not, but it is a fun fact I get to whip out now.

In what style did you start to write (First person, third person, *-style or novel-style?) I have always written in third person, past tense, I guess novel-style? Used to do a lot of one-liners but--and I actually mentioned this to someone the other day--I ended up on a lot of sites with minimum word counts (usually only like 100 words, which sounds like a lot but is surprisingly small).

My longest post pre-Tumblr was like 2k words because me and a thread partner were just seeing how long we could make our posts in that specific thread. We also tried to go back to one-liners only for a thread (for fun) and we were struggling.

What caused you to start writing? What was your key point? General writing was probably this one book series about a man who lived with a family that made clay dragon statues and the dragon statues came to life. I looked it up; The Last Dragon Chronicles. I did not read all of them.

RP specifically was the site advert coming when I had like just started writing a Potter fanfic of Goblet of Fire from the point of view of Random OC (Judy Lewis, who was a Gryffindor in the fic).

Do you regret starting writing? No. It taught me how to spell, for starters. I was dogshit at spelling and grammar back in the day and I've gotten so much better just through practice and actually learning what things are used for. Also like... you get the best reactions. Even if I ever managed to quit RP--which I don't think I will--I would never be able to fully stop writing because of those reactions. One way or another, I will inflict fictional suffering on people.

As a kid, I wanted to be an author. Making characters and worlds is way too fun.

Is there anything you would have changed when you started writing now that you have more experience? RP specific; no. Writing in general; I'd have started writing proper English from the beginning and not spent years deciding that full stops are only used for the end of a paragraph, actually.

Also some of the older characters don't have their apps saved at all and I'm still mad about it. I struggled making Arnulf because his old app and all his old information is gone. I'm gonna die mad at past me about like 17 different things and it's fine because they deserve it.

How do you describe writing / rp to others? Generally I don't, but if I had to, I would describe it as 'y'know writing a story? It's like that but you only control one character.' It's not accurate--NPCs exist--but like it's the closest I can get considering I'm genuinely trash at describing anything lmao

On what platform did you start to write? Accidentally answered this in the first answer. Oops. Proboards. I actually refused to go to other forum sites for the longest time because I didn't understand the coding for posts. On Proboards it was like [b]bold[/b], on InvisionFree it was <b>bold</b>, I think Jcink was [b]bold[/b]?

I did eventually also go on InvisionFree (one site, a Buffy/The Vampire Diaries crossover site) and Jcink (multiple sites, mostly Marvel/DC crossover sites, a couple of panfandom sites, a town site?, and at least one Potter site). Jcink might be my favourite of the three.

There was also 'Boards' which was to Proboards what Jcink was to InvisionFree (Jcink sites have 'powered by InvisionFree' at the bottom, Boards sites had 'powered by Proboards').

[toestalucia]

SHIPPING INFO. answer the following for your muse(s) so people know how shipping works on your blog.

what’s your OTP for your muse(s)?

im easy...........and like too much.......personally ! i prefer akira with the older wizards, ive talked about being in those ship tags ummmm a lot<3 i cant narrow it down further......the twins are an exception but ive been over that in the past. atm i like emu with mafuyu, rui, nene & akito a lot :D theres def more (like honami i think would be cute! and i do like her with tsukasa too, but emu tsukasa besties....), but im like twice her age so i think about that stuff so rarely LOLLLL i thought hard about the rest of my muses but.......?????????? eight/machina....perhaps...........sofia/forte.......yeong/tara......(cagli teehee)

what are you willing to RP when it comes to shipping?

i lov drama. with gran it comes natural cuz welcome to ur 'assuming things w/out asking' and 'thinks way too much into the future where they dont want to settle down' captain. i think akiras the most tender of all of them? and most likely to actually bring up issues? sofia is fun because i think about the event where she Doesnt speak in opposites and micah ends up rly confused........being accepted with her weird speech patterns..... natsume too, either staying at the accepting his weird behavior (jumping, scared expression, running) or having the 'i can see youkai' convo....yknow.....its good...i know tanuma alrdy had a convo like that (UNREAL CONVO i miss it) but yknow. Overall ! anything. mostly. theres some 'ohhh angst' topics im not interested in, so i think most stuff stay on the more lighthearted/loving side tho

how large does the age gap have to be to make it uncomfortable?

feel like a fraud everytime i say that i personally wont write akira with some of the 20yo's cuz im always close to deciding to make akira closer to 30. and then i say i like akira with figaro & oz......the ancient ppl......

are you selective when shipping?

rather than selective i just dont ask ppl........and i have no interest in making relationship calls nor liking them........i want to see where the writing goes first cuz i knoowwww i sometimes say gran would say x but then i write it and y happens yknow LOLLLLLL i'd be open to jumping into stuff on discord or something tho i think ? i think i could jump into romance stuff no problemo then cuz it'd feel slightly separated from here...?! cuz idk but theres something when i open this blog that i......its a very slowburn......if ure willing to spend some months writing so gran can become more accepting of the idea then its go go go. does this make sense. well either way im not sure tbh. grans a bit added difficulty too considering how i deal with their age LOLLL since cygames is pushing 15yo still. which gives me a headache seeing how the summer events etc are explicitly yearly.....i cannot write act3 gran as a teen, not when theres a political engagement with alliah like cmon....i refuse..........but since ure following this blog uve alrdy read this stuff in my rules/about LOL

either way akiras easier with romance. i just dont approach ppl about it. whenever i make that farmsim blog i wanna be more casual with this stuff tbh...T_^ for funsies............write some yearning...

how far do steamy moments have to go before they’re considered NSFW?

not far at all. LMFAOOOOOOOO i use that tag very liberally. its unlikely im writing that stuff anyway....

does one have to ask to ship with you?

