#why not ask mun some questions

[more-than-a-princess]

🌟💔🎲

Questions for the Mun - Accepting!

🌟 - Who was your very first rp muse?

Hermione Granger from Harry Potter, in what feels like a million years ago. My first OCs + Relena Peacecraft from Gundam Wing soon followed.

💔 - What’s something you dislike about your muse?

I think this question has two answers, really: what do I dislike about the muse based on what's given/shown in canon, and what do I dislike about the muse due to the fandom.

For the canon, there are times where I just hate seeing Sonia being taken advantage of/teased/etc. because she's sheltered and just doesn't know better, but she also doesn't effectively stand up for herself a lot either. Maybe it's some of the tropes DR puts her in, but I'd love to be a bit more snarky to characters who are being rude, as opposed to issuing commands that never really stick.

Additionally, and these aren't really Sonia's fault but how she's written: why give her military knowledge and prowess and not let her USE IT? Yes, having all weapons and methods of transport disabled in the Neo World Program simulation makes sense, but at the end of DR3 where she just...encourages Kazuichi instead of picking up a gun or driving a tank? For as ridiculous as DR can be at times, surely they could fit some sort of military vehicle onto that ship that she could commandeer. Super lame.

And don't get me started on her free time events. I love some of what the free time events reveal, but the whole bit of "Hajime looks like this hero of legend and I'll just happily co-rule and give him power equal to mine in Novoselic!" thing is just not okay to me. I don't like it. Therefore, my Sonia is the monarch and any partner she takes is her consort, end of story.

For the popular fandom opinions, I abhor the take of "Sonia is useless/her talent is useless and sucks, Sonia should have died to give Kazuichi character development/Hiyoko could have lived, Sonia is boring" arguments. And of course the Get rid of Sonia so we can have Kazuichi/Gundham" take. I had this issue in the Gundam Wing fandom long ago with people hating Relena because she got in the way of Heero/Duo.

Y'all, these are bad takes. Don't do it. There is nothing wrong with being a kind, generous, friendly, compassionate female character.

🎲 - Do you have a favorite board game?

When I was younger, it was definitely Clue and Trivial Pursuit! To the point that I gave Sonia Cluedo as a favorite childhood game growing up: I think she'd enjoy it.

As an adult, I still love trivia, but I also enjoy Betrayal at House on the Hill and Cards Against Humanity. The horror, of recalling facts at the drop of a hat, a haunted house, and seeing just how much of a terrible/sarcastic person you can be.

Does anyone else remember online Cards Against Humanity but you're playing IC as your muse(s)? That should make a comeback.

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Interruption | Part 04

-> Pairing: mafia husband!Kim Hongjoong x mafia wife!Reader

-> Sypnosis: Things go to hell for Y/N.

-> Warnings: mafia au. Italics are flashbacks. the other korea is mentioned. talks of being a spy. alludes to someone being told to kill themselves. guns. someone gets shot (but spoiler: they don't die).

-> Word Count: 1,490

-> Taglist: open. Leave a comment on the masterlist post, send an ask or fill out the taglist form.

Interruption Masterlist | Hongjoong Masterlist | Tag List Form

As they make their way to the restaurant, Y/N flips through the folder that Wooyoung had given her earlier. “Ha-Na’s mother isn’t blameless in all of this,” she remarks, her eyes scanning the pages before she passes them to Hongjoong. Several sheets are filled with old photographs and documents related to the woman and her daughter. The folder starts to feel like a ticking time bomb, each page a revealing something that could unravel the carefully constructed facade Ha-Na’s and her mother, Ahn Soo-Ah have created for themselves. “She was troubled well before she got involved with Mun and my father.”  

She pauses when she sees the face of the man who had tormented her mother after her father abandoned them. His cold, calculating gaze seems to pierce through her, rekindling the rage she felt the last time she encountered him. Her fists tighten as she realizes that this woman not only played a part in her father leaving but also in the hell that ensued afterwards.  

“Ha-Na and her mother have no clue who they’re up against,” she mutters, mostly to herself, but Hongjoong nods in agreement. He’s seen firsthand the consequences of someone pushing his wife too far and feels no sympathy for anyone who might provoke her. 

“We need to be more careful this time,” Hongjoong advises her. “This isn’t just about someone trying to take over our empire. It’s much more personal than that,” he says taking the folder from her.  

Y/N pulls out her phone and calls Yunho. The man picks up immediately. "We're on our way," he informs her.  

"I need to know if you found anything about my father?" she asks.  

"I was just about to send you his details and address," he replies. “You should also know Ha-Na's mother is with him.”  

"Forward it to some of our men and have them bring them to Mun's restaurant," she instructs. "Make sure to warn them that if they try anything, they'll be dead the moment they step through those doors." 

With that she ends the call as they pull up outside the restaurant. 

“Sorry, my mother couldn’t make it. She was murdered not long after our father left her, but you already know that,” Y/N glances at her father and doesn’t find an ounce of remorse but she can see the fear in them. “Now sit,” she orders all of them. San forces her father to sit down as Soo-Ah quickly sits in the chair next to him, feigning being terrified.  

“You too, Ha-Na,” she says waving her gun at her before pointing it at her mother. “I don’t want to kill her before you hear what I have to say.” 

Wooyoung comes closer, snatching the gun from Ha-Na, glaring at her and forces her into the chair next to her mother. With the gun pointed at her mother, Ha-Na abides and doesn’t make a fuss. Now that Soo-Ah was brought into it, Ha-Na calmed and the situation became more controllable. It was all the proof she needed to know that the woman who had broken her family is her half-sister's weakness. 

“Do you know why your mother stayed with Mun and our dear father had to wait all those years to be with her?” she questions Ha-Na, leaning in closer to her. “I’m sure you do since you’re all in this together,” she says waiting for Ha-Na to reply. The younger woman shakes her head but her quick glance towards her mother tells Y/N that she’s lying. “That’s what I thought. You two are close right?” she asks looking between the two women. They both nod. “That must be nice,” she mutters and steps back from them while Yeosang hands her the folder she’d been going through earlier. She opens it and drops it, its contents spilling on to the table, showing photos of a younger version of Soo-Ah, with a man dressed in military gear. Some of the photos she has a large belly, and some of them have her with a baby.  

Y/N observes as Soo-Ah's fake look of fright, turns into one of anger showing where Ha-Na gets her terrible acting skills from. 

“You didn’t think I would find out that you were enlisted as a spy?” She taunts. “Or that Ahn Soo-Ah is not your real name? Ri Mi-Rae.” 

Upon hearing her real name, Soo-Ah's face darkens. If looks could kill, Y/N would be six feet under. The atmosphere shifts, the air thick with unspoken threats. Hongjoong steps closer to Y/N, sensing the tension. He places a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but his eyes remain fixed on Soo-Ah. 

Soo-Ah hisses, her voice low and dangerous, "You have no idea what you're dealing with." 

"I know exactly what I'm dealing with, Ri Mi-Rae,” Y/N straightens, her resolve hardening. “You’re nothing but a con-woman who leaves destruction everywhere she goes. I’m truly surprised the North hasn’t caught up with you, yet. Maybe I should send you back myself.” 

“She would rather kill herself, than go back there,” Ha-Na retorts, while their father continues to sit there scared for their lives. 

“Should we test that?” Y/N says, taking a gun and handing it towards Mi-Rae only when everyone of her mens guns were pointed at her. “Try anything and they’ll end you quicker than you can blink. Now go on, prove your daughter right,” she urges, her tone a mix of challenge and provocation. 

Mi-Rae's eyes flickered to the gun, then back to Y/N. With her head held high, she silently refuses to take the gun. "You think you can intimidate me?" Mi-Rae finally spoke, her voice steady. "You have no idea what I’ve survived, what I’ve done to stay alive. You, little girl, don’t scare me. I’ve faced worse than you."  

Y/N's grip on the gun tightens, her resolve unyielding. "This isn't about fear. It's about choices you’ve made and how you’ve involved me in them,” she says her voice rising. Aiming the gun at Ha-Na while keeping her eyes locked on Mi-Rae, she pulls the trigger, ending Ha-Na’s life in an instant. "That was for my mother." 

Mi-Rae looks at her a mix of shock and fury in her eyes. Ha-Na's body crumples to the ground, lifeless, letting Mi-Rae and her father, Ha-Joon know that she is no longer playing around.  

Ha-Joon, filled with fear and confusion as he watched the scene unfolding in front of him, finally finds his voice. "You're a monster."  

"Is that so? And who do you think turned me into this, father?" Y/N retorts, allowing her emotions to spill over towards the man who had abandoned her all those years ago. Just hearing his voice brought back memories long forgotten about and she was transported back to being that little girl, lost and alone. 

Seizing the moment of distraction, Mi-Rae quickly grabs a gun and fires shots as she dashes out towards the back.  

"Get her!" Y/N yells at her men as they duck for cover. Four of them make chase after Mi-Rae as she looks around to make sure no one was hit. 

That's when her eyes land on her husband, bleeding from his chest and gasping for air. Her heart sinks into her stomach as she hurries to his side, and covers his wound with her hands trying to stop the bleeding as she yells at the others to help. Tears began to sting her eyes as she felt the warmth of his blood seep through her fingers.  

"Stay with me," she begs, her voice shaking as panic grips her throat. She has never felt this terrified in her entire life. 

"Y/N," Hongjoong's voice emerged weak and raspy as he lifted a hand to gently caress her cheek. "You need to get out of here. This isn’t safe for you." His eyes, usually so full of life, were clouded with pain, and Y/N could see the flicker of fear in them, not for himself, but for her.  

"I won’t leave you," she cries, her heart racing as she presses harder against the wound, trying to will the blood to stop flowing.  

"Y/N, listen to me," he gasped, his breath coming in shallow bursts. He winced, his hand slipping from her cheek to grip her wrist, his fingers trembling just as badly as hers. "I love you, Y/N. No matter what happens, remember that." His eyes locked onto hers, he calls for Wooyoung, “Get her out of here.” 

Before anything more could be said, San pushes his way in, replacing Y/N’s hands with his own as Wooyoung pulls her up and rushes her out of the building before she has time to process what’s happening. 

As she sits in the car with Wooyoung at the wheel, a chilling numbness envelopes the Mafia Queen’s body. Her voice, icy and determined, sends shivers down Wooyoung's spine as she declares, "I’m going to kill all of them. Her and everyone she cares about is dead." 

@do-you-remember-summer-127 - @staytiny2000 - @rainydayteacups - @kpopmenace143 - @treehouse-mouse -

@alexxavicry - @jedi-dreea - @rainydayteacups - @green-agent - @tinyelfperson -

@yeonjunnie – @hollxe1 - @laylasbunbunny – @deltamoon666 - @skz1-4-3 -

@everythingboutkpop - @oddracha - @http-gyu - @skittyneos - @pinkpunkdynamite -

@keshivibes - @katsukis1wife - @jjoongstar - @arki-sha - @forever-atiny -

@lixisoul99

[ask-tfone-megatron]

Decepticons, assembled! Today, I, Megatron, shall address a critical aspect of our conquest: open communication.