:DDDDDDDDDD if i ask u we've probably written for years & years && its starting to reach crush-territory anyway (hello kaitlyn) but man idk what it is....romance is just difficult to write on tomblr rn for me...gran does not make this easier. the issues r endless. can i offer u akira.

how often do you like to ship?

(person whos always in ship tags) (smiley face) (smiley face) (smiley face) can u get into mhyk for akira....or farmsims....................ill ship everything in there.....

are you multiship?

YAAAAAA the idea of having 1 ship on my blog doesnt excite me. even tho i dont write romance atm. LMFAOABKAJD

are you ship obsessed or ship more-or-less?

do u wanna hear about the akifi doujins ive read. or the akifau art where faust puts a flowercrown on akiras head.

what is your favorite ship in your current fandom?

THIS IS HOW DIANTHA/CLARISSE CAN STILL WIN. i am also a sabrina/leona fan. 'did they interact' no but they should. ppl who lost their husband(s). ppl who both should be AT THE CLUB. me/canaria. me/crystal

finally, how does one ship with you?

u like my posts & listen to my ramblings and i twirl my hair and send u more asks and then it just happens. foolproof.

tagged by: @convxction faty my beloved my everything u should do it for ur multi too.... tagging: @shiningstages kait i think u should do this for ur multi and ramble............

[timeofjuly]

Twenty Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you so much for the tag @floofanflurr <3 I am always happy to yap about my fics! I'll pop this below the cut 'cause it's kinda long.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Eight under the timeofjuly account, and a few others scattered around other usernames and the anonymous collection.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 124,470 words, which is kinda crazy to look back on since I only started in August of last year.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Just Undertale at the moment, but I've written for a few other fandoms in the past.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Resisting the Current

Trick or Heat

Wishbone

Parallel Circuits

And Four Papyri in a Pear Tree

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes! Always, though it sometimes takes me a little to get around to it. My favourite thing about writing fanfic is the sense of community that you build, so I love getting to chat about the fic in the comments. I always have a million and one thoughts that didn't make it to the page that I'm desperate to share. I also like to say thank you when people go out of their way to comment, because I really appreciate it. As a reader, I know I get super excited when an author replies to my comments.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I'm going to go with a few of the RtC 'verse oneshots for this. I think Resolutions from Parallel Circuits ends on a pretty angsty note, particularly compared to the seemingly upbeat start. From Silver String, there will be no answer is pretty bleak and so is on my way home. I'm quite proud of how they both end, actually - I think they're my two strongest endings in the lot.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Any of the smut, probably? They're all set in happy established relationships and end on a cutesy note.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not for a very long time, no! I remember, many many years ago, posting my very first fic on fanfic.net lol and getting a very nasty review about how the reader didn't know the main pairing in the fic was m/m (slash back then, what a blast from the past) even though it was very clearly indicated in the summary and the AN at the start. It goes to show people have been bad at curating their own reading experiences by minding the tags and summaries since forever.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yep! Mostly established relationship stuff under this username so far.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I'm not super into cross-universe crossovers, but, same as @floofanflurr, I really like playing around with cross fic crossovers. I'm (slowly) writing a crack dialogue-only oneshot where the reader inserts of Wishbone and RtC are stuck together in a broken elevator lol. It's been a fun challenge! It's very very hard to put two characters who are normally referred to in the second person in the same scene, lemme tell you, which is why I ended up choosing to go dialogue only.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think so.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have not, but I'd be open to it!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nothing that I've posted! @marty-parties and I have been messing around with an underfell papyrus/reader fic, though! I also used to rp all the time, which I'd count as cowriting. I miss it very much, even though I used to get super easily overwhelmed by it.

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

This is such a tough question. I'll pretty much read anything if I vibe with the ship dynamics (pining and unrequited love my beloved, I will read you anywhere no matter the ship or fandom), but I went through my bookmarks to actually get the stats on this. I used to be super into the mcu (I completely lost interest after endgame) so tony/steve and tony/steve/bucky were the most common ships. I have no clue what my favourite ship would be now, though.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Never say never, but I really want to write this horrortale isekai fic I've had bouncing around in my brain. I've fully plotted it out and it's set to only be five chapters, but I'm really struggling to actually write the thing. I have started it, though, so we'll see.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Characterisation, I think. And even though I mostly gravitate towards writing angsty stuff, I think humour and comedic timing is a strength of mine too.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Physical description and settings, 100%. I don't really picture anything in my head when I write, which means all that physical description doesn't make its way onto the page, and when it does, I'm just going off vibes. Particularly with setting - I have zero idea what the locations in any of my fics look like lol. Like, the house in RtC? No clue. Zero.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Really cool! I love it when people do this and I get to translate it, it's like a nice surprise.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter, I think? It's all scrubbed from the internet now though.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Wishbone. I am so attached to the Second Mage and Sans and Rus, you have no idea. Particularly Flint, I just adore them. Don't get me wrong, I love the electrician and Quinn and all of my ocs, but I have a special place in my heart for reader inserts who are nasty and hurting and lash out and aren't always the kind, considerate, emotionally stable person in the relationship, forever supporting others. I read something years ago that said to consider how your character is inclined to react to things, both good and bad, and how for lots of people, it's not in our nature to instinctively respond to things with kindness and openness. In fiction, we often expect our POV characters to deal with situations with emotional maturity that we ourselves, along with the majority of irl people, don't have. I think this rings true even more for reader inserts. It's fun to flip this on its head in Wishbone - what if instead of acting with an uncommon kindness, you do the opposite? You get to be flawed. You get to have the murky motives. You get to hurt and in turn you hurt others, and that hurting has real consequences on you and the people around you. This is also a great way to create angst lol - in the non-fell version of Wishbone, where everyone is generally just less of an asshole and therefore makes kinder choices, a lot of the events in the fic just wouldn't happen.

No pressure tag to @covfefeships and anyone else who'd like to do this!