I don't wish to begin my regime with shrouded mystery, fostering skepticism. No more! I invite all to query me directly.

Fear not, for your curiosity will be rewarded, not punished. If I find your inquiry to be worthy of an answer I might also entertain you over my past as d-16.

Step forward, Decepticons, and inquire. Together, we'll forge an unstoppable force.

Important tags(alternative universe):

#u 1255 (tfo megop secret child):

Odyssey, megatron and optimus's child.. which optimus chooses to hide away from Megatron only to be discovered by him on a fateful day as the child went missing and found his sire (Megatron)

Theme- angst, fluffy

Pairing with @ask-tfone-optimus

#u 0124 (tfo Haunted au):

Megatron did it. He didn't save his lover as he said and now Orion is dead. Then why does he keep hearing voice? Why keep seeing him smiling in front of him? Is his lover's spirit keeps visiting him? Perhaps that is his punishment for his sin but then why he finds solace in this haunting illusion of his lover.

Theme- angst

Here Megatron is a grieving d-16

Pairing with @orionpax-arc

#u 0112- Rebirth Au:

What if Megatron returns back to his time to relive his life as d-16 but with his memory instant for him to remember his life as Megatron.

No pairing, open for all Orion pax rp accounts @orionpax-arc ,

RP rules:

Yes rp is allowed in DM!! But in chat form and mostly in drama style! (I can't write paragraphs in chats)

The second you start to feel uneasy and uncomfortable during rp please let mun know as my muse tends to be aggressive but rp is about fun and enjoyment not discomfort

Self and oc are allowed.

Whatever is in the DM .. will remain in the DM!!

If you wish for literature rp (not my best suit but you have to tag me in that post and if the scene is suitable for "TFO" Megatron to answer, he will)

Except a mixture of tfo and IDW Megatron while rp

(I will add more rules as I see suitable in future and if you wish to chat with the admin you are more than welcome to do so as I won't mind it much... please I sometimes feel very lonely 😭😭😭😭)

How Megatron speaks:

Normal

RAISED VOICE

Yelling

*action*/ action

How admin speaks:

Hello/((hello))

A little bit about Admin (me):

This is a sfw Blog so minors feel free to interact and ask.

Muse will not answer any questions regarding politics, hate, abuse and anything negative. Those questions will be deleted without hesitation.

Mun is a big megop fan! So if you are an optimus rp Blog I will definitely be there in your inbox!. Mun loves almost Soundop, Shockop, Megsound, Optiratchet, Driftratch, wheelratch

About muse:

Megatron is freshly after the tfo movie so the questions over d-16 are acceptable and welcome!!(Poor megs is sad and hurt)

He is independent as well connected to the canon (as much as possible)

This Megatron prefers to interact with intake before aiming his canon but do not mistake that as his weakness. He is still learning the curves of becoming a ruthless leader.

But he is soft for any sparkling in question

Muse and Mun's opinion will not always be aligned (mind it)

He is comfortable with the idea of multiverse as well.

Expect him to sometimes mess around and act more like d-16 (softie) and shit posting with other characters!(Whom he considers friends)

Here are some songs of my muse I love by @acaciasmith8 ((very creative I must add ))

That gif is created by @naeella please follow them!

[midasfm]

reblog this post if you'd like to participate in the ask meme portion of event one. to send out prompts, please include the category name and the number of your desired question.

on-camera questions should be answered with your muse's idol persona on. their answers may be honest or dishonest, but they have to be appropriate. these are the answers that would be used in the concert vcr and in press releases leading up the concert. b-cut questions are provided to give you a chance to share their raw, honest answers. the answers that would never make it past the cutting room floor. most of these questions are focused on the idol industry to help you dive deeper into their relationship with the industry, the group, and the company. some questions may be answered from the mun's pov, but we encourage the majority to be answered in-character as if your muse is conducting a real interview. you may use gifs in your answers, if desired. please remember to turn your askbox on If you'd like to participate in this event! every question sent to a new mun will earn you one career token. you may earn a total of three career tokens per muse during this event. for muns with two muses, sending out questions to six different muns will earn you three career tokens for each muse. answering at least three of these questions will count as a character development item towards activity for the next activity check (feb 7). please tag your answers with both #midas:meme001 and #midasfamilyconcert. you may send and answer questions for points from JAN 30 12:00 AM kst to FEB 7 @ 12:00 PM kst. please use this website to convert the date into your timezone.

✩　on-camera

what does the midas labels family mean to you?

what's your best memory from your trainee days?

what would you consider your career high?

have you always wanted to become an idol? what made you choose this career path?

what's the best part of being an idol?

what advice would you give to an aspiring idol?

what's been your favorite era? what did you like about it?

what kind of concept do you want to try next?

what three songs of yours mean the most to you?

if you had the chance to speak honestly to your fans, what would you say to them?

what has been the best gift a fan has given to you?

what's your most memorable fan interaction?

is there anywhere you'd like to perform where you haven't yet? anywhere you'd like to go back to?

which artist under midas labels do you look up to?

which artist under midas labels would you like to collaborate with?

if you could join one midas labels group for the day, which would it be why?

if you had to make a new group with other idols under midas labels, which idols would you like to team up with?

are you a fan of any midas labels artist? do you own any merch?

✩　b-cut

what does the midas labels family mean to you?

what's your worst memory from your trainee days?

if you could go back, would you still become an idol?

was your family supportive of your decision to become an idol?

did you have to sacrifice anything when choosing to become an idol?

what was your career low?

what's the best part of being an idol?

what's the worst part of being an idol?

what advice would you give to an aspiring idol?

if you had the chance to speak honestly to your fans, what would you say to them?

what's the worst interaction you've had with a fan?

how much do you look yourself up online?

how do you deal with hate comments?

what type of hate comment hurts the most?

what's the most ridiculous rumor you've heard about yourself?

are any rumors about you actually true?

do you like your music? your concept? if given the chance, would you change it?

be honest: are you for the arts or the charts?

which group member do you get along with most? who do you get along with the least and why?

have you ever fought with your group members? over what?

if you were given the chance to redebut, would you choose to debut in your group again or debut as a soloist instead?

what do you think your life will be like after disbandment (or contract expiry, for soloists)? would you still work in the industry or will you retire and settle down?

[splashingotterz]

WELCOME TO OLIVE’S SILLY ASK CORNER!!

Terms of Service

🐚 FIRST THINGS FIRST. DNI IF: You’re a Racist, Zoophile, Pedophile, Proshipper, Homophobic or against any LGBT+, or Support/neutral towards Isnotreal. Get out.

🐚 Please keep in mind that this is a parody/rp + triples as ask blog type thing, so keep in mind that things here are headcanons or opinions of what could be in-character info as answers (but some of the stuff will be based off of info that’s canon, too!) This is just for fun at the end of the day!

🐚 THAT also being said, also keep in mind that there’s only one person behind this blog, so don’t go too far with asks (I.e anything sexual, overly hateful, political for whatever reason why you’d even want to ask about that stuff, etc.) and if you feel like anything might be too far with what you wanna ask, just don’t ask it or think on it more.

🐚 You can also interact with her physically or give her items, but don’t go too far with it.

How Do I ask?

🐚 Very easy! Theres a button that should say “Ask Stuff Here!” On the Blog’s Profile! Just click on it and type whatever you’d like to say!

Extra Information

🐚 Any ooc posts will be portrayed with [🐚] or just the emoji on its own! Mun is able to differentiate from ic + ooc with this and answer any possible questions you have for them, too!!

🐚 This Olive is mostly based off of How the games meant to be played/2023, but you CAN ask about 1997, or just people she knows! Personally, just pick your poison.

🐚 Other sw64 parodies or parodies on other verses are also free to interact (if there are EVEN ANY OTHER SW ACCS OUT THERE but just incase!!!)

[trailblazing-through]

“Hey there, Central City! Or, y’know, whoever’s reading this. Name’s Trailblazer. You’ve probably never heard of me—and that’s fine, I prefer it that way. I'm a speedster i guess? But I’m not here to save the world or anything (seriously, the Justice League and other heroes has that covered). I’ll help out if I feel like it… or if I feel bad enough to guilt-trip myself into it.”

hit me up with whatever—questions, comments, bad jokes. I’m bored, so go wild. :D

[OOC + Mun speaking!] Hey! This is a roleplay blog for my DC OC. It's kinda my first time running a rp blog, so I’m still figuring things out. And If I did something wrong or upset you, please let me know kindly. <3 (mun is 17 btw:D)

“Anyway, here’s some info about me. Keep it to yourself, yeah? No snitching.”

Base credit :D

Name: Cassian Grant

Alias: Trailblazer

Ethnicity: Half-Indonesian (Mother's side), and whatever his dad is

Age: 19

D.O.B: April 12

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Bisexual

Height: 5'9"

Families: A dad who’s more into science than parenting; mom’s... gone.

Resident: Central City, living alone

Occupation: Part-time odd jobs worker (when bored), professional speedster-by-accident

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

MBTI: ENTP

Voice claim: Keith Akira Kogane from Voltron

Likes:

-Sketchy street food that’s probably bad for him and junk foods

-Spicy noodles (like, melt-your-tongue spicy)

-Free stuff (because, duh)

-Music loud enough to drown out the voices

Dislike:

-Being told what to do

-The smell of hospitals or labs (for obvious reasons)

-Questions that start with “why didn’t you…” (I don’t know, I just didn’t)

-Slow walkers

-Loud squeaking sounds

-Alarms (all kinds: alarm clocks, school bells, fire alarms, car alarms—they all suck)

Habits:

-Talking way too fast when he’s nervous (to the point no one understands him)

-Zoning out mid-conversation

-Repainting his nails every weekend

-Constantly fidgeting—leg bouncing, tapping, anything to keep moving

Abilities: Speedster things, obviously—running fast, healing fast, screwing up fast. (Occasionally) limited time manipulation and control over kinetic energy. Creative problem-solving under pressure (read: winging it).

Background: Took a dumb dare to explore a supposedly haunted house, got caught in an explosion from a mad (ex-STAR labs) scientist’s botched experiment (involving something about 'Speed Force', idk) and trapped in a time loop, aged about a thousand mental years in a split second. Now, he’s got powers he didn’t ask for, a lifetime’s worth of trauma, and a sense of time that’s just a little broken.

Notes:

-The orange streaks in his hair weren’t his choice (suddenly appears post-Speed Force accident), but they’ve grown on him.

-Often struggles with maintaining focus due to his hyper-active nature.

-His costume is stolen “Permanently borrowed” from an oblivious superhero; modified and recolored.

“Alright, that’s all for now. Catch you later—Trailblazer out.”

[z-v06instance]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BLOG INFO

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

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

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

TAGS

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

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

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

LAST EDITED: 17TH SEPTEMBER 2024

[shinsources]

I feel the need to make a post talking about what's been going on lately. I've come to notice that the Tumblr RPC is getting more and more toxic by the day. The problem isn't just one person.

IT'S EVERYONE.

Yes, you read that correctly. It's everyone. Me, you, our roleplaying partners, everyone. It's literally everyone. And the fact that WE ARE ALL contributing it — intentional or nor — is a biiiiig problem. Because I know I've been guilty of it over the past nearly month and I'll be the first to admit to it.

YES. You are entitled to roleplay with whoever you want and whenever you want. You know who your muse meshes well with and you are clearly comfortable with the mun.

NO. You cannot say "I roleplay with all of my mutuals! I want more interactions!" only to then roleplay with the same five people and ignore the other three people who responded to your Open Starter.

YES. You are entitled to send anons to ask questions, state your opinions, and communicate with people.

NO. You cannot use the anon feature to send malicious messages and purposely drag their name into the ground.

Friendly reminder that everyone is a stranger to you at one point or another. The three people you ship with? There was a time you didn't know them and you had to actually speak to them for the first time.

And friendly reminder that anon isn't a privilege ... it's a right. Just because freedom of speech exists doesn't necessarily mean you're allowed to abuse it. There's a time and place for it. I'll give some examples.

ANIME.

Oh, you don't like my favorite anime?? HOW DARE YOU, YOU USELESS PIECE OF SHIT!! YOU SHOULD GO KILL YOURSELF!! That's not the way to go.

Hey, I've noticed that you not a big fan of my favorite anime and that's totally okay!! I was just wondering why you don't like it because I love seeing other people's perspectives on things?? That's the way to go.

ORIGINAL CHARACTERS.

Ew. Your OC is so overpowered and off-putting and is TOTALLY a Mary Sue. That's so gross. It's no wonder nobody roleplays with you. That's not the way to go.

Hey, I've been looking through your blog and I've come to notice that I haven't seen you post any flaws about your OC which makes them look like a Mary Sue and that's a bit off-putting. So I was wondering if they have any flaws?? If so, what are they and can you go into extensive detail about them?? That's the way to go.

CANON MUSES.

The fact that you have managed to ruin a perfectly good character is so off-putting and gross. You should just leave Tumblr and never come back. That's not the way to go.

Hey, we might have different views and headcanons with YOUR MUSE but I want you to know that you're valid and that your take on things are super interesting. I can't wait to roleplay with you! That's the way to go.

People are allowed to have their own beliefs, opinions, and the whole nine yards. But don't go out of your way to shit on people just because you don't agree with them. Instead, HARDBLOCK them and find someone else to interact with. It's simple as that. That's why the BLOCK BUTTON exists for a reason. If you find them uncomfortable and can't bring yourself to have a civil conversation with them then you should definitely just HARDBLOCK them, plain and simple.

[notyourdg]

ooc// thank you @notyourjason for letting me use this DG!!!

Why hello there!! It's nice to be in a new world! I had to come here because my baby bro decided to run away! Had to make sure that nothing bad happens to him!

OOC information!

//He's the DG in the Badwing au

//He's about 25 ish, he/him, and straight

//Essentially the short of it is he's a really nice guy upfront and 'donates to charities' and all that jazz, but he's actually a really shity person. he was a really violent 9 year old, beyond wanting to just kill Zucco. he kinda just killed whoever he wanted and Bruce never stopped him. at 17 Jason got handed the mantle of Robin and Bruce tried to kindly fire Dick but he wasn't having that. Jason then fakes his death and Bruce left the life of being a vigilante and Dick took up the mantle of Batman. he also took in Tim as his Robin. He was being his abusive self when he hears that Jason is back in town and decides to give him a warm welcome when Jason gets wooshed into a portal and Dick decided to follow him through

//so now he's in this Gotham, both trying to keep Jason in line and keep up his act about being a nice dude.

some rules

//no NSFW. preferably no flirting either cause that makes me, the mun, uncomfortable.

//asks are always welcome for angst, lore, questions, silly stuff, and stuff like that

this will probably expand once I get a better grip of this character!

[headcanontheshitoutofsoulsborne]

Elden Ring Chain 3

So, we made another chain for Elden Ring. Please note, that it was started BEFORE the DLC dropped, so the first fic was definitely written without any knowledge of DLC lore. The first fic was written by me, the mun and I chose the prompt "Morgott's and Mohg's fallout". Without further ado, let's start:

@mrslittletall

It had been some time since Mohg had last seen Leyndell.

It wasn't as if he ever had seen much of Leyndell, being forced to spend his childhood in the sewers together with his twin brother, Morgott. Maybe that was the reason he was currently trudging through the murky water instead of wandering the golden walls up above.

After all, all his childhood memories took place here. Many of them were poor memories. Mohg remembered being chained to the wall by these unspeakable shackles. He remembered clinging to his brother in fear of the monsters that roamed the sewers. He remembered being hungry, his stomach angrily growling, until they could organize themselves some food.

He also remembered having thrown blood pots towards the imps. That was a fun memory for a change. If a spirit caller snail was nearby, he could watch with glee as the summoned spirits tore the imps apart.

There really weren't any other things in the sewers for entertainment.

Mohg's reminiscing was interrupted by the sound of feet splashing through the water. Not any feet. He would recognize the sound of those footsteps anywhere. After all, they had spent so much time together down in those sewers.

Mohg turned around to face his brother, Morgott. As always, Morgott was only wearing a ragged cloak and a staff for a weapon. Mohg had recently found an appreciation for elaborate robes. His own choice of weapon turned out to be the trident. As the two brothers were facing each other, only the fact that they were both omen revealed that they were related.

“Morgott.”, Mohg said, his voice had been used so sparingly that it was sounding low and raspy, “What are you doing, brother?”

“I couldst ask the same of thee.”, Morgott replied in his strong and clear voice. Mohg sometimes wondered why Morgott's voice wasn't as touched by disuse as his. Had he done secret voice training? “Why art thou wandering the sewers instead of the golden walls of our beautiful home city of Leyndell.”

“Oh, I am simply reminiscing.”, Mohg said, “But that wasn't the question I had for you, Morgott. I want to know what you are doing.” Mohg extended a claw and pointed at the ceiling, “Up there.”

Morgott stared at Mohg with unblinking eyes, as if the answer should be clear and he expected Mohg to answer his own question anytime. Only once Mohg stayed silent, focusing on Morgott with his one good eye, did he sigh and speak.

“I am ruling the city.”, he said, “As is my duty once our mother has left. I have to watch over the Erdtree and make sure to uphold the order in the city. Thou perfectly knoweth this fact, Mohg.”

“I know that you rule over the city, brother.”, Mohg murmured, “What I don't understand is the way you do it and why. Morgott, I have only spent a little time in the city walls before I came down here, but it was enough to hear the tales about the Veiled Monarch and his right hand, Margit, the Fell Omen.”

Mohg hadn't forgotten how they had whispered the name. There had been fear. There had been disgust. Mohg himself had been forced to disguise himself to not be kicked out of the city right away should they figure out he himself was an omen. And here Morgott was, showing his form, but acting like a pawn. A pawn that everyone was allowed to hate.

“Both of these figures are you, brother.”

Mohg had figured this out easily. The name wasn't even very off.

“I don't understand what thee are implying.”, Morgott said, “Are thee saying that it is a bad thing that I am watching over the city of our birth and the Erdtree?”

“You haven't listened to me.”, Mohg said, “Why are you fine with disguising yourself, Morgott? I have heard how the citizens talked about Margit. They fear you, Morgott. They are afraid to catch your curse. They tell their children tales of how the Fell Omen gets them if they won't finish their plate.”

Disgusting, it was all so disgusting. Mohg had stopped to consider himself cursed. He had been born with horns and slightly inhuman proportions, so what! People saw a monster in him? Then he would show them just what kind of monster he could be but he would be proud of it. Every single jutting horn was a treasure. He hadn't even removed the one that had cost him his left eye.

After Mohg had finished his words, he could see Morgott wince. It was only for a second, maybe even only for a fraction of a second but it was there. His words clearly had hit a nerve. However, once Morgott spoke, he felt strangely calm and collected.

“Precisely.”, Morgott said, “If I would show my true form to the public, there would be an uproar. They would fear me. They would not accept me as their monarch for I have been cursed. Cursed with this form. Cursed to not be blessed by grace. That is the reason, brother, why I have to hide behind the veil. Thou, of all beings, shouldst understand, being cursed yourself.”

Mohg let out a scoffing laugh. Did Morgott really believe that nonsense?! He had looked through the lies of the Golden Order since he was a child. Or more precisely, he had been told. There were other orders to follow, other ways to rule. And it would not involve being imprisoned in sewers ever again.

“Cursed. That is what we got told over and over again. What nobody ever could tell me is why we are cursed. Just because we look different? Morgott, our own mother literally threw us into the very sewers when we were but small children! Our mother, that followed the rules of the Order you like so much!”

Mohg could feel the rage fester in him. What kind of mother would just abandon her own children like that?! He could not remember that she had ever visited them.

“The alternative wouldst have been death for us.”, Morgott snapped, “Having our horns excised before we would be able to survive it! Our mother granted us mercy by letting us live!”

“Are you even hearing your own words?”, Mohg was hardly able to believe what Morgott was saying anymore, “Death or a life in the sewers. How is any of that a better choice? If she would have cared about us, she would have made sure that we would be accepted.”

Mohg looked into Morgott's face. He saw the horns that he had cut off. A desperate attempt of his brother to fight his curse. He hated his curse and he hated himself. He always had. He wasn't wearing his horns with pride. All because the Golden Order had poisoned his mind.

“The Golden Order is just, brother.”, Morgott snarled, his tail flicking, his hand tightening around his staff, “It has been like this for centuries. Thou shouldst accept the fact that thou art as cursed as me. Just looketh at thee, thou even sacrificed thine eye instead of cutting the horn off!”

“And I would do it again.”, Mohg said, his fur bristling on his back, “I came here to propose you to join me but now I think I am wasting my time.”

“Join thee?”, Morgott seemed to be taken aback, “What art thou talking about?”

“I am forming my own order.”, Mohg said, “I never told you that but during our childhood, I made contact with a different outer god. That god was more a mother to me than our real mother ever was. She taught me how to use my blood, how to use my curse against my foes. Our blood is nothing to be feared and we are not meant to be shunned, we should wear our curse with pride. I will create my own order and I will crown myself its lord, the Lord of Blood. The very blood that you despise so much!”

Morgott had stayed calm during Mohg's rant but once he was finished, there was only hatred left in his eyes.

“Blasphemy.”, he hissed, “You would forsake our birthright, everything our parents stood for, the Order that has upheld the land for centuries, only to play as a lord?! Don't be ridiculous!”

Blasphemy. How could Morgott be so stuck with an order that wanted his own death?! Mohg's festering rage was about to spill. He stopped thinking rationally, he was only driven by pure emotion.

“So you would rather uphold an order that wants your own death instead of trying to find a different way?! You are the ridiculous one, Morgott!!!”

The next thing Mohg knew was that he was standing closer to his brother than before and that his right claws were covered in blood. Morgott's hand was covering his right eye, blood seeping through his fingers. Mohg felt his blood, normally so hot and fervent, run ice cold in his veins.