[alwaysaqueene]

Destined Queen

Indie RP Blog for Original Character’ Medieval, Regency, and High Fantasy Verses — Sideblog to @joyfulmagic & special verses for Relta & Aislin of @fantasiesandfolklore, guest test muse Prince Alastair as well

Written by 𝕷𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖎𝖊 [Lettie] || Mun is 25+ || Blog is 18+ (Preferably 21+)

Minors (under 18) and Personal Blogs DO NOT INTERACT

[Relta’s “Regular” Bio]

[Verse Info Tag] [Guest Staring Lord Alastair, Half-Brother to Relta] & Aislin’s Medieval Verses from @fantasiesandfolklore FCs Used: Charlotte Hope (18-32); Rebecca Ferguson (30+); Ruairi O’Connor (18-35); Anya Taylor Joy (18+); & Natalie Dormer (30+)

Rules are below the readmore on this post

Heavily Affiliated With: @ofheroesandscholars, @singeart, @blackarrcw, @luposcainus, @aislingarrow and @tsarincvdova

𝒜 𝓈𝓉𝓊𝒹𝓎 𝒾𝓃…being the bad guy, raising Hell and high water, religion, paganism, royalty, destiny, fighting fate, the girl with ice in her veins and a heart of gold, blood spilled for justice, living out of spite, heroics, being the final girl, the stench of the battlefield after a war, and taking one’s rightful place on the throne.

𝕽𝖚𝖑𝖊𝖘

NO minors (under 18 years old / still in high school) or personal blogs please! I’d prefer to write only with muns ABOVE age 21, as I am currently 27 (6/2024) years old.

Open to non-mutuals, but still semi-selective toward the selective side

Preferential treatment given to those I’ve built an OOC relationship with / am heavily affiliated with. Just being honest.

No god modding with the exception of starters, as I know you kind of have to a bit to write a decent starter

Multi-para / novella length replies usually. Please attempt to meet my length or at least my effort. Sometimes replies are short to move things along, I get that.

No auto-shipping, as Relta does not want to fall in love or have a co-monarch as a default in the phoenix queen/queen of ashes verses

IF we do ship, know I’ll be simping for them and wish to talk about them OOC a fair amount. Also, expect playlists for solidified ships haha.

My main triggers are animal death, parent death, cancer, infertility, and Dementia/Alzheimer's. Memory issues due to other reasons are fine. PLEASE let me know your triggers so I can avoid them as well.

Dark topics will be present, and the presence of NSF/W isn’t impossible. I will tag NS/FW as “lemons” or “mild lemons” depending on the severity (like PG-13 versus R rated).

Relta is queer, as is the mun. Please be respectful of that.

The mun is neurodivergent and disabled, so please be patient with me. I may miss stuff like social cues at times.

My discord is open to mutuals, but it’s an easy one to guess based on my main blog hub title lol

I have studied history and international politics in college, and plan to focus on medieval times in graduate school when I attend. Relta’s verses on this blog are heavily influenced by actual history and historical figures, so please know I HAVE done my research or asked my Tudor historian friend lol I might twist it and throw in a ton of various influences, but it’s still historically inspired.

I saw BBC’s Robin Hood…18 years ago now…when it first came out and I was a kid, so I’m a bit rusty on it since I can’t find a free way to rewatch it. Thus, I’ll be leaning into headcanons a bit and actual history about King Richard, the Crusades, and Robin Hood lore for the V: Lionhearted verse. I’d be happy to discuss the show AND history/lore with anyone interested in this verse.

I often post worldbuilding and headcanon stuff about Relta in these verses, so don’t be surprised if they outnumber IC posts for a while.

Relta has been an OC of mine since I played make believe with my friends in elementary school, and simply has evolved to who she is now through a passion for creative writing and a gaining of knowledge on character building. She’s still a bit Mary Sue-ish at times, but I work hard to incorporate her flaws and weaknesses as much as I do her strengths and positive traits. She’s not perfect, as no one is.

I am mobile always, so I cannot cut posts unfortunately.

[exile-of-dathomir]

[You open the door to the cafe, where the ambient lighting is soft and orange like the planet of a red sun. It's easy on the eyes, still illuminating the front counter plenty enough to see all the various food items for sale, and the menus where hundreds of drinks are carefully written out in chalk. The room is filled with mismatched tables and cozy booths, with a spiral staircase that leads up to a loft of couches. It smells incredibly good in here, like rich caf and baked things. A yellow, heavily tattooed zabrak stands at the counter, leaning on it while idly scrolling the holonet on a datapad. He looks up when you enter, smiling.]

“Hey come on in! I don't bite unless you ask nicely. A joke! Haha, just a joke, I swear. Don't be nervous, I'm always good to my customers. So welcome to the Twin Moons Cafe, what can I get you?”

((Welcome to the Twin Moons. This is an RP blog for the nightbrother Feral. All interactions and tagging @exile-of-dathomir assumes you've come up to the counter in person, unless you explicitly state otherwise, such as sending a comm message or holocall. Ask box is open for 'holonet' messages. If you want to RP without using reblogs, feel free to start a message chain on a post or DM. The cafe menu includes anything you want it to. The end of this post includes more helpful interaction advice.))

((Read below the cut for Feral’s backstory.))

Feral is friendly and chatty, don't be nervous, come on in! He'd love to make you a drink. ☕

.

((tw: nightsister temple scene, graphically depicted.))

I'm laying on the cot in Viscus’s back room, the one reserved for the injured.

Only I'm not injured anymore, just… empty inside. I'd tried so damn hard to win the Selection, but it hadn't been enough.

The thing is… I've never wanted kids, okay, but Savage? He smiles the most when the littlest brothers are underfoot, and he's never been one to smile much in the first place.