“So thou wouldst attack me over an argument... if that isn't proof that thou art indeed a cursed monster, even hurting thine own flesh and blood.”, he murmured. There wasn't any rage in his voice, only disappointment.

“Morgott... I... I didn't want to... I am sorry...”, Mohg heard himself say. He had lashed out. He shouldn't have done that. But he knew that he was right. Morgott was running into his own doom. Mohg had tried to get him out of it, but he had ruined it. By letting his feelings take over.

“Just leave Leyndell and do not come back.”, Morgott said, “Traitors, all of thee. Thou art not better as our half-siblings.”

Rejection. It should have hurt but Mohg was starting to feel numb. A part of him had always known that Morgott was too far gone. The earlier rage reignited, convincing itself that hurting Morgott had been just. He would not listen. He would never listen.

“I will and you will be sorry for ever shunning me like that.”, Mohg snarled, “You'll see. I'll show you and everyone else. We don't need the Erdtree. Just stay here and rot at its foot, that is all you ever were able to do.”

Mohg then rushed out of the sewers, past Morgott, not glancing back, not sparing a second thought or the feeling of guilt would overwhelm him. He didn't stop until he was out of the city and then...

Mohg turned into the direction of the Haligtree. There was someone he needed. Someone that was ought to rule by his side.

He just needed to stop asking.

@sputnstuff

@irnbruforthetrue

Blood and Fundament

“What’s the difference between a Leyndell sewer rat and Carian Royalty?” The words echoed off barren stone and desiccated grass, “which way you turn your nose when the wind picks up.”

Dry, gritted, laughter issued into the silence as the hulking omen shifted his weight and collapsed the last dregs of masonry separating him from freedom. The laughter turned to a quivering sigh as the first, lilting, breath of fresh air graced his hide. Trident in hand, Mohg slipped into the night.

The first mile was hardest.

Feet used to muck and unyielding stone struggled to acclimate to soft dirt and ticklish grass. Nor was the omen used to the light. It was a good day when some poor soul was sent below to brave the dark and danger to provide the royalty’s benighted spawn with a memory of sunlight.

Here, stood in the moon’s bathing rays… there was far too much of it.

One mile turned into two. When the spurned prince found the road, and solid, familiar, granite, those scant pair of miles turned into a dozen with ease. The only sound, save for the occasional call of a bird or animal the omen had no way of identifying, was the crunch of the butt of his weapon digging into the pristine road with every step.

The road forked. For a moment he paused, unsure of where his feet should lead him next.

Then came the voice.

Soft. Matronly.

…

Kind.

“Follow the wind, follow my voice, dearest child, in freedom rejoice,”

With the wind to his back, Mohg turned to the North and began his march.

** ** **

The sun had breached the horizon some hours ago now. The heat of the blasted thing seemed content to scourge his hide unerringly as he continued to walk. The moments were a cloud decided to intervene and save the dire prince from its glare for a moment or two were the succour that kept him moving.

That… and the mother’s voice.

“Two there were, fundamental and depraved, where one shall strive, the other in my womb be saved.”

Mohg twisted his head as the sun dared peer past the tangle of his horns and worry his sight. To his left, the ground fell away to a great, forested, valley draped in mist; to his right were nought but sheer cliff and scoured rock. A bridge stood in the distance. The promise of somewhere dark to wait out the burning light all the motivation the omen needed to redouble his efforts.

“Ah… the wayward royal,” scant feet from his refuge; a hoarse, breathy, voice caused the omen to swing his weapon round to strike.

The creature before him was… small… so very small. It reminded him of one of his brethren that had been flung into the depths so long ago. She had been a short, squat, spiteful example of his kind with a dozen shorn horns leaking blood whenever she moved. This thing… was of a like; its head was far too great for its body while its limbs were spindly and emaciated.

“You know of me?” his voice rumbled like the shifting of stone on stone.

“Why yes lordling,” her skin was as wrinkled and sloughed as any omen hide. The woman stared up at him with great, pearlescent eyes far too big for her head, “and I know of the one whispering in your ear.”

At that moment the voice whispered anew.

“Traitor, profligate, false,   with skin of stone,   turn away sweet prince,   and I shall give thee a throne.”

Despite the warning; Mohg lowered his trident’s tip to the dirt.

“How do you find yourself in my path?” he suppressed a grunt of pain as his fang grazed his skin tighter than it should, drawing a slicked cut in his toughened hide.

“I foresaw a need,” the seeress’ head slowly twisted to the side, “advice for the oncoming lord if he be wise enough to heed it.”

“Then speak,” his tone was curt and informed by the ever-rising sun. No doubt others would come upon him if he stayed in the light too long.

“I see… a mother of two aspects,” the voice in the back of his mind did not speak but pressed down on his consciousness near oppressively, “virtue, kindness, a guiding hand… and the other. Empowering yet intangible… utterly formless in their support.”

“I have no use for a mother,” the three tangs of steel rose from their furrows in the dirt to point aloft proudly, “I have done away with my need for all but mine own strength.”

“Then why do you follow her voice?” the thing’s head snapped back to straightness and trained directly on him with a withering intensity, “the calling of one so befouled.”

“For none cared for me but her,” to prove his point; the omen ran his fingers through the air and split the limits between reality and otherwise. Where his claws passed were left a bloody, dripping, gash in the skin of the world, “not my brother, not my kin, not my own mother.”

“Young prince-“

“NO!” his growl stirred the air and shook the ground, “I am one without loyalty not for any thoughts of betrayal or disdain but for the reason I have none loyal to me in turn. I stood guard over the embers of an evil for no other reason that it was the command of one who would not grace me with even a moment of love or care.”

“I-“

“NO MORE!” his claws ripped through the air and shredded the delicate skin separating his world from that of the voice. A torrent of blood, foul and burning with power, flooded out and over the little woman; her howl of pain lost in the roar of the sickening deluge.

He turned away. The ghost of sickness pulling at his conscious for the death of one wholly innocent in the face of his rage. What had she done except follow the bidding of a woman no more concerned with her fate than with his own. A pity… but not one that would weigh on his soul.

“Is that so, my son?” the heat and fury of the day died away in an instant. It was unfamiliar to Mohg, one that he had only imagined, and feared.

The mist had risen from the forest below around them. The sun was hidden in the haze. Yet it may as well have sat before him in all its fiery glory as the sizzling form of the crone slipped away in golden light. The bald head shrunk and bloomed with radiant blond hair. The hunch of her back straightened and the wrinkles receded to the perfect smoothness of youth. The rags and leathers morphed and fluttered in the breeze into gossamer silks.

“You…” the word burned in his throat like the vilest of curses, “YOU!”

He advanced with murderous intent and the moment he was within arm’s reach found himself propelled back like an intransigent young omen before its thuggish elders. His skin burned, his eyes screamed at him, every piece of his existence felt torn and abused in the face of her.

“You spurn me,” Marika paced out of the swamp of infernal blood like it was but a rain puddle. Mohg could make out her face, if only just, and her expression was truly unknown. Pain? Disappointment? Disdain? He could not say, save for the absence of one thing.

Fear.

“Yes,” he clambered to his feet, the robes he was swaddled in making the action clumsy to say the least, “I forsake you with nought but gladness in my heart.”

“You stand in the presence of a god with venom on your tongue,” she gently cocked her head and appraised him in the same unreadable aspect as before, “your father’s son to be sure.”

“Rather he than the bastardised mirror of someone as cruel as thee,” Mohg reached down and pried his trident from where it had fallen, “rather I serve the very whisper of a matron in the absence of one such as yourself.”

“This voice, this grave murmur,” she scoffed loudly. Like one would dismiss the ideas of a child, “she leads to not but dissolution and malice. I have seen her like before. I stood before her and the pantheon beyond your ken and found her sorely lacking. She is a spiteful, jealous, self-serving and will discard you like a broken doll the moment you lack purpose in her game.”

“A mirror you have stared into many times I would imagine,” he spat acridly on the ground.

“Quite…” the mist now surrounded them in totality, “my son, he who burns with the ardour of his father, what contrivance of fate must I summon to return you to your post? What holy division must I sow to return you to my fold?”

“There is none,” the solar bloom of her power flared threateningly, “Morgott may be content as your lapdog, a shadow to sic on heretics and the rightfully discontent alike. Not I. You ask for my obeisance as if I was but a petulant child in need of scolding and correction.”

The Omen drew to his full height above the dainty woman.

“To be sure I am my mother’s son, aye, for I shall not rest in a realm where your injustice may bloom. I will not kneel before you, traitor of all, and swear allegiance like my word can prove anodyne to your actions. No, you ask if I feel remorse? Regret? NO!”

“Mohg,” her tone was a deathly warning lost in the wake of his fury.

“You ask all this and I tell you thus!” the voice murmured joyous couplets in the back of his mind, “I am Mohgwyn, master of a new dynasty, AND I WOULD DO IT AGAIN!” the butt of his weapon slammed into the dirt and sprayed muck over the hem of his mother’s dress.

“Very well,” she spat out in disgust.

And she was gone. The queen of the golden order disappearing in a radiant beam of light. The mist began to dissipate and left the omen alone on the country road with nothing but his ire and a steaming pool of blood-flame.

“Oh child, darkling prince, Wielder of mine furious power, With my words I shall evince, Means to make foul Marika cower.”

“Yes, my queen, my mother,” he rumbled, albeit wearily.

Climbing down and tucking himself into a nook beneath the bridge. Mohg let sleep claim him with a twisted, cruel, smirk burning on his lips and dreams of grandeur polluting his mind. 

@theschneckenhouse

@palepious

The bright light stung his eye. When people called the Leyndell the golden capital they were not jesting. As if the Erdtrees light was not enough, each roof, each tile and lantern was coated in gold. It was all terribly gaudy and tasteless. Though, Mogh supposed that he had to respect Marikas dedication to the theme. What an odd strike of aesthetic luck, that even the grand bolt of Gransax had been golden when he assailed the capital all those years ago. Or had it been another color, perhaps the same as crimson as their lightning?

But of course in her eternal dedication to her vision Marika would have had it coated in a thin sheet of gold to match the rest of the city. No doubt before even sparing a glance at the destruction the dragons assault had brought to the common people.

Though in all her grandeur Mogh did have to mourn, that Marika had seemingly not bothered enough to coat her soldiers in gold as well. Like roaches they had steadily been congregating on his trail. Too scared to face him, yet unwilling to just leave him be.

Would it have been such a great task to also grant them golden chain mail? It seemed to be present in such abundance that a menial task like this should not have been a hurdle, no? Yet here she was, only favoring the ones who were already born into her high grace.

Yet another thing he would change once he and Miquella were united in their shared dynasty. Under them, all would be loved and cherished equally. Unlike under his cursed mother, who only loved those that fit her ideals. And even for them her love was conditional.

So many things would change. The roaches behind him would rejoice if they knew what could await them. Yet they clung to the familiar neglect they suffered under his mothers yoke. Believing that if they just served hard enough that they would be recognized. As if their worth had not been determined by the moment that they had been born as lowly servants. Not unlike his misguided brother. Did he still dwell in their old prison underground? Clinging to the pathetic hope that if he was just good enough that she would recognize him as her own?