So I had thought…

Better than half of the nightbrothers that are Selected never come back, but, a year later a new kid is dropped off in the village, often more than one, with familiar angles to their faces, to the shape of their eyes.

If someone was going away and probably not coming back? I wanted it to be me. I can't handle the idea of being the one to wait a year, hoping to see if a new little brother shows up, with yellow skin and big almond eyes and-

I wanted it to be me.

Despite being the fastest climber and one of the best archers in the village, I’d failed. The melee part of the selection, the Trial of Night especially, against that nightsister with the smokey voice…

I turn over in the cot, and bury my face in the rough spun fabric.

I'd failed, and she'd Selected my brother instead. The fuck was I supposed to do now? Pick a new sparring partner? Go hunting by myself?

Just… carry on, like half my heart wasn't missing?

The chair beside the cot creeks with the weight of someone sitting in it. I assume it's Viscus, come to kick me out, or Burn, here to bother me into doing anything else besides laying here until I stop breathing.

“I'm so sorry, Feral…” comes the soft, silky voice of Rend.

I roll over, despite the fact that I probably look like shit, because this is the one person who might have answers for me.

Rend smiles when I do, but her lilac eyes don't crinkle at the corners like a real one. Good try though.

“Is he still…? Are they going to…” I have to ask.

Sometimes nightbrothers come home after the Selection. It's not… it's not unheard of.

“I don't know,” she replies, reaching out to stroke cold fingers over my forehead, passing her wrinkled knuckles under the line of my horns. “The Nightmother’s inner circle are preparing him for something, the rest of us aren't privy to what.”

I clear my throat, swallowing around a heavy thickness that clings to it. “Is that… normal? Does it mean anything?”

Rend shakes her head, the small, enchanted bells on her shawl sending out eddies in the force. A sound I've long associated with wise words and unusual kindness. “It can be… it depends on what sort of Selection it was.”

I sit up, gripping the edge of the cot. Her evasive words aren't helping.

“Is it normal for when they're going to use one of us as a stud? Or is it something else?” I ask, trying to keep my tone even.

I'm terrified. Hopeful. Terrified of being hopeful.

“No. It's not something generally done when a nightbrother is brought to the temple for procreation,” she admits.

I let go of the cot’s edge in favor of dropping my head into my hands.

Maybe… maybe.

Maybe he's coming back. Maybe I won't have to try and raise my nephews while trying not to scream inside everytime I look at them. Maybe I won't have nephews.

Would that be better… or worse?

Rend sits down on the cot beside me, the cloth arm of her deep red robes coming over my back like a blanket. “Oh Feral… you should have been born on Rattatak or Iridonia.”

“I'm not weak!” I hiss, trying not to be offended. She's not… wrong.

“No,” Rend agrees softly, “you're one of the best warriors in the village. It doesn't change the fact that your soul is… gentle. Warm.”

“Being warm didn't win me the Selection, so what's it worth?” I mutter.

The nightsister snorts. “You wanted to be Selected?”

“... I want to have been Selected instead of Savage,” I admit, rubbing at my eyes tiredly.

Rend sighs, like the very idea of it makes her even more tired than I am. “Go home. Get some rest. If I find out anything about your brother, I'll come let you know, alright?”

I manage a thin smile up at her, then take her thin fingers in mine to kiss the back of her knuckles. “Thank you nightsister. I… thank you.”

She withdrawals to stand up, giving my shoulder one last squeeze. “Walk with the fanged god’s blessing, nightbrother.”

I watch her go, until the bright splash of her robes disappears around the corner. Viscus takes her place in the door frame, watching me silently with his kind, weathered eyes.

“You heard her, Feral. Go on home… and take care of yourself. You might have a maleling on your hands, come spring. Don't forget that,” he cautions me, in his gruff way.

I drag myself to my feet, buoyed just barely enough by the thought that maybe this was an unusual Selection, and the results might be unusual too. Maybe Savage will be back tomorrow, and we can go fishing like we'd planned…

I leave, but I don't make it home.

Halfway across the village, a pair of nightsister initiates come striding up to me.

“Follow,” says one, droll and bored.

“You have been summoned,” snaps the other.

I know better than to speak when sisters come calling with sneering looks and curt demands. With my head lowered I follow, but excitement churns in my guts.

Was I being called on to help Savage take his leave from the temple? Did they already… you know, and now they want someone to get him out of their way?

Maybe, maybe.

The two sisters direct me into a side seat on a transport spreeder, and take off. I watch Viscus, Rend, and the Comand brothers all rush forward, only to stop at the gate, watching us go.

I lean out to wave.

The ride across the continent goes fast on these speeders. Rather than a three day flight on a winged creature, or a week long run on a hooved one, the nightsisters’ transport gets us to the temple in a matter of hours.

“Follow,” the shorter one orders me.

For as many herb hunting trips as I've gone on for Rend and some of the other sisters, I've… never actually been to the temple. It's huge. I mean just… it's the whole mountain range. The statues that border it's entry are bigger than any creature I've ever seen.

We enter, and Domir’s red light is quickly replaced by the softer glow of lamps. I'm led to a room with nothing in it, just a nightsister waiting with a cup.

“Drink.” She hands it off to me, and leaves.

I sit down at the back wall, ready to wait patiently, hoping I'll get to see Savage soon. The drink tastes limey. A little too sweet for my tastes, but not noxious or anything.

I turn around as she goes, just about ready to brave asking a careful question or two, but all the witches have left. They close the door behind them, and I'm alone in a plain stone room.

Well… alright then.

Sipping idly at the cup, I wait.

I feel as if… he's alive. Maybe it's just wishful thinking, but it's like… I can feel him? Maybe it's not wishful thinking, sometimes I just know things.

As long as my brother is okay, I don't really care what happens next. I'll carry him back across the continent if I have to. I know he'd do the same for me.