“Halt thy wandering, abhorrent creature!” The shiny figure of a knight moving itself into his way pulled Mogh out of his musing. “Thou art not welcome in this realm! Begone!” Resolutely the knight had already unsheathed their sword and pointed it towards him.

They were bold. He had to give them that. Even if said boldness bordered on stupidity. Still he indulged the knight to the point of stopping in front of them. Despite looming over the armored figure with almost twice their size, they did not back down. Perhaps it was bravery, not boldness, bordering on stupidity after all.

“Dost thou really think that thee standest a chance against me?” Despite the growing irritation in his throat Mogh kept his voice level and almost soft. As if he were talking to a child. For all their willful ignorance, these knights could almost be considered that. Still the knight did not catch the hint. Golden lightning danced around their blade as tension grew in the roaches behind him.

“It does not matter if I falter against you, monster. Others will take my place where I fall. Thee shalt not defile her Majesties holy city any further!”

Mogh wanted to be angry. He wanted to scream profanities and launch himself at the knight the same way he would have done if he were still young. Young, desperate and so so angry. He was still angry. But more than anything now, he was exhausted.

It was out of that exhaustion that he didn’t strike first. That he let the knight call their comrades to arms, now that their superior was there and gave them orders, the soldiers seemed to remember that as a unit they had a duty to fulfill. Crying out, they too unsheathed their weapons and charged at him. Only then did he hit back.

Foolish knights should have listened. Foolish knights and soldiers.

Despite his size, Mogh deftly evaded the knights first swing, catching their wrists in his claws before they could attack again. In a twirl of his sleeve he stood beside them, clawed hands digging into the opening of armor underneath their arm. His fingers dug into their flesh like he was ripping apart a ripe fruit. Warm, sweet blood gushed forward and the knight let out a choked cry. Whether it was to rebuke him, call upon their comrades or warn them, he did not know. For it was not their flesh his claws found next, but that of the formless mother.

He heard her sigh softly in his ears and burning blood gushed forward, flung messily upon the roaches that had now gathered a desperate sort of courage and begun to charge. Not that it did them any good. The blood he had flung melted through their armor like hot water in snow, leaving the men and women screaming in agony as they bled out on the floor. Mogh watched for a moment as the bodies around his feet writhed and moaned in pain, only for one after the other to still.

What a waste.

They could have been part of something greater. Something beautiful. Still they decided to go down senselessly for an order that could not care less about them. A tragedy really. Not for the last time on that day, Mogh let out a long suffering sigh.

“I warned thee. Thy compatriots shall hopefully learn from thine mistakes.” He spoke more to himself than anyone else. The streets had been deserted ever since he had first made his appearance above ground, and now, all those that had dared to show themselves laid slain at his feet.

————

Mogh was ashamed to admit that he arrived later than intended. Both to due to his own mistake, and those of others. He had only been in the capital once before, and that was a long time ago. Plus he hardly had been able to get a tour and a layout of said city. Additionally, it was rather hard to navigate when one was accosted by soldiers at every second turn he took. But it was of no matter. In the end, all he had to do was take the roads and paths leading ever closer to the Erdtree. Which was hard to miss.

The Erdtree sanctuary was, apart from everything else, surprisingly dim. Being so close to the ever shining Erdtree, Mogh would have expected it to be blindingly lit up in every corner. But no. Aside from the entrance opening up to said tree, there were barely any light sources. Perhaps even the divine and noble got tired of staring into the light all day and night.

Now that he was up here, Mogh was surprised at how little resistance he was meeting compared to down in the streets. Perhaps the queens knights had finally realized that they were in no way capable of stopping his advance. Or perhaps they thought that not a single soul would be brazen enough to just barge into such a sacred place.

Morgott surely would have wept with reverent delight if he was the one standing here now. Not that his fool brother would be forthright enough to demand his birthright the way that Mogh was doing now. Still he couldn’t help the nostalgic pang of guilt at standing here without his brother. He had promised to bring them both to the surface after all. Before they had split paths. He hoped he was happy, wherever he was. Holed up no doubt, still hoping to be recognized by the golden order.

Alas, tragically Mogh was not given the privilege to dwell further on his twin, as a new figure came into view on the platform leading out closer to the Erdtree. Where he was supposed to find Miquella. Only that the one standing there was very much not his younger empyrean brother. In his stead stood a tall, blond woman. She stood with her back turned towards Mogh, seemingly lost in thought. A long braid lazily thrown over her shoulder.

He had never met her in person, but after seeing her image on endless statues and paintings, he without a shadow of a doubt knew that before him stood his queen mother Marika.

Really, his luck could not have been worse. Where his agents had predicted that Miquella would dwell in the sanctuary at this hour, he instead encountered the rotten queen herself. Slowly she turned her head towards him. She was all golden, save for her black dress. From the gold hair kept in its signature braids, to the golden chains and charms that wove themselves around her body. And especially to the golden eyes that seemed to sear themselves into his own. As if she was drinking in his appearance. Now that he saw her in the flesh, he couldn’t help but marvel at how similar she and Morgott looked when he was younger. Surely he would have rejoiced over such a revelation.

“What art thou doing here?” Her tone was calm. Deliberate. Though her features were etched into an expression that could almost be described as exhaustion. Did she recognize him? Did she know that she stood before one of her children? Or did she just see another misbegotten omen that had dared to crawl high enough to offend her himself with his rank presence?

For the first time in a long, long time, Mogh was at a loss for words. What could he even say here? If he admitted to wishing to claiming Miquella to act as his divinity, he would reveal his plan to the enemy. Surely she would mobilize her forced the moment she claimed his head to squash the burgeoning dynasty under her heel. No. He had to protect them. His knights and surgeons. A diversion, he would have to feign a unrelated defeat so she would not question his hasty retreat.

“I have come to claim my birthright and a throne in the council of demigods!” The boisterous tone came to him easily, despite standing in the face of the woman who was solely responsible for the torment he and his twin had suffered for years underground. Not to speak of all the others she had branded undesirable. Marika raised a perfectly curved eyebrow at the wild movement his arms and closed her eyes for but a moment.

“Thou knowest that there is no place for thee amongst them. Mogh.” So she knew exactly who he was. She even remembered his name. A strange and unbidden feeling of warmth clawed at his insides.

“My council is absolute. And I shall not suffer the insult that would be thy presence and input. So… leave. Thou art not welcome here.” Despite the harshness of her words, her eyes remained closed. Could she not even bother to look him in the eye when declaring his misbegotten nature?

As he had expected. She still saw him as little more than a blight upon her name. “I had feared thou would not see reason. Then let me prove it the same way mine divine father has done before.” Once more the trident manifested in a flash of flame within his grasp. The stumps that would soon grow into wings itched to be released to flaunt the power that thrived within him now. For him to call upon his blood, to punish her for the pain she had inflicted upon them. To prove that despite all, he had still grown into something formidable.

The first strike was deliberately sloppy. As expected the tridents spires pierced nothing but air, as she vanished into golden dust with the gentle chime of her bracelets. As such, he violently swerved the trident to his left, covering his blind spot. Metal struck against metal as the spires collided with the handle of his mothers hammer. She held the thing in an almost casual grasp, easily holding against the force he had used. As expected of a god.

“If thou wishes to imitate thy lord father, thou needest to strike harder.” Her tone was factual as she pushed back against his trident, leaping into the air with her hammer led in a wide arch as if to demonstrate. And demonstrate she did. Despite barely blocking her charge with the handle of his trident, Mogh felt the force and searing heat of her weapon in his bones. For a dreadful moment he feared his weapon would snap in half.

But he held fast and managed to rear back in time to recover himself before Marika was on him again. Her onslaught was brutal and made Mogh think of being battered by a furious building come to life. The giant crayfish beneath the candle would never be able to hold a candle to her.

With that came the realization that he would not be able to defend against her like this much longer. Each of his muscles and bones ached from the barrage they had suffered under her Mogh was almost certain that several of his ribs were already broken. They circled one another for a few moments, Mogh rapidly thinking of how he could escape this predicament, while Marika watched him with the serenity of a cat knowing that its prey had no means of escaping.

A desperate itch along his back where bones were waiting to protrude brough Mogh back to himself. Right. He had every means he needed to flee this unwanted encounter. Far as he knew, even the god queen herself had no means of soaring the skies like her sons pet dragon. It was a calculated risk, but he had no other choice.

Once again, he charged at her. While launching himself through the space that seperated them, the bones within his back spiked and elongated. As he had hoped, Marika once more side stepped, readying herself to cleave down at his side, only to be met with a blur of blood and feathers. The giant black wings that were ever growing underneath his skin and finally found their way through, carrying him off the platform and into the sky.

Against his expectations, Marika did not attempt to strike him in the air. Even when he soared closer and closer to the city walls. No, when he looked over his shoulder to where she stood, he could only see a small golden figure. No hammer. Just her. Standing there and watching him fly off into the distance.

This would not be the last time she would behold him. That Mogh vowed to himself. Soon enough she would have to recognize him as an equal. As the herald and lord of a new age.

His age. The Age of Blood.

@omelevate

@redsixwing

They were already calling it the Shattering. After Marika Herself shattered the Elden Ring; after the demigods, her children, took up arms and rune fragments to empower themselves, and seek dominion.

For the merely human, it was just a dragging, awful nightmare of a war. The wounded needed care; the sick needed treatment. The surgeons found themselves first busy, then overwhelmed, then made targets in their bright healer’s white. The circumstances became so dire that even students of anatomy were granted robes and pulled in, even those with no inclination to healing. Varré was one of those.

Rumor said that frenzy had broken out amongst some soldiers; then, the healers became mercy-killers, putting down the afflicted before they could spread the virulent yellow flame to others. First, the bearers of that curse were put to death; then the poisoned and the badly wounded. It seemed that the list grew longer week by week, until the misericorde, pity of the heart, was more commonly used than the tools of healing.

Some pity it was that sought its own victims.

But the Last King’s army had been pushed back, and the surgeons went with them.

Varré had not been to Leyndell before, and he wasn’t enjoying his visit. Two more of his companions had disappeared into the depths of the city, either fled or taken. The numbers were running terribly thin.

He, young but reliable, had been sent to look for the most recent. She was a surgeon in her prime. She had last been seen entering the Lower Capital, a poor area where she would no doubt find need for her skills.

The trail ran immediately cold. Few people cared to see a surgeon; Varré’s mask got stares and sneers, and one or two taunts. “There goes a butcher,” someone said, behind his back.  They thought  so little of him; not a healer, but a killer. Not a scholar, but a body-thief. He did not turn. Had these fools been the end of his colleague?

“Here to get those pretty white robes covered in mud,” someone else muttered. “Better off in the Shunning Grounds.”

That gave him something to look for. She was not aboveground. She might well be below.

——

Varre climbed down with caution. The old well-head led not to water, but to a massive storm-drain, and it was clearly used as a sewer. Something splashed when he stepped down off the ladder. Something else clung to his feet and stank. Yet it was not worse than the battlefield; here, he could hear only the movement of water and some furtive animal in the shadows. No screams. No stench of blood to complement the fetid waste.

Thank goodness for the perfumed wisp of fabric inside his mask. Varre would have purity within, even in the foulest of settings. Nothing had been able to taint the integrity of his body, even in the worst of situations.

He walked further in, lantern and dagger at the ready. His candle glowed golden; his robes threw the light yet further. He felt as if he were the focus of a painting, one bright spot on a canvas extravagantly defiled. Was that not the sensation of being watched?

Indeed, he was: a hulking, horned silhouette fled from his lantern. Splashing footsteps showed a path he did not intend to follow. The foul omen knew better than to hinder him.

Or perhaps, his colleague had already put fear into it. Varre’s lip curled behind his mask. He had no time for it or its accursed ilk. He would be ready for whatever came. He was a war surgeon, hardened by battle; filth did not frighten him, nor monstrosity. If he stood alone against accursed omens and the effluent of a city, he would do it with a masked smile and a sharp knife.

When the moment came, he wasn’t ready.

Something shifted out in the darkness past the reach of his lantern. Another omen, perhaps? Black horns glinted like a knot of serpents. Gold glittered, embroidery on heavy cloth. Gold shone in one eye, reflecting like a cat’s.

Gold, here, in a sewer? Gold thread decorating the body of an omen?

The figure stood up. Up and up, until it loomed over him. The pipe seemed abruptly very small.

“Isn’t that convenient. You came to me this time.” Its voice was surprisingly polished.

This time?

White fabric fluttered: tucked into the immense creature’s waistband was a surgeon’s scarf. Then she was kidnapped, taken by this very omen. Varre’s mouth was suddenly dry, his heart racing. Could he-

“Kidnapper, you will pay for your actions,” Varre promised.

Varre had just one phial of precious perfume; he loosed its cork. Lightning crackled around him, a warning, and made his dagger glow as golden as the omen’s eye.

It did nothing. Less than nothing. He swiped and felt the blade cut, but the great clawed hands wrapped around him. Nobody but his captor could possibly hear his furious, terrified scream. Varre kicked. Masked, he was prevented from biting; his hands were pinned and already tingling. The big omen chuckled, turned, and began to descend.

“Is it your colleague you want? The other surgeon? You’ll see her soon enough.”

——

Afterward, Varre remembered little of the descent, and nothing of the path the big omen took. The next period of time (for without a sky to watch, without treelight or the sun, it was useless to call it a day or night) was spent in abject terror, either bound or held in that iron grip. The omen - Mohg was his name, and he affected the title of Luminary - spoke at length during their travels.

He would stop the Shattering, he said. He would stop his foolish brother- a figure unnamed, but whoever it was, must have been powerful indeed - and set the world to rights again. Some shadowy figure he called the Formless Mother would reign over a world brought back to life through the virtues of blood, and the betraying goddess would be given a swift death.

Did not the surgeons know about blood?

Varre spat, “I’ll bleed you for this.”

The big omen just laughed, again. “Good! Good.”

“You shall have no mercy, omen.” Varre growled, but his voice sounded thin and frightened in his own ears.

Mohg lifted him up to look into the frightening face of his captor. Unable to turn his head, he found himself assessing. One eye was already gone; very well. He’d try to attack on the blinded left side. The jaw lacked lips; the needle teeth would be best avoided, but he couldn’t tell how wide the jaw could open, with rampant horn growth potentially affecting the joint. The horns armored the skull-

The omen was studying him in return.

“Why not spill blood to a greater purpose?” he asked, for all the world as if they were having a dinnertime conversation.

Varre found he had nothing to say. The omen - Mohg - was out of his mind, or he was ill, or he was fascinated with the grisly subject of murder.

The rest of the journey was similar. Varre struggled; Mohg held him fast, and told him all the ways bloodshed would undo the wreck of the world.

If only it were believable! If only it could be done. When he spilled Mohg’s blood, perhaps the big omen would come to see that there was no value in the pain.

——

His moment came when Mohg put him down. They must have traveled far indeed; Varre did not recognize the place, only that it was underground. A lift carried them downward, its sides open to a dizzying drop. When they arrived at the bottom, Mohg put him down.

Varre’s feet were numb from the awkward position he’d been forced to maintain, and he stumbled off toward the omen’s blind side. Not nearly so off balance as he allowed Mohg to think, he gathered himself and attacked.

The misericorde did not cut as deeply as he hoped. Whether it was the thick robes that foiled it, or an unexpected twist of horn beneath, the dagger only stung Mohg to rage. The omen shouted with the pain, but turned and grabbed again. Varre flung himself backward, but a heavy hand slapped him off his feet. His mask clattered off to one side, and his head rung with the impact.

That was the end of his brief rebellion. Mohg held him down, one hand clasped over his wounded side, the other splayed over Varre’s chest.

“I was hoping to do this later.”

Mogh took his dagger as one might take a stick from a child, an easy wrench that left his wrist hurting. The blood on the omen’s hand glistened, ominous.

“…but I suppose it must be now.”

With surprising delicacy, Mohg made a cut. He squeezed his fingers together over it, so that his own blood fell into the wound. Varre, helpless, could only watch.

Contamination! The contact hurt, it burned, like nothing the surgeon had ever felt.Pain and euphoria in toxic mixture. Fire spread from the shallow cut, riding his own heartbeat throughout his body.

He screamed in earnest, and Mohg clucked at him. “Bite your tongue, will you?”

Varre felt the room swim, saw shadows writhe behind Mohg’s immense silhouette, and fell into a crimson eternity. Something awaited him there, some truth he could almost glimpse, born of the wound and beyond anything he had ever seen. To regard it would be pain, but to ignore it… madness.

When he awoke, he was still restrained. He patted weakly at the great hand.

Mohg’s head turned, regarding him with one wary eye.

Varre could only remember his defiance. He could no longer understand it. He’d thought the omen lord was mad, unable to apprehend the divinity that moved through him. Now—

Now, Varre knew what he had to do. There was a power capable of challenging Marika the betrayer, and this omen, this enormous accursed man, was its chosen vessel.

“Luminary,” he breathed, and saw the lipless mouth open in a needled smile.

“Let me up, please. Let me apologize for wounding you.”

“You may,” Mohg said, and lifted his hand.

Varre bowed before his new lord, and set about tending the wound he had so rashly inflicted.

@hunteralienperson

@dbzespio

The stench of the sewers was palpable, and he dreaded to consider what lurked within the foul waters lapping at his feet, drenching his trousers nearly to the bone. But... all for a greater purpose.

For Varré wished to know his Lord, Luminary Mohg... to gaze upon his form, to feel his love.

Deep within his heart, Varré knew this little wish of his was quite selfish, but he had a feeling his Lord would understand; for he was one who held great love and kindness, the likes of which none other could match. Surely Lord Mohg would be willing to allow his prized war surgeon such a precious gift... for Varré was his stalwart knight of the coming dynasty, the only one of many who could properly accept and understand his love, who could fulfill his destiny... for the greater good of all.

Yes, Lord Mohg surely would understand. So Varré could afford to be a little selfish... just this once, of course!

Smiling softly, the war surgeon raised his lantern, peering into the darkness.

He needed to navigate these depths, to search the childhood home of his loving Lord, all in the effort to find him, or at least, to uncover a trace of where he might have toddled off to.

For who knows where the good Lord might wish to commence his dynasty?

Well, wherever it was, Varré was sure to be there, the very moment it began...!

The rats snarled at him while he trudged along, clutching his bloody bouquet tightly. He chuckled at their eagerness, and he was all too happy to demonstrate to these beasts just how loving he could be. After all, pain was the most exquisite path to pleasure, and he was always delighted to assist in providing a path towards true bliss...

He practically danced within their blood, hoping that all the excitement would serve to draw out his Lord. But of course, mere rats weren’t enough. He set his sights upon the Omen next.

If his furious blows weren’t enough to quiet them, his swarms of flies were. The fiends fell easily enough, so long as he didn’t allow them the opportunity to group together. Luckily for Varré, the monsters weren’t especially social, and so he found he could fairly easily take them down one by one.

Soon enough, he found himself alone, and he frowned, wondering where he might explore next. With only his lantern to guide him, he ended up traversing atop some winding pipes; and it seemed stone gargoyles made their homes there, for they kept showing up, seemingly just to annoy him.

His bouquet shattered them easily, but the silly beasts were devoid of any blood… how disappointing.

Still, Varré held his chin high, for knew he’d come across some trace of his Lord eventually. And even if he didn’t right away, he felt certain there were still plenty of chances for further bloodshed for him to personally enjoy. After all, he and his Lord had similar cravings, and he knew he deserved at least a couple of indulgences...

And then, he came across an intriguing prospect!

Varré rubbed his hands together greedily, gazing over the giant lobster milling around down below. It wasn’t quite as fun as an octopus, but it surely had more than enough blood. Yes, far more than the creature deserved...

Oh, how he would enjoy rectifying this little injustice…!

Hopping over to the lowest pipe, Varré took the plunge, falling down to the depths below. The fall nearly broke his bones, and he shivered, taking a moment to awash himself in the sensation.

“There you are, my dear!” Varré called out to the lobster, rushing towards it with his bouquet clutched tightly over his heart. “Rejoice, for you will play a small part in our coming dynasty!”

The lobster, dull as it was, barely noticed him at first. But then, it primed itself for battle, claws sharp and ready to slice. Varré rolled aside, avoiding its dash towards him and greeting the creature with a few vicious strikes from his bloody bouquet. The blows nearly shattered the lobster’s carapace, and the monster thrashed, managing to catch Varré in a claw. Helpless to resist, the war surgeon lay still while the creature squeezed, crushing him.

Just when Varré thought the lobster might try to eat him, it instead threw him, and he landed quite a ways away; as if the monster had simply grown tired of him and tossed him away.

Varré pushed himself up and shook his head to re-gather his bearings. “Well, now that’s just—”

He stopped short, however, when he took notice of his lobster friend. It was apparently engaged in a new battle, one with another creature that looked just like it.

So now there were two giant lobsters, and clearly none of them wanted to play with him anymore. For they were both seemingly locked in battle with one another, not even sparing him a second glance.

How very cruel of them…!

Varré huffed, rising to his feet. Perhaps he should just let them kill each other, since they were both clearly so hellbent on such an outcome.

He bit his lip, considering. No, no. It simply wouldn’t do.

After all, he had a duty to fulfill. And he simply wouldn’t stand anyone, not even some dull-witted and overgrown monsters, avoiding a taste of the pleasurable love of the Luminary Mohg. The creatures didn’t quite deserve it, dumb and selfish as they were, but Varré would see his Lord’s dynasty through... and everyone had a role to play. Even brainless beasts such as these two.

Furious, he rushed ahead, brandishing his bloody bouquet. He could still see the wounds he had already inflicted on the first creature’s side, so he targeted that portion of the carapace, bashing away. Meanwhile, the lobster began thrashing again, striking not only Varré but also the other lobster. But Varré persisted, and soon enough, one of his strikes hit an artery, splashing blood everywhere. The monster froze and then shuddered, seemingly unable to take the pain. And that’s when the other monster finished it off, with a mighty swing of its great claw.