I stop drinking the cup when I get tired of the flavor. It's too damn strong, honestly. Setting it aside is the last thing I remember before falling asleep.

Rough hands lift me upward under either arm, and I blink awake.

“Mmnh?” I ask, disoriented.

“Silence, nightbrother,” says one of the women holding me.

Ughl. I feel… unwell. What was in that drink?

The nightsisters drag me out of the room, which is a good thing, because I don't think I can stand. We don't go far, really. One long hallway and a few doors down, and they come to a stop. Then they just… stand there.

What are we waiting for exactly?

“Bring in the prisoner,” I hear, in that nightsister’s voice. “Now… for the final test.”

Prisoner? The fuck.

The two witches bearing me up start forward again, dragging me into a room scrawled with ritual circles and ichor and all manner of nightmagick tools.

I look up, confused, because… because I feel my brother, but I don't see him.

The two sisters drop me on the stone floor before those gathered, then retreat to the sides. I'm honestly a little dizzy, but I look up, waiting to see what they want from me, looking for-

It's the eyes that I recognize first. His markings are in shadow, and his frame is… different, but it's him.

“Savage!”

The hulking man that looks down on me just… stares. Wordless.

“Now,” says the woman, with words like syrupy poison, “kill him.”

My jaw drops of its own accord. She can't be serious, can she? He would never.

I look from the nightsister back to my brother, waiting to see what the plan is. If he wants to try fighting our way out… well the odds suck, but I'm willing to try.

Savage looks back at me and just… growls, softly.

I hadn't noticed it before, too caught up in feeling sick and confused and hopeful, but my brother feels…

…absent.

Oh fuck.

This is nightmagick.

“Savage? Y-you know me…”

Nothing.

“I’m your kin!”

Nothing.

Savage’s eyes narrow, and again he growls, soft and low in his chest. He makes no move to gut me, at least.

“Do not do this!” I encourage.

Gods be good, he'd never forgive himself. I'd rather jump from the top of gorgara falls than let him-

“I said kill him,” the nightsister orders, smacking my brother across the face.

It barely moves him. He's like a mountain onto himself with… whatever it is they've done to him.

He never looks away from me, and I refuse to look away from him.

‘Come on brother’, I will toward him, ‘It's me.’

With a lurch, he steps forward, reaching out. For a few beautiful seconds I think he's going to pick me up and run…

His hand slips around my throat.

“No!” I cry out, horrified.

“Mnnngg…”

“Brother,” I beg as he lifts me, “Brother please.”

“You,” he rumbles, caustic and hateful, “make. Weakling.”

I try calling his name, my nails scrabbling at his forearm as the hand that had patched my wounds a hundred times instead squeezes the life out of me.

I feel my neck break with a sickening crunch I can taste, and suddenly my world narrows down to what I can see, which grows dimmer, and what I can hear, which grows quieter.

I can feel nothing of my body besides the skin on my face, and even that is fading.

The world spins, and my cheek is pressed to the cold stone floor.

“Good,” the nightsister with the smokey voice croons. “Very good…”

“You will learn to draw your strength from your emotions...”

“Hate will feed you….”

“Never sympathize with the enemy…”

“Not even for a moment…”

“Yes. Sister.”

Hate…? Hate is difficult to feel. Maybe I'm inured to the average nightsister's casual cruelty, but what I'm feeling right now as I die… it's not hate.

It's grief.

Gods why… why did they make him…

… and then, suddenly, everything is pain.

I jerk, screaming. Howling. Incoherently and uncontrollably writhing.

My limbs are fire, my gut is lightning, every breath is sand and grit. I scream for so long and so hard that I lose sense of time and direction.

“I'm so sorry, oh winged goddess forgive me, I had to try. What did I do wrong? I was so careful…”

I scream.

And scream.

And scream.

“I shouldn't have… This spell… I shouldn't have…”

That's… that's… I know that voice.

I draw in a deep breath, and force myself to shut up. It hurts even more, and I barely manage it, but what else is there?

More screaming? Forever?

“Rrrr,” I try, but speaking is ridiculously difficult. “Rrre… reennnn…”

A gasp. Hands on my shoulders. Her pale face comes into view, framed by the red-orange sky.

“Feral?” she asks, thin brows turned up with fear and hope, “Please. Please tell me you're in there?”

In where? I try to ask but it comes out like gravel poured off a cliff.

Rather than try and talk when it just isn't working, I reach up to cup her wrinkled cheek. My hand shakes, covered in dirt, with too-long claws and streaks of ichor, but I manage it.

Gently, I stroke a thumb over her cheek. “Rr-rrennnnd.”

The nightsister’s lilac eyes fall closed, and she holds my hand to her face with one of her own. “It's okay… it's okay. I'll heal more of you, just… stay calm, alright? Don't think too hard.”

I can barely think in the first place, so that's doable.

Exhausted, and still in unholy amounts of pain, I relax as best I can. I don't… remember how I got hurt this bad, but I'm glad Rend was on hand or I'd probably be dead.

Where is… um. Where is…

There's someone else I'm looking for.

My thoughts drift like clouds, uncoordinated and ever shifting. Incohesive.

I feel like I'm lifted, energy raising me up, moving me. Night falls, and we pass into a village of some sort. My legs feel like I'm being passively electrocuted.

A nightbrother comes into view above me. Older, but handsome. He has kind eyes.

“What have you done, nightsister?” he asks, raw and quiet.

“He didn't deserve… I can't help- mn. But I could help him,” Rend replies, from somewhere near my head.

“Sister…” the man starts, fearful, “If one of the Nightmother's inner circle return to the village and see him here…”

“I know,” she says, swallowing, “believe me, I know. I'll… figure something out.”

“One of the other enclaves?” he asks.

“... no,” Rend replies slowly, “I don't think that will be enough.”

“Then what?” the man asks, laying a hand on my head, fingers threaded gently between the horns.