Varré tutted. “Stealing my kill, are you? Well, we can’t have that…!”

The creature clicked its claws in apparent irritation and actually had the audacity to spit at him. But Varré kept rolling aside, slowly but surely making his way towards the over-sized beast. And once he reached it, he began another flurry of blows, striking its claws, its backside, its face, wherever his bouquet managed to land while the lobster thrashed about, even wilder than the last beast.

He didn’t hit an artery, but he didn’t need to; for the creature finally succumbed to the brute force of his continuous attacks.

What a disappointment.

So Varré kept going, striking the dead creature until he did hit an artery, bathing himself in blood.

The war surgeon sighed in contentment, rubbing his bloodied hands together, unwittingly spreading the still-warm fluid down his arms. “Ah, to feel the love of our Lord Mohg… You are a lucky creature indeed…”

Humming in delight, Varré hopped over the carcass and made his way further into the depths of the sewers, his now-bloodied lantern guiding him along. He reached a narrow passageway and quieted his steps, delighting in the little shiver of fear that trailed down his back. His Lord was close; he could feel it. Surely his love was so great that he could feel his presence, the quiet, the tension, and the fear in the air. The Lord Mohg was powerful indeed.

Licking his lips, Varré crept onward, respectfully lowering his lantern. He reached a large, empty room, and here he paused, lowering to his knees and resting his lamp on the ground beside him.

It would be here. Here they would meet.

He shivered when the light flickered, holding his breath before clasping his hand to his heart.

It was time.

“Welcome, honored knight!” a voice boomed, one he had never heard before but somehow knew, rather intimately, it felt to him. “What brings you here?”

Varré kept his head lowered in a respectful bow, but he couldn’t hold back the smile that lit his face. Thankfully, it was hidden behind his mask, but he felt certain its warmth might slip into his next words...

But no matter; his Lord was a loving one. Surely and undoubtedly so.

“A selfish wish, admittedly,” Varré told him, clutching tighter at the fabric over his heart. “I longed to know you, to see your loving face, perhaps to even feel... the warmth of your hand upon mine…”

He sighed. It felt good to let him know this, despite the stabbing guilt he felt at the greed of his request. High-ranking as he was, it was still far beneath a lowly knight such as himself to wish for such things. Perhaps there was a reason the Lorg Mohg had kept himself from Varré and the rest... And he didn’t want to trample upon such a desire, should it truly be the Lord’s wish.

“I just wanted to see you,” Varré admitted. “I worry for you... being alone as you are.”

There was a pause; and Varré didn’t dare lift his eyes, though he knew his wish was so close to being fulfilled.

Still, he wouldn’t risk his Lord’s love. He needed his permission. He could not, would not take anything, not even a small glance at him, without express approval.

“Arise, dear knight,” the voice boomed, just as grandiose as before. “Your wish is granted.”

Varré could hardly contain himself. At long last!

He hurriedly rose, gazing over the Luminary Mohg.

A fine man he was; though some might argue he was no man at all, but an Omen. Copious horns protruded from his face, altering his features. They looked painful, and the Lord Mohg took command of it, mastering it well. Judging by his expression, he was proud indeed, grinning at him with sharp, dangerous teeth. His robes were copious, spotless and lavish, extravagant in every way, well fitting for such a fine Lord.

Varré quivered, both hands to his heart now. “My Lord, you are… beyond words…”

He had never seen such a wonder, never, not in all his years.

The war surgeon admittedly felt quite weak in the knees. “You are beyond everything I would have ever thought possible!”

“Soon, my dear knight,” Mohg reached out his hand to him. “Soon, and with you at my side, we will have our coming dynasty…!”

Varré’s heart skipped in delight, gladly setting his hand within the open palm of his Lord. The Lord Mohg’s hand readily dwarfed his own; his fingers were long and his claws, sharp, cutting into Varré’s glove, very easily drawing blood.

“Together, we will bring our dynasty to life!” the Lord Mohg cried, drawing Varré close. “And you know your path; bring to me others, more who will share in our love and our work!”

“Of course,” Varré flushed, delighting in their proximity. “I already have someone in mind… My little lambkin!”

[aroaceleovaldez]

A quick FAQ since I'm active on Deadangelos again -

"What is Deadangelos?"

@deadangelos is my PJO askblog centered around Nico!

"What's an askblog?"

An askblog is a tumblr blog centered around a character or group of characters, where people can send questions to the character(s) and the mod/mun will create responses in-character! They're a little different from RP blogs in that it's up to the mod/"mun" if there will be any story elements or not, and the audience doesn't participate as "characters" in-universe so to speak (most of the time). There's a lot of different forms of askblogs, such as text askblogs which are entirely written, illustrated (like Deadangelos) which are more of a comic-form, cosplay askblogs, voice acting askblogs, and more! You can learn more about tumblr askblogs and ask questions about them [here].

"If it's about Nico why is it all Jason right now?"

Deadangelos technically is only primarily focused on Nico, and other characters can be asked questions too. But regarding Jason specifically - I'm doing an event right now! Deadangelos will occasionally feature story plotlines, and the current one focuses on Jason's backstory of his experiences pre-HoO at Camp Jupiter.

"How do I catch up on what's going on?"

Currently there's not a perfect way to fully catch up on the blog other than just reading it. All events are tagged as such, and you can append "/chrono" to the end a tumblr blog's url when looking at tags to read the tag in chronological order from oldest to newest. Unfortunately /chrono tags don't work on mobile, so the best way to read deadangelos is on browser! For your convenience, the plot-relevant events (more plot-relevant arcs bolded) in order are: Will Takeover Event 1 -> The Runaway Event -> The only semi-plot-relevant Clown Event (it's complicated) -> Solstice Event -> The Quest Event -> shadow!Nico event -> Chickens (Ongoing) -> Will Takeover Event 2 -> Firework Event -> Phantom mini-event -> Smintheus Event -> TBM Event* (Ongoing) -> Grace Event (Ongoing) (*The TBM event encompasses both the Smintheus Event and Grace Event, as well as other future events) I am however currently working on a Deadangelos Wiki! It's not done and doesn't have many pages yet, but it has some general overview of a few characters as of right now. If you really want to read the whole blog in it's entirety, most if not all in-character responses are tagged "pjo" and you can use the /chrono feature on that. The blog has been around for 8 years though, and so may reference fandom stuff from 8 years ago or be outdated regarding current events of the blog or similar. Also the art is old, obviously.

[alpha-trauma-novel-trans]

Chapter 96

The night air was quite cool, even though it was almost July. Thankfully, it wasn't raining, but the damp air left a chill on his skin. Dohyun held a convenience store bag in one hand and shook his other hand gently, which was intertwined with Wooyeon's.

“Did you have fun today?”

His soft voice matched the dark surroundings. It was sweet, affectionate, and just the kind of kindness that Wooyeon liked. Wooyeon nodded without hesitation. 

“I think they're both really funny.”

Wooyeon’s interpersonal relationships were limited, but he knew that Garam and Sungyu were kind. It would have been nice if they had met earlier, to the point where he thought that. Daniel was also a good friend, but since they started from different places, he was excluded.

“Good. I'm glad you had fun.”

Dohyun nodded and checked the watch on his wrist. It was the fifth time he'd checked it since the convenience store. Should he go home? As Wooyeon thought about it, Dohyun spoke slowly.

“Today...”

Perhaps because of his mood, his pace slowed down. Wooyeon didn't urge him and just stared blankly at Dohyun. The bridge of his nose looked smooth in the streetlight. 

“I can't sleep at Mun Garam's house, so...”

“....”

“Do you want to come over to my place later?”

For a moment, he didn't understand the question, but as soon as their eyes met, Wooyeon nodded.

“Yes.”

It was late anyway, and he wasn't going to be called back home from wherever he was now. No, she probably doesn't even realize he's not home in the first place.

"I'll sleep at Hyung's house."

Dohyun's eyes curved and the corners of his mouth curled up at that answer. His expression was so cheerful that Wooyeon's mood began to rise. No, actually, it was already halfway there. He had been with Dohyun last night, and now he could be with him again. Just thinking about it made him happy.

“Ah, the night we drank champagne.”

Because Dohyun's pace had slowed down, it took quite a while to get to the villa. It seemed to take almost twice as long as it did to get to the convenience store. It wasn't until they were in front of the building that he asked the question he'd been dying to ask.

“So... Why did I have muscle pain back then?”

The day Wooyeon woke up in a robe. The day Dohyun said he told him about Daniel. His lower back was vaguely sore, even though nothing had happened with Dohyun. Of course, it was a minor pain that was too mild to be considered an aftereffect of their relationship.

“Ah... Muscle pain.”

Dohyun mumbled slowly, his eyes narrowing, before shrugging playfully.

"I see. It was just an appropriate comment I made."

“... Appropriate?”

“Yeah, because you made a lot of noise in the bathroom.”

Wooyeon gave him a look of absurdity, but Dohyun didn't care at all. He just playfully closed his eyes and dragged Wooyeon's hand in front of his face. The lips that touched the back of his hand fell away with an embarrassing sound.

“Just look at me once. I was upset.”

"...What is there to see now?"

To think that he would be relieved with just a kiss? Even Wooyeon thought it was really simple.

"Either you were hungover, or fell in the bathroom without knowing it. One of the two, right?"

With that, Dohyun pulled out his cell phone. 12:01 a.m. He checked the time and frowned, as if pondering something. He looked at the screen and began punching in the entrance password.

"Garam told you?"

“Yes, she told me to press it and come in.”

Isn't this a bit dangerous? Living alone. Wooyeon, who thought that far, suddenly tilted his head. He thought he heard something similar from Dohyun before. No matter how much he thought about it, he couldn't remember.

"Watch your step."

That's all Dohyun said as they walked up the stairs to the third floor to Garam's apartment. It was night time, so of course they should be quiet, but the silence felt awkward for some reason. 

“...Did she give you the code to the front door?”

Wooyeon asked in a low voice, standing close behind Dohyun. Judging from the way he pressed the front door password without hesitation, it seemed like that was the case.

With a beep, Dohyun stepped aside. His softly curved eyes were full of mischief. Wooyeon blinked in surprise. 

“Yeon-ah.”

“Yeah?”

For some reason, he felt weird. Nervous, maybe a little shaky. The moment seemed oddly long as Dohyun opened the door.

“Happy birthday.”

He didn't even have time to respond. The sound of firecrackers exploding could be heard through the gap in the suddenly opened door. Wooyeon's eyes widened and he turned his head slowly.

“Happy birthday, Seon Wooyeon!”

“Happy birthday, Wooyeon!” 

Bang! Bang! The sound of firecrackers popping was heard twice more. Unlike the dark hallway, inside, where the lights were brightly lit, Sungyu was holding a lit cake. Garam quickly walked over to Wooyeon and placed a cone hat on his head.

"Hey, close the door first. They're saying something in the other house."

Wooyeon followed Garam inside as if he were possessed. Dohyun closed the door behind him, and Sungyu dangled the cake in front of him.

“Make a wish! Make a wish!”

"Make a wish quickly and blow it. The candles are about to run out."

"Wooyeon, blow out the candles!"

The candles flickered before his eyes: one pink, one yellow, on a cake covered in strawberries. Dohyun spoke softly to the still dazed Wooyeon.

“Blow out the candles.”

Suddenly, it all made sense. Garam's unnatural shooing away of him, Sungyu's awkwardly stiff face, and Dohyun repeatedly checking the time.

“This...”

“Ugh, Wooyeon, fire.”

Unable to resist Garam's ardor, Wooyeon blew out the candles in a dazed state. A faint smoke dispersed over the candles that had gone out. Sungyu shouted with a look of regret.

"Ah, the wish is important!"

"That's okay, man. What if we can’t eat the cake?”

Garam neatly pulled the candles out of the cake. Wooyeon looked around, still in disbelief. The delivery food was still lying there, and the firecrackers they'd set off were scattered everywhere.

“...Ha.”

A short breath escaped. It was part gasp, part sigh. After a few more similar sounds, Wooyeon covered his mouth and burst out laughing.

“What is this...”

Just like that, the whole situation was funny. The way Garam looked nervous without knowing it, the way Sungyu was regretful as he looked at the blown out candles, and the way Dohyun quietly observed his reaction.

“...How did you know it was my birthday?”

It was a birthday he'd never told anyone about. It was also a birthday he had never celebrated before in his life. It was his mother's death anniversary, and Suhyang had always left Wooyeon alone. He'd gotten plenty of gifts, but never a heartfelt congratulations from anyone.

“Why wouldn't I know your birthday.”

Dohyun said, and reached for the top of Wooyeon's head. He brushed away the paper shavings from the firecrackers and straightened his hat. Finally, he gently stroked his reddened eyes and smiled the most innocent smile possible.

“Thank you for being born.”

Oh, what could he say about this feeling? Wooyeon didn't know if he wanted to cry or laugh, but either way, his eyes stung.

“Hey, I've been trying so hard to keep him from crying, but you're the one who's cool about it.”

"That's right, if you cry on your birthday, you'll get lucky."

It was a crude consolation, but he swallowed hard. Luckily, the tears didn't flow, and Sungyu held out his phone to take a picture. Wooyeon had to pose with the cake, looking awkward, neither crying nor smiling.

next chapter

[anonymous-bastard]

Do you know if what is going on with the US is going to affect the European Union?

There is so much going on lately I don't know who to ask and where to find that information.

-🪡's mun

That's a difficult question, one that I am not exactly qualified to answer. But I'll try, with the asterisk of "this is all to the best of my knowledge"

First of all: don't panic. The EU IS prepared for this. They planned what they'd do if Trump wins.

But yes. It will effect us, because US-American politics always effect us. And the effect of a Trump administration are probably going to be bad. Trump and the EU, in general, don't like one another.

Just looking at his previous term, the EU and the US got extremely estranged. A lot of trust was lost on the EUs side.

It's not great for the economy; Trump really hates the trade deficit between the US and the EU and is likely going to end up trying to impose higher import tarrifs again. And the EU will respond with her own tarrifs. But this isn't new; we got through it before.

Something to keep an eye on in the news is the whole military topic: NATO, military aid to Ukraine, US troops in Europe etc. I have absolutely no clue what will happen on that front though.

Trump will roll back environmental protection. I probably don't need to explain why that's bad.

You can expect Trump to embolden our own right-wing parties. The right-wing shift in our countries is something we can and should do something against.

From what I can rememeber of the last Trump presidency, it'll basically be one scandal after another. There will constantly be stupid, scary shit happening. Some of us will affect us directly.

TLDR: Things are looking grimm. But none of this is new. We know Trump. We are prepared.

As to where to find information: search on trustsworthy news sites. Talk to people you trust about it, eg your parents, family, teachers, friends parents, etc. Try to get unbiased information, use multiple sources, consider more than one point of view. Question people's/ new's sites/ etc. intention, especially on the internet. Why are they giving you this information? Are they trying to provoke an emotion?

And you didn't ask about this, but it'll be important anyway:

You will most likely feel scared. Helpless. Angry. Resentful.

And those things put together? Will mean you're looking for someone to blame.

Don't blame the average US-American. It'll be easy, so so fucking easy to do.

To project all these vile feelings onto them. To look at the bullshit in the world, the bullshit happening to your European brothers and sister and feel nothing but hate. To take the fact that you feel helpless and project it onto the nearest American as an easy target to take the blame.

Don't.

[beatenxnotxbroken]

Mun is 30 and must be 21+ to interact with.

Super friendly and multi-ship. - Welcome to all characters and ships! 💕GET OVER HERE AND LET'S WRITE!💕

Seriously, don't be shy! I'm literally like a baby seal when it comes to intimidation. XD I swear, I'm not scary. - Major ship whore.

You have been warned, be prepared for loads of bugging and plot ideas among many other things from me if we write together and ship.

PLEASE READ THE RULES AND OC SHEET BEFORE INTERACTING!

Now that you've learned some about me, here are a few questions: - Who is your favorite oc to play, and why? - What would you say is the lore connected to your oc? - Could you name three negative traits about this oc? - What is your favorite fandom to write in? Canon to write as?

Follow backs from my main! @w0efulsoul

Starters sent: 2 || Drafts/Asks: 2 || Replies done: 2 || Awaiting replies from partners: 4

[the-indigo-disk]

HELLO WORLD!! ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )

My name is Mirato, and I'm a student at Naranja-Uva and a champion ranked trainer!! My pronouns are he/they!! You may know me as the guy who took down all the titan Pokémon, and the one who went down into area zero with his twin and all of his friends!!

If you have any questions, be sure to let me know! Unlike someone I know, I'm very open to anything and everything you may wanna ask! So ask away!! >:)

Since my team is public knowledge anyways, I might as well put them here!! I have a few more, but they're NOT public knowledge! And very dangerous!! So you don't get those. ꃋᴖꃋ

(Url ic is currently Aqua-Step. Rest of the ooc under cut!)

This blog is directly linked to @the-teal-mask

Hello!! This is the same person that runs @psn-stalling, so follows and likes come from there! My name is Castor/Midnight, and I use he/they/it pronouns. Down here I'll explain the rules, and just some general background for these two!

Leto and Mirato are both Juliana and Florian, but I wound up renaming them to try to stick more to the past/future themes of the game rather than having their names be referring to how they're school students like how their canon names are. Here, at some point the professor's time machine malfunctioned before getting fixed, so that's why they both have past/future paradoxes! The professor is intentionally left vague, and you guys can interpret who it was however you want!

Also, you may be wondering why their urls are different ic than ooc. Well, these two haven't gotten through the dlc yet, so they won't change until after they get through their respective events! They're post The Way Home, and they'll be here until I'm able to buy the Scarlet dlc myself. Spoilers aren't a big deal for me, the mun, since I've played Violet's dlc and I know they're not different at all aside from version exclusives. However, asks including spoilers for the characters will be deleted!

Now, here's the rules!

The only blogs I ask to not interact are overly meta ones! Other than that, as long as you follow my boundaries, everyone else can interact!

Ic hate is more than fine here too! The moment it's not clear if it's ic or ooc, then it'll be deleted. If it's clearly ooc you'll be blocked.

Both of these two are minors, so if you try to do anything nsfw you'll be blocked immediately. There are no exceptions to this. Normally I'm okay with a few mild suggestive jokes, but since these two are fourteen I'm not okay with it on their blogs.

If I take some time getting to your ask/reblog, please don't take it personally! As active as I am on here I do get pretty busy sometimes, so it might take me a few. I also just sometimes don't know how to respond to things, so I apologize if that happens.

Pelipper mail: On, but VERY selective

Pelipper malice: Off

Musharna mail/malice: Off

Magic anons: Off

Thank you for reading this!

[skz1-4-3]

SICK - F

This chapter is sfw

(Takes place in s2 in the new hideout)

Content info : you got sick and felt like staying in bed all day , to your luck your boyfriend so-mun noticed and took great care of you.

Reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns.

Keywords : Y/n -> your/name

Second person POV

Warnings : probably some grammatical errors , Y/n slightly cussed, so-mun is overly caring(?), thats it , Let me know if i missed any warnings to give in the comments or per messages.

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„Ugh“ you groan with your face in the pillow , your throat had been aching for the past few days and your coughs just got a lot more frequent. Then your nose started running and you felt like throwing up , which led you to this moment. You were obviously sick , but being a counter its not like you could take a day off , especially around this time of the year . Winter depression was a world wide thing , even in korea where everything seemed so nice and peaceful. So evil spirits were out on the run for depressed and drained souls , which definitely worked because they just wouldn’t stop spawning.

You tried breathing normally but with each breath you took in , the urge to cough and throw up just got bigger. It was not a pleasant feeling. In the middle of your coughing session your lovely boyfriend so mun decided to give you a visit. Opening the door and walking over to you , with a worried expression, he reached out his arm and turned you over , so you were lying on your back.

„Sugarplum, are you alright?“ he asked in a small voice , as if he ,if he spoke any louder , his voice would break you.

„Do i look like im fine?“ you responded in a grumpy voice , not in the mood to answer his obvious questions all happy and nice. He put his hand on your forehead, measuring your temperature and you felt like you were burning. His eyebrows furrowed and his concern grew.

„C‘mon , sit up for me . Drink this“ he said and helped you sit up straight,handing you a bottle of water that he had brought with him alongside some snacks that were neatly placed on your nightstand. You carefully drank a few sips as so mun put a few strands of hair , that had fallen onto your face previously, behind your ear.

„Do you want me to get you some medicine? I think we still have some from when jeokbong got sick.“ he spoke softly , his eyes gazing into yours with a loving touch to them.

„no , its fine. But can we cuddle for a bit?“ you asked, your voice cracking up a little in between words. So mun nodded , a smile appearing on his face , his lips slightly parting. Your eyes slid down and gazed at them , so soft and plum. Gosh how bad you wanted to kiss them , but you knew getting the best counter sick was not a good idea. He laid down and pulled the blanket on top of him , holding up a part so you could slide underneath.

His arm wrapped securely around your waist , as your head laid on his chest. Your arms wrapping around his torso . The warmth radiating from his body put you in a calm state , you felt comfortable. It made you a little sleepy , so mun reassured you that it was okay to go to sleep and rest a little more. The gang could surely handle a few stray evil spirits themselves, without the two of you.

His free hand came up to caress your face and that was the final thing , that had needed to be done ,to put you, to sleep. Your eyes fell closed and so mun smiled at your sleeping figure. How had he managed, to make a girl as gorgeous and lovely as you , make you love a simple guy like him? But you also often asked yourself this , how had you charmed him to like you , a plain girl? Both of you thought of yourselves as so simple and plain , not realizing that one another found the one before them so mesmerizing.

You truly loved each other.

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A short one shot that i started when i was sick. I was sick for like 3 weeks . No idea why , but i still have some coughing even though im not sick and its sure is annoying . Breathing also sometimes hurts a little. But anyways good night/day 🫶