“... I'll come up with something.”

I fade out after that, weary to my bones from fighting the endless twitching in my limbs, bearing myself as steadily as I can, despite the cold fire in my fingers.

The next time I wake up, I'm… elsewhere.

I shiver, automatically clutching at the blankets piled on me. Footsteps echo on metal, low voices talking, too distant to hear.

A hand lands on my forehead, like they're checking my temperature.

I open my eyes, looking upward at the person. It's a nightsister. She smiles at me.

I know her… don't I know her?

“Where am I?” comes out of my throat more like ‘wheremm iiii?’ but it's better than before.

“We're on a starship, Feral. In orbit. Have you ever been up here before?”

Now that she says it, I can feel… I can feel that home is down. I hate it.

“I want to ggg-go home,” I tell her, cringing at the rust in my voice. “My t-throat hurts.”

The woman makes a horrible face for just a moment, then gathers me close. I'm… being hugged. It's nice.

“I'm sorry your throat hurts,” she croaks, “The magick that… fixed it… was born of our planet. Taking you away from that is… well I would prefer not to, but it's not safe for you anymore. I have to take you somewhere else.”

I can barely understand what she's saying. That was so many words in a row. A noise escapes me, unhappy and forlorn. I don't want to go somewhere else. I want to go back to… to…

“Nightsister,” I say, then pause to cough, “wwwhat is our planet called? My h-head is…”

The woman lays me back, such strength in her arms even though she's aged. With lines like that in her skin, she must be pushing several centuries.

“I know you,” I tell her, distressed. “But I- I-”

“Shhh,” the sister tells me, “your mind will heal, but it will take time. I'm Rend. We're from Dathomir. You're… the best assistant I've ever had, honestly.” She makes a sad little hiccup, trying to smile and failing. “Our medicinal stores have never been better, but apparently that doesn't matter to those- those- …nevermind. Just rest, alright?”

I want to say no, but I'm already slipping away again.

I'm Feral. Her name is Rend. Dathomir. Home is Dathomir.

I'm Feral.

She's Rend.

Home is Dathomir.

I repeat these to myself, desperately holding on to the only three thoughts in my head.

The flight to wherever we're going takes a while. I can't really keep track of the hours, nevermind the days, but it feels like it's been ages.

I relearn how to walk. How to drink. How to hold a stylus. How to put on clothes. It's horrible. I'm either confused, embarrassed, or both ninety percent of the time.

There's only one other person on the ship, the pilot. A very old nightbrother, older than I'd ever seen before. He doesn't talk much. Apparently they're old friends, with enough favors owed that neither keeps track anymore.

He's nice to me, but distant.

I'm more awake than asleep during the day by the time we come out of hyperspace near… wherever we've been heading to. While the ship lands, Rend helps me get dressed in new clothes.

“These are uh, k-kinda ugly,” I tell her, frustrated that I still can't stop stuttering.

She laughs, patting me on the cheek and straightening the vest like I'm a youngling. “I have to make you less pretty, you know. You’ll attract too much attention with that smile of yours, hm? Try to look grumpy and dull while we go through customs for me ”

I side eye her. “What's a customs?”

“It's a… security check, to make sure people visiting a place aren't bringing things that aren't supposed to be there,” Rend explains. “Coruscant is very strict about such things.”

“We're going to… kor-sant… then?” I ask. Never heard of it, honestly.

She steps back, looking at me sadly. “There's going to be a lot of new things to get used to here, but I've a friend who's going to help you get settled.”

I shift uncomfortably. “... not you?”

The nightsister shakes her head, making the little bells of her shawl tinkle and chime. “The Nightmother will look for me eventually. Nothing slips by her. If I stayed, it would leave a trail right back to you.”

“... and that's… bad?” I ask, still not understanding.

Rend’s expression twists in anger for a split second, but she hides it by looking away. I can still feel it though.

“Nevermind all that, Feral. There's a new life waiting for you here. Focus on the future, okay?”

“... alright.”

Everything goes really fast after that. The ship lands and the airlock spills us out in a busy place that the pilot calls a ‘spaceport’. Rend holds my hand, leading me through ‘customs’ and the dense crowds, showing papers to different people, and exchanging little metal bars for passage.

We go from spaceport to tram, from tram to elevator, and from there we walk.

In a matter of hours we've gone from the quiet little cabin where I relearned how to lace my boots, through a maelstrom of places unlike anything I'd ever seen outside of holos, to a quiet little living room with a tall, strange woman.

“Feral, this is Hexa, she's a pau’an, and an old acquaintance of mine,” Rend tells me, “You're going to stay with her while you get back on your feet.”

I'm on my feet right now, but the joke seems like low hanging fruit. “Hello Hexa… thank you for your help.”

She smiles with a mouth full of needle teeth, the lines along her pale skin bending with the muscles beneath. “Oh I'm glad to have you, really. I've been thinking about hiring help to run the shop, even held a few interviews… but I haven't found the right person. Rend says you're a deft hand with herbs and spices?”

“Ahh, yes ni-” I cut off, unsure what to call a female from another species. She's not a nightsister… is she? “... Hexa. I um… I like plants.”

The pau’an raises a lined brow at Rend, who snorts. “You'll need to teach him all the names you use, and the proportions you want, but Feral was the best herbalist’s assistant I've had in ages. He has a talent for it.”

I really don't know what's going on. It sounds like the nightsister has found a place for me to live, and a job for me to do, but… anxiety turns over in my gut. She's going to leave.

I don't want her to leave.

“Well alright,” Hexa says thoughtfully. “We can surely try. If you're not suited, I know a tailor looking for a bit of help too.”

“I can sew,” I offer, “but working with plants sounds better.”

The tall woman nods, resettling her feathered jacket she gestures me forward with one long nail. “Come on then m’dear. I'll show you the shop, the undercroft, and the little studio basement I've got set up for you.”

I turn to Rend as Hexa walks away, heading down a set of stairs to the level below. The nightsister smiles at me, nodding toward the staircase. I bow my head, accepting the order. What else can I do?

As it turns out, the shop downstairs is a cafe, featuring a galactic variety of beverages and lighter fare for sale. As Rend had hoped, my half remembered talents with dathomirian herbs did translate to making the various brews, though not as much to the baking.

Rend leaves the next morning, but promises to visit, and I settle into the studio beneath the cafe as best I can. I own nothing but the contents of a duffle bag.

This is how I come to work at the Twin Moons Cafe.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

RP interaction guide:

Feral doesn't know anyone except Rend and Hexa. If you're a person from his past, you'll have to help him remember you. He is especially excited to see other dathomirians.

OCs, yourself, other RP blogs, and multiple-versions of the same canon characters are WELCOME. Feral will have individual friendships/rivalries/fights with each person without mentioning the other instances. He may have multiple adventures, romances, and even brothers at the same time. Every RPer gets a fresh instance of Feral, right off the ship and new to the city, unless requested otherwise or a group tag chain is started.

[ ] indicates narration, "" is dialogue. You can format your own posts anyway you like though.

//Indicates a file, images, holo, vid, or holonet link on a text communication.

Explicit or highly emotional engagements may be moved to DM.

Minors DNI. Adults RPing minors are welcome for wholesome interaction.

There are no timeline constraints. You can be from kotor era, the rebellion era, or any other time, just establish this with him and he'll follow your lead.

Don't speak for, react for, think for, or otherwise drive other characters. Only your own.

Describe what you look like when you walk in, especially your clothes, vibes, and species. Feel free to be excessive, since your first tag will be the header for the rest of the reblog chain, and will make an easy reference point for your appearance, abilities, attitude, etc. Time of day is also helpful, but the cafe is always open.

(( )) indicates out of character communication. Tags are also generally ooc.

If you're wondering 'does this guy want to even talk to me?' the answer is YES. Even if you just stop in one time for a cup of caf, Feral wants to talk to you.

[paramounticebound]

~ Character Info Sheet

name: Sibahl Khan Noonien Singh

name meaning: 'Khan', often a surname, is derived from the historic title khan, referring to a military chief or royalty. Ruler, leader, king. / 'Noonien' is of Chinese origin and means "gifted one". The story goes that Gene Roddenberry, in the midst of the Cold War, was attempting to find a friend with this name and hoped seeing it on the big screen would enable them to connect again. / 'Singh' is a Punjabi/Sikh surname, derived from the Sanskrit word सिंह (IAST: siṃha) meaning "lion", and is used in the sense of "hero" or "eminent person". ['Sibahl' is rooted from two different sanskrit words: 'singh' which means lion and 'bal' which means strength.]

tl;dr his name is an amalgamation of different cultural roots, while the general meanings remain consistent.

alias/es: The Augmented Prince, The Augmented Tyrant, John Harrison, Captain, Popsicle, KHAAAAN

ethnicity: indian british now ig thanks section 31 ┐('～`；)┌

one picture you like best of your chara:

and his alternate fc b/c i have no chill:

three h/cs you've never told anyone:

His name, I suppose. Learning that 'Khan Noonien Singh' was not the original name for the character sort of set me off, along with the moment in the comic where he took on a new moniker. Sibahl is the name that Sarina gave him, and sometimes he still tastes it in the back of his throat; yet when he'd realized what he must become to lead his people, he shed it in favor of KHAN.

While he fears failure and loss, Khan does not fear death. Truthfully, he finds the concept comforting in a way that words can barely describe. To return to the earth, to stardust, is so unfathomably beautiful-- to continue the cycle of life until it dissipates in entirety. His body will feed the soil, bacteria and carrion consuming all that he has to offer, and so he will live on and on in a way that the soul cannot. He's absolutely written poetry about it, and you'll never get to read it.

When he was a child, he was gifted a khanda by a close friend of Sarina's-- a historian and antique dealer. While it was originally ornamental in design, Khan sharpened and modified it to become a functional weapon.

While I generally consider him unable to scar, a wound from a previous rp partner yet transcends many of his verses. It's a scar just under his rib cage on the left side, vaguely in the shape of a sunburst.

three things your character likes doing in their free time:

Calligraphy-- he misses paper and ink, how his hands long to create instead of destroy.

Playing chess-- a way to destress while keeping the mind sharp.

Whittling-- he has occasionally been known to gift woodwork he's created. Not as often in his current timeline.

eight people your character likes / loves:

Marla McGivers (@sweetbitterbitten): A mad widower does not a worth leader make. Without her, insanity is the best comfort that can be had. With her-- oh, with her, Persephone to his Hades, he is fit to rule in hell. He is fit to drag it wherever he needs it to be.

Fox Alkaev (@vuulpecula): After writing him for so long, Fox has become interwoven into his story, in some way or another. In every verse, he is somehow connected to her.

Sarina Kaur: Mother is God in the eyes of a child.

Joachim: What is a king without an advisor? This is his right hand man and greatest confidant.

Kati: Much like Joachim, he relies on her wisdom, either as a dampener to his righteous fury, or a kindling when blood must be shed.

Liesel Ivanov (@noblehcart ): Who else can dance only to melody of humming stars and thrumming hearts?

His unnamed child from Wrath of Khan/Ender (@middaysandmidnights): His child, his legacy, his lifeblood. The one whom he hopes will endure despite him.

The rest of his crew: without them, he is nothing, a dead end king, a freedom fighter without a cause.

Multiple muses that have melted his icy heart over the years. I'd make a giant post if you'd let me.

two things your character regrets:

Terran exile, and how long it has taken to regain a rightful throne. He wishes that he hadn't relied on the unknown to save them.

Letting any of his people die. Those that have still haunt him, ghosts ever present, continually chanting, "Our captain has left us behind."

two phobias your character has:

Claustrommetaphobia - fear of suffocation in an enclosed space.

Atychiphobia - an extreme fear of failure.

Tagged by : @ssolessurvivor <333

Tagging: @gcldenratio @asteritm @jundlcndwastes (juni!) @hcxcd @noblehcart (liesel!) @lastsurvivor @sweetbitterbitten (whomever you're feeling the most; or marla!) @vulku / @greatprotector @admiralchristopherpike @godresembled (rey!) @whydotheykeeptakingmine @learnedlucidity @hiislegacy @weavefcrged @primitiveside @dethqveen and YOU!

[rebelwithoutabroom]

taizi's fic masterpost

Dnfies:

To find fortune that’s smiling on you - G rated, 8k words

Princess and the frog AU with blob!Dream (!!!)

Polaris (bring me home) - E rated, 29.7k words

A star falls. George, a dime-in-a-dozen farmboy, sets out on a journey to retrieve it.

Lucky (I'm in love with my best friend) - E rated, 8.5k words

George is magic, but it takes Dream a while until he pieces everything together.

Fine Line - T rated, 8.5k

Tattoo/Flowershop AU. Techno's just trying to live his life while Dream - like the idiot he is - falls for the cute guy that works across the street from them.

Apotheosis - E rated, 3.8k words, PWP

Consensual Somno, George POV.

Kiss me in the morning light - M rated, 9.2k words, cowritten with @twirlybumblevee

Five times Dream kisses a man (that isn’t George) and one time he finally does it right.

Ever a surprise - G rated, 6.1k words co-written with @twirlybumblevee

George’s first dance with his knight

Ever as before - M rated, 7.6k words co-written with @twirlybumblevee

Dream’s first dance with his husband

Rekindle - E rated, 36,1k words

Exes to lovers dnf AU with writer Dream. My unsung symphony

Your heart was met with open doors - T rated, 17.6k co-written with @twirlybumblevee

meetup fic written back in early 2021. my 1st ever dnf fic. (they were just so baby i don't even know if the characterization still holds but goshh)

Non dnfies:

Riptide - maskduo, G rated, 9.4k words

5 times Corpse and Dream hold hands, and one time they finally kiss (PJO AU my beloved)

Like home - maskduo, E rated, 54.4k words co-written with @twirlybumblevee

Pacific Rim AU where Dream, formerly star pilot of the Jaeger Program, finds himself a new partner, battles 250ft monsters in the middle of the ocean, and falls in love in between.

Silver touch, golden heart - maskduo, E rated, 93k words, co-written with gogycrops

Dream is the head of his family, coming back to help Drista on her first season after years spent abroad. Corpse is a prince looking for a mate he isn’t sure he even wants. In the middle, they find each other. (Silly bridgerton a/b/o AU with a/a maskduo)

A mighty ocean or a gentle kiss - corpsekkuno, T rated, 11.7k words

soulmate au where Corpse has a bunch of tattoos — to the point that it’s hard to discern which one of them is his soulmate’s, and that’s kinda the whole point. Sykkuno only has this small little thing under his ribcage, and sometimes he can almost convince himself that he doesn't care that there’s someone out there for him. (i honestly feel like i popped off with this one)

Heart of the sea - G rated, 4.2k words

c!tommy and c!dream being the bffs they could've been during dsmp S2.

From A to where you'd B - corpsekkuno, T rated, 6.6k words

Meetup hand-delivery hoodie fic. iykyk

We tried the world, good God, it wasn't for us - corpsekkuno, M rated, 41.7k words

Rust AU. My 1st ever fic after like... 10 years of taking a break. it's missing rust rp hours in this house folks

[krpgarden]

is there something wrong with my rp that people don't want to stay? // hey, bud. i don’t think it’s anything to do with your rp, rather whoever is joining isn’t putting in the effort. // This could have been written by me. I have been joining, making and helping with different roleplays and i feel like i have achieved close to nothing. I haven't finished (or even started) many threads, I haven't made friends, and I haven't been having fun. Every time I create a new muse, I have this hope that this time around it will go well, but then it still happens: sometimes I do blame myself, because I feel like I could have tried harder, however it is so easy to lose motivation when it feels like you are repeating the same thing over and over without any results. I miss the days when I would feel excited making my OCs, joining roleplays and getting to write exciting (and even more simple) threads with others who seemed equally as excited. I miss plotting with friends on discord and joining places together. I miss writing on tumblr as well. Mostly, I think I just miss plotting properly and being social; nowadays it almost feels like nobody wants to talk too much anymore because we are paranoid about something negative happening. It just sucks.

hey there, thank you so much for your message! 💚 hmm, it really seems like many people share the same sentiments. maybe it would be good to form some sort of small community?

[the-commissions-deadliest]

Cha-Cha || The Handler || Hazel

~ Three of The Temp Commission's Deadliest employees ~

Indi Rp blog for Cha-Cha, The Handler and Hazel from the Netflix adaptation of The Umbrella Academy, also featuring TUA OCs Bonnie Astor (info found here) and Lucinda Moore (info found here), as written by Pip (they/them) (25 yrs old). Portrayal based on a combination of cannon and headcannons; always down to write some cannon divergent verses or AUs as well. OC & multifandom friendly.

The writing on this blog will contain dark themes and subject matter at times so any potentially triggering content will be tagged as ( TW: [topic] ). And of course, if I miss anything that y'all would like tagged in that manner please don't hesitate to hop into my messages and let me know!

I can be a slow replier at times so though I'd clarify that this doesn’t mean I’m not interested in continuing threads! I just sometimes have to battle my brain to convince it to focus on anything at all haha!

And my dms are always open for plotting and chatting should any of you lovelies want to <3

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